Elegy 1.3
When the Forsberg Gallery had originally been envisioned, it had been as part of a larger initiative to revitalize Brockton Bay. It had been floated - and embraced in the shadows of the failed shipping industry - that by utilizing Medhall they could turn Brockton Bay into a center of medical (and just a little drug) tourism on the northeastern seaboard. Millions were dumped into the project, local drug laws were revamped, the local community was tapped into to create excitement and goodwill, and downtown Brockton Bay along with the Boardwalk were given facelifts to make them attractive to prospective tourists and businesses.
Unfortunately, despite the money and effort put into the initiative, it never achieved more than a fraction of what had been hoped. While there had certainly been a momentary bump in medical tourism for a time in Brockton Bay, it faded away as time went on and crime rose again, and then it faded into nonexistence after The Burn happened. After that, the city was left with a multitude of new and renovated buildings and no tenants to pay for them.
It had cost the previous mayor his job, as he had been one of the leading proponents of the initiative, having hoped that by spending a lot of money he could attract people back to the Bay. And it had also provided the opportunity for Roy Christner to rise to the office on a platform of austerity and accountability.
One of the few exceptions to that failure however was the Forsberg Gallery. Forsberg, with its unique high-tech architecture design that looked like something from a late-stage game of Jenga, had become the primary place for fundraisers, galas, and corporate parties for the remaining medical and tech companies left in Brockton Bay.
However, there were times when the rich and shameless would get their own time in the sun at Forsberg, as was the case this evening.
It was this scene, in the midst of the lines of cars and vehicles and under the hawkish gaze of various photographers and other support staff that gave weight and functionality to the event, that a regal blue sports car pulled to the red carpet, the engine a mere whisper in the rest of the cacophony. The vehicle was sleek with sweeping lines and aerodynamic curves; the headlights were especially subtle and seemingly vanished the moment they were switched off, giving a futuristic look to go with the large air scoop that dominated the car's hood. It was purpose-built for speed and it was unabashed in how it expressed it.
The driver-side door slid back along the car's frame as Irene stepped out from inside the vehicle. Her clothing had barely changed from her previous appearance, only eschewing the overcoat and wearing pants. She sauntered around like a predator with purpose to the passenger door, letting it open before holding out her hand to the occupant.
Amelia Lavere's hand grasped hers as she emerged from the vehicle. Like Irene, she was decked out in black, but where Irene wore a business suit Amelia had opted for a backless body-contouring dress that tied around her neck and fell down to just past her knees. The fabric seemed to drink in the light in an unnatural way, accented by her elbow-length black gloves. Her hair was no longer a curly brown, but instead a tasteful auburn with faint red streaks, while her sun-kissed and her freckled skin had been lightened.
Gifting Irene with a small smile she smoothed out the hem of her dress before taking the offered arm, even as Irene turned her gaze on the valet who suddenly gained a bout of nerves at the piercing gaze pinning him down.
"The car is a prototype and has a tracker in it. I expect to have it returned to me this evening unblemished. If it isn't, they will never find the body. Am I clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," the valet gulped, suddenly questioning his life choices.
For a moment longer she stared him down, looking for something that he didn't know, before she offered a nod, her lips quirking up into a smirk. "Good."
With her part said, she then turned her focus back to her accompaniment and began leading her up the stairs, not even paying attention to the various eyes that were focused upon them.
"You could have been a little less harsh, Irene," Amelia chastised, though it was obvious that it was a half-hearted attempt, judging by the smile on her face.
"Exotic one-of-a-kind sports car in the hands of a college age male," was the rebuttal, followed by a mild shake of her head, "I think putting the fear of me into him was merely prudent action."
Amelia laughed lightly as they approached the doors, letting them open. In many ways, Irene Adler was more than an alias and a mask for Taylor Hebert, it was the purest expression of what she had become. An implacable force of will that was will to impose herself upon others for the smallest of things.
It was honestly what had attracted Amelia to her in the first place, well, after working out her own personal issues that is. Taylor, under her guise as Irene, approaching her outside of Brockton General with a two million dollar check and an idea had been the best thing to ever happen to her. That had led to where Amelia was today; rich to the point that she would likely never exhaust her money supply, and happily capable of saying 'fuck you' to anyone who wanted her to do something that she didn't want to.
Oh, she still did charitable work, visiting hospitals all over the United States and Canada to provide healing, with talks about expanding to Europe. But it was not something that she felt obligated to do like when she was with New Wave.
"So how do you think this is going to splash," she murmured, just loud enough that she knew Taylor would hear her, moments before they reached the doors.
"Which part? You? Me? Both of us? In order? Surprised that you would come back to Brockton Bay. Leery that I'm here. Probably shocked that we would announce our relationship like this when the local fauna would take exception."
Amelia had to hide a snort at the last comment; referring to the Empire 88 as animals was apropos. While she certainly would never agree with the refuse they espoused, they certainly could have done something more than what they have done. It certainly showed a severe lack of foresight and intelligence on their leadership.
And now I'm sounding like Taylor, Amelia thought, minutely shaking her head as they came to the doorman who opened the door and allowed them through.
ASiS
"Pleased to meet you," Theo Anders shook the hand of what felt like the hundredth person for the evening, trying to keep a pleasant expression on his face, when all he wanted to do was vomit at the feeling of being trotted around like a prize-winning horse by the sperm donor that unfortunately carried the status of being his father.
Alas, that was not his lot in this life, as his presence was demanded by Max Anders. As much as he would rather tell the man to go fuck himself, he knew better. If he failed to accede to that man's demands, he would simply turn to the 'spare.'
His little half-sister, Aster.
Just the thought made him want to grind his teeth, but instead, he offered another smile and a nod to the next idiot seeking his attention, even as he imagined crushing the man's head like an overripe tomato and burning his corpse to ashes. That simple fantasy was a balm upon his furor and allowed him to focus on doing what was best for her.
It had been five years since Kayden had been killed by Oni Lee during what the locals had termed The Burn. He hadn't been there when it happened, but he had heard the stories; How Oni Lee had somehow been able to ambush her on a low-level strafing run, using one of his grenade-laden clones to kill her. Her death had changed the very complexion of the battle between the Empire and the Azn Bad Boyz, where what had been a localized conflict had rapidly escalated into an all-out war with well over two hundred dead. It had been a devastating day for both gangs, with the Empire Eighty-Eight losing Cricket, Purity, and Fenja, along with several dozen soldiers, while the ABB had lost over half of their non-cape roster. It may have gone on even longer if not for the deployment of the Triumvirate and mobilization of local elements of the National Guard.
But the casualties hadn't mattered to him, not then, and certainly not now. What had mattered was that Aster had lost her mother, and he had lost a mother figure that had protected him from his monster of a sperm donor.
But what had probably mattered more than anything else was the promise that he had made to Kayden. That if something had ever happened to her, that he would protect Aster with his everything and prevent her from being dragged back into the web of Maximilian Anders and turned into whatever he wanted.
It had been in that desperation and despair that he had triggered and found the strength to do what needed to be done to fulfill his promise and protect Aster. He would sell everything that he was and become the heir that Max desired, as long as Aster was allowed to grow up apart from the world of the Empire Eighty-Eight.
It was the pact that had been forged between the two of them, and nearly five years later, it was a pact he both regretted but also knew he would not have done any different. Aster was a happy, bubbly six year old untouched by the horrors that was the cape world, and he would fight to his dying breath to keep it that way.
Even if he despised it.
"Focus," Max murmured, obviously catching his lapse, and this time he couldn't stop from grinding his teeth.
At twenty years old, he was no longer the husky teen that had been quiet, withdrawn, and lacked the assertiveness that had originally driven Max to discard him as his heir. In its place was a 'Perfect Aryan' (that term made him want to throw up), well-built, chiseled jawline, close cut blond hair, and blue eyes, he could have easily passed as a propaganda poster from the Reich eighty years ago, much to his biological patron's delight.
But those were only the physical aspects, one-half of the equation. Where he once was shy and timid, there was now an edge to him, one that he had honed in order to prevent Max from turning his eyes to his half-sister. But unbeknownst to him, there was also a deep lying hatred that would only be satisfied with the death of his patriarch and the destruction of his organization.
So for now, he would play the game, he would do the things that the man wanted. But soon…soon, he would be ready to finally turn against him.
But today, there was only one reason he was here, instead of with Aster, reading her a bedtime story and listening to her unburdened laughter and joy.
Max had every intention of trying to introduce him to Irene Adler, with the hope that with his good looks and breeding, he would be able to entice the woman into a romantic entanglement. An entanglement that would be to the further benefit of Medhall by providing access to markets it did not have.
Frankly, he found it inherently stupid and shortsighted of Max. Everything he had read or had been able to find about Adler, indicated a woman who was singularly focused upon her company. Honestly, he couldn't begrudge her; at twenty-one years of age and with her scars, it was without a doubt an uphill battle even with the successes Demeter had experienced, so why would she waste energy and time to cultivate a relationship in such a cutthroat business, where any sign of weakness invited destruction?
So it was only logical that he would blink at the sight before him as Max led him up to the woman, who was smiling and laughing at something that Mayor Christener was saying. But that wasn't what had taken him aback.
No, it was the laughing woman standing to Irene's right in a manner that was too close to be casual acquaintance. Something niggled at the back of his head that he should recognize the woman, but he wasn't sure where from.
"Ah, Max, glad to see you make it," Roy greeted as his eyes caught them approaching, "How's Nessa doing?"
"She's doing quite well, Roy. She's sorry she couldn't make it, but you know how it is."
Theo had to suppress a wince at the reminder of the marriage of Max and Nessa Biermann, also known as Fenja. After Kayden's death, Max had spent the 'appropriate time' grieving, but between his own trigger and the Faustian pact he had made in order to protect Aster, Max had already begun planning. Nessa had been devastated by the death of her sister, and while in that grief Max had taken advantage, basically promoting Nessa from what was essentially a fuckbuddy, to a third wife. Nessa was now pregnant with the new 'spare,' as Max's egocentrism would not accept anything less.
She was due to give birth in the next couple of weeks, and on one hand Theo was grateful, as hopefully it would take additional pressure off of Aster, but on the other hand he was just as disgusted by it all.
"It's perfectly fine. I remember those days with Helen," was the nostalgic smile on the older man, as he motioned to the two women, "You've already met Miss Adler."
"Miss Adler," Max greeted the woman, shaking her hand, "may I introduce my son, Theo."
"A pleasure," she said as he took her proffered hand in a shake, noting the sensation of slight calluses on her hand, this was obviously not a woman that sat in an office dispensing orders.
"May I introduce my girlfriend," she then continued after, releasing his hand, "Amelia Lavere, perhaps better known to all of you as Panacea."
Oh. OH! Now, he couldn't help but smile as everything clicked into place, even as he cast a surreptitious glance out of the corner of his eye at Max's expression, catching the slight tensing of his jaw. Knowing that the eruption that was now guaranteed once they reached more private quarters, he reached out and took the offered hand of Panacea, taking note of the elbow length gloves. It was a nice touch he had to admit, considering the horror stories of biotinkers, to have the well-known biokinetic wearing gloves when taking into account her own public admission that her powers worked through touch.
"I apologize for not recognizing you," he said, keeping that smile on his face for an entirely different reason, "you're certainly different from all the publicity photos."
"You'd be shocked at how entertaining it is to come up with new ways to work around the Manton limitations of my powers," Amelia replied, "I'll admit, creating a natural color changing effect upon my hair in my spare time took me a couple of weeks. It's not something that will win me a Nobel Prize, but hopefully I'll have a patent in a year or two once the FDA gets around to looking over what I did."
He nodded. Panacea had largely been a private individual since the very public falling out that had taken place between New Wave and herself after Ellisburg. It's only because of Medhall's place in the pharmaceutical establishment that they got any glimpses of what the cape was working on. Outside of major contracts with the United States government and several pharmaceutical and agricultural corporations, a lot of her breakthroughs and advances in various fields came through things she did in her spare time. So to hear her talk about working on something as mundane as natural cosmetics, well, it was certainly jarring considering the impact she had had on the world so far.
"Well, this certainly is a surprise," Roy observed, his jovial tone continuing, "I bet there is a story behind this."
"Well there is. I don't think either of us were expecting it, if I'm perfectly honest," Amelia replied, getting closer to Irene, who was letting her other half talk while sipping from a flute of champagne, "if you were pulled aside into a room and meet a sixteen year old with a seven figure check and, quite frankly, an insane idea, wouldn't you have a few choice words?"
"I don't think calling me a psychotic fry-faced bitch would be among them," Irene offered with a bit of sass back, trying and failing to hide a smirk.
"Touché. Not my greatest moment," was the other's agreement, "but in my defense, you were talking about creating a virulent pathogen specifically designed to target the unique gene combination of an S-Class threat. I think not calling for security to put you in a straitjacket was a charitable gesture."
"True. You could have done that. Though I would only have accepted a padded room for my accommodations."
"You would," she snarked back with a roll of her eyes, "I told her I wasn't interested in less than polite terms," chuckling, she shook her head, "but she had planted a seed. Looking back on it now, are you sure you're not a Thinker, Irene?"
"I don't know, you tell me, you're the biokinetic."
Theo laughed, both at the banter and the fact that they might as well have slapped Max with a fish with the many-layered insinuation in that statement. Max was a fucking hypocrite through and through, perfectly fine with the three-way relationship that he previously had with Nessa and Jessica (and all that had entailed) while ranting about the degeneracy of homosexuality. However, there was no way in hell he would be able to sell any type of liaison between Medhall and Demeter to the rest of the Empire no matter how he tried to frame it, not if Demeter's CEO was in a relationship with another woman.
"Anyways, to cut a very long story short, I gave in to the challenge that Irene had given me. It certainly was something quite different after two years of constant healing. Then you all know what happened next."
All three men nodded. After the news had broken that Ellisburg and all the horrors contained within had been destroyed, there had been an inquisition to find out what had happened, and how. It was only a few months later that Panacea, with the backing of Demeter Solutions, had come forward in a press conference, announcing to the world what had happened and revealing that Panacea was not just a healer, but in fact an extremely powerful and versatile biokinetic with tinker capabilities. The resultant furor had reverberated throughout the nation for the better part of eight months, with many inconvenient questions being asked, and clarified upon.
"Honestly, I expected Irene to cut me loose, I mean, she got her company's name out there. Instead, she stood beside me, even appearing before Congressional panels answering those same questions they asked of me. If it wasn't for her, well… I believe it would have ended quite differently. And somewhere in the middle of all of that? " Amelia offered a shrug "Of course, Irene took quite a bit longer to actually reciprocate."
"And are you disappointed by that?"
Amelia paused for a moment in thought, "Not really," she finally opined with a smile, causing Irene to laugh lightly.
"Well," Roy chimed in, "it's always good to see a daughter of Brockton Bay returning to her roots."
There was a small, wan smile from the brunette, "For a few weeks at least. I know there are plans for me to visit my old healing grounds for a day or two. But I planned this to be more of a workcation for me. It's not often that Irene stays in one place for that long and I intend to take advantage of it."
"The burdens of corporate life," Irene faux lamented, drawing laughter from everyone involved.
"Aren't you worried about the local gangs taking offense to your relationship," It was Max that asked that, cementing in Theo's head that Max was already probing because he had decided that Irene, and by extension Demeter, had moved firmly into the enemy camp.
The joviality slid off Irene's face, becoming a near-blank slate, even as Amelia maintained a smirk, "If you are referring to the Empire Eighty-Eight," Irene began, her voice as cold as a glacier, "and if I were talking to Kaiser right now, I would quote another vainglorious and detrimental leader by the name of Gaius Caesar and say 'Oderint dum metuant,' which translates into 'let them hate so long as they fear.' I have no quarrel with the Empire; what they do is their own business. They are nothing more than a possible provincial irritant to me and I am not here to partake in the local cape insanity."
Her expression hardened though, and Theo could only find himself taken aback at the ferocity that seemed to be lurking underneath the surface, "That being said, if the Empire Eighty-Eight chooses to express their disapproval of my personal life or my company upon my operations through more-than-verbal means, then I will make it my company's personal business to visit upon them what I have upon Bastard Son, The Fallen, and Heartbreaker, among others."
Her expression then relaxed, and she offered a smile, "At least, that's what I would say to Kaiser, if I had the chance."
For a brief moment, Theo feared that Max was going to lose his poise and reveal through violent means that Adler was indeed speaking directly with Kaiser of the Empire Eighty-Eight. It was a miracle in and of itself that the older man was able to restrain himself from giving it away. Max had suffered much less from others in the past, before he had eviscerated them.
Sometimes very messily.
Instead, he offered a smile and replied, "Well, that's certainly a different take."
"Indeed," Roy cleared his throat, "What you said in my office was one thing, but… well, I certainly can't fault you for sticking to your guns, if a little impolitically," he then glanced at his watch. "Unfortunately, it seems that I have to go and get ready. It was nice seeing you, Max, Miss Adler. I hope to see you again later."
With his goodbyes done, Roy strode away, leaving the four of them staring at one another.
"Unfortunately, Miss Adler, Miss Lavere, duty calls," Max pleasantly said, every inch the picture-perfect gentleman and pillar of society, save for the faintest hint of tightness around his eyes. "It was a pleasure, talking with you both. Come along, Theo."
Oh yeah, he was pissed, Theo thought.
ASiS
"I know you were planning to give notice," Amelia murmured as they watched the Anders duo walk away, "but for fuck's sake, that's quite different from bearding the lion in his own den?"
When Irene didn't answer immediately, Amelia turned her attention to her girlfriend who had frozen in place, champagne flute resting upon her lips, but her eyes were narrowed in a venomous look. Turning her head, she followed her girlfriend's gaze and frowned.
There across the way, standing beside an older man dressed in a PRT uniform, was a figure dressed in form-fitting black and slate gray outfit with a cape, their head completely enclosed by a helmet.
The cape was Penumbra, one of the Brockton Bay Protectorate's newer and more effective additions, with the ability to manipulate both her shadow and the shadows of others as weapons. What wasn't public was the ability that she could use her shadows to eavesdrop.
Of course, it wasn't the need of secrecy and choosing their words carefully that drew Irene's reaction. No, it was the identity of Penumbra.
Emma Barnes. The girl, now woman, who had five years ago whispered in the ears of Empire Eighty-Eight gang members at Winslow and set them on the path that would result in the firebombing of the Hebert's household, claiming the life of Danny Hebert and brutally scarring Taylor.
"Irene," she uttered, placing her hand on the other girl's arm, drawing her attention and ire away from Penumbra and back to her. Staring her down for a moment, Amelia worried if it would not be enough, before Irene shook her head and released a sigh.
"Right," came the admittance, before she then threw back the rest of the contents of the flute, "let's catch some air."
They then strode towards one of the balconies.
Coming to a stop and letting the cold air buffet them, they stood in silence, the sound of the gala mere background noise to them as Amelia took the time to carefully watch her girlfriend bring her emotions back under control. From the stories Taylor had shared with her in the past about her father, she knew that even if Taylor would never admit it, she had the same deep-seated anger issues that her father did. Although she was certainly better at keeping it in check, it did manifest itself in a level of viciousness that could take even her aback.
Placing a hand on Taylor's shoulder, she stared at her girlfriend whose head had turned to meet her gaze conveying the unsaid question of if she was okay.
Taylor took a deep inhalation then released it, her lips quirking upwards slightly; a weak offering of reassurance for her. She knew Tayor wanted to say more, but with Penumbra's ability to eavesdrop on conversations through shadows, there was simply too much risk.
Instead, they just basked in the silence as they both stared out into the city.
"A lot's going to change around here," Taylor finally stated, the mask of Irene sliding back into place.
"For the better," Amelia agreed, "We better get back inside for the Mayor's big announcement."
"Yeah."
ASiS
"No, thank you," Taylor declined the offered drink from the waiter, instead turning her gaze back to the mingling crowds from her perch upon the upper levels.
Amelia had gone to freshen up after the announcement during which the Mayor had revealed the reason why Demeter was in Brockton Bay. She would have to remember to show the proper annoyance at Christner's premature announcement, but still, it served her plans all the same.
The issue now was the details of the ongoing plan and whether she should make additional adjustments and contingencies. There were just too many options and paths she could take in order to achieve her goals.
It was something to explore later.
"Ah, Miss Adler, I was hoping to catch you."
Turning to the newcomer, she greeted Kuren Deisemann, the Director of the Brockton Bay PRT. She had honestly expected this meeting today, especially now considering the announcement by the mayor.
"Director Deisemann, I doubt this is a social call, so what can I do for you," she asked, focusing on the man while ignoring his shadow.
She would have to be cautious with the Director. Kuren Deisemann was widely considered one of the rising stars within the PRT as a whole. A former member of the Delta Force, he had been part of the 'new wave' of officers and servicemen who had joined the PRT in lieu of the large military cutbacks eight years ago, rising up the ranks until he assumed the Director position at Brockton Bay after Emily Piggot's resignation.
What separated him from the other Directors was the various programs and initiatives he had instituted after his assumption of command. Before his assumption of command, he had been one of the leading proponents of a modernization of the Protectorate, seeking to fully integrate the empowered individuals of the Protectorate with the unpowered members of the PRT into a cohesive fighting force instead of the segregated elements that it had been. Furthermore, he had pushed the idea of creating specialized teams of capes and non-capes that would be modeled after the Joint Special Operations Command, designed to handle threats across the nation that may be too much for local assets.
When he had come to Brockton Bay with a blank check and orders to contain the problems, he had immediately restructured it all from the ground up, modeling it off of his ideas and splitting his assets up into a main force and a quick reaction force; the latter unit with its speed and ability to operate independently would be able to quickly reach trouble spots and hold the line until the former mobilized. It had proven to be quite successful within Brockton Bay over the last four years, and while it had not stamped out neither the Empire or the ABB, it had at the very least driven them to be more circumspect in their actions and forced them to scale back their ability to operate openly.
It also helped that Deisemann had made it clear that he was ready and willing to authorize lethal force if necessary, as Alabaster had found out the hard way within the first month of Deisemann's stewardship. It was rather hard to regenerate when the upper half of your body was completely pulverized into slurry by anti-material rifles and spread across several square meters of downtown Brockton Bay. What was left of the cape's skull and chest had needed to be literally scrapped and mopped up.
But for all of his successes, there were still controversies. One of the loudest complaints was the reorganization of the Wards and how they were trained, leading to accusations that Deisemann was creating child soldiers. They were somewhat right in that, Deisemann had taken a page out of the JROTC book and began training the Wards so when they reached legal age or were forced to be activated in emergency circumstances, they would have the same training and knowledge that their adult brethren in the Protectorate would have. Was it skirting the line? Certainly. But it had shown in the recent crop of graduated Wards that his ideas were effective.
And then there was his ethnicity, of course. The Empire Eighty-Eight had fanned those flames quite well, ignoring the fact that Kuren was a first-generation American born to a German father and a Japanese mother. The only thing in their corner for their arguments was the fact that the ABB was still around and they weren't 'cracked down upon' as hard as the Empire had been. Of course, this ignored the fact that Lung had been faster on the uptake on the threat of the change in management and had been the first to change tactics and operations to minimize his losses.
Still, the four years of his leadership had largely stabilized the city, even if it did not have the assets and manpower in order to remove the blight that were the two gangs. It nonetheless had proven Deisemann's strategies and ideas to where it was starting to slowly- and reluctantly - be adopted by other departments.
This all ignored that Deisemann was one of the founders of SPEAR and the architect of the unit's overall success since it had been founded.
"Blunt and to the point, Miss Adler. Rebecca's warnings about you were correct."
"In my field time is money, Director. I prefer to get straight to the point rather than beating around the bush feeding peoples' egos."
"A rather refreshing take," the man agreed with a nod. "If only that was the rule instead of the exception. In that case, I am inquiring as to your overall intentions with the Bay."
She tilted her head slightly, "I'm unsure of what exactly you mean, Director."
"Come now, Miss Adler, your clearance level affords you the knowledge of all of Penumbra's abilities. Do you really think she would not help but overhear you all but challenging Kaiser to interfere with your contract?"
Even now Emma torments me, Taylor thought, even as she forced herself to smile.
"Dealing with the Empire Eighty-Eight was always in the cards, Director. It may not be part of my contract, but it would be in poor sport if I did fulfill the contract and rebuild the docks and clear the bay, only to have the work taken over by Neo-Nazis. Agitating Max Anders was a calculated risk; the man's ego will not accept what I have said and his gang's ideology will not allow him to remain passive in lieu of my sexual orientation and relationship with Miss Lavere. Either way, he will move, and when he does, it will be sloppy and driven by ego."
"A dangerous game, Miss Adler. But one I can understand. I would warn you of the dangers of riling up the local criminal elements, but your effectiveness precedes you. I gather the recent donations, technical support, and training received by the Brockton Bay PD are your handiwork?"
"Through a subsidiary, yes. For the new docks to be safe and secured, the BBPD needs the tools, equipment, and money to meet those demands, Director."
"You're preparing Brockton Bay for war."
"I'm preparing the city for the possibility of one, Director. Though, studying the history of this city I could easily make an argument that it's been a state of war that ebbs and flows. There's too much at stake for the Empire to not make a play for it."
"And where does the ABB figure into all of this? What's to stop Lung from getting involved?"
"A lot of people forget the origins of the Azn Bad Boys, Director. They were originally a loose defensive coalition of several Asian groups divided along national lines that banded together in order to protect their communities from the Empire Eighty-Eight. It wasn't exactly the most effective of groups, simply because there was no unified command structure, but it did save lives and kept the Empire's predations somewhat in check. The only reason Lung was been allowed to reforge the ABB into what it is today, as well as act as a de facto warlord and allowed to get away with what he does is because the Asian community cannot afford to lose him as deterrent as long as the Empire remains as powerful as it currently is. Lung's power is tenuous at best and he knows it, and if he goes against a program that, in the long run, would be beneficial for the local Asian community, he will not survive."
"So if the Empire Eighty-Eight is eliminated, or severely crippled—"
"Then it is highly likely that the ABB will at least dissolve back into the neighborhood watch groups that they were in the past."
"And if they don't? What if Lung decides to make a play?"
"Then Kenta Yamaguchi will be educated on his inability to remain ramped up indefinitely."
It would be the closest she will admit to planning to kill him, but Kuren could easily read between the lines. While it was certainly not officially documented, there was a quiet agreement between Demeter Solutions and the government that allowed them a level of leeway in dealing with parahuman and gang threats. While it was not an officially sanctioned license to kill, it didn't change the fact that, unofficially, Demeter Solutions had in the past been given carte blanche to remove troublesome villains when proven necessary.
"The times are changing and so is policy, Director," Adler continued. "Four years ago, the government unofficially tolerated cape villainy as long as they could be depended on attending Endbringer fights. With the Endbringers' disappearance, their usefulness is rapidly approaching zero. But you already know that, Director."
The man nodded. "I do. Times are certainly changing, and while I can understand your intentions, my responsibility and oath are to the people of Brockton Bay."
"Are you threatening me, Director," her voice lowered, almost to a growl.
Meeting her words in silence, he stared at her, and she wondered just what he was thinking. She knew his marching orders from the Chief Director, and while he may disagree with her, he did not have the ability to challenge it. So what exactly were the man's intentions?
Finally he answered, "No. I am not. However, I would like to work more closely with you, since it appears that things are going to escalate soon and it would be best if both of our forces are on the same page and can work better together."
She blinked, somewhat taken aback at the request, "That's certainly doable, Director. You probably have better information on the local scene than I currently do, while my men are more specialized in handling cape threats more efficiently. It certainly is something to explore. Let me float it to my people and I'll get back to you?"
"That's certainly acceptable, Miss Adler."
ASiS
Where the hell is Taylor, Amelia thought to herself, moving through the throngs of people, her eyes searching for her girlfriend and co-conspirator but failing to find her.
After Christner's announcement that he was again running for reelection as mayor and the news that Demeter was contracted to clean and rebuild the bay, Amy had gone to freshen up but also it was an excuse to survey the rest of the gala. It was a relatively easy affair as with her looks she went unrecognized. Many people in Brockton Bay only remembered Amy Dallon as Panacea, the mousy bespeckled brunette who seemed to blend into the background. Certainly not the woman that she was now.
"Amy?"
Amelia froze. It wasn't the fact that she was recognized that caused her reaction. No, it was the voice, a voice she hadn't heard in almost half a decade. A voice that honestly she could have done without ever hearing again.
There was no way she would be able to escape this. If there was one thing that Amelia knew about the person trying to get her attention, it was that she wouldn't stop until she had an answer. So, it was a deep breath that she turned and met the discerning gaze of a ghost from her past.
"Hello, Victoria," she greeted, fighting to keep her voice cool in spite of all the bitterness that she rightly felt she deserved to unleash.
It would be so much simpler if bitterness was the only thing she felt towards Victoria Dallon, but it was a lot more complicated than that. After all, living with the Dallons for nearly a decade would breed so many mixed feelings. But probably the most prevalent ones that she still held were contempt and betrayal.
For the longest time, Amelia had believed that there was something wrong with her that had caused Carol Dallon to treat her so differently. That if she could only figure out the why then everything would be better.
When she had triggered, she had believed that everything could truly be better. That with her powers and all the good that she could do Carol would finally see her and accept her, instead of treating her as this outsider with barely veiled scorn and suspicion.
Only it never happened; if anything, the treatment that she had endured worsened, where everything she did was put under even more scrutiny and nothing she did was ever good enough.
"How have you been?"
"Fine. Congratulations on your engagement to Dean."
"Thank you."
The on-again-off-relationship relationship between Victoria Dallon and Dean Stansfield had been the fodder of cape gossip sites for what seemed like an eternity, to the point where it had gained a meme counting the days from the last breakup like it was a workplace accident.
At least, that's the way it had been before The Burn. The resulting fallout had changed the relationship between the two, honestly for the better in Amelia's opinion. Dean had resigned from the Wards, finally relenting and joining the family business. Vicky, meanwhile, had chosen to join the Wards after a brief stint at being an independent hero. The resultant responsibilities had matured the two enough to allow them to work out their differences and problems to the point were just three months ago they had announced their engagement. An oddity considering their youth, but not one that was strange in the statistically short lives of capes.
The marriage was still a few years off - Dean was attending Harvard for a degree in business - though Amy had no doubt in her mind that the Stansfields were preparing to position him for a political career. On the other side of the coin, Victoria was a rising star within the Protectorate as Aglaea, serving as the second-in-command of the rapid response team for the Brockton Bay Protectorate under Dauntless. There were even some murmurs gaining traction within the halls of the Protectorate that suggested Victoria as the next generation's Alexandria. But that wouldn't be for a few years at least.
"How long are you going to be in Brockton Bay," Victoria asked awkwardly.
"For a week or two, I haven't decided, yet," Amelia offered with a shrug, wondering exactly where Victoria was going with all of this. They hadn't talked in almost four years, with the last time ending badly between the two of them.
"Are you going to see Carol?"
Grounding her teeth, she had to resist the urge to sneer; instead she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out.
'No, Victoria, I have no intention of seeing Carol."
"Why, Ames? She helped—"
"She did nothing of the sort," Amelia's tightly wound control snapped like a frayed wire. "All she provided me was a roof over my head and a broken home, Victoria. You may think otherwise, but it doesn't change the fact that in her mind I was never her daughter. I was the daughter of Marquis and a burden foisted upon her because Sarah gave her word to a villain and already had two kids of her own to raise."
She paused, noting how people were now watching them. Taking another deep breath to calm herself, she slowly exhaled and willed her fists to unclench. Honestly, she had believed that she had finally healed that wound, but obviously that wasn't quite the case, not yet. Something to talk with Doctor Ambrose over.
"That being said, I am grateful that Carol did take me in, in spite of her failures. If she hadn't, then I would probably not be here today. It is why I have anonymously paid for her treatment and comfort. That is the only thanks and acknowledgment I will ever give her for what she did, Victoria."
It was unduly harsh, but frankly, Amelia felt it was appropriate. It certainly wasn't what she truly wanted to express to her so-called sister, but it felt almost cathartic. There was so much pent up anger and betrayal that no matter how much counseling she had done, it lingered like a faint scent of gunpowder and blood, never truly going away.
It hadn't been her actions that had led to the dissolution of New Wave, but Carol Dallon's psychotic break after the news conference announcing what had happened to Ellisburg. Carol had never seen her as nothing more than a villain-in-waiting, one step away from taking up her father's mantle no matter what she did that proved otherwise.
So Carol had truly done the most petty and vicious thing she could have, in her sick and demented mind that only saw in black and white. She had revealed that Amy Dallon was actually Amelia Lavere, the daughter of the villain known as Marquis. She had honestly believed that by revealing that she was the daughter of a villain that it would turn everyone against her.
And when it didn't happen, it had only caused her already fragile psyche to completely break.
Amelia could still remember the day that Brandish had attempted to kill her. It had been her last planned visit to Brockton Bay General before she joined with Taylor at Demeter. The loathing and madness in the woman's eyes as she had attempted to run her through with her powers. It had only been due to the diligence of the security detail Taylor had assigned to Amelia that had prevented the situation from becoming fatal for either party.
But the final betrayal had been the words spoken to Amelia that had truly stayed with her, even now. The last time that they had talked with one another, when Victoria had blamed her for what happened to Carol.
Obviously this was some sort of attempt at maybe trying to mend the bridges, but frankly, Amelia thought it was unnecessary. She may have not been able to completely move on, but she didn't need to look back at them as some sort of guiding star. She had forged her own path and she was happier for it. She was financially well off, could do what she wanted when she wanted, and she had a girlfriend who encouraged and supported her.
"I'm glad you're doing well, Victoria," she finally said, knowing that her former sister was never the most agile at finding the right words, and honestly, she was just too tired to keep prodding at old wounds, "but I think it would be best that, if you want to talk to me in the future, that you go through my contacts."
She would leave the door open, simply because of what Victoria had once been to her. But the ball was in Victoria's court, and she now knew exactly what would not be discussed.
And with that, Amelia turned and walked away.
Where the hell was Taylor?