Chapter 12: Interlude – Armsmaster
His city was eerily quiet tonight. The only discernible sound came from the low hum of his motorcycle engine. Barely anyone was committing crime, and the ones he caught were too petty to warrant mention. At this rate, his Monday evening would be nothing more than a glorified joyride.
But the war on crime never ended, and Armsmaster was a stalwart soldier.
There was no doubt that the Azn Bad Boys were licking their wounds. Lung failed to lure in the Undersiders, he lost his hostage, several of his men had been arrested – some of whom had served him since the formation of the ABB – and his reputation was damaged. This should have been cause for celebration, but he couldn't take this victory at face value.
Bakuda's bombing spree was designed to draw the Undersiders out into the open if they failed to acknowledge the ABB's threat to their teammate, while occupying first response teams ordered to find Hellhound.
That kidnapping video was intentionally leaked to frame Hookwolf as a primary suspect, but once the ABB realized their ploy had failed, they leaked another video to the media: an important Brockton Bay landmark would be destroyed if law enforcement continued to interfere.
Fortunately, the bomb disposal squad he assembled discovered that Bakuda's bomb was merely a dud: if it had gone off, Brockton University would have only been submerged in a rainbow of colours. Costly and irritating to be sure, but not life-threatening. In fact, all of Bakuda's ordnance had been non-lethal: slime that emitted a foul odor, taffy that stuck to anything it touched, sound-based shockwaves that never shattered glass.
It had to be intentional, or else Lung would have risked triggering a manhunt on his newest cape. As it was, he made the call to keep Bakuda's threat rating where it was, but the chance of losing dozens of innocent lives was far too high to risk hunting her down... at this point in time, anyway.
If that wasn't enough, the search and rescue teams he organized found Faultline's Crew travelling through the Docks and the Trainyard, clearly in search of a specific target. It wasn't until he broke down the night's events that he discovered why: Lung hired them to find the Undersiders. Technically speaking, they hadn't doing anything illegal, which allowed them to continue pretending they only committed crime outside Brockton Bay.
Although, the fact that Lung was willing to purchase their services established a dangerous precedent. He staged a multi-pronged effort to eliminate the Undersiders, and in spite of his failure, Lung had a better idea of how quickly the PRT responded to a bomb threat and still had access to all of his capes. More than that, he was perfectly willing to lurk in the shadows if it meant his intricate plans would succeed.
This wasn't good. Lung's monstrous power was kept in check by his lack of ambition and manpower. Should he decide to take more territory by force, the cold war being waged by the city's various gangs could end up transforming into a blazing inferno.
Two days had passed since Hellhound's rescue, yet the ABB were content to let the heat cool off. A small mercy, to be sure, but the Undersiders were still at large.
If Armsmaster played his cards right, that could change very, very soon. Unfortunately, it wasn't entirely up to him.
Sitting across from Armsmaster was one Rachel Lindt, cape name: Hellhound. Or as she insisted on being named, Bitch.
They weren't in an interrogation room, because Lindt hadn't been arrested for her crimes or detained for questioning. Rather, they were meeting at the PRT building, in a conference room he deliberately placed next to his office. He never expected a villain would see its chrome walls, leather seating and metal tables.
She wasn't impressed.
"You know what I want," Armsmaster said. "Tell me everything you know about the Undersiders."
He didn't need to impress her, just convince her to listen. Instead of responding, she let her legal counsel do the talking. Smart.
"My client won't reveal her information until you accept her terms," Carol Dallon said, seated next to the villain her daughter rescued.
Those terms were protection against reprisal from her former colleagues, amnesty for any crimes she committed before joining the Undersiders, government funding for her dogs' upkeep, and an official name change to Bitch. Her demands were even more extreme before Carol convinced her to compromise, work towards the feasible. He'd never let a villain be completely exonerated for their crimes.
It was only due to Carol that they reached the negotiation table in the first place. To put it bluntly, Lindt was a mess after her rescue, and was still hostile even after Carol calmed her down and reunited her with her dogs. Right now, she was brooding in her chair, quiet but with open ears.
He wouldn't squander everyone's hard work to serve his ego, but he also wouldn't concede until his own demands were met.
"I'll accept those terms on two conditions," Armsmaster said. "One: she'll join the Boston Wards as a probationary Ward. I have her contract with me." He clutched the heap of paperwork on the table. "Two: she'll only be given amnesty once she completes her term."
Lindt scowled. "I'm not getting called Hellhound. Fuck that."
"We spoke about this," Carol said, gentle but firm. "Part of being a Ward is working around their red tape. Once you serve your term, you'll be a free woman able to work under any name you want."
Of course they spoke about this; it was a perfect alternative to jail time. In addition, he wanted her out of Brockton Bay as soon as possible. For her protection, and so he had one less villain to worry about.
Lindt's response was to cross her arms. "What about my dogs? You want me to squeal, you fund me."
Armsmaster didn't move his mouth. He learned the hard way how poorly she reacted to bared teeth.
"Then start talking."
Once again, Lindt turned to Carol, exchanging hushed words.
"We'd like to discuss your proposal in private," Carol said.
"Ten minutes," he said, before making his exit. The room was soundproofed out of necessity, and he hadn't felt the need to place listening devices inside. Brusque and obstinate as she was, Carol Dallon placed duty above sentiment.
It was on her advice that Armsmaster decided to let Lindt stay in protective custody rather than a jail cell, but he made sure she was kept under constant surveillance in case the Undersiders came after her.
If she hadn't decided to represent Rachel Lindt pro bono, convincing the girl to turn on her teammates would've been a Herculean task. Lindt was direct and didn't tolerate bullshit, qualities he appreciated. It was unfortunate that she was too hostile and aggressive for him to tolerate; otherwise, he'd be able to flip her without assistance.
Part of him considered letting Miss Militia handle the talking, since she was better at the delicate stuff. If he succeeded, however, this would prove to the brass that he was more than a capable fighter and leader, he was someone who could handle the subtle political manoeuvring that defined a high-ranking Protectorate leader.
It rankled that his meticulous planning to rescue Hellhound and quash the ABB's threat and his years of tireless service might be less relevant than providing the Boston Wards with a powerful cape. However, he would do what was necessary to keep his position, and this was too great an opportunity to pass up.
Once their time elapsed, Armsmaster went back inside, ready to hear their response.
"I'm not squealing," Lindt said.
"The Undersiders had days to break you out of our custody, but none of them even made an attempt."
Not that he'd ever let them succeed.
"Don't care. I'm not a snitch."
"Your boss, then."
"I don't know who he is."
"Would you tell me if you did?"
"Yes."
Much like the rest of her responses, his lie detector flashed with the word he didn't want to hear: TRUTH.
Not a single lie to be found. Armsmaster refused to scowl at this failure. He'd try again and again until he won.
"You know what will happen if you don't give up your teammates. Do not test me."
"My client has made her decision," Carol said. "It would be disappointing if the press caught wind of how our talks fell through."
TRUTH. Like her client, Carol had passed his lie detector's test, though unlike the villain, she was much better at controlling her emotions. It was almost an art. She also chose her words carefully, as was typical for lawyers of all stripes.
If Carol was willing to put her duty as a villain's lawyer above her status as a hero, then the public relations backlash would undermine the backbreaking work of this negotiation and his valiant attempt to prove he was worth more than his abilities as a fighter.
There had to be a way around this conundrum.
"Are you willing to stake your reputation on this, Brandish?" Armsmaster asked, emphasizing her code name.
"Even villains need lawyers," Carol said, cool as a cucumber.
"That's not what the public will think. They won't care about your client's circumstances or the chance that she'll become a hero, only that you worked tirelessly to help a villain evade justice."
Carol's lip curled, but she wasn't able or willing to provide an appropriate riposte.
"Words," Lindt said, not saying another. Somehow, it lightened Carol's mood, as she engaged in hushed conversation with her client once more.
"My client won't be revealing her former teammates' identities," Carol said. "Nor will she reveal any information that will incriminate them, such as their current whereabouts."
"Is that right?" Armsmaster asked.
Lindt nodded. TRUTH. Time for the nuclear option.
"What if we provide all the funding you want for your dogs? We can even put you at the head of an animal rescue initiative based here in New England, provided of course that you don't fail your probation."
For the first time since her arrest, Lindt hesitated. Carol wasn't fazed, but if Lindt folded, she would follow suit. Armsmaster waited for a minute, then another, watching Lindt consult Carol.
"No," Lindt finally said. "No deal."
Frustrating.
He came into this negotiation fully aware that the odds of discovering the Undersiders were low, that pressing the issue would risk losing any chance of recruiting Rachel Lindt, but he couldn't simply resign himself to that future.
However, the Undersiders would still lose their primary means of transport and most of their firepower. Taking them down would become much easier.
Compromise stared him in the face, ever-mocking, but his whole career was compromise after compromise.
"Are you still willing to join the Wards in Boston?"
"Yes."
TRUTH.
Armsmaster frowned.
"Very well."
He handed Carol the Wards contract, watched the (former) villain be escorted to her private room. Calls would be made to get her transferred as soon as possible.
It was a victory, just not the one he wanted.
Now that Lindt wasn't around, Armsmaster was free to smile. He hid it. Winning the Best Protectorate Smile Award for three years running wouldn't matter one bit to someone like Carol Dallon.
His lips shifted anyway. Success was too powerful, too satisfying to resist. To his surprise, Carol returned his smile.
"Congratulations," Carol said. "She'll do great things in Boston."
"I should be thanking you. How did you get through to her?"
Her striking blue eyes shined. "Rachel's capable of listening to someone who can understand her. I'll send you a memo." She smiled, rather wan. "There's much more I can do for Rachel, but I'll have to make sure your organization pulls through."
At first, he assumed that she decided to help Lindt to make up for her daughter's enormous blunder. However, that didn't seem to be the case.
"If there's one thing we do well, it's reform former villains," Armsmaster said.
Carol nodded. "What about the Undersiders? Will you continue to search for their civilian identities?"
"Perhaps."
It would be a violation of the unwritten rules, but the name of the game was discretion. These 'rules' were only encouraged to prevent the villains from escalating to wanton murder or excessive gang warfare. Usually, they'd work with the police if the capes in question weren't too dangerous, but Grue and Regent could disable them fairly quickly.
In addition, he was fairly certain that there was a leak within the PRT that the Undersiders exploited. How else would they know about a fundraiser that hadn't been promoted to the media? If he went after them out of costume, it would have to be off the books.
"Did you speak to Glory Girl?" he asked, done with this line of conversation.
Carol frowned. "She's shown remorse over traumatizing Rachel."
"Good. Your daughter could have a great career with the Wards and the Protectorate. It would be rather disappointing if preventable mistakes keep her from realizing her potential."
Her gaze turned hard. "She'll fulfill her potential with New Wave. Have a nice day, Armsmaster."
Carol Dallon left the building. Disappointing, how she didn't see reason. Not unexpected, though:
Working with Victoria Dallon had only given him more reasons to bring her into the fold. Being tough on crime was a reasonable stance to take, but there were limits no hero could transgress.
He was no exception, and neither was Glory Girl.
Armsmaster stopped by the Wards' HQ after a satisfying tinkering session. He also filed some paperwork and reported the outcome of his meeting. Overall, it was time well spent.
Dinah Alcott was spinning around in a big chair recently added to her alcove, eyes covered with a pair of neon pink aviator sunglasses. So far, she added a computer, a couple of notebooks and a stack of novels: Maggie Holt, the first Flavia de Luce – The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie... Not much, but it was a good start.
"Hi, Armsmaster!" Dinah said, coming to a stop with a bright smile on her face.
"Afternoon, Dinah," Armsmaster said, returning her smile. "How was school today?"
"It was cool. But you know what's even cooler? Only getting half a day of school! I hope I never get used to it!"
Armsmaster chuckled. "Don't think it's free time. You're a hero now, so you have to work extra hard."
Dinah pouted. "I know. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate school, but why do I have to go? 96.43897% chance I become a millionaire before I turn eighteen. Well, if I survive, obviously."
He pressed his lips together. "Was that one of your questions?"
"No," she said, suddenly serious.
"Have you done your Thinker exercises?"
"Did them twice."
"Good work."
She beamed in response. It was good to see her in such a jubilant mood.
Dinah put every other PRT thinktank to shame on her own, allowing him and the PRT as a whole to take the initiative. Even one question per day would be enough to justify her recruitment to the Wards, but she could answer four or five on a good day, and that number was bound to increase as she grew more experienced.
Panacea could relieve Dinah's migraines, but her power would still short out once she hit her limit. While Panacea was on hand to help Dinah on Saturday, she wouldn't always be available. Improving Dinah's cognitive ability was one method he came up with to alleviate this restriction, but constant use was another. Since her power involved making a mosaic out of the potential futures she saw, perhaps he could add some art lessons.
Stimulants were out of the question; she couldn't handle them like he could. For now, Armsmaster had to be clever with his questions, and he looked forward to the challenge.
"How's your bodyguard been treating you?"
"She's okay. Just wish Rory could be protecting me." Dinah winced. "I mean, Triumph. But I understand why he can't."
"Good. You need to be extra careful about your secret identity."
"I know. Hey, when do I get my code name, and when do I get to go on patrols? Can I go with Triumph once I'm ready?"
"Soon," he said. "You're a special case."
Dinah pouted. "I know. I hope I get to go soon. I've been brainstorming some good names. Want to see?"
He checked her matte black spiral notebook, seeing a sketch for a basic costume and a variety of names, some of which were scratched out – possibly because they'd been taken. Among the names on the list, he recommended Cassandra and Fortuna.
Armsmaster was quite pleased that he became a hero early on in the game, when most of the cool names hadn't been taken.
Before long, he left Dinah to continue spinning around in her chair. She seemed like a good kid. Unsurprisingly morbid, but she coped with her near-kidnapping and her fantastic power as well as anyone could have. In due time, her ordeal would probably become a distant memory. Hopefully, he'd get to see it happen.
Most of the other Wards were on patrol or busy with homework, but Kid Win was working on repairing Gallant's armour while Gallant hung around nearby. It was a solid piece of craftsmanship, but Armsmaster immediately spotted several areas that could be tightened up to improve power conversion and energy storage.
Perhaps a converter could be added to transfer energy from Gallant's emotion beams into his armour's power supply. Attachments could be installed on the helmet's visor to let Gallant see through walls. The converter could be attached to an amplifier, allowing Gallant to overclock his suit for more kinetic power.
Armsmaster snapped himself out of his trance. Kid Win was the one who made Gallant's power armour, and he was engrossed in maintaining it, so he wouldn't interfere. About the only reason why he didn't want to mentor the kid was because he'd subject him to standards he couldn't hope to match.
Not only that, Kid Win still didn't know his speciality. It took Armsmaster a bit of time to realize he specialized in efficiency, rather than solely miniaturization. A subtle difference, perhaps, but one he was glad to find on his own. Kid Win was already performing decently, he'd learn from his mistakes and build some character in the process.
"Good afternoon, Armsmaster," Gallant said, standing up. He was currently wearing a PRT-issue white v-neck and black sweat pants.
"Same to you," he said. "Any issues I should be aware of?"
Technically speaking, Director Piggot was in charge of the Wards, but there was no reason not to build a rapport with some of them whenever he had the time. Most of them would become his subordinates in the Protectorate. Besides, Gallant was the most in tune with his teammates' problems.
"Nothing major. We're trying to include Dinah in some group activities, like our upcoming F-Zero competition. Shadow Stalker got involved in an altercation at Weymouth yesterday, and she's been brooding after Triumph told her off for jumping to conclusions."
Armsmaster clasped his hands behind his back. "What happened?"
"Shadow Stalker's friend was attacked by a teenage girl. Glory Girl was on hand to stop any fighting, but Shadow Stalker wouldn't budge until Triumph intervened. Apparently, the aggressor was provoked into punching the victim, and she even implied that she had been bullied by the alleged victim."
It seemed like it was handled without him needing to intervene. How efficient. Perhaps he could send Shadow Stalker to do an anti-bullying campaign alongside another hero.
"Anything else?"
"You remember that anonymous tip we received?"
Armsmaster nodded, tempering his rising anticipation. "What about it?"
"I want this cape to collaborate with us more often, but..." He looked around. "Can we discuss this in private, please?"
Kid Win was still wrapped in a fugue, so Gallant wouldn't be missed. Armsmaster let Gallant lead him to his alcove, where they wouldn't be overheard. Gallant was frowning, an unusual tension overtaking his gregarious demeanour. Concerning, for someone with his confidence.
"This cape is hostile towards heroes," he said. "They were assaulted early on in their career due to a horrendous misunderstanding, and it was a hero who did it. I want to conduct a private investigation into this hero's actions, because it's only a matter of time until this happens again."
Armsmaster frowned, crossing his arms. "You can file a report and make your investigation official."
"I want to make sure I have my facts in order. That way, I can convince the hero to confess their crimes."
At first brush, he immediately wanted to say yes. This anonymous cape's powers were perfectly tailored to finding specific targets, and bringing them in would dramatically bolster their investigative efforts. However, their hostility towards heroes was a disaster in the making.
Beyond that, it was a rather tough request to approve of. On the one hand, bureaucracy would crush Gallant's attempt at bringing in this hero if he didn't possess sufficient evidence of the hero's crimes. On the other foot, if this hero was willing to assault another hero on a misunderstanding, he couldn't afford to let them target Gallant.
"How did you get this cape to trust you?"
"I found them on a patrol a few days ago," he replied. "We've been interacting on PHO ever since. It's a delicate situation, sir."
No doubt, but Gallant's power and temperament granted him a good amount of skill at navigating those murky waters.
"Do you know the name of the hero who attacked the new cape?"
"I do, but with respect, I can't tell you who they are right now. It's better if I try to convince them without tipping my hand, so to speak."
He inclined his head, considering all the angles. "Why would you assume that this hero would do this again?"
His frown deepened until his eyes were cast in a dark cloud. "I saw them fighting gangers recently. There was an aggression to them that disturbed me, but it almost felt like it was their sworn duty to crush any criminal who dared to break the law. A duty they took great pride in performing."
Gallant could've easily been talking about Shadow Stalker, but he wasn't above protecting her identity. This was a personality trait that could easily develop into something villainous if it wasn't tempered, though he couldn't suspect any of the independent heroes who called Brockton Bay home without hard evidence.
"I do know that this hero wants to do good and be good. That's why I want to convince them to confess. I vow to be careful."
With how deliberate his word choice was, Armsmaster didn't doubt that Gallant would live up to his word. It'd be more efficient if he could bear that burden for him instead of letting him sink because of his ideals. There had to be a way to guarantee Gallant's success, if it meant that the mystery cape could work with them, if this so-called hero could be brought to justice.
"I'll give you a week to investigate," Armsmaster said. "You'll report to me every evening. Once this week has elapsed, I'll decide if we bring this investigation to Director Piggot or keep it private."
Gallant nodded, starting to smile once again. "Thank you, Armsmaster, sir."
This was why he wasn't against working with younger capes. Most of them had potential that could be cultivated to save lives and make their communities better places to live.
The war on crime never ended, but he wouldn't give up. There was always work to be done, and while Gallant conducted his investigation, he would prepare to find more leads, stamp out whatever criminals he could catch.
After fifteen years of battling Brockton Bay's rising tide, he was starting to make a real difference. It was high time he capitalized on that momentum.
Author's Note: I'm going to take a break in updating to make sure that the next arc goes as smoothly as possible. In the meantime, tell me what you thought about the story so far. It's kind of strange that there are more chapters than reviews, no?
