Chapter One Hundred and Ninety Five
...
Warren dealt with the guard - a citizen, not a super, and definitely not immune to being lit the fuck on fire - even as the building spun around them. The fireballs he threw might have hit several moving walls or ceilings or floors, but enough connected with the guard that by the time it all came to a slow stop, the guard was lying on the floor unconscious. Warren looked around where he'd been moved to, saw a wall with a scorch mark that he'd left on it, along with several doors leading to what he suspected were more empty rooms.
Feeling out with his brand, he knew that Layla was safe with Ethan, Craig had found Grant, and Craig's copy was playing whack-a-guard with Corvin outside while Robin kept their wall surrounding the building. The others were safe, most confused and frustrated just like he was that they hadn't found anyone yet.
In fact, how the hell had Craig found Grant if they hadn't found anyone else?
Are you actually asking that or just thinking loudly? Donny asked.
Both. There's only been a couple of guards and they're nothing like the ones in France. Something's wrong.
Donny didn't reply for a moment. Poison has just informed me the hallways are an illusion. The walls don't end where it looks like they end. Don't apply this to every hallway; I don't want you idiots running into walls.
Warren had an idea of who Donny was referring to, and just grinned at the likelihood of those friends taking umbrage with his description. Looking around the hallway he'd ended up in, Warren saw the end of the hallway easily enough and headed towards it, his arms lighting up. Throwing a fireball, Warren grinned when it went straight through the illusion. No one came running out, but it gave Warren an idea.
Shaking off the heat from his hands, Warren grabbed his walkie talkie. "Electro, do you still have control over their cameras?"
"Yeah, of course," Terrence replied.
"Bolt, do you have access to the building infrastructure?"
"No, but I can get it," Heidi replied, frowning.
"Turn the cameras on so I'm visible - just me, no one else, okay? - and then rearrange the building so the guards are all in my hallway. Can you do that?"
"Cameras are easier than the building, Fire. This thing really is set up like a Rubik's cube," Terrence said, no longer where he'd been a minute ago.
"I'll do it. You want the citizen security guards or the supered ones? Champ's been watching the feed and they've got super guards stationed in various areas."
Warren rolled his neck and shoulders. "I'll take the supers."
"Not without support you're not," Connor said firmly.
"Agreed," Layla said.
"Can you rearrange us to Fire, Bolt?" Ry asked.
"Us too," came several requests from others, and Heidi looked over at Champ who was trying to determine where everyone was in relation to the cube restructuring.
He took a moment longer to think about it, then nodded firmly. "Bolt's gonna have to restructure a couple of times, but it can be done. Fighting's gonna start between the restructures," Champ warned.
"It's what we're here for," Ex said, sounding way too eager for the possibility.
"Don't come into a fight with C4 ready, Ex," Baby said.
"When else am I gonna set it up?"
Champ grinned. "He's got a point, Baby."
Baby put away his walkie talkie with a sigh and waited for the light so he could be restructured.
Heidi looked at the camera feeds with firm determination, then tugged on Champ's sleeve. "Help me?"
"'Course, Bolt. It's what I'm here for," he said with a firm nod.
...
Simon had let his nose heal - it took five full minutes, and he could only watch the destruction of Maxville with columns of smoke rising in the distance - as he walked slowly towards Maxville. The second his nose healed, Speed grinned and sped off towards Maxville without a moment of hesitation.
He sped past another prisoner, then realised who it was a good hundred metres down the road, skidded to a stop, and returned to see what Old Walter wanted. It didn't take more than a minute to drop Old Walter off on the other side of Maxville, closer to Westville's suburbia and where the nicer part of the neighbourhood turned into the richer part of the neighbourhood. Old Walter thanked him with a smile and squeeze of his hand, and then Speed sped off for Maxville's city centre to catch up with Lash.
They were finally free of the Pen, and just like they'd planned and talked about, they were going to get revenge, money, and freedom, and not in that order. Speed and Lash had discussed hundreds or maybe even thousands of plans, and Speed figured he'd find his best friend at a bank to start collecting the money they needed for freedom.
Simon had made sure that Lash agreed to get revenge later in their plans, once they had enough time and money to ensure they wouldn't get caught first. They needed to work out how to bring Will fucking Stronghold down now that he could both fly and had super-strength, and the two of them alone couldn't do their usual 'stretch, chase, and trip him up' plan that worked on most others. Lash tended to agree but then usually went on to discuss robbing banks so they could party and live it up, but it wasn't Simon's long-term goal for life. Lash usually sneered about him even having a long-term goal, but Simon had spent enough time reading books and talking with Old Walter, Lex, and Ivan in the library that some of it had been bound to sink in.
Old Walter, Lex, and Ivan were pretty good at passing on kernels of knowledge and wisdom, and their words had made more sense the longer Simon had listened. They'd all been imprisoned for most of their adult lives, and they no longer thought about revenge like Lash seemed to do constantly. Simon had thought about what he might do if revenge wasn't an actual option, because there had to be more to life than that, right? If Old Walter could have a full three-generation family while in prison, then why couldn't Simon wish for more than plans of revenge and partying?
He could hear Lash's laughter in his ears, and not even Speed knew if it was in real life or his own mind, and he stopped thinking about his plans for the future. He and Lash had to survive today first.
Running past buildings that Zephyr was destroying with his wind, a building where Ocky was terrorising citizens and police alike, and a bank that exploded thanks to Baron Battle, Speed stopped short as he finally found Lash. He wasn't using the distraction or even Baron Battle's destruction as cover to rob a bank. Instead, Lash was standing in the middle of a street where a police car had been crushed and turned over, and Speed was fairly sure he saw someone flying through the air overhead thanks to Lash's pitching arm. This wasn't in any of the plans they'd discussed.
"Took you long enough, Speed! Round up the rest, would you?" Lash called, laughing evilly as he grew taller.
Then his best friend's arms stretched down the long stretch of street, hands expanding to grab handfuls of citizens, and there were cries from adults and children alike as Lash held them aloft, higher than the skyscrapers around them. Speed looked around to see citizens trying to hide, others calling for their family or friends, and a few other supers from the prison had been captured by power-repressing nets and were lying prone on the ground.
What the fuck was Lash doing?
Confused but still good at following directions, Speed did as he was told, running up and down and around the street to herd the rest of the citizens that were still upright and alive into a tight circle near the broken police car.
"Ew, gross, someone peed on my hand," Lash cried out in disgust, dropping everyone in his left hand.
One of the citizens ran out to try to catch the falling people, and emboldened by her decision, others followed to help, one woman even pushing past Speed to catch her falling child.
"Speed, what the fuck, man?" Lash hissed down at him when Speed didn't stop them. "Round 'em up and keep them there this time!"
Speed rounded them up again, several people with broken arms or legs, but alive. Even the kid was crying against the mother's shoulder and a few bruises were nothing. One person was wheezing in a way that he was sure indicated a punctured lung, and Speed sure as fuck didn't envy them that existence.
"We need to get to a hospital," called the citizen who'd run out first, ignored easily by Lash as he started monologuing to the other people in his hand.
"I'm going to crush you all and no hero will be able to stop me!"
Crushing citizens to death had never been one of the plans they'd discussed for once they'd broken out of the Pen, not even in the thousands of plans they'd talked about. Supers were one thing - they could fight back, they could heal - but citizens were only meant to be kidnapped to be used as smoke and mirrors to confuse the hero. They were in danger, sure, but the hero would save them, and if they didn't it was one citizen and the hero's fault. Like Lash said, there were no heroes around to stop him now, and he had a handful of maybe ten citizens. There definitely weren't ten supers around, and Speed just did not feel comfortable about this plan at all.
Lady Peregrine flew overhead and Speed almost sighed in relief out loud. Citizens called and waved, but Lady Peregrine was busy with another escaped villain, and she didn't stop.
Speed waited for another minute, two minutes, but there were no other heroes in sight. Lash had spent all of that time monologuing and Speed was kind of getting bored. Even with the thousands of plans they'd made together, Lash had taken up most of the time planning what he wanted, which meant talking more than or completely over Speed entirely. At the time, it hadn't mattered because what else were they going to do? Besides, Simon usually got to talk even if Lash went to bed early nearly every time. Well, except for the times when Lash told him to shut up or just laughed at his ideas. Which was every time, now that he was thinking about it. Feeling like a lightbulb had gone off overhead, Speed realised that all of his ideas had been ignored or rejected each and every time. Lash had left the prison without even looking for him just that morning, and Speed had the sudden epiphany that his best friend was kind of a dick.
It wasn't a pleasant epiphany, and neither was the one that they were alone and no hero was coming to save them. Speed knew what he had to do, but fuck, it didn't mean he had to like it.
" ... your blood will be a stain on the hero's reputation and - what the fuck?" Lash cried out as his foot shrank and unbalanced him. Looking down, Lash saw a power-pressing net covering his foot. "Speed, where the fuck are you? Get this thing off me!" he snapped, trying to kick his tiny foot with his giant stretched leg.
It didn't work, there was no response from Speed, and Lash muttered about what he'd do with that traitor as he leaned down to get the net off his foot.
Speed rushed at him in a blur, an auto-release pouch in his hands. Lash didn't have a chance to think or respond and then a power-repressing net was on his outstretched arm, his hand and forearm shrinking down. Lash tried to shake it off unsuccessfully, the net wrapping around itself to hold him tightly.
"Speed, what the fuck are you doing?"
"Me?! What the fuck are you doing, Lash?!" Speed snapped, indicating to the citizens.
"Oh, for fuck's sakes. I wasn't actually gonna crush them."
"You threw a kid."
"That kid peed on me and totally deserved it."
Speed sighed, shook his head, and raced over to the citizens who were still huddled together. He took the cuffs from the citizen's belt, but she grabbed him before he could race off.
"You don't get to make a citizen's arrest; those are my cuffs," Mia said firmly.
"Fine, but don't blame me if he's difficult to control. He has a tendency to punch first where cops are concerned," Speed said.
Mia grabbed her cuffs and looked down at the man with the punctured lung. "Will you take him to a hospital?" she asked. "They won't get to us in time."
"Don't hurt him?" Speed asked, glancing over to Lash; Lash was still his best friend... well, friend. Maybe.
Lash let go of the group of citizens as he started to fall, unbalanced and in the worst game of Twister ever, and a woman rushed over to the man with the punctured lung, tears in her eyes.
"Hurting people isn't my job," Mia said firmly, hurrying over to Lash before he fell and crushed everyone anyway.
Cuffing his smaller arm, Mia watched with relief as Lash shrank down to his normal height and lanky frame. Her relief was short-lived as he used his free arm to punch her directly in the face.
Behind her, Speed picked up the couple and raced off to Maxville's Super Memorial Hospital. The waiting room was overflowing with people, and it was all too obvious that the man with the punctured lung wouldn't be seen in time to survive. Making a split-second decision, Speed tightened his hold on the couple and ran out of the hospital, using every ounce of speed he had to make it through Maxville, the destroyed streets and suburbs, over to Westville, through the destroyed streets where Earthstone and Airborne were dealing with two gangs from the Suite Quartet, and into the Westville Private Hospital.
Speed stopped only when he was in front of the person he'd been looking for. "Sandy, you've gotta help."
Sandsapien looked at Speed, still dressed in his prisoner's outfit, and holding two citizens in his arms, one breathing laboriously and looking clammy and pale. "What the fuck happened to robbing a bank and laying low?"
Speed grimaced. Sandy had been his first friend in the Pen apart from those he'd arrived with, and while Sandsapien had been released to do community service at the hospital, he'd left with a promise to help Speed when he needed it. "Lash had other plans that he didn't tell me about. I'm calling in my favour, Sandy."
"Yeah, no shit," Sandy muttered.
Speed didn't get a chance to ask if he meant that in relation to Lash or the favour, because Sandsapien blew a palmful of sand across all three faces, and just like the citizens, Speed fell asleep.
...
Craig had started off by Jewel's side and had planned on staying with her until they found Grant. Lorcan and Corvin had been with them, and Craig had stopped to create a copy to go out with Corvin to help Maleah before she bled out. A few metres ahead, Jewel had gone on with Lorcan to investigate, and the building had split between them. Craig ran to a glowing spot, his copy had shifted, and he saw Jewel on a spot across the hallway from him.
"We'll be all right, babe. We need to find Grant," Jewel said firmly, even as the orange light turned to red around them.
Corvin had dodged out of the way of a ceiling, Lorcan jumping and trying to reach between them right as a wall came down on his outstretched arm, Leonardo, wait, no, it's red!, Donny's voice cried in his head. Corvin had flown hard and fast after that to avoid being crushed, Craig's copy held in his talons.
Craig hadn't had a chance to check if Lorcan was okay before he was flung forwards and down and up and maybe even backwards again, or perhaps that was just his stomach being left behind. He'd ended up in this corridor alone, surrounded by empty rooms, and no one in sight.
"Leonardo? You okay?" Craig asked into his walkie talkie, not getting a response.
In the silence around him, Craig had sent out multiple copies, then shifted to a mouse and continued to investigate on his own. His heart beating fast, his whiskers twitching, and his tiny body able to squeeze between even tinier gaps, Craig continued through the hallway that felt like it extended far beyond what he was sure he'd seen only a few minutes ago. He planned on being the investigative copy, the one who left the fighting to the other copies, and maybe biting an ankle if required.
Craig had not planned on being the one to find Grant strapped to a machine, surrounded by Layla's vines and Warren's fire, and other people in the room hovering around him like they were waiting for his head to be crushed. Craig shifted back when he was certain it was Grant in the room, then shifted to Earthstone, and tore the door out of the wall entirely.
A scientist, if the white jacket was any indication, let out a small gasp of surprise and shock. "How did you... the door's unbreakable," they said, eyes wide as they stared at him.
Craig set the door down - complete and unbroken, though the same couldn't be said for the wall surrounding it - and headed straight over to Grant, ignoring the question. "Grant? Are you all right?"
"Babe? You're really here?" Grant asked, relieved and struggling even more to get out of the contraption he was locked in.
"We're all here, though I lost Jewel in like two minutes; shit's weird out there, babe."
"It's not much better in here. Are you okay?"
"You're the one with a machine strapped to your head. Let me get you out of there. Trust me?" Craig asked.
"Always, babe."
There were protests from the others, Scientist Thirteen trying to explain what they knew while M and T tried to state the machine wasn't designed to be opened again. Deimos was in a corner, keeping his kitten safe away from the vines and flames, but even he looked concerned for what might happen.
"It can't be broken!" T said.
"Y'mean like the unbreakable door?" Craig asked, rolling his eyes. "Electro, come in. You got a visual on this room?" he asked, waving at the camera in the corner.
"Which room is 'this room' ... oh, wait, there you are. Ooh, I see it and that thing's a beast. Give me a sec," Terrence said, sounding far too excited considering Grant was stuck in the damn thing. "Okay, you're good."
Craig grinned, shifted to Earthstone, and gripped the machine high above Grant's head.
Grant didn't feel any difference with the machine surrounding him, and clutched the arm rests as he felt movement above him and heard the protests of the others. He trusted Craig and knew he'd never hurt him, but it was one thing to believe and another thing to blindly trust. Grant inhaled, exhaled, and waited.
Craig started to pull and tear the machine apart like it was nothing more than a wet paper bag in a cyclone. Pieces of machinery fell to the ground, screens cracked, and whatever was inside the machine itself was broken and crushed beneath his rocky form completely. Even Grant's wrists were untied and freed from the arm rests, and for all the fear and worry, it was over in less than three minutes.
Grant inhaled, exhaled, and opened his eyes to see Craig standing before him, freckles across his face, and looking down at him like he was worried he'd never see him again. "You okay, babe?" he asked, reaching up to cup his face.
Tears sprung to Craig's eyes and he nodded, gathering Grant up in a tight hug. "Are you okay? They hurt you, didn't they?"
"I knew you were coming, babe. We promised, remember?" Grant murmured. It wasn't quite an answer and they both knew that, but for now, it was enough.
"Oh, look, you brought friends! Isn't that lovely?" Scientist Eleven said cheerfully from the doorway.
Grant flinched in Craig's arms at the sound of her voice. He'd escaped a monster of the machine variety, and now had to face one of the human kind.
Craig felt Grant flinch bodily and knew instantly that this woman had been one of the ones to hurt him. She could have been the only one or one of many, but it didn't matter, all that mattered now was her life was forfeit. Craig let go of Grant gently and set him back down on the chair carefully, then turned and shifted. He wasn't Earthstone this time, but instead a wolf shifter, leaping with sharp teeth and sharper claws. Craig hit a barrier abruptly, falling and snarling as he stalked the perimeter.
Eleven grinned down at him. "Tut, tut. We just got these in this morning: super restraining order rings. It works against all supers, isn't that handy?" she quipped, holding out a hand to display the shining ring on her finger. Eleven glanced around the room, taking in the destruction, then looked at the wolf before her. "Oh, you did this, didn't you? Aren't you clever?! Now, shift back so I can see what makes you tick," she said, eyes bright and eager as she stepped forward.
Grant couldn't let Eleven get her hands on Craig. Every part of him resisted and protested against the thought alone, and he powered up. His power flowed out in a wave, filling the room and making Craig shift back abruptly. The wave continued, dissolving illusions, ignoring Rubik's cube formations, and powering down supers and test subjects alike. His power flowed like it was an endless ocean, intent on drowning everyone and everything in its path. Once the building was filled to bursting with powerless supers and citizens, Grant's power continued out further still. Robin's wall fell, Corvin and Craig 2.0 shifted back and fell to the ground, the guard's guns stopped working, and so his power went until everything within Montana itself was powerless across the entire state.
"Don't touch him," Grant snapped.
Eleven stopped abruptly and stared at Grant, eyes wide with a brief flicker of fear. All too soon, her mad scientist expression returned and then became even more crazed as she laughed, clapping her hands with delight. "Oh, I knew you could extend your power! Now, let's see how long you can stay like this."
"Leave him alone," Craig said as he stood up.
Eleven ignored him, eyes focused solely on Grant. With his arm aching with vines and flames, both bursting through his brand, Craig shifted to the Commander and landed a punch that turned Eleven's face into a small crater.
...
Fisher had used himself as a distraction so Mia could ready the net launcher, and had been thrown across Maxville by Lash as a result. Even as he'd flown through the air, through glass and buildings, through trees and shrubs, Fisher had deemed it a necessary sacrifice. He'd live either way, at least.
He'd landed, if his descent back to Earth could be called that, bloodied and bruised and possibly broken, but more importantly, alive. Stunned at the revelation himself, it had taken quite a few minutes for Fisher to dislodge himself from the suburban garden he'd landed in, his body leaving a long trail along the grass and a small crater where he'd finally stopped. It took even longer to come to terms with the fact that he was really alive - broken arm aside - and had a vague memory of the azalea bush growing to catch him.
Brushing his jacket and clothes off with his good arm, Fisher carefully walked out of the garden and towards the road to determine where he was. A flash of white caught his attention, and Fisher thought perhaps Lash had stretched across Maxville to finish the job, even as he turned and reached for his cuffs. It wasn't Lash but it was another prisoner from Maxville Super Penitentiary, and the male figure hadn't seemed to see him yet as he was walking the opposite way, murmuring to himself.
Fisher had files on the inmates from Maxville Super Penitentiary, official and personal, keeping track of the supers who had been locked away by the Super Bureau and court of law. He kept track for selfish reasons: to ensure that he didn't end up like them on the wrong side of a power repressing cuff, to remind himself that in the eyes of citizens, he was no different to the prisoners. Considering some of the supposed 'crimes' they'd been locked away for, Fisher made sure to lie as low as superhumanly possible these days.
Walter, aka, the Wickedness, was a super from Captain Stronghold's time and Fisher was surprised to see him now. He'd been a young'un at the academy when the Wickedness had been turned in - one of the few villains Captain Stronghold hadn't killed outright with his fists, though the coma had gone on longer than most anticipated - and remembered the headlines all too well.
Good vs. the Wickedness: good triumphs over evil! had been a popular headline at the time, the article going on to praise Captain Stronghold for turning in the villain for his dastardly crime. There had been more praise about Captain Stronghold leaving an evil villain to rot for his crimes, though Fisher had noted that there was very little about the Wickedness himself, his power, or even what he'd done wrong in the first place. He'd known better than to ask questions like that, but journalists without his life experience had no such qualms. They'd questioned Captain Stronghold, who had gone on to tell a tale of his heroic rescue of a maiden the Wickedness had taken hostage and left dangling above a vat of toxic waste.
By the time the Wickedness had awoken from his coma, he had been forgotten by Maxville with the influx of new villains being defeated by Captain Stronghold, these far flashier in spandex and waxing poetic about defeating the forces of good, taking over Maxville and conquering the world, blah, blah, blah.
Fisher's personal files included a record of who had visited the villains over the time they'd been imprisoned, and Walter had had a steady flow of family members across three generations. In fact, they lived around this area, if he remembered correctly. He could barely remember his own partner's name some days, but he remembered every last detail of those incarcerated, he thought to himself with a shake of his head. Fisher followed after Walter slowly and told himself the lack of speed was because of his broken arm.
Walter murmured under his breath, his footsteps slow and uncertain. Those kids hadn't been joking when they said the world was faster and louder than he remembered. Oh, he had children and grandchildren telling him stories about fast cars and aeroplanes - his youngest grandchild was currently fixated on eighteen wheelers - but it was a wholly different experience to see and hear it all for himself. Planes didn't fly over the prison to ensure there were no rescue attempts from the sky, and Walter tried not to flinch as he heard - and looked up to see - a plane flying overhead, thousands of metres above him and yet still so big. He felt minuscule beneath it, like a mouse beneath a bird of prey.
He made a mental note to thank young Speed again for dropping him off so close to his family, if he ever saw Speed again. Walter had lagged far behind the other villains who were intent on going to Maxville's city centre. He'd thought to find a phone book or a handy map of 'you are here' and 'your family is here' but of course, no such thing existed. Speed had sped past him, then returned a few seconds later. Once Speed understood where Walter was trying to go, he'd lifted him into his arms and sped off once more. Faster than a plane or an eighteen wheeler, Walter was sure of it! They'd stopped abruptly, Walter gasping for air, but he'd reassured young Speed that he was fine and would be able to find his family from there. He just couldn't remember if it was 151 Cherry Tree Court or 151 Cherry Tree Lane. Or perhaps it was 151 Cherry Tree Street? Or maybe 151 Cherry Tree Boulevard? Oh, he hadn't thought about home in so long.
"Walter," a voice called behind him.
It was one of authority and he turned abruptly, losing his footing. He was steadied far more gently than he expected, and Walter wondered if he could get away with lying to a police officer. He wasn't dressed like one, but he recognised the tone and had seen the cuffs on his belt even as he'd spun to face him.
"It's all right, I'm not going to arrest you. You're looking for your family? 151 Cherry Tree Lane. It's one street over; I'll take you."
Walter frowned. "You're not going to arrest me?"
"Well, I suppose I'll have to, considering you escaped prison. But I think that can wait, don't you?"
Walter honestly didn't have a good response, or at least not a very stupid one, and he let the injured officer guide him to his family. He stayed a few paces away, both of them wary of each other, but then Walter almost tripped, and the officer had to steady him once more.
"I'm Fisher. Detective Alan Fisher," he introduced as they headed down Cherry Tree Lane together.
"Walter. Uh, the Wickedness to my enemies," he added.
"Have many of those, do you?" Fisher asked, raising an eyebrow then continuing along in silence.
They stopped in front of 151 Cherry Tree Lane, Walter swaying on his feet gently, his heart pounding in his chest. He'd never felt so alive or so terrified. Apart from his wife, he hadn't seen any of his family outside of the walls of Maxville Super Penitentiary before and it suddenly felt so overwhelming.
"I'll walk you to the door, but you've gotta knock or ring the doorbell yourself," Fisher said, gently guiding him up the pathway to the two-storey house.
Walter remembered the house, if not the address. He'd bought it for his wife as their wedding gift, only to discover it was going to be a family home soon enough, with his dear wife pregnant. He'd looked for a higher paying job, getting a handshake and verbal confirmation only days later. Walter had been on his way home to tell his wife and child the good news when his world had changed forever.
He knocked on the door now - a different colour than the one he'd painted it originally, though the darker red reminded him of cherries - and waited half a moment, breathless with anticipation and nerves, before the door swung open widely.
"Grandpa!" little Timmy cried out, barrelling into him with all the eagerness of a five year old.
"Timmy! What did we tell you about opening... Walter?" Prue, his daughter-in-law, said incredulously.
Walter stroked little Timmy's hair as he clung to his leg. "Hello there, Prue dear. Do you mind if I come in?"
She blinked rapidly then nodded and waved him inside. "Of course not. Please, come on in. We're having a family get together, so you're just in time to see everyone. We were waiting on... well, Olive's coming by from the nursing home. We did tell you about that, didn't we?"
"Oh, yes. I suspect you did. Is she enjoying it?" Walter asked, hesitant and not entirely sure he wanted to know the truth.
He hadn't seen Olive since she'd been taken to the nursing home almost a year prior, and he missed his wife's visits more and more.
Prue smiled and nodded behind him as a car pulled up in the driveway. "You can ask her yourself. Though, from all of the activities she's been busy doing, I really hope the answer is yes."
Timmy finally let go and Walter turned around to see Olive - looking as lovely as the day he'd met her - at the door being guided up the stairs by their son.
"Wally?" she asked, eyes wide as she stopped abruptly.
"Mornin', Miss Olive," he said, feeling as shy as he had at sixteen.
Olive moved over the threshold with more certainty to her stride than he had these days. "It's Mrs. Walter Smith and you know it."
"Mornin', Mrs. Walter Smith. I've... I've missed you, darling wife."
Olive hugged him as tightly as little Timmy had only moments ago. "I've missed you, dearest husband."
"Uh, sir? Is my father all right? I don't... he's not getting a visit because he's dying, is he?" Timothy asked quietly, looking between his parents and Fisher in concern.
"No, no, he's fine. Well, as fine as he can be considering the circumstances and prison food. Your father needs to come back with me when he's done. Say, you haven't seen the news?" Fisher asked.
"Oh, no. Family rule: no news allowed during a family gathering. Ma can't stand it on the best of days."
Considering the less than savoury things that had been said about the Wickedness in the media, Fisher couldn't blame her. "And the nursing home isn't in Maxville?"
"It's nearby, I didn't want Ma too far away from the family after she'd... well, everything that happened."
"Your sister lives nearby too, doesn't she?"
"Constance? Yes; she's already out the back with everyone. Say, do you want to come in? We put on a mean spread, and my wife made her famous cornbread."
Prue rolled her eyes and patted her husband's chest. "You've got to stop telling everyone it's famous, Timothy. It's a box mix. Come on, Timmy's trying to show Grandpa his newest truck and I think your parents are trying to give you a new sibling."
Timothy pulled several faces, and Fisher couldn't stop his snort of amusement.
"Coming, Detective?" Prue asked with a smile.
"Uh... yes. Thank you," he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
"While you're here, let's get Constance to look at that arm, shall we? Connie! Your magic fingers are needed," Timothy called, grinning.
Fisher went to protest, to state it was broken, to say something like he was fine and didn't need another hospital bill. Connie walked in, ignored both him and Timothy, massaging her fingers into Fisher's broken arm firmly. There was a brief burst of pain and then... nothing.
He stared at his arm, then at Constance. "You... "
"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing; I'm a masseuse," Connie said with a grin, though there was a flicker of concern and a hint of fear in her eyes.
Fisher understood in an instant what had happened and wondered if her father's incarceration had led to Constance's response to her own gift. "You're an excellent one, clearly. I must've sprained it," he lied, relief flooding her features.
"Glad I could help. Now, come along. You've gotta try Prue's famous cornbread," Connie said with a grin, hooking her arm through Fisher's and leading him out to the backyard.
...
Robin cursed loudly as their wall fell with Grant's power tsunami knocking every super on their ass in the immediate vicinity. They started forward, pushing past Grant's negation to create soft landing places for Craig 2.0 and Corvin's unexpected descents. They both landed on grassy hills, Robin changing the shape in the same instant to cradle them so their landings didn't turn the hill into a crater.
"You two good?" Robin called across the expanse of dirt and asphalt.
"Ow," Corvin called back. "Cee-two, you still there?"
"Yeah. Fuck, I wish I wasn't though, that hurt," Craig groaned.
"Grant took everything out; how are you still here?" Corvin asked, sitting up and brushing grass off his super suit.
Craig 2.0 shrugged. "No idea, man. Oh, shit, guard," he called, throwing a clump of dirt and grass directly behind Corvin, most of it spraying Corvin as well.
A small grunt of pain behind him indicated that Craig had hit his mark, but Corvin still glowered and brushed dirt off his face and out of his hair. "Why aren't they shooting?"
"We have the high ground?" Craig suggested, grinning.
Corvin groaned, stood, groaned in pain this time, and stretched as he looked down at the guards that surrounded them. Several were attempting to climb the hill only to slide back down abruptly, and others were shaking their ray guns like that would make them work again.
Robin was still making their way over from the building in the distance, though they were moving faster than regular running would allow as the dirt and earth moved beneath their feet to help lengthen their strides. Ignoring the guards, Corvin tested his ability to shift against Grant's power. It felt harder, like he was a new chick and struggling to find a feather, but the brand helped him do a full shift after a moment.
Flying up into the sky was as natural as breathing, and Corvin took a moment to relish the feeling without being shot at. There was a glint of something shiny from the ground and Corvin was startled out of his enjoyment as he realised it was a knife. Flying hard and fast to get out of the way, Corvin sighed in relief as he watched the knife continue its path for a moment longer before starting to arc back down. Far too complicated maths started in his head as he followed its trajectory and Robin's path, and he hurtled after the knife.
Your hero - your friend, and you don't have many of those - is running across the earth at a speed of x. A knife has just been thrown and is falling at the speed of y. Your flight speed is z. At which point will your friend be killed by a falling knife?
As with most maths equations, Corvin's initial answer was "ahhh, fuck" and even as he flew, he tried calling out to Robin, his voice lost to fear and the wind.
Robin heard something though and finally looked up, eyes wide as they saw the knife and Corvin. Grinning, Robin moved to the side, stood their ground, and then a giant X appeared on the ground beside them. It had all the makings of a Saturday morning cartoon and Corvin felt like he needed to look out for a falling anvil behind him. Hoping Robin was better at maths than he was, Corvin slowed to a stop overhead, watching the knife hurtle to the ground.
Robin's bad at maths, some part of his mind prompted, the X not in line with the knife. In fact, it looked like Robin had moved even more firmly into the knife's path than they had been just a moment ago.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, Corvin thought, bringing his wings in close and plummeting down after the knife once more.
He wouldn't let them die.
...
End of the one hundred and ninety-fifth chapter.
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