Alice
A kind name for a monster… She had the identity… even the face of the fiend and yet-
"Hundreds are dead," Artoria growled, her words vibrating with restrained anger as she tightly clenched her gauntleted fist upon the table. Her gaze swept across the room, locking eyes with each of her compatriots who had the leeway to attend the meeting. While the meeting was meant for every hero, Protectorate and Ward, only Assault and Armsmaster remained available to attend. The rest had retired exhausted or were still active in the field.
It had been half a day since the first bomb struck, yet the devastating death toll bore heavily upon her shoulders, each count a reminder of the senseless tragedy. Her missing finger still throbbed, hidden under her gauntlet, a permanent mark of her failure.
"Over a thousand and still rising," Piggot corrected with a grimace from her seat at the head of the table.
"Then why, pray tell, have we not been informed of a kill order?"
"Saber," Armsmaster interjected, his level voice betraying no sign of fatigue or a hint of his thoughts. "The process is intricate and time-consuming. We need to be patient."
"Patient? Patient?" Assault snarled, his teeth almost bared. "The bombings stopped, but we have no idea when it will start again. We can't afford to wait!"
"What good is a Kill Order if we lack the means to execute it? We're blind to her whereabouts. Ignorant of her plans. Whether we get-."
Assault slammed his palm on the armrest of his chair, silencing his partner. "It's a matter of principle! The fact that we still haven't gotten it for a crazy terrorist is fucking ludicrous! And don't give me that bureaucratic bullshit! I've been here long enough to know that the process can be expedited in emergencies. So what the fuck is taking so long?!"
Silence descended upon the room, heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. Assault seethed in rage, his anger palpable. Artoria felt a pang of sympathy for her fellow hero, masked behind a veil of detached indifference.
Among the heroes, the only casualty had been Battery. While the woman still drew breath, her survival remained uncertain. Artoria was unsure of Assault's connection with Battery, but their closeness had been evident.
She mourned the loss of his usual smile, replaced now by a visage twisted by hatred. She yearned to offer solace, the bridge to the chasm of his suffering, but she knew he would not welcome it. At present, he craved only one thing.
Piggot closed her eyes, massaging her temples with a weary sigh. The woman had never seemed healthy, but she now seemed sickly. "I'll be frank," she began, her voice resigned. "I spoke with Director Costa-Brown. It's unlikely that a Kill Order will be issued for Bomber."
Assault erupted from his seat, his emotions a volatile mixture of shock and anger. "What the hell? You've got to be fucking with me!"
"Assault!" Piggot glared, patience thin. "Calm down or leave."
For a fleeting moment, Artoria feared that the man would launch himself at the Director, consumed by his emotions. Yet, with a heavy heart, Assault reluctantly sank back into his seat. "Why?" He asked, voice subdued as he gritted his teeth.
"… I don't know. The Chief Director refused to elaborate."
"Bomber indiscriminately slaughtered civilians. Kill Orders have been authorized for far less," Armsmaster interjected, his frown deepening as surprise laced his words. "Fighting someone as dangerous as her with one hand tied behind our backs will be lethal."
Piggot, unmoved, waved off his comment dismissively. "You will have to make do, Armsmaster. Use that tranquilizer that you're so proud of."
"No, he has the right of it," Artoria said, her voice uncompromising. "Armsmaster may have the means to subdue the Bomber, but we do not. If we are to confront her, we cannot afford to take unnecessary risks."
Piggot narrowed her eyes, staring at her in growing unease. "I don't like where you're heading with this. I hope you're not suggesting what I think you are."
"Saber, we cannot resort to killing. Not even 'accidentally," Armsmaster rebuked, disapproval etched onto his visage.
Assault smirked. "If the police can get away with it, why can't we?"
"Because we have a higher standard! Listen to yourself! What you're suggesting isn't justice. It's just revenge."
"Armsmaster, do you believe that the death penalty would be unjust for Bomber?" Artoria inquired, her tone low with solemnity.
For a moment, her fellow knight fell silent. "It is not for me to decide what is just or unjust."
"I disagree. You are a hero, are you not?" Artoria persisted.
Armsmaster shook his head. "Those are dangerous words. The question lies in whether we should act upon our beliefs. The perception of justice varies from person to person. If individuals act upon their own interpretations, there will be anarchy. The distinction between justice and revenge lies in adherence to the law," Amsmaster reasoned.
"Adherence to a just law," Artoria corrected. "The law encompasses all, but it is not all-encompassing. The law should be impartial but not blind or cold. That is precisely why we have juries and judges, to not only interpret it but also to consider the circumstances at hand. I am not suggesting that we disregard the law, but rather, we cannot blindly adhere to it when it fails to deliver justice."
Throughout her reign as King, she had strived to mitigate the severity of punishments for minor offenders. Thus, it was ironic that in her new life, she found herself advocating for the opposite.
Chivalry demanded that she abide by the law. But only if the law itself was righteous. Just as the loss of a hand for stealing a loaf of breath was an injustice, abiding by anything less than death for mass murder was dishonor in itself.
The punishment had to fit the crime. Nothing more. Nothing less.
"Enough! I will not tolerate any more of this nonsense. This isn't fucking grade school to have a debate on philosophy. Saber, if you don't have the confidence to bring the bitch back alive, then stay out of the fight," Piggot hissed.
"… Director, what fate awaits those from the warehouse? The ones that been… joined," Artoria inquired, her voice heavy.
Piggot averted her gaze, revealing a fleeting glimpse of weariness beneath her resolute demeanor. "Their brains are conjoined. Panacea can't do brains."
"Then what lies ahead for them?" Artoria persisted.
Silence hung in the air, pregnant with unspoken dread, until Assault broke it, his expression grim. "They'll be euthanized."
"Is it not peculiar that we spare the criminal but condemn the victim?"
"They're two different matters," Piggot defended.
"Yet, they are not entirely disparate," Artoria countered.
The Director met her gaze with a glare until a sense of resignation washed over her as she breathed out a heavy sigh. "What do you propose then?" She asked, her tone ladened with fatigue.
"I do not expect you to champion my cause, nor am I ignorant of the constraints that bind you to your position. All I ask is that you turn a blind eye when the time comes."
"The bomb bitch's dangerous. No one will complain if she dies during a high-stake fight. She's got no support, not even from the Asian community. Not after what she's done," Assault supported with a sneer.
Piggot sighed once more, massaging her temples as if attempting to ease the pain of the decisions before her. A period of silence fell within the hall, a single passed second becoming dozens as the Director struggled for an answer. "Do what you want," she finally said.
"Director!" Armsmaster protested in disbelief.
"We got a thousand casualties. I'm not wasting another second defending a Slaughterhouse Nine wannabe. What do we have on the Bomber?"
Armsmaster hesitated, wrestling with his conscience before relenting to the hierarchy. "Apart from her background and her recruitment by Lung, nothing. Her motives, plans, and location still remain unclear."
"Rather strange that she didn't try to break her boss out from jail," Assault pondered with a frown. "Not even an attempt."
"Potential infighting between the ranks?"
"Perhaps," Artoria acknowledged. "But it fails to provide an explanation behind the bombings. There were close to two hundred isolated explosions. Crafting so many would have required substantial time and investment- far too much to be wasted for no purpose."
Armsmaster nodded in agreement. "A show of force? The ABB has suffered significant defeats recently," he suggested, without mentioning the one behind their greatest loss."
"No, if that were true, she would have rescued Lung and Lee to bolster her strength."
"Not if she wants to get the cake and eat it too," Assault interjected. "This bitch bombed her school just because of a bad grade. I can't imagine someone like her settling for second fiddle to anyone."
Piggot let out a cynical scoff. "At this rate, we'll be left with nothing but speculations. Has Miss Militia reported any progress?" She asked.
"She has, but they found nothing substantial," Armsmaster said in response. "The troopers investigated all known ABB personnel, but they've all vanished without a trace."
"Fuck. They've gone into hiding then," she cursed, frustration bleeding from her tone. "And with communications down citywide, we won't be getting any tips from the public either.
That, more than anything, unsettled Artoria. The deliberate act of obfuscating their own actions was a strategy employed to shroud the adversary in ignorance about their intentions. It spoke volumes – the Bomber was poised to strike once more.
And there was no method or plan to stop her.
"Anything from Watchdog?" Assault eagerly pressed. "They might be our only lead at this point."
Piggot shook her head, her expression grave. "Nothing. It's like Brockton Bay doesn't exist for them."
"What do you mean?" Armsmaster asked, a hint of tension in his voice.
"It's as I said. Nothing in Brockton Bay can be precogged. Even other Thinker powers are malfunctioning in this city at this moment."
"That… is concerning," Armsmaster admitted, frowning. "Powers specifically targeting Thinker powers is unheard of, especially at this scale. If she somehow made a bomb that gives her anti-thinker Trump effects, we may need to raise her threat ratings. If that's not it, then…" His eyes widened in alarm, mouth slightly falling in disbelief.
"Regardless, further discussion seems meaningless," Piggot interrupted with dismissal, without noticing anything amiss. "Go get some rest. All of you."
...Piggot...
"Why are you still here?" Piggot's glare bore into the one person who remained in her face, irritating her already shitty mood. Ever since Saber had announced herself within the city, it had been one turd ball after another. God, she needed a break. A fucking good one… This better be important, otherwise…
If Armsmaster felt anything at being the receiving end of her frustration, whether it was a mild annoyance or irritation, he didn't show it. The man wasn't wearing his helmet, but his visage was no more revealing than if he was. "You didn't ask," he retorted.
Exhaling audibly, she sunk deeper into her chair. She had anticipated the question, but she was no more eager to answer. "What would have been the point? If she had any intention of answering, she wouldn't have refused the power test."
Even if Saber were to tell the truth, she could not believe her. No criminal would admit their crimes, and she had no way to verify the extent of Saber's capabilities, whether physical or esoteric considering that the parahuman could always lowball her performance.
The fact that the girl had vehemently declined the power test had been a sore spot for Piggot. But it had been one of Saber's conditions for joining the Protectorate, so Piggot had given her an exemption.
Now, she sorely regretted the decision.
"My lie detector would-"
"Your toy is untested," she snapped. "It does not belong anywhere near anything so sensitive."
Armsmaster shook his head. "While my tool's capabilities have yet to be verified, I can assure you of its efficacy. It can be a vital tool for extracting information."
"Perhaps in your imagination. But if you are wrong and your device is faulty, it will be a disaster. Until your lie detector passes the tests, it's nothing but a risk."
"And she isn't?"
Piggot didn't need any further clarification to know who the 'she' was.
"Saber is the biggest risk in this building. I would even say that she's the first in the city if it wasn't for the Bomber. Normally, I would've put everyone and their dog in Master-Stranger confinement, but we have a more pressing issue. One that's more likely to explode in our faces. Literally. Besides, you and Dragon concluded that Saber's Master power was unlikely to be a threat.
The lingering fear of being controlled haunted Piggot, and the itch to put the entire Rig under lockdown never fully left. The idea of subjecting Saber to interrogation crossed her mind multiple times, but she swiftly dismissed it each time.
The diminutive girl was the most powerful asset she had under her command, and alienating her was not an option. Not when the city was so violatile.
But that did not mean that Piggot had done nothing. No, she had prepared for the worst. Her colleagues, directors and above, had all been informed. If Saber had truly Mastered Brockton Bay's Protectorate and PRT, they would handle it accordingly. The moment she and her heroes displayed any unusual behavior, they would act.
And once the Bomber was dealt with…
"And I stand by the conclusion," Armsmaster agreed with a small nod. "After she gave that… speech, thousands of panicking civilians turned into emergency responders, acting with far greater coordination than trained professionals. However, just as many ignored Saber, implying that her power might be more of a suggestion than an outright control."
"Meaning it could be resisted," Piggot noted, finding some solace in the thought, though not enough to dull the edge of her anxieties. "Something like Glory Girl's aura?"
"Yes, hypothetically. But we know too little to make assumptions. It's possible she was trying to Master too many people at once, and her power lost effectiveness."
"Unlikely," Piggot countered, shaking her head. "Powers have themes and patterns. A Master power that potent would be inconsistent with her power set, and no parahuman can possess powers that diverse."
"Unless they're a Trump. But I agree. Saber is suspicious in many ways. Her behavior, speech, history, and powers are all… peculiar. We'll need to investigate her thoroughly in the future. But despite all that and her obvious distrust in the PRT, I don't believe she is malicious. If she planned on Mastering the Protectorate, she wouldn't have revealed that power to the public," Armsmaster reasoned.
Piggot raised an eyebrow at the man's defense of the girl. "Are you sure you're not Mastered? You're surprisingly adamant in her favor."
"I'm merely stating facts. Besides, she's proven herself valuable. Without her, the casualties would have been much higher. Not to mention she handles her duties with professionalism and dedication. She'd be a fine addition to the Protectorate," he praised.
That, she couldn't deny. Saber's interactions with others, even with Stalker, were amiable. Polite, mature, and respectful. She displayed all the qualities Piggot admired. What more could she have asked for from a person under her command?
"However," Armsmaster pressed on, his irritation barely concealed beneath a furrowed brow. "That will all be for nothing if she kills."
Piggot scoffed, dismissing the concern. "Bomber's a mass murderer. No one in Brockton Bay would give a single shit if her head was mounted on a pike."
And besides, what the hell was she supposed to do? If there was a feasible course of action, she didn't see it. Even a blind man could see that Saber was dead set on killing the bitch. If Piggot tried to stop her, the young heroine could simply leave the Wards and operate independently.
The truth was, Piggot had close to no control over Saber. What authority she had over the girl was what the girl allowed her to have.
Even if Saber killed the Bomber without authorization, there was not much the PRT could do even if they had the strength to defeat her in battle. The girl had become a sensation in the city after defeating Lung, but today's events had elevated her to national fame.
And with the rise in fame, Saber had gained a shield. The shield of public opinion. If Piggot tried to arrest her for killing a mass murderer… God… Their PR would be devastated.
"The problem isn't the killing but doing so unauthorized. We need a Kill Order to prevent future problems," he insisted.
"I hate repeating myself. There won't be a Kill Order," she declared, though the words tasted bitter in her mouth.
Sure, the Chief Director had given her all sorts of pretty excuses as to why a Kill Order would not be possible. Some excuses were reasonable, while most were utter bullshit. But nevertheless, Piggot could see why the PRT wanted the Bomber alive.
The Time Bomb.
If that weapon could be used against the Endbringers, it could be a game-changer. Depending on how the bitch acted, it would not be surprising if she received a private pardon in exchange for her services.
"The civilians in the city may find relief in Bomber's death, but those outside the city won't be as understanding. They'll see a Ward killing a villain, and there will be repercussions. Not just for her, but for all of us."
Ah...
So that's what it was. She had thought it strange when Armsmaster had been strangely adamant against killing. The man was a hero and had a hero's morality. Despite his… defects, he did his job well. But he was not so stringent enough to be so adamantly against the death of a villain. In reality, he was far more practical.
"Yes… I'm sure that it will reflect poorly on the Head of the Wards if someone under his purview kills, tarnishing his perfect resume."
Pearl white teeth grinded against its kind as Armsmaster tightened his fist. "I don't appreciate what you're implying."
"I'm sure you don't," Piggot let out a derisive snort. "Now, if that's all, get out. I need some sleep."
For a fleeting moment, Armsmaster seemed furious, his usual calm visage twisting into one of rage. But just as swiftly the anger came, it dissipated with equal speed as he rapidly regained control of his emotions, returning to his usual professional demeanor. "There is still one more thing to address," he stated with a rigid calm.
Groaning in dismay, Piggot leaned back into her chair. For a moment, she was tempted to just leave. "Get on with it. Make it quick," she said instead, as her need for rest was outweighed by the weight of her duties.
For a few seconds, the man hesitated, almost as if he was uncertain. "It's just a hypothesis. But I've heard reports of something akin to the Thinker blackout happening in the city, albeit on a much smaller scale."
Interest piqued, she leaned forward. "Go on."
"Trigger events can't be predicted by precogs, as we know," Armsmaster began. "What many don't realize is that multiple trigger events in close proximity can cause a distortion effect on Thinker powers, even after the events have passed."
"You're saying that…" Piggot's words trailed off as she felt the fifth headache of the day forming in her temple.
"The duration of these blackouts depends on the number of triggers. Normally, mass triggers come in a cluster of two or three, and the blackouts only endure for a few minutes. But what if there were dozens or even hundreds of triggers happening simultaneously within the city?"
"Impossible," Piggot snorted dismissively. "There's only a dozen or so triggers even during Endbringer attacks. You're overthinking."
"Perhaps," Armsmaster admitted. "But the only other explanation would be that Bomber somehow created a city-wide anti-Thinker field, which seems far less likely, given that she triggered not too long ago."
"Why, because you can't? Is it that hard for you to imagine that there are other people better than you?" Piggot sneered with a glare even as she flinched under her own tone.
She was being cruel, she knew. Her behavior was inappropriate and unreasonable. But there was only so much stress one person could take before lashing out, not to mention that the man was cutting into her precious time for rest with utter nonsense.
"That's not what I am saying," he growled as his anger flared once more. "I know it's unlikely, but if Bomber found a way to increase susceptibility to triggers… and if the bombings were part of a larger plan-"
"Enough. If there were that many triggers, there's no way we wouldn't know. Parahumans are not famous for being subtle."
"You overlook the fact that we're operating blind," Armsmaster retorted, his typically iron-clad self-control slipping as his voice gained heat. "In the absence of functioning communications, any rampaging parahuman would escape our notice. The police have been annihilated, and the PRT troopers are stretched thin. As of now, the only method to report parahuman activity is for the witness to make their way to the Rig. But considering recent events, that is exceedingly improbable."
"Out," Piggot interrupted, having heard enough. "Don't bother me again with your nonsense, and get back to work."
Hundreds of triggers? Bullshit.
She stood from her seat in a huff and exited the room, ignoring Armsmaster's protests.
But…
What if?
A discomforting sensation gnawed at her insides as she walked as doubt crept within her consciousness.
What Armsmaster was suggesting was unprecedented but not impossible. The Elite and Gesellschaft had studied methods to induce triggers with questionable success. And while she hated to admit it, Bomber was talented.
Perhaps it was better to be safe than sorry…
Piggot sighed as her long-deserved rest seemed to be fading further and further away.
...
"Put the head in the coconut and mount it all up," he sang as he worked, eager to impress his guest as the host. "Put the head in the coconut and mount it all- oh? All done?"
"Yup! All the coconuts have been mounted!"
"Atta girl! Send the invitation!"
...
As usual, all comments, reviews, and criticisms are welcomed.