Little Hunter

The house was a burned wreck.

Blackened timbers, shattered glass, and everything was wet. The fire department was still packing up as she pulled onto the curbside. The neighborhood was wooded with long stretches between houses. Lots of cover from the road.

That was a start.

Annette didn't want anyone to ask why she'd been with Lisa most of the night. Everyone knew about Weaver and Tattletale working together, though most didn't know Tattletale had co-opted the name 'Coil' to operate with. Best they weren't seen together regardless. For propriety.

They'd gotten adept at swapping cars, phones, and even pants the one bizarre time that became relevant.

It had been a weird weekend.

The street was flush with sirens and vehicles. Police, PRT, and crime scene teams. More than one. That was never a good sign. The troopers stopped her as she drove up but once she rolled the window down they waved her through.

A small crowd had gathered at the edges of the police line. Neighbors and passersby. Some in bathrobes or nightgowns. The neighborhood was upscale and they still looked overdressed. Most gathered at the driveway of a large house, opposite a smoking wreck.

Pulling her car into the driveway, Annette stopped the vehicle and looked around.

The house was probably nice and large. The remains certainly were. Only a single wall yet stood. The roof had collapsed inward and took the other three walls with it. Shards of glass and splinters of wood were all blackened and a mist of ash hung in the air.

Whatever inferno engulfed the place was fast and wild.

Annette had seen her share of fires over the years.

Firemen and CSI swept over the ruin with troopers patrolling the woods. They were heavily armed. Someone authorized the opening of the armory.

Curtz.

Damn gun nut. The last thing Brockton Bay needed.

Annette pushed her door open and Weaver stepped out.

The overseers of the investigation both turned.

"What are you doing here?" Sam blinked behind Battery's mask in surprise. "I thought we were—"

"Not every night has this many bodies," Annette said plainly. "Commander."

"Ma'am." Commander Prince nodded to her but offered no further courtesy. Not his style.

He went right into explanations.

"Lots of bodies. At least twenty. Maybe more." He nodded toward the firemen. "They're still digging through. Whoever set the fire gathered all the corpses together before lighting it."

She kept herself as passive and calm as normal, thankful for the mask on her face. "Purposefully set?"

"Looks like. The gas was left on. Some kind of accelerant. My hunch. Still waiting on the fire marshal."

"I'll figure it out," Annette said. "Get me to one of the bodies?"

"Slow down." Battery took her arm and pulled Annette aside. "You shouldn't be here. You know the Pure will send someone to look about. If they see you—"

"Can't ignore this," Annette said firmly. "There haven't been this many killings in one night in years."

"That's not—You can't be here. If Rain shows up it'll be chaos."

"I'll be quick. Call Dauntless and Laserdream if you want to be sure. We have to get ahead of this before it explodes. Rain might want me but the Pure want the city and they'll respond to this."

Battery grimaced, uncertain but swaying.

"It's what? Three dozen bodies in forty-eight hours? Someone's going on a rampage and we have to know who and why."

Sam shook her head. "Fine. Fine, you've convinced me. Let's just be quick."

Annette nodded and bit the inside of her cheek.

Truthfully she didn't know what she was doing.

But she wasn't going to let the Protectorate come down like a hammer on Taylor. Not yet. Not until—Not until she knew what to do. How to feel.

It wasn't ending like this. Not again.

Annette took a deep breath and turned back to Prince to repeat her request. "One of the bodies?"

He nodded and marched off. Vehicles had already arrived to carry the bodies away for examination. One of them might be a cape. Was a cape, Annette realized. Victor. If they sent Alabaster here they sent him with someone and that someone had to be Victor.

Annette waited, hands on her hips while others moved around her.

The scent of smoke lingered in the air.

She killed them, and then she set a fire to cover her tracks. She was obscuring herself. Trying to hide what she could do and how she did it. That was the act of someone with experience killing.

Annette wanted to cry at the thought.

When did Taylor become a killer?

"Here." Prince returned with two men and a gurney. "Pretty sure it was Victor."

Damn.

"If Victor was here, so was Alabaster or Othala," Battery said. "Alabaster might still be trapped in the debris. Or he stalked off."

"We're ready." Prince nodded. "Sentries watching the roads in and out. We'll get advance warning if anyone rolls up."

Annette moved to the gurney and faced the black body bag.

It was hung partially open, exposing a charred skeletal corpse with an obvious and brutal wound.

"What did that?" she asked.

"Some kind of blade," one of the men with the gurney said. "Can't say for sure yet. Looks like it entered here"—he pointed under the jaw—"and came out the back of the skull."

"Puncture wound in the side too," the other man noted. "We'll know more after an autopsy."

Annette nodded and breathed deeply. "I won't be long."

She focused her power and let the wind blow around her. The colors took shape, twisting into images before her.

Annette didn't look away.

The scenes were quick and brutal. Flashes of motion. The men were killed one by one. Quickly.

She—Taylor—tore through them like butter. Victor died first, killed as he spoke. The men around him followed one after the other. Dispatched by a shrouded figure they couldn't see but held no hesitation as it ripped and tore them apart.

That was some of the bodies.

The others were less clear.

Dragged, Annette realized. Killed outside and dragged here.

She followed the wind, letting the images play out as her feet carried her. In the woods. Assailed from all directions. They fired wildly at first. What faces Annette saw were confused. Uncertain. Afraid. Then long scything claws cut into them. Sheared flesh from bone while teeth gnashed and snapped.

Dusk and Dawn.

Annette didn't see them clearly, but—

Just like the summer camp. It's just like the camp. Evidence erased enough my power can't find anything.

She started from one side of the house in the woods and killed her way across to the other side. The car along the street was all blood and bits inside. Pieces of guns that had been broken in two by strong jaws.

Annette came to a stop at the window, watching as the images of Dusk and Dawn climbed inside and attacked.

Where did they come from? Where did Taylor find them?! She couldn't be a bio-tinker, could she? The rest of her equipment was material. Simple. Knives and spears. Blades. Annette got more than a look at how easily they cut. Those weapons were tinker-tech. No commercial metals cut like that while appearing to be nothing more than metal.

If she made Dusk and Dawn, then where did she get her weapons? Toybox?

"Anything?" Battery asked.

"It was fast," Annette said. Too fast. "It didn't last long."

How on Earth did Taylor manage to kill all those men one after the other without any of them responding to the gunshots of the others? Annette thought back, tracing the steps of the fight.

It started in the house. If it started in the house why did the others wait outside? There was no sign of Taylor in the woods. Only Dusk and Dawn. Had she killed all those men with just those two creatures while she disabled the men inside?

Were those creatures so lethal?

"We think this is related to the attack last night?" Annette asked.

"Maybe." Battery looked about. "Be weird for two different capes to enact brutal attacks on the Pure two nights in a row for completely unrelated reasons, right?"

Right.

Taylor did it for her. To protect her.

But dear god, Aster didn't deserve to die. She wasn't a villain. She was a child in a woman's body, twisted and turned into someone else's tool. She needed saving, not slaying.

But what to do? What did Annette do?

"What did you see?" Battery asked.

Prince came up behind her with a pair of troopers. Both were armed and he waved them to flank Annette. Protective old fool.

It was time to lie.

And it needed to be a good one.

"Two assailants," Annette said. Dusk and Dawn inflicted the same injuries. "One in the woods and one in the house. They must have lured the Pure here somehow. Set an ambush for them."

"Took out the snipers first?" Price asked.

"Yes. Then moved into the house and swept through the woods."

"Powers?"

Annette bit the inside of her cheek. "Blades of some kind for one. Strike power maybe. Stabbing wounds and cutting."

That wouldn't hold.

She knew it wouldn't. Not in the way she needed it too. Dusk and Dawn bit into some of the men. Even burned, an ME would notice the wounds.

Fortunately, Annette didn't think anyone had seen those creatures yet. There was no reason to associate them with Taylor. That's what she needed to keep from happening.

At least until she figured out what to do.

Shit.

What were they going to do with Alabaster? He'd definitely seen Taylor.

"Had to be retaliation for the attack last night," Battery added.

"Not necessarily." Price crossed his arms over his chest. "The house could have been a target and attacked just the same."

"Awfully far away."

Annette nodded. "Who lives here?"

"Bakeman George and Bakeman John," Price recited. "They're on vacation with their children. One adopted. One by a previous marriage by George to his former wife. Should be back soon according to the neighbors."

"House burned down by some cape to kill a bunch of Nazis." Battery sighed. "That'll suck."

"Worse ways to lose a home," one of the troopers mumbled.

"Only good Nazi," the other agreed.

"Enough of that," Price said cooly.

"Sir."

"Sir."

"We'll need to have someone ready to let the Bakemans know their house is gone." Annette raised her head toward the remains of the home. "Any connection between the Bakemans and the Pure? Other neo-Nazi groups?"

"None so far," Price said. "Basement mostly survived the fire. No secret Hitler museum or anything like that."

"They are gay," Battery pointed out.

"So was Ernst Rohm," Annette recalled. "The world is full of contradictions. Just check and be sure. Probably more likely the Pure were planning to ambush the Bakemans on their return. Maybe our vigilante intervened on their behalf."

Better a violent, murderous, hero, than a wild animal. Wild animals were put down when possible. Especially when they were parahumans.

"Protective detail?" Battery asked.

"Let the police handle it. That's their job."

"Any chance this is someone local?" Price asked. "Ambassadors?"

Battery nodded. "The Pure did kill Accord."

"Didn't look like Ambassadors to me, but maybe some of our contacts can confirm."

Those around her turned quiet.

They all knew what 'contacts' meant in context.

The Undersiders, Tattletale in particular.

"Burning the building down isn't really any of their styles," Annette added. "That's a touch. Someone who wanted to cover their tracks and cover them well."

At least there was that.

Annette's DNA was on file with the PRT. If they tested any evidence from Taylor, it would all ping her as Weaver's daughter. The fire would have destroyed hair or blood. There was some tinker-tech that could work with that but no one would use it for this.

"I'll do another check." Annette turned back to the house, intent on being sure she'd covered everything. "I'll be quick and gone before any more Nazis show up."

Battery nodded eagerly. "Before they blame you for this too."

~ ~ ~

"Uh-huh." Aisha turned the knife in her hand. "Uh-huh."

"Aisha."

"I'm listening, TT. Calm your tits."

"Just keep an eye on them, and if they do anything stupid, tell me."

"Right. Right."

"I mean it. The last thing we need is either of them—heaven forbid both of them—to go running off Nazi hunting."

Aisha wasn't sure she could rightly disapprove of Nazi hunting. The racist pricks certainly deserved it more than whatever innocent deer or rabbit hunters normally ran down. Stupid jerks killing cute woodland animals.

"What do you want me to do exactly?" Aisha asked. "Bitch is Bitch, and whoever is Weaver's kid. Don't exactly want to pay the chick back by stabbing her daughter."

"You wouldn't be able to anyway. She's a grab bag or something. Minor brute power. The tech is something she knows how to work. There's something weird about those bugs of hers too."

Aisha looked over to where both the giant hornet-looking monsters were happily chowing down on milk and dog kibble. Right next to Bitch's dogs.

"Yeah," Aisha agreed. "That's a mystery."

Lisa sighed. "What are they doing now?"

"Let me check." Aisha leaned over and poked her head through the door. "Hey, what you guys up to in there?"

Inside, one of the side offices attached to the kennel, Cassie fiddled with a remote. Two of Bitch's guys had shown up with a truck full of boxes and supplies. The most important of which—in Aisha's opinion—they were positioned against the wall while Bitch sat to the side and watched.

Weaver's daughter sat around the corner just beyond the door. Out of sight of the men moving the TV into place. It was a big TV. Probably expensive because Bitch would steal for her dogs but she always paid for herself for some reason. Though Aisha supposed stealing a TV that big would be something of a challenge.

The girl with the dreads paid the process of mounting it no mind.

And yet, something seemed off.

Aisha crouched down and watched the girl's face curiously.

She rested a cheek against one hand. The other twirled a knife between her fingers. With practice.

"A knife girl, huh?" Aisha nodded. "I can respect that."

Not that the girl could hear her.

As far as superpowers went, Aisha would have preferred something cooler, but the power she had was good. Useful in all the right ways. Not to mention safe. So long as she didn't get herself knocked unconscious in the middle of a road. Or a nuclear test site.

"Welp. Welcome to Brockton Bay I guess. Home of the Badgers, which is the lamest team name ever but—"

The knife swiped and Aisha jumped back with a yelp.

The girl's eyes looked about, searching even as the blade missed. They kept looking, uncertain and wary. That was a look Aisha knew well. She was something of a people watcher after all.

"Aisha?" Lisa called. "Aisha, what—"

"Yeah." Aisha raised the phone and took a few steps back. "She's definitely a grab bag. Sigh."

"You could just sigh instead of saying it."

"Less amusing. How long am I staying here watching the white girl with dreads?"

Lisa's answer didn't come fast. Aisha knew that habit. It was never a good sign for her.

"Until we figure out what the hell we're going to do with her."