Read aloud to me alt Taylor

by Kahlil Johnson

Dnd

9. Sand

Chapter Eleven: The Siege

Brian Laborn, known in costume primarily as Grue, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"So let me get this straight," Brian said, "our mysterious boss is Coil, and he had us rob the Ruby Dreams casino because it was a front for the ABB. Then he told Lung where to find us so that he could use the fight as a distraction to kidnap some Tinker. So now you want to us to go find him and kill him before he tries to do the same to us."

Lisa tapped a finger to her cheek. "Yeah, that's about it. Except I already know where his base is."

"And do you have any idea how we're going to deal with the dozens of armed mercenaries he's definitely got with him?"

Lisa did that thing with her mouth that she did whenever she thought she was being smart. "The Tinker has a friend, and he knows where to find Coil's base. If we gear up now, we can attack at the same time he does, and go straight for Coil while he distracts the mercs."

"Who's the friend?" Brian asked.

"Sandstorm."

Alec looked up from where he was lounging, directing his gaze at the blonde girl. "The cowboy who fought Lung?" he said.

"And who kept Shadow Stalker from putting a bolt in Brian's back," Lisa pointed out.

"That was him too?" Brian said in disbelief.

"Yep. And he's pissed at Coil."

"So why don't we just let him handle it? He beat Lung, didn't he?" Alec suggested.

"No." To Brian's great surprise, it wasn't Lisa who spoke up then, but Bitch.

All eyes turned to the dog-themed cape, and she continued, her voice gruff with anger. "The fucker tried to kill us. Can't let someone else hit him. It makes us look weak. Like we can't fight our own battles."

Brian sighed. "As weird as it feels to say this, Bitch is right. If word got out that we let someone else deal with Coil, our reputation is in the toilet."

"So?" Alec asked. "Does it matter? If the boss dies, do we even stick together?"

Bitch made a face. Brian wasn't sure what it meant, but like most of Bitch's faces, it probably wasn't good. "We should. Villains don't last long without a team, so unless you want to join the Empire or the Merchants, you don't have a lot of options."

"As fun as it is to discuss our career plans, I really don't think we have time right now. If Sandstorm beats us to Coil and gets killed, the whole base will be locked down, and we lose probably our only shot at getting him before he gets us."

Brian wanted to object, to find some excuse to keep things the way they were, but he knew she was right. Losing the appearance of a legitimate income that the boss provided would make getting custody of Aisha more difficult, but not as difficult as being dead would.

He stood up and declared, "Costumes on. We leave in five minutes."

Coil's base was underneath the city's decaying former industrial district, a few blocks away from any of the few still-active factories. It was a part of the city that I hadn't visited before, which was really the only way I could have not known about it already.

It was quite well hidden, being made up of three separate floors which were entirely underground beneath two different buildings, but that meant nothing to my alioception.

As soon as I was on the adjacent block, every secret of the base was open to me. I knew where its two main entrances were, its emergency exit, and the secret emergency exit only for Coil himself.

I felt the several pounds of C4 in key locations that made up the base's self-destruct. I could trace the wires within the walls that linked up the alarm system and the hidden surveillance cameras outside the base, which, compared to Chatterbox's work, were frankly amateurish.

Most importantly of all, I could feel Chatterbox and Dinah in the cells on the lower levels. Dinah was sitting on a bed staring at the wall that had Chatterbox chained to it on the other side. Neither of them were hurt that I could see, but my power wouldn't show bruises or broken bones.

I could also feel Coil himself, in his creepy fetish gear style costume. He was in his office, talking to a man with glasses who was carrying a case full of vials and syringes.

I had learned shortly after getting powers that if I was willing to eat a bit of a headache, I could focus on a substance to learn its chemical composition, but I didn't need to do that to figure out what was in those vials. I knew exactly what opiates felt like.

Coil was planning to drug Dinah (and probably also Chatterbox) to get her to comply.

The plan was to wait until the Undersiders showed up, but if that creep got within ten feet of either of them with a needle, then I was quite prepared to improvise.

Fortunately, I wouldn't have to. The Undersiders arrived, and just before they reached the point where they would be spotted by a surveillance camera, I cut its power cord and crushed it with a small amount of sand that I had placed behind it earlier.

At the same time, in dozens of locations within the walls of the base and outside it, clouds of sand cut wires, destroyed cameras, disabled alarms, and turned off lights.

I smirked as the thugs in the affected areas snapped to attention, reaching for radios. They managed to squeak out a vague warning as Bitch caved in the door and the Undersiders charged in.

Tattletale told me what she thought he would do in this situation. Coil would immediately split the timeline, and in one timeline, he would cut his losses and abandon everything. In the other, he would stand his ground.

Step one was to kill him immediately if he left the base. Or rather, to resolve to kill him immediately if he left the base, since his precognition would keep him from leaving if it would result in his immediate death.

Precognition made causality really confusing.

After waiting long enough to ensure that he got the wrong message, I charged in for step two.

The Undersiders were going through the startled thugs like a blender made of teeth and claws, but that wouldn't last long. Once they reached second floor, they would face properly formed firing lines and killing alleys, and things would get a lot more difficult.

I dropped in front of the emergency exit, and opened the door from the other side with a cloud of sand, but I didn't walk in. I burst the lights, and sent in a cloud of sand the size and shape of a human being.

Making the cloud of sand move like an actual person was more effort than I thought, but it didn't need to be all that convincing, since the three mercenaries who were left on this floor weren't able to see as they got pummeled. If they talked about it later, all they would know is that the lights went out, and then they got beat up by a high level Brute with fists like rock.

The mercenaries on the lower levels would have gotten word about the lights, and equipped night vision goggles, which was exactly what I wanted.

I had my sand golem restrain the battered mercenaries with their own zip ties, then made it collect the flash grenades from their belts and head to the stairs, just before the Undersiders reached the stairwell on the opposite side of the building.

I popped the lights in the stairwell, then waited for the mercenaries to put on their night vision goggles before I dropped the flashbangs in.

Petty? Perhaps. But if I ever felt a twinge of sympathy, I only needed to think of the needles in the case, and my friends in the cell, and it evaporated like morning dew.

Despite being blind, deaf, and in horrible pain, they fought remarkably well. Some of them even managed to land a few shots on the golem, but you can't kill sand.

The Undersiders were employing a similar strategy by using Grue's darkness, to mostly the same effect, although they had to take longer since only Grue could see through his darkness.

I reached the third floor before they had reached the second, and sent my sand golem straight to the prison cells. I took out six more mercenaries with the broken lights/flashbang trick on the way, leaving me with unobstructed access to the cells.

Well, unobstructed except for the two rather sturdily built doors.

I appropriated a flashlight and a sidearm from one of the unconscious mercenaries and headed over to inspect them visually.

They had electronic locks, not conventional pin and tumbler, so my usual plan of using alioception to feel out the lock and sand grains to push the pins into place wouldn't work. Luckily, my backup plan of tearing the door handles out with a massive churning sphere of sand worked just fine.

The doors popped open, and Chatterbox and Dinah smiled at me.

"Miss me?" I asked.

Chatterbox threw her arms around me. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "I never doubted you would come. Not even for one second."

"I didn't either, but I kind of cheated," Dinah added.

I hugged Chatterbox briefly, then broke from the embrace. "We've got a lot to talk about, but the job isn't over yet. Wear this, take this, and follow that." I pressed a ski mask into her palm, handed her the flashlight, and pointed out a small ball of sand, about the size of a marble, that I was holding aloft. The rest of my sand I pulled into a loose cloud around me.

"It will lead you out of here. Don't worry, I'll catch up soon. I just need to finish something up really quick."

"Be careful," she told me.

"I will. Now go."

She took Dinah's hand, and followed the marker up the stairs into the cool spring night, toward the waiting vehicle.

The Undersiders, meanwhile, had finished clearing out the second floor and were on their way down. All told, they had taken out twenty-five mercenaries, and I had taken out twelve, leaving only Coil himself and the man who was in his office with him.

Coil's office was closer to their side of the building, so they reached it just before I did.

When they burst in the door, Coil reached into a drawer in his desk which had two items in it, a handgun, and some kind of switch. He flipped off the safety on the switch, and held it up for the Undersiders to see.

The creep ran past the Undersiders towards the door, and I closelined him as he came around a corner. He dropped the case, and it spilled open. I stepped on the glass vial full of morphine, and it crunched beneath my boot. Then I brought the boot, and the bits of broken glass lodged inbetween the treads, down on his hand.

Unnecessarily brutal? Absolutely yes.

Would I ever regret doing it? Not even a little bit.

I tied up the whimpering creep, and wiped my bloody boot on the back of his shirt, then walked into the office, gun in hand, as Coil and Tattletale said in near unison, "Dead-man's switch."

Coil said, "Correct, dear Tattletale. If I die, we'll all be buried under tons of concrete and steel, so let's all stay calm and dis-"

I fired the gun right into his chest, using my power to line up the shot.

Excepting Tattletale, the Undersiders all dived for cover, as if that would make a difference. Bitch leapt over her dogs, who were at this point only a little bigger than great danes, and not nearly as big as they could be, but they wouldn't have fit down the stairs at full size.

Tattletale just said, "You disabled the self-destruct."

"Before I even walked in the building. I'm not stupid. I'm not so sure about you four though. This is the third time today I've encountered you, and I'm beginning to suspect you had something to do with my friend being kidnapped by this psychopath."

I gestured towards the corpse which was no longer a living thing, and therefore was perfectly clear to my power.

"And if we did?" Tattletale asked, sticking to her part of the script. Her tone wasn't combative, just curious.

"Then none of you will leave this building alive," I said firmly.

Bitch narrowed her eyes at me. Grue and Regent raised their guns, the same two I had given Tattletale earlier, but as planned, they were empty.

Just before I raised my own, Tattletale got between us and said, "Stop!"

Tattletale faced me and said, "We didn't know what Coil was planning, okay? He had us rob the casino and then sent Lung after us a distraction, and to tie up the loose end. We're just as much his victims as you, okay?"

I rolled my eyes, but the tinted goggles ruined the effect. "Oh no! You poor sad criminals."

"We didn't really want to be criminals, but we didn't have much choice. Coil isn't the kind of person who takes no for an answer."

Regent raised his hand and said, "I wanted to be a criminal."

Grue elbowed him. "Not helping, Regent."

"Look, before you decide to kill us, or turn us in or anything, there's something you should see." Tattletale walked over to Coil's body, unzipped his zentai partially, and pulled it off his face. I glanced over and hissed in fake surprise.

The other Undersiders leaned over to look, but they didn't know the face.

"Recognize him?" Tattletale asked.

I nodded, glad that my mask kept most of the tells hidden. "Deputy Director of the Brockton Bay PRT, Thomas Calvert."

"Well that was unexpected," Regent said.

"So now what?" Grue asked.

I rubbed my forehead and sighed in mock frustration. "Now we are all going to the PRT to have a very long talk."

Bitch scoffed. "Like hell we are. There's four of us and one of you."

"Yes, but I'm the only one in the room with a loaded gun, so unless you really think your chances are better fighting me than talking to them, I think we should go."

The Undersiders all looked at each other.

Tattletale said, "I think we should go with him."

Rather than wait for the others to say anything, I said, "Great! Let's get out of here. I have to make a phone call."

Last edited: Jun 26, 2018

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Oct 26, 2016

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Threadmarks Chapter Twelve: The Negotiation

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LuxSola

Oct 27, 2016

#346

Chapter Twelve: The Negotiation.

Hannah Wilson heaved a great sigh, and began stripping out of her costume in her private room at the PRT headquarters. Technically, as a member of the Protectorate she really ought to have resided aboard the Rig, but it was tacitly agreed that the Rig was more symbol than substance.

It was excellent at flaunting their might, and it was good for Armsmaster to have a lab where if something went catastrophically wrong, he could blow the mooring seals and drop the whole thing into the Atlantic, but it just wasn't feasible to run what was functionally a domestic policing agency from offshore.

She took off her sash and bandana and placed them on the dresser, before unzipping her jumpsuit and tossing it in her laundry hamper. Her power settled itself into a knife, the same knife that had gotten her caught when she was being flown from the remains of her war-torn home country as a refugee, and placed with a foster family in the US just as the country was beginning to develop a proper response to the increasing numbers of parahumans.

The memory prompted her to set up an appointment to call her adoptive parents the next day. She hadn't talked to them in a while and it would be good to catch up.

She opened her calendar app on her phone to set the reminder. Some of her colleagues were confused by her need for so many reminders when she had perfect recall, but her perfect recall only made a difference when she was trying to remember something. She was just as prone to forgetting obligations as anyone else, though she did use it to remember the list of things she had to do.

She set the reminder, and was about to plug her phone in and lie down with a book, when it started buzzing.

It was a local number to the Bay, but not one she knew. She answered the call, and lifted the phone up to her ear. "Miss Militia speaking. Who is this?"

"Sandstorm. We have a situation that I can't discuss in detail over the phone. Wake up Director Piggot and Armsmaster and get them to the PRT building. And get a conference room ready. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"I can't just drag the Director into the office in the middle of the night on nothing, Sandstorm. I need to have something to tell her."

"Tell her that I'll bringing in the Undersiders, and Coil, and as a bonus, the kidnap victim Dinah Alcott."

Hannah's eyebrows made friends with her hair line. "The mayor's niece? You found her?"

There was a brief pause. "I didn't know she was the mayor's niece, but that would explain why she was kidnapped."

"Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"Not over the phone. Wake them up, be discreet. I'll be there soon."

The line went dead.

Hannah eyed her discarded costume, and the book she was looking forward to finishing, and sighed heavily. She was very glad that she didn't need much sleep.

I hung up on Miss Militia and picked up the corpse that I had wrapped in a tarp. I slung it over my shoulders before rejoining the Undersiders as they walked toward the rather large black SUV that I had Dinah and Chatterbox waiting next to.

Chatterbox looked at them, then at me, and made it a point not to look at my suspicious burden. "The Undersiders? Why are they here?"

"Long story. I'll give you the short version in a minute. Also, congratulations on remembering the definite article."

"Spasiba. Thank you."

I turned to the Undersiders and said, "Get in the back. We'll be a minute."

Bitch said, "I don't see why we don't just punch this fucker and leave."

Tattletale's voice trembled as she said, "Trust me. That would be a bad idea. He's a lot stronger than he pretends to be."

Bitch looked like she was about to punch me anyway, just to see what would happen, but Grue grabbed her arm and shook his head sternly at her. She jerked her arm away from him, and got into the SUV with her dogs, which were now a normal-sized rottweiler, German shepherd, and oddly enough, a terrier. The rest of the Undersiders followed her.

Tattletale started talking almost the second the door was shut, explaining her part of the plan to the Undersiders while I explained mine to Chatterbox.

"The Undersiders, or at least some of them, were forced into villainy by this guy. I'm taking them to the PRT to explain their case and plea for amnesty, as well as explain all the stuff that's gone down today. The PRT knows about Dinah's kidnapping, but not her powers. I want to keep it that way."

Chatterbox nodded.

I felt bad about not telling Chatterbox the whole truth right away, but the more I lied to her, the less she had to lie to Armsmaster and his bullshit Tinker lie detector that Tattletale had warned me about. I would tell her the whole story later.

I set the tarp down and knelt so that I was at eye level with Dinah. "Why didn't you tell me your uncle's the Mayor?"

Dinah shrugged. "Uncle Roy? I didn't think of it, I guess."

"Well, that might have been the real reason he wanted to kidnap you. So if anyone asks you about it, here's what I want you to say. Say that mercenaries came to kidnap you from your house yesterday, and I rescued you tonight. If they ask for more details about what happened in between, just tell them you don't want to talk about it, okay?"

She nodded. "I can do that."

I tried to stand back up, but she grabbed my sleeve, and looked at Chatterbox. Chatterbox nodded, and leaned down to kiss my cheek, as Dinah kissed the opposite one.

"Thank you for rescuing us," they said in unison.

I'll admit, it felt good. Not quite good enough to convince me to take up full time heroism, but good nonetheless.

"Anytime, girls. Can you drive the SUV, Chatterbox?"

"Da. But I don't have key."

I handed her the key I had lifted from one of the mercs, and walked to the unlocked driver's side door, and opened it, pulling the release lever for the hatchback so I could drop Coil's body in, and heading over to the passenger side, sliding in after Dinah.

The SUV was an enormous eight-seater, with a three-seat bench in the front and back, and a pair of chairs in the middle.

Grue sat behind Chatterbox, Tattletale behind me, and Regent and Bitch were on opposite sides of the bench in the back, one of her dogs between them, the other two on the floor at her feet.

No one said a word for the entire drive.

We pulled into the guest parking lot, which was almost completely empty at this time of night, and I called Miss Militia back.

She was in a conference room on the third floor, talking to Armsmaster and a very large woman who I took to be the Director of the local PRT, Emily Piggot.

She showed her phone to Armsmaster, then answered it.

"Sandstorm?"

"Yes. We're here. Can you meet us at the south entrance with an evidence bag."

"I'll be right down." She hung up, and handed her phone to Armsmaster who did something Tinkery to it as she talked to the Director, then headed to the entrance, detouring briefly to grab the requested evidence bag.

I turned back to face the Undersiders and said, "Time to face the music. Leave your weapons, including that stun baton you pretend is a scepter, in the car."

We all got out of the car, and walked up to the entrance to the Lion's Den. Literally. The local PRT mascot was a Lion named Saber, a result of a contest among fourth and fifth graders that I would never acknowledge the legitimacy of, considering that my own vastly superior entry of a Black Bear named Captain Claws did not win.

I put aside my thoughts of a childish grudge as we all walked in tense quiet to the back entrance.

Miss Militia was waiting for us there with two PRT troopers, evidence bag in hand. I opened the door and gestured with mock politeness for the Undersiders to go through.

"Where is Coil?" was the first thing she said.

"I'll explain when we're all together. Can you hold open that evidence bag for me?"

She did so, and I reached into my pocket for the gun that killed Coil. The troopers tensed up when they saw it, but relaxed when all I did was drop it into the bag. She sealed the bag, and pulled a marker from her pocket to write numbers on the seal.

"Is there someone who can look after Dinah and call her parents while we talk? I'm sure they must be worried sick about her."

She gestured to one of the officers, who reached out to take Dinah's hand and said, "Let's get you home, sweetie."

Dinah took her hand and walked with her toward a waiting room of some kind.

Miss Militia turned her attention back to us and said, "You'll need to be searched for weapons before we can let you in the building, and your dogs will have to wait here."

Bitch recoiled visibly. "Fuck that. I'm not leaving my dogs with you fuckers."

"Your dogs can turn into one ton killing machines. We can't let you meet the Director with them."

I stepped in between them before things could escalate and said, "Compromise. She gets to bring the dogs, but if she starts using her power on them, you hit her with a taser before she can get any traction. That way she doesn't have to worry about how her dogs are being treated, and you don't have to worry about them going on a rampage through the building. Is that okay?"

She looked from me to Bitch and said, "I'll ask the Director while the sergeant here searches you for weapons."

The sergeant had us walk one at a time through what looked on the outside like a metal detector, but on the inside was clearly tinkertech, nodding at each of the Undersiders as they passed through.

I had to do a little sleight of sand to get my tinkerphone past the detector, but it wasn't that difficult to pull off. Tattletale noticed, almost certainly, but she said nothing, and soon we were all in an elevator on the way to the third floor.

Miss Militia led us to the conference room where the Director and Armsmaster were waiting, and we all sat down.

Armsmaster was standing behind the Director, his arms folded across his chest.

The Director did not get up to greet us, and I could see why on her face. Even discounting her weight, she was clearly not in good health. Her skin was pale and discolored, with heavy bags under her eyes.

"So," she said, "would anyone like to explain to me what is going on?"

"This afternoon, while I was helping you subdue Lung, a friend of mine was kidnapped by Coil. I located Coil's base and went to rescue her. The Undersiders were already there, and after I released Chatterbox and Dinah, I followed them into Coil's office, and what I found there was… disturbing."

I took out my tinkerphone, and brought up a picture I had taken before leaving. "Coil attempted to kill us all using the base's self-destruct. He was killed in self-defence. Then Tattletale here pulled off his mask. I'm sure you recognize him."

I slid the phone across the table to the Director, who gazed down at the screen and frowned.

"You seem much less surprised than I would expect to find out that your Deputy Director is a traitor."

"How do we know this is really Coil?"

"His body is in the trunk of an SUV in your parking lot. You can do the MRI yourself and confirm that he had a corona pollentia."

The Director sighed, looking even more tired than she already did. "This is going to be a PR nightmare for a long time."

Tattletale said, "It doesn't have to be."

All eyes turned toward her, and she said, "No one but us knows that Calvert was Coil."

"Are you suggesting that we lie to the American people about what happened tonight?" Miss Militia said.

Tattletale smirked. "Why not? The American people don't want the truth. They want a good story. So here's mine. The ruthless villain Coil forces a handful of desperate parahuman teenagers into villainy. The noble and good Thomas Calvert tries to save them, but unfortunately both he and Coil die in the process. Victory is bittersweet."

The director and the two government capes just stared at her, so Tattletale continued. "The PRT has given captured villains new identities in secret before. This isn't all that different. We just have some conditions."

"You are not in a position to be making requests." Armsmaster said.

Tattletale's smirk widened. "Oh, but I think we are. Because if you don't agree to our requests and throw us all in jail instead, then everything comes out at the trial. And the story becomes 'PRT agent forces kids into supervillainy.' The scandal will be on the news for years. How does 'Coilgate' sound for the name? A little on the nose, but it works."

"As much as it pains me to agree with her, she's right. The only way this is going to work is if everyone benefits from keeping the secret, and loses from exposing it," I said.

The Director, who seemed no stranger to backroom politics, said, "What do you want?"

The Undersiders looked at each other briefly, and Tattletale was silently elected their spokeswoman.

"Grue wants the PRT's legal team to help him get custody of his younger sister. Bitch just wants to be left alone with her dogs most of the time. Regent wants to play video games and be safe from his father."

"His father?" the Director asked.

Tattletale turned to Regent, who took a deep breath and sighed. "Nikos Vasil. Heartbreaker."

My head snapped toward him. Heartbreaker was one of the most infamous villains on the continent. He was fond of kidnapping famous women and using his emotion manipulating powers to make them fall in love with him. I knew he had lots of kids, but I'd never expected to meet one of them.

The Director nodded. "If you join the Wards, we can arrange all that. But what do you want, Tattletale?"

"I got what I wanted. Coil's dead, and I never have to worry about him again." For the first time that I had ever seen, she was actually smiling. Not smirking, but genuinely, brink-of-laughter smiling.

"So, you get a handful of new Wards. They get a clean slate and some perks beside. What do we get?" I asked, gesturing to myself and Chatterbox, who had been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time.

Tattletale interjected then, "Well, if you're willing to let them know her real identity, they can probably get her a Green Card. But as for you? I can help you find your father."

That was decidedly off-book. "You want to repeat that?" I growled out.

"I can join your team instead of the Wards, and use my powers to help you find your father."

I was torn between elation and outrage. Between her power and Dinah's, it looked clear to me that nine months of work, three of which with powers, might soon be at an end. But on the other hand, how dare she bring that up?

I settled on choking out the words, "Good enough."

Miss Militia said, "I don't suppose there's any chance you'd all like to join the Wards?"

I laughed.

"I didn't think so," Miss Militia said.

"If that's all for now, I'd like to go. I have had a very long day, and I need some rest." I looked to Armsmaster and the Director for approval.

She nodded and said, "can we all agree to meet tomorrow evening at five-thirty and not discuss tonight until then?"

There were murmurs of agreement.

I left the room, Chatterbox close behind. The meeting continued without me, but my part in it was over.

Now I had to help Chatterbox find a safe place to sleep tonight, and get home before my mother started to worry.

At least the day was finally over.

Last edited: Jun 26, 2018

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Threadmarks Chapter Thirteen: So Much Awaits

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LuxSola

Oct 27, 2016

#370

Chapter Thirteen: So Much Awaits

Alyssa Alcott drove with her husband, Roger to the PRT building where their daughter was.

Dinah was safe.

The words hit her like a bucket of ice water on a hot day. Just that palpable sense of relief flooding her veins was all she could concentrate on. Her daughter was safe. That was all that mattered.

Roger barely had time to put the car in park before she bolted out the door, heading straight for the entrance. He jogged to catch up with her and they stumbled in the door together.

The PRT sergeant at the desk looked up and said, "Mister and Mrs. Alcott? Dinah's right this way."

He got up and was about to lead them through the security gate when Dinah walked through a door on the opposite end of the room.

"Mom! Dad!" She squealed with delight and ran toward them.

Alyssa dropped to her knees and embraced her daughter, tears flowing down her cheeks. Roger wrapped his arms around them both, and for a time they simply held each other, saying nothing.

"Um. Mom. You're kind of crushing me," Dinah said.

"Sorry," she choked out through the tears. She released her daughter and took her by the shoulders, saying, "I thought I'd never see you again."

Dinah looked guilty. "I'm sorry, mom."

Alyssa resisted the urge to hug her again. "It's not your fault, Dinah. It was all that nasty man's doing."

Roger, who was always rather more analytical than emotional, asked Dinah, "What happened?"

Dinah shrugged. "Coil kidnapped me. Sandstorm rescued me."

"Sandstorm?" Alyssa asked.

The elevator on the other side of the lobby opened, and two people walked out. A woman in ordinary clothes and a plain black mask, and a man who looked like he had just walked off the set of a Western.

Dinah pointed toward the latter figure and said, "Him."

Sandstorm, apparently aware that he'd been referenced, turned away from the woman he was talking to and strode toward them.

"Mister and Mrs. Alcott! I'm pleased to see you've been reunited with your daughter."

"All thanks to you from what we hear," Roger said.

Alyssa reached for her purse. "Here. Um. Let me give you some-"

He cut her off. "I wouldn't dream of taking anything from you. Just get Dinah home, get her some food, and maybe a piece of pie wouldn't hurt."

Her daughter grinned widely, as if amused by some private joke. Alyssa would have to ask about that later. Right now she had other things to worry about.

"Of course, you must be starving. Let's get you something to eat. We can stop at McDonald's on the way home. Would you like that?"

Dinah nodded. "Chicken nuggets sound awesome right now."

"Would like to join us, Sandstorm? Buying supper is really the least we can do, " Roger offered.

"Thank you, but I'll have to take a rain check on that. I have some rather urgent business to attend to tonight, and I've already eaten besides."

"A hero's work is never done, eh chap?" Roger said.

Sandstorm shook his head. "I'm no hero."

"Well you're our hero. If there's anything we can ever do for you, just ask," Alyssa insisted.

"I'll do that. In the meantime, though, we should probably leave, so we're not all standing around in a fire exit."

"Oh. Of course. Is there anything you need from us, Sergeant?" Alyssa asked the PRT agent at the desk.

"Nope. We'll call you sometime this week about getting a detailed statement from Dinah, but for now, you folks have a good night."

Sandstorm and the woman he was with went one way, while Alyssa and her family went the other.

When they were far enough away that they might have thought they were out of earshot, the woman spoke up, but Alyssa had always had very sharp hearing.

"You did it, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," Sandstorm replied.

"Do you regret it?"

Sandstorm turned back to look at them briefly, then said, "Not even a little bit."

Chatterbox and I walked back to her apartment together. I had a little bit of time before I had to be home, so I spent the walk explaining to her how I found the apartment broken into, how Tattletale had come to my house, and how we conspired to bring down Coil and set up the Undersiders with a fresh start.

Chatterbox was silent for a while after I finished explaining. Then she said, "I do not think it was necessary to deceive them. They would probably have agreed to help."

"Ah, but Tattletale deceived them for the same reason I didn't tell you the whole story up front. Armsmaster has a lie detector in his helmet, and we didn't want to risk it picking up anything unexpected."

She thought about this for a little longer, then said, "Okay. I forgive you."

I put my hand on her shoulder and said, "I'm sorry. Not just for lying to you, which I think was the right thing to do, but for letting you get kidnapped."

She scoffed. "I am big girl, Sandstorm. I can handle myself."

"Right. Of course you can. Although how you managed to destroy your tech and still get captured, I haven't figured out yet."

"Oh. That. When the alarm went off, I asked Dinah what odds were that we both get rescued within a day if we do not resist. She said ninety-five percent, so I just destroyed my work and waited."

I stroked my chin. "Yeah, in those circumstances, I'd have probably done that too. But in the future, I think we need to change up our strategy a little."

"I agree. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, the way we've been working so far is to fly under the radar. No one is going to come after us if no one knows we exist. But today you got kidnapped, and I fought a Ward, Lung, and Coil in one evening. We're not a secret anymore.

"So, if we can't get away with no one knowing we exist, we should go the opposite route. Make sure everyone knows who we are, and exactly what will happen if they mess with us."

"Are we strong enough for that?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Lung's off the table, but there are a lot of other tough capes in the city who might try to antagonize us anyway. But it doesn't matter how strong we are. It matters how strong we can make people believe we are."

"You want to bluff?"

"Not exactly. I want us to cultivate a reputation for being able and willing to defend ourselves against all comers. I don't know how much of a bluff that really is."

"In city like Brockton Bay? Who knows?"

I nodded, conceding the point. "We're headed for interesting times, that much is certain. We need to be prepared for them."

Chatterbox bit her lip, like she wanted to say something but couldn't. I waited patiently until she began. "I am making you weapons. I know you wanted to avoid obvious tinkertech to keep me secret, but that did not work. So now I'm making you things you can use next time you put yourself in danger. I won't hear any arguing about it."

"Okay."

She blinked at me. "Okay? No arguing?"

I shook my head. "No. You're right. We got really lucky tonight. I was being stupid, and the only reason you didn't pay the price for it was that Coil was even more stupid. This could have gone so much worse.

I took a deep breath. "So yeah, I think you're right. You should start making weapons, even obviously tinker-made weapons. The only thing I have to say about that is that you should make them for you first, and me second."

"Ladno. Okay. I'll start working tonight."

I shook my head. "Tomorrow. Right now, we have to find a place for you to stay. Even if only Coil knew about your apartment, it still has a broken door frame. So we should stop by, grab your stuff, and find a place for you to crash while we set up something more permanent."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I have a few ideas. I think it's high time I introduce you to my mother."

"Chto?"

"Yep. Hold on a second." I pulled out my regular phone as she stared open-mouthed, and selected my home phone from the speed dial. My mother picked up shortly.

"Taylor?"

"Yeah mom. It's me. We found Larry, he's alright, but one of my other friends' apartments got trashed during the the fighting. Is it okay if she sleeps on our couch for a little bit?"

"Yes, of course. I'll get a blanket and pillow from the closet. Will you be home soon?"

"Yeah, we're on our way. We'll go to her apartment to grab her stuff then head straight there, alright?"

"That's fine. See you soon, Taylor."

"Likewise." I hung up the phone.

"So, I get to meet your mother?"

I nodded. "I think you'll like her. She's a nice lady."

"I am sure that I will. So we go to apartment now?"

"Yep. We'll pick up your stuff, find a place to change where we won't be seen, and then head home for a good night's sleep, so this day can finally end. Tomorrow, we'll find you a new home, and I'll start looking into discreetly ordering supplies and tools for you."

"Spasiba."

She wrapped her arms around me in a half-hug, and we walked together toward the apartment, both of us keeping a wary eye out.

On the way, we picked up and pocketed as many of her security cameras as we could, to be recycled into later projects.

We walked into her apartment together, and she sighed, looking around the place. "I will miss it here."

I put my hand on the back of the couch that we had picked up for thirty bucks at a resale store. "Yeah. Lot of memories here."

She shrugged. "We will make new ones."

"That we will."

She went back to her bedroom and packed up her stuff. It wasn't much. Stace wasn't the sort of person who accumulated possessions, so all she really needed to pack was her clothes, toiletries, and a few token sentimental items.

"It will take a long time to set up new base."

I nodded. "Yeah. I have a feeling that we'll be dealing with the aftermath of today for a while."

Last edited: Jun 26, 2018

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Threadmarks Chapter Fourteen: A New Dawn

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LuxSola

Oct 27, 2016

#387

Chapter Fourteen: A New Dawn

The dawn was breaking over Brockton Bay on a lovely Wednesday in March, bringing with it a new day, full of new opportunities, and Tyrone Johnson was up to no good.

Tyrone was not, as some might suggest, a bad kid. Sure, he was a serial runaway and he acted out a lot. And maybe he didn't attend school as scrupulously as he ought to, but what foster kid really did all that?

Besides, what he was doing was more fun.

He set down his bag, walked away from it, and snapped his fingers. Two more of him appeared, and they grinned at each before returning to the bag, withdrawing numerous cans of spray paint.

The sun would be up in full force in a matter of minutes, so he -they- had to work fast.

The one that was furthest to the left went that way, while the one that was to the right went the opposite way, and one at the center walked straight to the wall.

They popped the tops from the spray cans and began their contribution to the local street art scene, a picture of Eidolon as Jesus on the cross, with the two other members of the Triumvirate as the thieves crucified with him.

Tyrone didn't really think too much about the symbolism involved. The idea had just popped into his head the other day, and he'd decided to roll with it. The critics could figure out whatever deep shit it meant, and he would pretend that whatever they came up with had been it the whole time.

The three Tyrones worked efficiently, and soon they were done, stepping back to admire their work.

"Man, that's beautiful. We should sign it," the Tyrone who painted Eidolon said.

"Damn right. Toss me that can of black," said the Tyrone who painted Alexandria.

"Whoa. Hold up. Who said either of you should do the signing?" said the Tyrone who painted Legend.

"We're the same person. What's it matter who signs it?" the one who painted Eidolon replied.

"Right. So you won't mind letting me sign it," the one who painted Legend said.

An overweight man with a mustache walked into the alley and shouted, "Hey! What'd you do to my wall!"

"Shit!" all three Tyrones yelled at once, and began running.

As soon as they were out of sight, they all took out knives and stabbed themselves in the legs, promptly disintegrating into a cloud of smoke and ash.

Across town, a Tyrone who was on his way to school smiled as the memories of the other three appeared in his mind. He never understood why he had to argue with himself, since the memories of any Tyrone-Tyclone would be shared immediately to all existing Tyrones anyway, the instant that one of them was injured and burst into dust.

It was probably an ego thing.

As he made his way to school he debated splitting off another clone or two, so that one of him could be out playing video games or spending time on the beach while another was cooped up at school, but that wouldn't be fair to the him got that short end of the stick, even if the distinction between selves would be eliminated shortly anyway.

Still, school wasn't so bad. Especially now that he could do all his homework at once by having one Tyclone for each class.

He grinned to himself as if amused, as he walked into the prison that was Winslow High.

Today was a good day to be Tyrone Johnson, no matter which Tyrone Johnson you were.

Today was not a great day to be me. I had gotten home at a fairly reasonable hour, and after introducing Stace to my mother and making sure she was comfortable on the couch, I had gone straight to bed, but I couldn't fall asleep.

For hours my mind was plagued with thoughts of the fallout of killing a PRT agent, even if I had by some miracle convinced the regional director of the PRT to participate in an elaborate coverup. Tattletale had told me that the director was no stranger to sweeping things under the rug, and that the official story of what went down at Ellisburg was far from the truth, but it wasn't very reassuring.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Thomas Calvert's dead face. His unblinking, unseeing eyes. The queasy feeling I got when his jaw slacked open while I was wrapping him in the tarp. The pool of blood and chunks of heart muscle that lay beneath him.

I meant what I had told Chatterbox, that he was an awful man who deserved to die, but that didn't mean killing him had been easy.

The pain in my ribs wasn't helping matters, either. Tattletale had told me they weren't broken, just bruised, but walking was still painful.

Eventually the truth would get out, and I could only hope that it took long enough that no one cared anymore who killed that one supervillain and that one PRT agent.

Tattletale's offer of assistance was unnerving as well. On the one hand, if her power was as good as it seemed, then between her and Dinah I could have answer within a week. On the other, I had no guarantee that I could really trust her. On the third hand of this strange, multi-limbed creature, the whole reason I was hoarding huge amounts of cash in the first place was to hire a Thinker to investigate my father's disappearance. If she was offering to do it for free, there was no reason not to take her up on it, no matter how much I hated her smug face.

And really, I could just ask Dinah for the chances that she betrays me in the future, and compare that with the chances for Stace. I would have to figure out just how far into the future she could see, but that wouldn't be too hard. I just had to ask her for the chances for rain a thousand years into the future.

Dinah's power, even by parahuman standards, was completely ridiculous. I didn't know what kind of awful thing could have happened to a twelve-year-old girl to cause her to trigger with that kind of a power, and etiquette kept me from asking, but I hoped for her sake that the trauma was temporary.

There was another reason Tattletale's offer bothered me. She'd offered to join my team. I didn't have a team. I had one friend with powers who didn't even have a costume. She had a cape name, but that was less a cape name and more a pet name that stuck.

But she was going to make herself a costume and start joining me in the field. And with Tattletale, we had three people.

But that didn't make us a team. We weren't out going to go out and champion Truth, Justice, and the American Way like New Wave did, or dedicate our lives to the single-minded pursuit of a particular group of villains like Haven did.

I was going to get money, find out what happened to my father, and live my life. Preferably with as few fights as possible. If I happened to have a couple powered friends to spend time with along the way, who shared my inclinations, so much the better.

And if that sounded absurd, don't worry. Even then, I didn't believe I could avoid fighting. Not after I fought Lung solo and lived to tell about it.

Villains would try to force me into helping them, heroes would try to guilt me into helping them, and no one would respect that I just wanted to leave both sides alone and be granted the same courtesy.

If I wanted to survive and avoid being forced into a gang or the Protectorate, I needed to fight. If I didn't want to have to fight constantly, that means I needed to fight well, and win so overwhelmingly that people thought twice before starting a fight with me next time.

That meant I needed a group of people, other parahumans, whose powers worked well with mine, and who shared my goal of not getting in pointless fights while wearing spandex. And if other people wanted to call that group a team, I could live with that.

But before I could do that, I had to get to school.

I pulled myself up out of bed with a Herculean effort, and checked my phone. I had four missed texts from Ted, all some variation upon, 'did you survive?'

I texted him, "Nope. Totally dead. I'm haunting my phone so that I can still hang out in IRC. I'll meet you this afternoon so we can talk."

With that done, I dragged myself to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Stace and my mother were at the kitchen table already, chatting and enjoying breakfast.

I got dressed and stumbled my way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Taylor. Anastasia here was just telling me about life in Saint Petersburg."

I grunted out an acknowledgement.

"See? What did I tell you? Not a morning person."

I tried to say that that was an unfair characterization, and that god hadn't meant for man to be up so early anyway, but what came out was, "Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnghhhhhh."

Stace shared a laugh with my mom, which I ignored in favor of tea. I poured myself a mug full of the steaming nectar of the gods, and plopped myself down in a chair to drink it. The liquid was scalding hot, but I was too tired to feel anything.

My mother looked at Stace and said, "Do you want to hear a story from when Taylor was little?"

"I have never wanted anything more in my life," Stace said, a little too seriously for the situation.

Oh, this'll be fun, I thought.

"Well, he's always had an active imagination. He spent most of his time with his friend Emma, telling her stories about knights, and wizards and capes. They would play all sorts of little games together. And one day, Emma decides that she wants to be the heroic knight, and Taylor could be the princess. Taylor said that he couldn't be a princess, that he had to be a prince. Now, Emma didn't know about gendered titles yet, so she thought that he just trying to weasel out of letting her be the hero.

"Now, being the mature six-year-old girl that she was, she reacted to this in a reasonable and appropriate manner. She hit him in the head with the foam sword. Taylor, being an absolute gentleman, responded by shoving her into a mud puddle. This quickly devolved into an all-out brawl, complete with biting, hair-pulling, and attempted eye-gouging, before my husband and I noticed the commotion and ran outside to separate them. Now, at this point, they were both covered in mud and minor scrapes, so we had to clean them off with the garden hose and then make sure they were both up to date on their tetanus shots. Which led to the most awkward conversation I would ever have with Clara Barnes, that's for sure."

Stace laughed heartily at the anecdote.

"Whatever happened to this 'Emma'?" She asked.

My mother looked to me, and I shrugged. "Middle school happened, and we stopped talking to each other."

Stace frowned. "Such a shame. You should talk to her again, to see how she is doing."

"I just might, Stace." I took a long, slow sip of my tea, pondering how Emma would react to the news that her best friend/pet psycho was going to jail. "I just might."

The conversation cooled for a while, before my mother said, "I have to leave for office hours soon. Do either of you need a ride?"

I shook my head. "Nah. We'll take the bus."

"Okay. You be good while I'm gone, okay?"

"Will do," I said as she picked up her purse and her briefcase and headed out the door.

As soon as we heard her engine rumbling to life, I said, "Alright. I have to get to school, so I'll be busy until two-thirty. Do you want to stay here while I'm gone? My mother won't be back until later, so it won't be a problem if you just want to hang out here."

"I would like actually to get to work. I have ideas for weapons."

"Alright. You can experiment in the basement if you like, but be discreet, and do not take apart any of my appliances. I'll leave you my house key in case you have to go out anywhere. There's a black backpack under my bed with three grand in it if you need to go get any supplies, but be careful not to spend so much that it attracts attention."

"I will be quiet like bunny."

"Go-" I cut myself off mid-word. A familiar car had just driven into my range. "Tattletale," I spat.

"She comes here?"

I nodded. "She's coming here. I have no idea why, but she is."

"Perhaps she just wants to be friendly," Stace said optimistically.

"Yeah. And maybe Behemoth just really needs a hug."

"You are being too harsh on her. She helped you to find me, didn't she?"

I sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, she did."

"Also, for next time, I have idea for tracker that other people can't detect, so you can find me yourself."

I frowned at her. "I really hope there isn't a next time."

"So do I, but it is you who says 'always be prepared'."

"I do. I do say that."

I walked up to the door and opened it, just before Tattletale began to knock. She was wearing a white sweater and skinny jeans, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her green eyes shined with mischief.

"Is this a bad time?" She asked.

"Yes. Go away."

"Hello!" came the enthusiastic voice of Stace from behind me. She was waving.

I stepped aside with a sigh, and gestured for Tattletale to come in. I shut the door behind her and said, "What do you want?"

"Well, hello and good morning to you too, Taylor," she said.

"Spare me the pleasantries. What do you want?" I asked.

"I thought I'd check on you, see how you were doing, and offer you a ride to school. I didn't know you had company."

Stace bounced up and shook Tattletale's hand. "Anastasia Barkova."

"Lisa Wilbourne," Tattletale replied. "You're Taylor's Tinker friend?"

"Mmhmm."

"Well then, I guess we should get to know each other, since we'll be on the same team and all."

"There is no team, and you are not on it!" I insisted.

"Why not? I think we should have team," Stace said.

I rubbed my forehead. "Because she used to work for the guy who tried to sell you into slavery?"

"Da. But she also helped you rescue me. So I think it cancels."

"I don't think that's how it works," I complained.

"Well, I disagree. And this is America, so let us have democratic vote. Who wants team?"

Stace and Tattletale both raised their hands. There was no way I was getting out of this.

"Fine! We're a team. Why don't we all go out and get matching costumes, and we can come up with a cool team name, and then go into the woods for trust-building exercises?!"

"Yes!" Stace jumped up and down and clapped.

"For the love of god, Stace, I was being sarcastic!"

Tattletale smirked. "She knows you're being sarcastic. She just wants to do those things anyway."

I sighed. "I don't have time for this. I'm going to be late for the bus."

"I'll drive you to school. We can talk about the new team on the way."

"Do you think Dinah will join our team?" Stace asked excitedly.

"I think if we ask, she'll say yes. She's some kind of Thinker, right?" Tattletale asked.

"I think that her powers are her business, and if you want to know them you should ask her yourself," I spat bitterly.

"I think she'll be delighted to explain to her new teammate," Tattletale said, clearly rubbing it in.

As I reached for my school bag, I found myself thinking,

What did I do in a past life to deserve this? It must have been something really nasty.

Last edited: Jun 26, 2018

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Threadmarks Chapter Fifteen: Strange Revelations

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LuxSola

Oct 28, 2016

#410

Chapter Fifteen: Strange Revelations

Vista stood motionless under the shower, the noise of the water barely drowning out the sound of her parents arguing.

She turned the shower off, but for a while she remained there, dripping and thinking.

Finally, she stepped out of the shower and dried herself off before wrapping the towel around her pitifully small bust. To her lament, she was something of a late bloomer. Despite being thirteen, she was routinely mistaken for being ten or younger.

She brushed out her shoulder length blonde hair, and got dressed in the bathroom to avoid running into either of her parents in the hall. What bothered her wasn't that they fought, it was that they kept pretending they didn't fight whenever she was around, as if she needed to be protected from the truth.

She grabbed her backpack from her room, and headed to the kitchen, throwing some poptarts in the toaster.

Her father was reading the paper, and her mother was doing dishes. Neither was looking at the other.

It was pointless, how they fought loud enough for her to hear, and then immediately shut up the moment they could see her.

Vista cynically believed that they didn't care if she heard, or how it affect her. They just didn't want to see it happening.

She waited in silence for the poptarts to finish warming up, and grabbed them with a paper towel before heading out the door without a word.

She munched on her sugary breakfast as she walked to school.

She heard a car pull up beside her and the driver said, "Enjoying your breakfast?"

She whipped around to face the source, and relaxed when saw,

"Dean. Um, yeah."

The girl tried, and failed, to keep the affection and longing out of her voice. He knew she liked him. She knew he knew she liked him. Even without his empathic abilities, she wasn't exactly hiding her feelings expertly.

Dean smiled at her. His teeth, like everything else about him, were perfect.

"Great. I saw you walking by, and I thought I'd offer you a ride the rest of the way."

Vista grinned. "I'd like that."

She walked around the passenger door of his car, and got it in, then buckled herself up.

"So," Dean asked, "have you heard anything about these new Wards we're getting?"

Vista shook her head. "I haven't heard anything."

"Carlos texted me last night and told me that we were getting some new Wards and there was a meeting about it at six PM today. I was hoping you knew more."

"Nope. I didn't even get the text."

"That's weird. Carlos probably planned to tell you in person."

"I guess so."

A niggling doubt in the back of Vista's mind suggested that maybe Carlos didn't text her because he didn't really consider her to be a real Ward, despite her having been a Ward the longest of any of them, just because she was the youngest, and the only girl.

She quashed the thought and asked Dean, "Have you heard anything about what's happened to Shadow Stalker?"

Dean shook his head. "Sophia screwed up big time, and the Director is not happy. If Sophia doesn't shape up fast, she's going to end up in jail."

Vista snorted. "Would that be such a tragedy?"

Dean frowned. "Yes, it would. It might be a necessary evil, but that doesn't make it good, Missy."

Vista had long since stopped really thinking of herself as Missy Byron, but out of costume her teammates all used her 'real' name. Dean was the only one who called Shadow Stalker Sophia though, because he was the only one who could tolerate her long enough for a five minute conversation.

Her face fell at the rebuke. "You're right. But on the bright side, we're getting new Wards."

"Apparently. There might even be another girl," Dean pointed out.

"I hope so. It would be nice to have another girl on the Wards."

"What about Sophia?"

"She doesn't count. She's not a girl, she's a shark."

Even as charitable as Dean tried to be, he couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Well, we'll be meeting them tonight. Hopefully we'll both make some new friends."

"Hopefully," Vista replied.

Computer class saw me trolling the PHO boards for information about what happened last night. As predicted, there was a mostly ignored thread about the Undersiders' heist, a packed thread about Lung's capture, and nothing about Coil at all.

I was both relieved and a little incensed that I barely got mentioned in the thread about Lung at all. I didn't want to attract attention, but a little credit for leading him to the docks would have been nice. All the official statement said was 'Local independent heroes worked with the Wards to secure Lung until Paige McAbee, also known as Bad Canary, could be brought into subdue him.'

The thread on the fight on the north end of the city was a treasure trove of information, updating with cost estimates and casualty reports as they came out. Current tally was three dead PRT agents, seven dead civilians, and a whopping thirty-six dead from the gangs, including Mush and Moist from the Merchants and possibly Krieg from the Empire.

Property damage was in the millions at least, but the exact total would take weeks to determine. Hundreds of people were displaced by damage to their homes, and at least two streets had to be closed off entirely due to damage from the fighting.

On the plus side, all of the Merchants' capes were dead or in prison, as well as a few Empire capes, and Lung. The videos I was able to find of the Protectorate's clash with the warring faction showed Rime coating people in ice as Dauntless struck down Fenja and Menja with his powered lance, while Battery, Assault, Velocity, and Mouse Protector cleaned up the unpowered thugs and those with less destructive powers.

All told, the night was being referred to with cautious optimism as a win for the good guys.

I was still trying to piece together a timeline of the previous day when the bell rang and I had to drag myself to my Modern Issues class.

I amused myself during class by harassing the mice in the walls. There were mice just about everywhere there were people, and the slow moving trainwreck that was Winslow High was no exception, though the custodians did their best to deal with the ones they saw.

I could have killed them all in seconds with my power, but I was more of a live and let live kind of person. Besides, mice would move into their vacated nests from outside overnight.

Still, I felt no guilt over taunting them by moving their nests around while they were still in them, and imagining the confusion on their little mouse faces.

After an interminable amount of time, the bell rang for lunch, and I grabbed my bag and headed out of Winslow to catch the bus the University for my afternoon classes.

Before I got a hundred feet from the building, my power noticed something strange. Someone walked into the men's room, checked to make sure no one was in there, and then an identical man appeared next to him from nothing, carrying all the same things he was.

One of them stayed in the bathroom for a while, while the other left the school entirely.

I was torn. Aside from Oni Lee, there were no duplicating capes in the city that I knew about, and his clone would have burst already. And that's to say nothing of how ridiculous it would be for him to be in a high school. That meant this cape was either new in town, a new trigger, or both. And I really wanted to figure out how his power worked.

But at the same time, he wasn't in costume, so approaching him directly would be skirting up against the Rules.

As the bus drew closer to the stop, still a slight jog away, I had a choice. Follow the new cape, and possibly miss class, or head to Biology and possibly miss out on figuring out how that duplication worked.

The choice was clear, really. My Biology professor didn't take attendance anyway.

I jogged in the direction he'd gone, and followed him along parallel streets, careful not to get within sight of him.

After about fifteen minutes, he walked into a house that wasn't too far from my neighborhood. It wasn't pretty to look at, but it was clean and well-furnished on the inside.

Mystery-clone sat down in front of the TV and immediately picked up a controller. There was no one else in the house that I could sense.

I took out my notepad and wrote down the address, then headed for the nearest bus stop so I wouldn't be late. On the way, I pulled out my tinkerphone and called Tattle's number, which she had given me before she dropped me off.

She picked it up midway through the first ring and said, "Taylor?"

"Yeah, it's me. Where are you?"

"Shopping with Stace. What's up?"

I lowered my voice to a whisper, an act which was mostly pointless since I knew there weren't any people or audio recording devices within a hundred feet, and said, "Are you somewhere private?"

"Mostly. Why?"

"I caught someone using their powers with mine. An unknown cape, with duplication powers. I followed him home. Can you check out his address for me?"

"I don't know. I followed you home last night, and you threatened to pull my lungs out."

"This is different."

"Is it really, or are you just making excuses for your behavior?"

"I… shut up!" Good work, brain. Excellent comeback. I couldn't even stop being sarcastic in my own head.

"Whatever. I'll check it out. Do you think he might be interested in joining the team?" I swore I could hear the smirk in her voice.

I gritted my teeth and said, "I just want to talk to him."

"Yeah, fine. I'll swing by later. Also Stace says hi."

"Tell her I say hi back. I'll text you that address."

"Got it."

I sent her the text, then texted one of my Biology classmates and asked to borrow his notes later. I could have made it in time if I ran, but I was still tired, and I didn't want to test my ribs.

Time to go nap in the hallway next to my Latin class.

Last edited: Jun 26, 2018

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LuxSola

Oct 28, 2016

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Threadmarks Chapter Sixteen: And Stranger Confessions

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LuxSola

Oct 28, 2016

#429

Chapter Sixteen: And Stranger Confessions

Robin Swoyer had a damper on his otherwise interminably bright mood. The fight the previous night had not gone quite as well as he could have hoped, and he would be attending three funerals in the upcoming week.

It was only by the grace of Panacea's tireless efforts that he would not be attending more. The girl had a serious set of stone cold brass ones on her, performing triage in what was at the time effectively an active warzone.

He would have to get something to thank her. A nice gift basket, maybe.

Another, comparatively trivial negative effect of the previous afternoon's brawl was that he hadn't had time to complete his Latin homework. Languages were Robin's first love, and he made it a point to take classes in them whenever his schedule with the Protectorate would allow.

He would have to rush to get his homework done before class, but then, rushing was exactly what his power was best at.

To his great surprise, when he walked down the hallway with his Latin classroom in it, he found Taylor already sitting there, resting his head on his knees.

Taylor and Robin also had first semester Latin together, and while they weren't close, Robin liked to think they were at least friendly. Taylor was the youngest student in their class, Robin the oldest, and the rest were all full time college students, so they connected by virtue of being especially unlike everyone else.

Taylor lifted his head when Robin approached, and waved. There were bags under his eyes.

"Long night, Taylor?"

Taylor chuckled, but there was no joy in it. "You could say that."

"Well, chin up. It's a brand new day, and we have Latin class to look forward to."

Taylor smiled. "Yeah. It certainly is."

I left Latin class with a smile on my face. Between Robin's pep talk and our Latin teacher's perpetual optimism, my spirits were lifted.

And I had a few hours free before I had to meet with the PRT Director.

First, I walked over to the English building and caught up to my mother on the way to one of her classes.

"Hey, Taylor," she greeted me, her hands full of books and folders. I dutifully helped carry some, and we talked on the move.

"Hey mom. I'm going to go hang out with Lisa and Stace, and see if I can help Stace find more permanent accommodations. I should be home by dinnertime, and if not, I'll call."

She smirked at me. "My son. What a player."

I rolled my eyes and passed her back the papers when we reached the classroom door. "Good luck with class. Have fun."

"You too, Taylor." She waggled her eyebrows at me. I ignored it.

From there, I called Tattletale again.

She picked up on the second ring and said, "Hey Taylor. I checked out that address for you. Foster home, four current residents, all boys, ranging from fourteen to seventeen. Based on your description, I've identified our mystery man as one Tyrone Johnson. He's sixteen, a serial runaway, just got kicked out of a previous foster home, and sent here."

I lifted the phone away from my face and stared at it for a while. "That was quick."

"I know. I'm awesome."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get cocky. Remember, we still have that meeting tonight."

"Oh, I'm very prepared for that meeting. I'm going to knock people's socks off."

"I'm sure. Listen, I'm out of class now, and my mom won't be home for a while. Why don't you and Stace meet me at my house?"

"I'll do you one better. I'll give you a ride home. I'm already on my way there. Meet me in the circle, okay?"

"Okay. I'll see you in a minute then."

Tattletale's... no... Lisa's car came into my range just as I reached the circle drive were they were picking me up, and she pulled up to the curb, Stace sitting in the passenger seat next to her.

I opened the rear door and stepped in, setting my bookbag next to several full shopping bags from various clothes and electronics stores.

"This is a lot of stuff, Stace. Didn't I tell you not to spend enough to attract attention?" I chided.

"Lisa bought most of it," Stace said, nodding toward the blonde with whom she had become fast friends.

"That's actually worse. Spending several thousand dollars the day after you pull off a successful heist is the kind of thing that gets you caught."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "I'm not stupid, Taylor. I know that cops watch for people spending lots of money right after major heists, but they only notice if it's a dramatic change from someone's spending habits. I have a carefully cultivated reputation as a college girl with daddy's money to spend, so no one notices when I spend a lot of money all at once," Lisa said.

"That's... actually quite clever," I admitted.

"Is that your way of saying you're warming up to me?" she asked, purely to needle me.

I frowned at her. "Just giving the devil her due."

"I'll take it," she said. "So, want to go pick up Dinah, round out this motley band?"

"Yes!" Stace said. "We can watch one of your American movies!"

Stace had a long standing love for American cinema that occasionally bordered on the frightening.

"I don't think a bunch of teenagers showing up at their door and asking to hang out with their recently kidnapped daughter is going to endear us to the Alcotts, Stace."

"Don't be so negative, Taylor. We just need a really good excuse. Or we could just tell them the truth," Lisa said.

If I had been taking a drink at that moment, I would have made quite a mess of Lisa's car.

"You think that's a good idea?" I asked.

"Well, why don't you call and ask Dinah what she thinks?" Lisa suggested.

"I don't know her phone number," I confessed.

She rattled it off.

"How do you know that?" I asked.

She smirked. "How do you know that I'm wearing a thong right now?"

I blushed. I did, in fact, know that she was wearing a thong, but I made it a point not to think too hard about people's undergarments.

Stace looked down at where Lisa's feet were working the pedals. "But you are not wearing thongs. You are wearing sneakers."

Lisa burst out laughing, while my blush deepened.

"I'm... I'm gonna call Dinah."

"You do that," Lisa said as she wiped a tear from her eyes.

Stace just sat there looking confused.

I dialed the number on my tinkerphone and waited. To my surprise, Dinah picked it up, not either of her parents.

"Alcott residence, Dinah speaking." There was a hint of exasperation in her voice.

"Dinah, it's Taylor."

Her voice picked up immediately. "Taylor! How are you?!"

"I'm doing alright. Stace, Lisa and I were going to watch a movie and we thought you might want to join us."

"I don't think my parents would let me. They haven't let me out of their sight since we got home. Going to the bathroom was awkward."

I chuckled.

"I wasn't joking, Taylor. My mom went in with me. It was weird."

"Yikes. I'm sure they're just being protective, but that's a little much."

"Tell me about it. They're next to me now, listening in on a PRIVATE CONVERSATION!" That last part was not directed at me.

"They're gone now. What did you want to talk about?"

"Well, we've been talking, and we think it might be best if we tell your parents everything."

"Really?"

"They're probably going to find out eventually. It would be better if they hear it from you rather than finding out later. Plus, I don't want you to have to keep coming up with increasingly implausible excuses for hanging out with a bunch of teenagers."

"Yeah. I don't think they'd like that very much. Do you want me to use questions to check how they'll react? I'm still burned out from yesterday, but I can probably do two or three."

I took a deep breath, and thought about it. "No. I think some things you just have to take on faith. And if we get too reliant on using your power, we could end up getting tunnel visioned on the wrong things, and we'll be worse off than if we didn't use your power at all."

"Okay. Should I tell them now?"

"Actually, wait for us. We're going to come to your house, so you don't have to do it alone."

"Are you going to tell them about you too?"

"Yeah, probably. We'll figure it out."

"Okay. I have to go before my parents freak out because I've been out of their sight for almost a whole minute."

"We'll see you soon, kiddo."

She said her goodbyes and hung up the phone.

Lisa signaled a turn and began driving in the direction of Captain's Hill. It didn't surprise me at all that she knew where Dinah lived.

"So, does anyone have objections to Dinah's parents knowing our secret identities?" I asked.

"I do not mind, but I have nothing to lose if we're exposed. Anastasia Barkova does not exist in America. Just Chatterbox."

"I don't mind either, but I don't want them knowing I was Tattletale. I'm getting a new costume and a new cape name. What do you guys think of Colophon?"

"The city in Ancient Greece?" I asked.

"Yep. But also the publisher's imprint on books. I was thinking about a book with a crown on it for the emblem."

I rubbed the back of my head. "It's sounds cool, though I don't see what it has to do with your power. But I guess that's probably the point."

"Bingo. I'm going to pretend that I have psychometry-like postcognition."

Stace asked, "What is actually your power? You never told me."

"I'm an extrapolator. Basically, my power makes me a super detective. Give me five minutes in a room with someone and I'll be telling you their darkest secrets just from their facial tics. And you're a communications-slash-surveillance focused Tinker, and Taylor's power is… what, telekinesis and remote viewing?"

"Pretty much. I call my power Absolute Babylon. Anything nonliving within my range, I can sense like it's a part of my body, which I've named alioception. Anything I can sense, I can 'push' telekinetically, but I can only push an object so hard, so smaller objects are easier to move."

"Is there a limit to how many objects you can control?"

I shook my head. "As far as I know, none at all. Lifting an entire beach isn't any harder than lifting one sand grain."

"That… that's terrifying. Your Shaker rating must be off the scale."

"I think the PRT has me as a Shaker 3, based on what they've seen so far. If they knew my full power, they'd probably put me at a Shaker Seven."

"At least. Plus a Thinker rating for your alioception, a Master rating because of that sand golem thing you did last night, a Brute rating if you can use your sand defensively, a Mover rating for your power-assisted parkour, and a Blaster rating if you can fire your sand like bullets."

I counted them off on my fingers. "That's half the classifications."

"I know. Your power is almost offensively versatile," she said, and it sounded like she was a little jealous.

"No more versatile than any clever Tinker," I pointed out.

"Yeah, but most Tinkers aren't that clever. Armsmaster is one of the most powerful capes in the world, and it's not because his power is strong. He's just constantly seeking new ways to leverage it, and collaborating with his actual Canadian girlfriend, Dragon."

"Dragon and Armsmaster are dating?" I asked, surprised. If that was true, I would have expected the Protectorate's PR team to be milking it for all its worth.

"If they aren't, they're really close friends. I've hacked into his communication logs before, -shh, big secret- and he talks to her practically every day, often for hours at stretch."

"The world just keeps getting weirder, doesn't it?" I asked.

"That's what makes it fun!" Stace insisted.

I couldn't help but shake my head. She was right.

We were certainly headed for interesting times.

Last edited: Jun 26, 2018

449

LuxSola

Oct 28, 2016

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Threadmarks Chapter Seventeen: Introductions

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LuxSola

LuxSola

Oct 29, 2016

#444

Chapter Seventeen: Introductions

Roger Alcott was a Sussex-born, Oxford-educated Englishman, so he was all accustomed to the practice of keeping a stiff upper lip, remaining calm when he wanted to panic, and not showing his emotions.

Never had that skill been tested harder than in the past two days. He remained strong for his wife's sake, but when her brother had come by to comfort her, he had locked himself in the bathroom for twenty minutes so that he could have a breakdown in private, the proper way.

Now that his daughter was safe and sound, he was going to redouble his efforts to keep her so. He was going to get an alarm system installed first thing in the morning, and look into getting security doors after that. When she was ready to start going back to school, he or his wife would start driving her. No more taking the bus.

Those were just the first things that came to mind. He had made a dozen foolish errors with her safety, and he would root them out one by one.

No matter what happened, he would not lose his daughter again.

A knock at the door caught his attention, but his daughter reached it first. Before he could tell her to let him answer it, she swung it wide and said, "Taylor!"

When he got to the door he was surprised to see that Taylor was not a middle-school-aged girl, as he had thought previously, but a rather tall and lanky teenage boy.

There were two girls to either side of him, a blonde and a brunette, both looking about the same age as Taylor did, though Roger would admit that he had trouble telling the ages of teens apart.

"Hello, Mister Alcott. My name is Taylor."

"I must confess, when my daughter said her friend Taylor was coming by, I expected a girl."

"You wouldn't be the first, but it is a boy's name too. I was named for my mother's favorite poet, Samuel Taylor Coleridge."

"Ah. Well it's good to meet you, Taylor." He extended a hand for the boy, wondering how Dinah had met him and become friends.

"Actually, we've met before, but I was in costume then." The boy shook his hand, and recognition dawned within him. He could see how Sandstorm's costume would fit on Taylor's frame, bulking him out, making him look larger.

"Of course. Come in, come in. Are these ladies part of your team?" Roger didn't know much about parahumans at all, but he knew they tended to form teams.

"Yes!" the brunette said enthusiastically, in the same Russian accent he remembered from the previous night.

The three teenagers walked into his foyer and he closed the door behind them.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

Taylor looked at Dinah. "Do you want to tell him, or do you want me to?"

Dinah shook her head. "I can do it."

"Tell me what?" Roger was concerned. Had something happened to her while she was captive? Something too horrible to mention while they were alone?

"Dad... I have powers."

And that was how Roger Alcott had his first fainting spell.

I liked to think that I was fairly put together as capes went. I wasn't unflappable, but I wasn't prone to panic either. Nevertheless, when I watched Roger Alcott hit the floor because of his daughter's confession, I had to try very hard not to freak out.

"Daddy!" Dinah shrieked.

I was frozen solid. Lisa, luckily, was more on the ball, and apparently she had some first aid training as well. She went over to him, checked his pulse, did something with his eyes, and said, "He's fine. He just fainted. Taylor, Stace, help me get him on the couch."

I grabbed him beneath his shoulders, and Stace and Lisa each grabbed a leg, and together we hauled him up and began carrying him over.

Unfortunately for us, that was the exact moment that Dinah's mother chose to come downstairs, to see a bunch of strange teenagers carrying her unconscious husband.

She immediately started screaming, and in retrospect, I didn't blame her one bit.

Dinah ran over to her and tried to calm her down, and the screaming was replaced by incoherent babbling as we lowered Mr. Alcott's unconscious body onto the sofa.

"He... they... you... what happened?"

"It's okay, mom. Dad just fainted. He's fine."

"Fainted? Why did he faint?"

"I'll tell you, but I need you to sit down first."

Mrs. Alcott was skeptical, but she did as she was told, sitting herself in a chair adjacent to the sofa. "Okay. I'm sitting. What happened?"

"I'm a cape."

Mrs. Alcott immediately fainted as well.

I turned to Dinah and asked, "Does this happen a lot?"

She shook her head. "Nope. First time."

"It's a pretty big revelation. Cut them some slack," Lisa said. "By the way. We haven't met yet, my name's Lisa."

Dinah shook her hand. "Are you one of Taylor's cape friends?"

"Yeah. We're actually forming a team now, and we wanted you to join."

"I'm in," Dinah said without hesitation.

"Weee!" Stace exclaimed. "We shall make matching costumes, and pose with them for pictures!"

"We're forming a cape team, Stace. Not a Korean pop band. And before you ask, no. We are not forming a Korean pop band."

Dinah said, "So what are we going to do? Go on patrols and fight bad guys?"

"I'd like to do as little fighting as possible. The point of forming a team is so that gangs will think twice before trying to force us to work for them."

"But what about the villains?" Dinah asked.

"The PRT, the Protectorate, and New Wave can fight villains all they like. I just want to keep my friends safe."

"Putting away villains would keep whole city safe," Stace pointed out.

"Yeah, but it would also cause the villains to escalate in retaliation. If we take out Hookwolf, how long do you think it will be before Kaiser calls in Gesselschaft to come after us?" I countered.

"How long do you think it will be before Hookwolf kills one of us anyway, because he's a murderous psychopath?" Lisa riposted.

Dinah suggested, "Why don't we just use my power to figure out if we're in more danger fighting than not fighting, and do that?"

Lisa, Stace, and I exchanged glances. "Yeah, that works."

"Agreed," Lisa said.

"Wonderful," said Stace.

A groan from the couch indicated that Mr. Alcott was coming to.

"Unnngh."

"Daddy! Are you okay?"

"I'm alright, poppet. For a second there I thought you said you had powers."

"I do, dad."

"Oh." He paused, taking a moment to process that. "Since when?"

"Around the time Aunt Beverly got sick," Dinah answered.

"I see. Would anyone like some tea?" Mr. Alcott asked, falling back on courtesy when he had no idea what to do or say.

"Tea sounds lovely, Mr. Alcott," I said, happy to help him find his ease.

He tried to stand up, and I grabbed underneath his arm until he was steady on his feet. "Careful," I cautioned.

"Thanks, chap. Dinah, could you help me in the kitchen? Taylor, you and your friends, feel free to have a seat."

"I think it would be wise for Dinah to stay here, in case your wife comes to," I said.

"My wife?" He looked to where Mrs. Alcott was slumped over in the chair. "Oh. Is she okay?"

"She just fainted. She'll be fine," Lisa explained. "I can help you with the tea."

The Alcotts' had a three piece set of sofa, loveseat, and chair, arranged in a rough triangle around a coffee table. Stace and I sat together on the loveseat, while Dinah sat on the couch.

"So, what kind of costume should I get?" Dinah asked.

"I don't think you need much of a costume, Dinah. You're not exactly the fighting type."

Dinah gave me a look that was halfway between offended and disappointed.

Stace picked up on her expression and said, "You should have very fancy costume. Something regal. Maybe something Greek inspired, like Lisa?"

"Oracle would be a fitting cape name, if you wanted to go that route," I said.

Dinah's expression brightened. "Oracle sounds cool."

"What sounds cool, poppet?" Mr. Alcott returned with a tray full of tea and scones. Lisa was right behind him.

"Oracle. For my cape name, dad."

"Why do you need a cape name?" he asked.

Dinah rolled her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "So people know what to call me when I'm out in costume."

"Costume? Now Dinah, I don't think-"

"I hate to interrupt, Mr. Alcott, but I think your wife should be present for this conversation." Lisa gestured to the unconscious woman in chair. "Well, present and conscious."

"Quite right."

He stood up and gently shook his wife by the shoulder. She woke up the with a start, then relaxed when she saw her husband. "Oh. Roger. Thank God. I had the most horrible dream. Dinah said she had powers, and some teenagers were kidnapping you."

The four of us exchanged glances, not daring to say a word.

"They weren't kidnapping me, dear. I fainted and they were helping me to the couch."

He stepped aside, and she looked at each of us in turn. "Oh."

I stood up, and walked over to shake her hand. "Taylor Hebert, ma'am. In costume, I'm called Sandstorm."

"You're the young man who rescued Dinah," she said.

"Yes, ma'am." I nodded.

Stace and Lisa walked up behind me, and I introduced them in turn. "These are my-" I hesitated "-teammates Anastasia Barkova and Lisa Wilbourne."

"Alyssa Alcott," she said, shaking their hands. "Forgive me for being blunt, but could you please tell me what's going on?"

Lisa elected to do the explaining. "Dinah's a cape. A really powerful cape."

"Like Alexandria?" Mrs. Alcott asked.

Lisa smiled and shook her head. "There's more ways to be powerful than Brute strength and invulnerability. She's a Thinker, like me. Her power lets her know things."

"What kind of things?"

Lisa gestured to Dinah, so she could explain. "I can see the future."

"You get visions?" her father asked.

"Kind of. When I'm using my power, it's like... like seeing millions and millions of pictures of how the future could be, and when I ask a question about the odds of one thing happening or another, the pictures sort into piles, and the piles become numbers, percent chances."

"So if I asked you the odds that it rains tomorrow?"

"Sixteen point four six two three percent chance of rain."

"Wow," Mr. Alcott said.

"It's a neat trick, but I don't see how it compares to invincibility," Mrs. Alcott said.

Dinah looked a little saddened by that.

I jumped in to save her ego. "It's not just a parlor trick, Mrs. Alcott. She can tell you the odds that China invades, whether oil prices will go down or up, if one cape can beat another in a fight. It is no exaggeration to say that she may be the most powerful precognitive parahuman in the world. It is an immensely useful ability, and I have reason to believe it was the real reason she was kidnapped, not your brother's profession as the PRT thinks."

"You mean other people might try to kidnap her to make her use her power?" Mrs. Alcott went pale.

"It's possible, but I don't want you to be too worried about it. Everyone in the world who knows about her power is in this room."

"What about the person who kidnapped her? Coil, wasn't it?" She asked.

"Coil will not be harming her, or anyone else, ever again. You have my word on that." My voice had an unintended edge to it, and the whole room went quiet.

"So!" I exclaimed, trying to revive the conversation, "here's our plan. We can't keep our powers a secret. Not forever. And capes who don't have teams tend not to stay neutral for long. They either get forced into the gangs or the Protectorate who make them fight. So we're forming a team of independent capes, who aren't interested in fighting, and leveraging our powers to protect our neutrality. We want Dinah with us."

Mrs. Alcott bit her lip. "Why can't she just join the Wards?"

"Dinah, odds someone attempts to use your family as leverage to force you to use your power for them if you join the Wards?"

"Eighty-six point seven three seven four percent."

"That's why. If she joins the Wards, her real identity and her power goes into their records, and not everyone who has access to those records is an honest person. If she stays an independent, she can use her power to vet every new teammate, and no one else even has to know she has powers. And if someone finds out anyway, we'll be there to protect her."

"I don't know..." she said.

"Pleeeeease, mom. I'm safer with them than I am here," Dinah pleaded.

Lisa chimed in with, "I'm sorry to say it, but she's probably right. If someone tries to kidnap her when she's with us, we can and will use our powers to stop them."

Alyssa turned to her husband, who had been silent for much of the conversation. "What do you think?"

He took a deep breath before replying. "I think there are more reasons to like the idea than to dislike it. They seem like good role models for Dinah, and she could be spending her time with far worse people."

Stace, who was never one to let the nuance of a statement stop her from hearing what she wanted, immediately started clapping. "Yay! We should celebrate."

"How about we all get Chinese food? My treat," I offered.

"We've already eaten lunch. Why don't you celebrate with a movie, here? We have a plasma TV in the basement," Mrs. Alcott interjected.

I frowned internally, but kept a slight smile on my face. The reason I suggested getting food was so that Dinah could get some time out of the house, but I couldn't really fault her mother for not wanting to let her twelve year old daughter go out with a handful of teenagers that she hadn't even known an hour yet. Besides, they did have finished basement with a pretty nice home entertainment system setup in it.

"That works!" Stace said.

"A fine idea." I concurred. "Why don't we split up? Dinah, you and your parents can go rent the movie, while the three of us pick up popcorn and snacks. We'll meet back here and watch the movie all together."

Lisa tapped me on the shoulder. "We have that meeting at five thirty, remember?"

I slapped my palm to my forehead. "Of course. Well, the meeting won't take that long, will it? We can go to the meeting, get dinner, and return here around seven to watch the movie? I'll have to call my mother, but I don't think she'll have a problem with it, as long as I'm home by eleven."

Mrs. Alcott looked at her husband and had one of those silent conversations long married couples are so good at.

"I think that all sounds quite fine. You're welcome to spend the time before your meeting here. We have plenty of snacks and tea," Mr. Alcott said.

"Thank you very much for the offer, Mr. Alcott, but we have a few things we need to finish before the meeting, so we really should get going," Lisa said.

I nodded. "It was lovely to meet you both, and I look forward to getting to know you better, but for now, we must sadly depart."

"I will miss you!" Stace said as we walked out of their parlor.

Last edited: Jun 26, 2018

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LuxSola

Oct 29, 2016

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Threadmarks Chapter Eighteen: A Chance Encounter

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LuxSola

LuxSola

Oct 30, 2016

#463

Chapter Eighteen: A Chance Encounter

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Topic: Massive Brawl leads to casualties, property damage, several arrests

In: Boards News Events Brockton Bay

SixTwo (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Posted on March 22nd, 2011:

At approximately four-thirty PM EST, everything hit the fan in Brockton Bay. Current reports suggest the Merchants attacked the Empire, the Empire retaliated, and it ballooned into a huge fight.

While the Protectorate was fighting the Merchants and the Empire, Lung attacked another villain group called the Undersiders. Anyone have any information on them?

Tuesday was a bad day to be a Brocktonite, that's for damn sure.

Edit: I've pieced together a rough timeline of events. Times are approximate. Please note any errors so that I can correct them.

~4:30, Merchants start a fight with the Empire. Exact cause unknown, presumed to be a squabble between unpowered gang members that escalated.

4:37 Shelter in place text alerts go out to Brockton Bay Residents.

~4:45 Protectorate arrives to contain the situation. Situation aggressively resists containment. As per user BoxCat below, Wards are sent out on emergency patrols at this point, with orders not to engage unless absolutely necessary.

~4:50 Lung attacks the Undersiders, for unknown reasons.

Edit: User DarkWatch below mentions rumors that the casino the Undersiders robbed this afternoon (see thread here) is a front for the ABB.

~4:45-5:00 Lung chases the Undersiders across the south end of the city. Something makes them divert course east toward the shore. Sightings of Vista and an unknown cape engaging Lung are reported.

Edit: Unknown cape is allegedly Sandstorm, a low grade sand controlling Shaker.

~5:10 New Wave gets involved. Panacea, Manpower, Shielder, and Fleur help the Protectorate with the Empire. Glory Girl, Laserdream, and Lady Photon engage Lung to the south.

~5:15 The fight with Lung reached the beach, and Clockblocker tags him. He is contained there by the Wards and New Wave. The Undersiders have disappeared by this point.

~5:20-5:45 The fight on the North End wraps up. See here for detailed reports on casualties and arrests.

~5:50 Armsmaster and Miss Militia arrive at the beach to help with Lung, which by this point is mostly just keeping the reporters and civilians from getting too close.

~6:45 Paige McAbee, stage name Bad Canary (see here for details about her) arrives and uses her master power to knock out Lung. Video here.

(Showing page 113 of 158)

Anaximander

Replied on March 23rd, 2011:

Mad props to Canary for taking out Lung. She's such an amazing singer too.

Her arrest was such bullshit too. Free Canary!

Starlex (Veteran Member)

Replied on March 23rd, 2011:

No fucking way is Sandstorm a Shaker Three. No fucking way.

Did you hear what he did to Lung? He lifted a ball of sand the size of a car into the air and dropped it on him.

Sand has a density of over a thousand kilos to the cubic meter. That means he lifted up a literal ton of weight, and dropped it on someone.

That's way more than Shaker Three.

MightyCluck (Verified Chicken)

Replied on March 23rd, 2011:

@Starlex. I heard about it. I just don't buy it.

SilverStorms (PRT Wife)

Replied on March 23rd, 2011:

I asked my husband, and he said Sandstorm was listed as a shaker 3, but that might be out of date.

Clockblocker (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied on March 23rd, 2011:

@MightyCluck.

Believe it. I watched Sandstorm pull up a good chunk of the beach and use it to swat Lung like a fly. It took a while, and he (I am not kidding, I swear this happened) recited a chant before doing it, so maybe it takes a lot of concentration. idk.

Winged_One

Replied on March 23rd, 2011:

Sandstorm is far stronger than he appears. One wonders how he managed to avoid notice for so long.

dirken

Replied on March 23rd, 2011:

Whats with the cowboy schtick? does sandstorm know he's on the east coast?

Timeless Ponderer

Replied on March 23rd, 2011:

@dirken Does Revel know she's in America? Does Chevalier know he's in the 21st century?

Lots of people have theme costumes that don't quite match up with their geography. There's no need to be a dick about it.

Vista (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied on March 23rd, 2011:

I think Sandstorm's costume is pretty cool actually. I hope he joins the Wards (or Protectorate if he's old enough.)

AllSeeingEye

Replied on March 23rd, 2011:

@Vista I don't think he's interested in the Wards, but I heard a rumor that you were getting some new members. Any news you can share on that front?

Stace was gracious enough to offer me the front seat on the ride away from the Alcotts', but I declined. I had enough legroom in the back, since I could spread out, and it was a good enough excuse not to participate in the conversation.

I don't mean to say that I didn't like talking to them. Stace was a better friend than I deserved, and I was very slowly warming up Lisa's particular brand of kindness, but I was in a mood to be alone with my thoughts.

I had so many questions about how Dinah's power really worked. How far into the future could she see? How accurate was she, really? Could she predict the outcome of dice rolls? The weather? How did successive uses of her power change her predictions? Did her power take itself into account? If I act cautiously because she predicts a high chance of me getting hurt, am I preventing or causing that harm? How did it react to events that were impossible, or certain?

Could she predict trigger events, something no precog in history had ever done? What about Endbringers, who were similarly inscrutable to powers, or Scion?

In my own selfish way, I wasn't as concerned about her ability to predict the actions of the apocalypse monsters that were slowly chipping away at humanity's population and industry, as I was about her ability to help me find out what happened to my father. Could her power be used postcognitively, to find out about the past, or present?

Perhaps the most interesting question though, was how her power would interact with Lisa's.

My musing was interrupted by a gentle push from Stace.

"Huh? What?" I asked, bewildered by being abruptly brought back to reality.

Stace flashed a warm smile and rolled her eyes. "He does this often. Ignores what is said and drifts into thought."

I rubbed the back of my neck, a little embarrassed. "Sorry. What were you talking about?"

"Stace told me about how she can't stay in her apartment anymore, and I told her she could move in with me," Lisa said.

I furrowed my brow. "I thought you lived with the Undersiders?"

"I do, but I also have an apartment downtown that they don't know about. I haven't spent much time there, but now that I'll be living there full time, it might be nice to have a roommate."

"It will be wonderful." Stace said, matter-of-factly.

I loved that about her. Nothing was ever just okay, never mind actually bad. Everything was always wonderful, or amazing, or fantastic. I couldn't and didn't blame her for that, considering she was comparing her life in Brockton Bay to being trafficked by organized crime, and before that a life growing up in the ash heap of the former Soviet Union. From that perspective, a warm, safe apartment, with a full pantry and a roommate who almost certainly won't rob or roofie her would be pretty wonderful.

"That does sound wonderful. When you're ready to swing by the old place and get the rest of your stuff, let me know. I'll help you move in."

Lisa smiled ominously. "Well it's a good thing you said that, because Stace and I decided to hit the Market this Friday, and we'll need someone to carry our bags."

"I thought you just went shopping."

Lisa rolled her eyes, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "That was supply shopping. Tomorrow we'll go food shopping, and on Friday, we'll go clothes shopping."

I shrugged. Stace did need the clothes. She didn't have much in that department before her apartment got trashed, and being rendered homeless had not improved matters. "Okay, I can help you, no problem."

"So," she asked, "What were you thinking about?"

"You don't know already? I thought your power let you practically read minds."

She shook her head, her ponytail swishing back and forth. "Nope. My power's good, but it's not that good. And I can only really use it for a few minutes a day before the migraines start, so I try not to use it unless it's important."

"A few minutes a day? You managed all that on a few minutes a day?"

She gave what I think might have been the smuggest smirk theoretically possible.

"It's not all my power, you know. I figure out where to look for secrets, and my power finds them for me, easy peasy."

"That's more than a little impressive," I said, and I meant it. There's a saying among cape geeks, 'Thinkers don't'. Most Thinkers, even high level Thinkers like Coil, aren't that smart. They just use their power until it starts to hurt, then sit on their hands until they can use it again. Thinkers who were smart before they got powers are among the most dangerous and influential capes in the world.

Lisa's ego swelled up beneath my praise, and she made no attempt at modesty. "I know," she said.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. She could have this one.

"So what were you thinking of?" Stace asked.

"Hmm? Oh. I was thinking about power synergy."

"You were wondering how my power would work with Dinah's?"

"Got it in one," I said.

Lisa puzzled over it briefly. "I think that if we worked together, we could get the same amount of information with less direct use of power, than if either one of us was working alone."

I nodded. "I think that's probably true. What would take ten questions from Dinah, or ten minutes of your power, might only take two minutes and three questions if you're working together."

"That is good. Less headaches that way," Stace said.

"Fewer," Lisa corrected. "So, Taylor, do you think about how powers work a lot?"

"It's a hobby. My friend Ted and I used to talk about it a lot, back in the day. We still do sometimes, but we've both been pretty busy lately."

"Did you think of anything worth sharing?"

I shrugged. "I guess we came to the same conclusion everyone does eventually. Good information and better teamwork will beat raw power almost every time. Take Lung, for example. When he first came to Brockton Bay he beat the entire Protectorate by himself, but he never fought them again because he knew that they knew what he could do. Virtually every cape worth mentioning either exaggerates or downplays their powers."

"But what of Nilbog? Or Sleeper? Everyone knows what they do, and still they are unconquered." Stace asked.

"Unconquered. That's an odd way of putting it. I think- Lisa, stop the car. Right now. Stace, there's a domino mask in the glove box, can you hand it to me?"

"What is it?" Stace asked as she opened the glove box and fished out the mask.

"It's the cape from earlier. The duplicator. He's in an alley, like… three blocks that way. I want to go say hi."

"But what about lunch?" Lisa asked as I adjusted the rather pitiful disguise.

"I'll be ten minutes. Twenty, tops," I said as I bailed out of the still moving (albeit slowly) car, and headed into an alley to scale the building.

Two minutes and a few power assisted leaps later, I was atop one of the buildings flanking him. He had split into three people, and was busily vandalizing the wall. I watched in silence as the clones cooperated wordlessly to complete the painting.

Partly I wanted to make sure that he didn't add any gang tags to his work, but mostly I just wanted to see what it looked like when it was complete.

It was beautiful. Along the ground there was six foot tall depiction of Pieta, with Eidolon as Mary and Hero as Jesus. The whole thing was done in a monochrome style, except the bright red of the blood flowing out of Hero's fatal wound, and brilliant, almost electric blue tears flowing down Eidolon's impassive mask.

I slid quietly down the wall, and said, "It's amazing."

Startled, they (he?) spun on their heels to face me, holding a can of spray paint out as if it was a weapon.

I raised my empty hands. "Easy. I'm not a cop, and I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to talk."

"About what?" The left one said.

"I have powers too." I demonstrated by making the sand I used to climb up and down the wall float lazily around my hands. "And I have a team. I thought you might want to join. Can we talk about it?"

They began to put the cans of spray paint away in a duffel bag. "Not interested." The right one said.

I wasn't going to give up that easily. I wasn't determined to have him on the team, but I at least wanted to give it a good try. I thought about what I knew about him, how I could get him to keep talking to me, at least long enough for him to meet Lisa and Stace, so they could use their bullshit Thinker powers, and even more bullshit Friendship powers on him.

He was a foster kid, Lisa had told me that. His clothes were old, and worn. The only reason I even knew it was him and not three similarly dressed people was because each of the clones were wearing the same outfit down to the tears along the cuffs. He had a cheap bifold wallet in his back pocket, but not a dime in it. I had my in.

"What if I pay you?"

That got his attention. Their attention. They all lifted their heads. "How much?"

"A thousand dollars. Cash. If you agree to meet with my team, and answer some questions about your power, it's yours. If you decide you still don't want to join, fine. The money's in your pocket."

"Shit, you got that kinda cash?"

"I do. The meeting will take an hour, at most. A thousand bucks for an hour's work, even if you decide you don't want to join? That's a good deal, isn't it?"

"Aaight. When and where?"

There were a few analog clocks in my range, and the time was about half past three, so I still had plenty of time before the meeting with Piggot. "Are you free right now? I can grab the cash and meet you in costume in about twenty minutes. There's an empty warehouse at Thirty-fourth and Marsh."

"Works for me."

"Great. I'll see you then."

"Whatever." The central clone hefted the duffel bag over his shoulder and began walking away. The other two pulled small pocket knives out and stabbed themselves, instantly disappearing in a cloud of smoke and carbon ash.

I climbed the building and headed back to where Stace and Lisa were parked. I took off the domino mask and slipped it into my pocket as I walked out of the mouth of an alley, taking care to make sure I wasn't spotted as I walked back to Lisa's car.

I got into the backseat and said, "I think that went well."

"So, we get new teammate already?" Stace asked.

"Maybe, it depends on our sales pitch. I told him I was going to meet him in twenty minutes near the docks, so we need to get to my house fast, to pick up some cash and our costumes. We'll have to pick up snacks after the meeting. I'll call Dinah and tell her about the change of plans on the way. Any questions?"

They shook their heads.

"Great. Let's head out. We have a lot to do, and not enough time to do it. Also, what you said earlier gave me the perfect idea for a team name. What do you guys think about Invictus?"

Last edited: Jul 15, 2018

381

LuxSola

Oct 30, 2016

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Threadmarks Chapter Nineteen: Meeting

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LuxSola

LuxSola

Oct 30, 2016

#478

Chapter Nineteen: Meeting

Alec AKA Regent, formerly known as Jean-Paul AKA Hijack, was packing up his room in the loft with a certain amount of dispassion. Being raised by one of the world's most infamous sociopaths who had a tendency to use his emotion manipulating powers as reward and punishment left him feeling indifferent towards most things, and the move was no exception.

He had never expected that he would join the Wards, but he couldn't say that he was sad about it. They would be able to keep him out of his father's attention, and back him up if that failed, which was really all he needed.

Once all of the stuff he wanted to keep was in boxes, he headed to the living room to pack up the entertainment system. Almost all of the game systems and DVDs were his, and all told he probably had something like three grand of electronics and media there.

He would probably be donating most of it to the Wards' common room. He'd probably be spending most of his time there from now on anyway, and it would be good to ingratiate himself to his new teammates early, to help smooth over any lingering animosity they might have from his past.

He didn't know if he would be required to disclose his real name or parentage to the other Wards, but he wanted to be prepared just the same.

Brian came up the stairs as he was boxing up DVDs.

"Hey," Brian said.

"Hey," Alec replied.

"Where's Bitch?"

Alec shrugged. "Out with her dogs somewhere. I don't know."

"I hope she gets back in time. I don't think we want to be late for this meeting."

Alec shrugged again, saying nothing.

Silence lingered in the air, just long enough to become uncomfortable. It was clear that Brian was avoiding saying something, and Alec had no intention of filling the silence.

"Are we really joining the Wards?" Brian asked.

"Looks like it, yeah," Alec said, not looking up from his packing.

"This is crazy. Two days ago, we were just a group of villains with an unknown financial backer, now that backer is both revealed, and dead, and we're blackmailing the Director of the PRT and joining the Wards. That's crazy, right?"

"What's your point?"

"My point is, what if Tattletale set us up? What if she planned the whole thing, and made it look spontaneous? It would explain how she knew about Sandstorm, and why she was so insistent on attacking Coil right then. And also how she knew who Coil was, and what to say to manipulate the Director."

"It's a possibility. Or she just used her bullshit Thinker power and bluffed. She does that all the time." Alec was more interested in deciding whether Die Hard belonged in the box with Action Films or Christmas Movies.

"But what if she did?"

Alec threw Die Hard into the Christmas box and said, "Alright, fine. What if she did set us up? What if she was secretly a good guy all along, and this was all just some elaborate scheme to kill off Coil and force us into the Wards? So fucking what? What's wrong with that?

"Yeah, they might not let us keep the money we stole, and yeah they'll probably have all kinds of annoying bullshit rules we have to follow, but does it really fucking matter? At least this way we won't end up in a prison cell. Or a pine box."

"We might still die," Brian pointed out.

"Yeah. But if we die as Wards, your sister gets dependent death benefits and free college. If we die as villains, she gets nothing. Did you ever consider that, o fearless leader?"

Brian said nothing.

"You know what? I think you're right. I think Lisa was playing us, and probably has been for a long time. The thing is, I don't give a fuck. Because we all got clean slates out of this, and I'm gonna make the most of mine, rather than stand here and bitch about how I got it."

I'm sure I've already said this, but the best part about having powers is the mundane utility. Having alioception meant I never had to go looking for things. If they were in my range, I knew their location instantly. If they weren't, I knew that too.

The moment that we drove onto my block, I knew exactly where my costume and my emergency cash was, and I could easily use the sand in my room (cleverly disguised as a zen garden and a decorative sand jar) to open my bag and lay them out.

Lisa grabbed the bag out of her trunk that had her spare costume in it, and headed to the bathroom to change. Stace had a pile of electronics in the basement that she was working on, and did something tinkery with it.

As I stripped out of my street clothes and put my costume on, I saw Stace put a mask on her lower face, and then put on some kind of tinkertech collar.

I checked my pockets to make sure everything was there, and walked out of my room.

Lisa was there, wearing a generic black bodysuit, mask in hand.

"We should probably not drive around with our masks already on, since it might attract attention," she explained.

"Right. Good point." I took off my hat and threw my bandana and goggles in it, then tossed my duster into my bag. Without them, I looked like an ordinary teenager for the most part.

We walked downstairs and I saw Lisa already there. Or at least, it looked like Lisa, but my alioception confirmed that there was a thin cotton mask that I couldn't see.

"Stace?"

"Da. It's me." The lips on it moved, but slightly out of sync with the words, like an older video game model.

"That is some uncanny valley crap right there."

"Cut me slack. I made it in two hours. Here is actual purpose." She pressed a button on the collar, and her hair became bright yellow. A second mask appeared on top of the first one, of a bright pink cartoon mouth, wide open and smiling. Her eyes, her real eyes, were plain to see, but the color was different. One was lilac purple, and the other was orange.

"You can make holograms," I said.

"Da. I am not sure how good I can make them yet."

"The level of quality you're at is good enough for a decent stranger rating. If you can make them strong enough to fool x-rays, a very high stranger rating."

I saw the look in her eyes that she got whenever she felt inspired to invent, and I cut it off, saying, "Tinker later. We have to go now."

She pressed a button on the collar and the hologram shut off, then she pulled off her white cotton mask and we got in the car.

"So, while we're driving, did you make anything else today?"

She pulled a metallic tube a little bigger than a thing of lipstick out of her pocket and pressed it into my hand. "Sonic weapon. Press button, and it generates noise that induces nausea and headache."

"Cool." I looked over the tube, which had a single button on one end, and strange metal plate on the other. I could perceive the internal components with my power, but they were as much a mystery to me as all tinkertech was.

I handed it back to her and asked, "Can you scale it up?"

"I think so. I could make one big enough to fit on truck that would cover entire city block."

"Impressive. But I don't think we need a weapon that big. If we need to take out an entire city block at once, I'd do it, because my power is good at taking out huge groups without collateral damage. I think you should focus on communications equipment that we can use in the field first, and after that long range precision weapons."

"Agreed," she said as we reached the block with the warehouse at the other end.

Lisa parked on the street, and I checked with my power to make sure the coast was clear before we put our masks on and stepped out.

We walked into the warehouse and waited for Tyrone to arrive. As abandoned warehouses went, it was fairly nice. A little dirty, and there were signs of drug use, but it was too far from the fringes of gang territory to be really dangerous. Teenagers would break in to have parties and play games in the winter. There was a basketball hoop crudely welded to one wall, and a handmade cornhole set in the corner.

It was also one of the places I stored sand away from the beach. The rafters were full of it. If I could get power to it, and fortify it, it would make for a decent backup base.

Just a few minutes late, I felt him walk into my range. About a hundred yards from the warehouse, he stepped into an alley, conjured a clone, and one of them walked out.

He's cautious. Good.

"He's almost here. He's leaving a clone behind, probably in case of a trap."

"Can't say I blame him. It's what I'd have done," Colophon said.

"Agreed. Me too."

I faced the door, Colophon and Chatterbox flanking me, and watched as Tyrone walked in, using a simple bandana mask.

"Hello. My name's Sandstorm. These are my teammates, Chatterbox and Colophon."

"You can call me T-Dog."

"Alright, T-Dog. I have something for you."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the yellow-strapped stack of tens. A thousand dollars was not a small expenditure, but I had close to seventy grand hidden in various locations around the city at the time, and with a team backing me up, I would hopefully have a lot more in a couple months.

I tossed him the money, and he caught it out of the air. He ran his thumb along the edge, checking to make sure there weren't any dummies inserted into the stack.

"It's all there, as promised."

He put the wad of cash in his pocket and asked, "Where'd you get this much cash, anyway?"

"I liberated it from an Empire Eighty-Eight dogfighting ring."

"Damn. You're either really strong or really stupid."

"He's both," Colophon said.

"Definitely both," Chatterbox agreed.

"Thank you for that. That was very helpful," I snarked.

T-Dog chuckled. "So you wanna know about my power?"

Colophon stepped forward. "Yep. You're a duplicator, right? Are there any limits to how many clones you can have?"

He shrugged. "Most I've ever done is eight, but I could probably do more."

"What happens when one of them gets hurt? Does your real body learn about it?"

He shook his head. "Once I split, I don't have a 'real' body. We're all the same. When one gets hurt, he pops, and we all learn about it at once."

"What is that like?" she asked.

"I get all the memories of the popped clones."

"Wait, what?" I asked.

He repeated himself slowly and loudly, as if speaking to a dimwitted person.

I looked at Colophon. She probably didn't even need her power to know what I was thinking.

"Does losing a clone hurt you in any way?" I asked.

"Nope. If a clone gets hurt, they pop, but the rest of us are fine."

"Do you know how to juggle?" I asked.

He raised his eyebrows at me. "No?"

"Can you make two clones for me, right now? It'll make sense in a moment, I promise."

He shrugged, and two more of him popped into existence around the central one.

"I need one of you to follow me, and one of you to go over there with Chatterbox. The other one should stay with Colophon."

I leaned toward Chatterbox and whispered, "Teach him how to introduce himself in Latin, say hello, and goodbye." She nodded, and walked over to the clone, while another followed me.

I reached out to the beanbags in the corner and pulled three of them into the air by the beans inside them, heading to the little office in the corner. There was a mattress inside that I was fairly certain had every STD known to man on it, but I didn't get close enough to it for that to matter.

Once the door was shut behind us, I tossed him the bag and said, "Try to juggle these."

"I just told you, I can't juggle."

"Just try it, okay?"

"Whatever." He tossed the bean bags in the air, and dropped them all on the ground.

I picked them up with my power and held them at waist height for him. "Try again."

He did, not managing to keep them in the air any longer.

"One more time. Just trust me."

"This is stupid," he said, but he tried anyway, and failed a third time.

"Okay, now I'm going to teach you how to juggle. It's actually really easy. The trick is not to try to throw the bags to your other hand. You've got to throw the bags into the air with both hands."

I demonstrated, and passed the bags to him, coaching him a little. It took him about ten minutes to have the trick down, during which his standby clone was talking to Colophon, while the other was speaking with Chatterbox.

Once he could go a full thirty seconds without dropping a bag, I said, "Okay. Now I need you to burst this clone, and the clone that Chatterbox was talking to."

He pulled a switchblade from his pocket and jammed it into his own thigh. He burst, and then the clone that was talking to Chatterbox did the same. The two remaining clones he had in my range reacted slightly.

I opened the door and headed to the only remaining clone in the building. I handed him the bean bags and said one word. "Juggle."

He started juggling, just as well as the other clone had a few minutes earlier. I was awestruck.

"Mihi nomen est Sandstorm. Et tu?"

"Mihi nomen T-dog est. What's the big deal? You just showed me how to do this."

"No. I showed a different you how to do it, and Chatterbox showed a third you how to introduce yourself in Latin, and when they burst, you learned both skills instantly. Do you realize what that means?! You learned two skills simultaneously with your power! Pretty pointless skills, sure, but if it scales up, you could learn the basics of every human learnable skill in a few months! Read an entirely library overnight! In a few years, you could be making Victor and Über look like amateurs!" I couldn't keep the excitement out of my voice. His power was massively bullshit.

Colophon smirked. "That's not all he can do. Chatterbox, can you hand him that sonic stick?"

Chatterbox obliged the request. I very nearly shit a brick when I realized what was about to happen.

"Can you duplicate yourself, and the stick?"

T-Dog shrugged, and tried it. Soon there were two of him, each holding metallic tube, which my power told me were identical to each other in every aspect.

"Point one that way, and one that way, and push the buttons on the back."

He did as he was instructed, and I felt the air vibrate and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as the sonic attacks filled the air, even though they were both pointed away from us.

"You can replicate tinkertech," I whispered, rendered almost speechless by the display.

"That's cool," they both said at once.

"Cool is an understatement!" I blurted out. "Your power is the bullshittiest bullshit in all of bullshittidom! If your ability to learn skills scales up, and you join our team, in six months you could be fielding dozens of clones, who are all armed to the gills with tinkertech weapons and top of the line special forces training. That's not just 'cool', that's fucking crazy."

He gave it some thought. "Just what kind of team are you guys, anyway?"

Colophon spoke up. "Let me give you the nutshell version. We're calling ourselves Invictus. We're not really heroes or villains. Just people with powers who want to live our lives in peace. We're making a team to watch each other's backs, so we won't be forced into the gangs or the Protectorate. And we're not above lining our pockets with the ill-gotten gains of supervillains every once in awhile."

He looked at Colophon, then at Chatterbox, then at me. Then he shrugged. "Might as well." He pulled off his bandana, and extended a hand to me. "My real name's Tyrone."

I shook it, and replied, "Mihi nomen est Taylor."

Chatterbox clapped and squealed with delight. "This is wonderful! Our team will be best team ever."

For once, I one hundred percent agreed with her.

Last edited: Jul 15, 2018

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LuxSola

Oct 30, 2016

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Threadmarks Chapter Twenty: After Meeting

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LuxSola

LuxSola

Oct 31, 2016

#520

Chapter Twenty: After Meeting

Like most things, Bitch didn't understand or care about why Brian and Alec were getting so worked up over the prospect of joining the Wards. If it worked out, great. If it didn't, she'd leave. Same as she always did.

There was something to their conversation that she wasn't picking up on, but she didn't want to ask, and then risk not understanding it when they explained it. It probably didn't matter anyway.

When Lisa got back, with an armload of folders, Brian said, "Where have you been all day?"

"Making arrangements so that if the PRT decides to disappear us at this meeting, everything goes public."

"Do you think they'd try that?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I doubt it. Piggot's probably not that dumb. But I'd rather have the plan in place anyway."

Bitch could tell from Brian's posture that he wasn't happy with Lisa, but she had no idea why. She didn't care.

Lisa dropped the stack of folders on the table, and said, "We should probably all get in costume. We don't have a lot of time left before the meeting."

"Yeah. We should," Brian said.

Bitch stayed on the couch, since her 'costume' was just a cheap plastic dog mask and whatever clothes she was wearing at the time. Alec and Lisa went into their rooms to change, and Brian went into the bathroom.

Grue came out first, in his helmet and motorcycle leathers. Regent was next, with his stupid tights. Finally, Tattletale came out in her skintight bodysuit and domino mask.

Tattletale brought a bag with her for the folders she had brought, and began packing them up.

"It's funny to think this will probably be the last time I wear this costume," she mentioned casually.

"Why aren't you joining the Wards too?" Grue asked. His posture was hostile, which was enough to make Bitch start paying attention.

"That's an awkward segue, but whatever. I can't."

"Why not?" Grue asked.

"You're an emancipated minor; Bitch is an orphan, and no court in the world would hear an argument for parental rights from Heartbreaker. But my parents are still alive, still looking for me, and still total assholes. If I join the Wards, they legally have to contact them, and I don't want them knowing anything about me. Does that answer your question?"

Grue relaxed a little. "So what are you going to do? Stay a villain?"

Tattletale shook her head. "I've got enough money saved up to make it to eighteen without having to commit any more crimes, and after that my parents can't do shit. In the meantime, I'm probably going to go the independent route and help out Sandstorm like I promised."

"The PRT might ask us about you," Grue said.

"They won't. Piggot respects the Rules. She won't ask you anything about my identity."

"And you never told us your real name anyway."

Tattletale tapped her nose. "See? I'm not the only clever one on the team. Now come on, let's go blackmail the PRT Director, hopefully for the last time."

After exchanging contact details with Tyrone and parting ways, Lisa dropped us off at my house and left to prepare for the meeting with the director with her soon-to-be former teammates.

Stace and I put our costumes into bags, took the bus downtown, and changed in an alley a few blocks from our destination, stowing the bags with our street clothes on a conveniently located roof with the help of a sand cloud.

With five minutes to spare, we walked into the PRT building, and I called Miss Militia from the lobby.

The PRT agent came over while I waited for her to pick up and asked, "Can I help you?"

"We have a meeting at five-thirty. I'm just calling to confirm."

Miss Militia picked up and said, "Sandstorm."

"Miss Militia. Chatterbox and I are in the lobby downstairs."

"Armsmaster will be down in a minute."

"Excellent. We'll talk soon." I hung up, and the PRT agent just stared at me in disbelief. Or at least, that was what I think he was doing. It was hard to tell with the full coverage helmets they all wore.

"Did no one tell you Miss Militia had a meeting with some local independents today?" I asked.

He shook his head. "This is the first I'm hearing about it."

"Well, you must forgive their disorganization. It was a rather spur of the moment thing, and with the chaos of yesterday still not fully contained, it must have slipped their minds," I said diplomatically.

Armsmaster walked out of the elevator with some kind of Tinker wand thing, and he waved it over us.

"Hello to you too, Armsmaster."

"Hello," he said perfunctorily, then resumed the wanding. I had to wonder why he didn't do this last night, and what he hoped to accomplish. Like a lot of capes, I didn't need detectable weapons to kill you.

I didn't even need to enter the building to kill someone inside it, and I wasn't the only cape who could, so even the metal detector was more for show than anything else.

He looked at a readout on his wand and said, "No large power sources, no explosives, no biological weapons. You're clear. Follow me."

"Not wasting time on the pleasantries, are you, Armsmaster?" I quipped.

"No," he replied. I got the feeling that trying to have an actual conversation with him would be like pulling teeth, so I elected to enjoy the quiet.

Chatterbox, true to her name, had an entirely different plan. "I think I will get ice cream after meeting. Do you like ice cream, Armsmaster?"

"I don't eat junk food," he replied as we walked to the elevator.

"Ice cream is not junk food. It is delicious," Chatterbox insisted while we waited for the elevator to arrive.

"It's also high in calories and low in protein and essential nutrients."

"There is more to food than just eating to stay alive. Food is to be enjoyed. Preferably with friends."

"Not to me. I eat a strict diet to keep my body in peak form for combat. You should too. As Tinkers, we don't have the luxury of powers that enhance our physical fitness."

"Ice cream with friends once in a while won't turn you into Gregor, Armsmaster. And isn't the point of being a Tinker that your teammates do most of the fighting?" I asked as the elevator arrived, and we walked in together.

"Spoken like someone who isn't a Tinker. There's a reason we don't give out our gear often. Tinkertech requires intense regular maintenance, so giving a teammate a weapon is a permanent commitment to a certain amount of our time. The more we do that, the less time we have to build new things and innovate."

"Yeah, but there are lots of gadgets that would make your team more effective that wouldn't even need to be tinkertech. Imagine Clockblocker with a net gun, where the nets have strings to allow him to pause them at a distance after firing. Or Vista with a stun gun and a weak laser pistol. Or Velocity with tranquilizer darts."

"The PR team vetoed giving Vista weapons, because it clashes with her friendly image, and Velocity carries standard issue foam grenades which are safer and more reliable than tranquilizers. The net gun is a good idea though. I'll look into it."

The elevator doors opened, and we walked down the hall to the same conference room we had met in last night.

The Undersiders were all there already, as well as Miss Militia and the Director, who was looking little better than she did last night.

"Glad you could join us," Miss Militia said.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss Militia, Director."

"If you'll forgive the rudeness, I'd prefer to skip the pleasantries and get down to brass tacks. I have a mountain of paperwork to do and three grieving widows to comfort."

"Then let's not waste time," Tattletale said, and she pulled up a rather full backpack and set it on the table with a thud. She unzipped it and started pulling out folders. "This is everything I have on Coil. His accounts, his transaction histories, people he's bribed or threatened. Not all of it will be admissible in court, but there's enough here to justify seizing his assets, at the very least.

"Some of the payments are to myself or my teammates. I think it's only fair that we be discreetly allowed to keep most of that money, surrendering only a token portion of it to avoid people asking questions. I have of course retained copies of all this, as well as proof that Coil was Calvert, just as a precaution. In one year, provided that the PRT holds up its end of the bargain, I will destroy it, and our story will become the truth."

Miss Militia picked up one the folders and looked through it. "This is impressively thorough."

"I spent of lot of time today working on it, so that you guys would gain as much from the deal as we do. Technically, since Coil's money was mostly obtained by the criminal use of a parahuman power, the PRT can seize it and use the funds at their discretion. That money would go a long way toward cleaning up the mess that yesterday's brawl caused."

"Yes, it would," the Director said, clearly stunned.

"So, the Undersiders get a clean slate, the Protectorate gets a few new Wards, the PRT gets money, and Coil gets a pine box. Everybody wins," I said. "Is there anything else we need to discuss?"

"Just one thing. What exactly do you two want?" The Director asked.

"Well I can't speak for her, but I suppose I want what every rogue wants. To be left alone."

"I want ice cream," Chatterbox said.

"That too. To be left alone and, ice cream."

"You could have asked me for anything, and there's a good chance I would have been forced to give it to you to avoid a scandal. Why didn't you?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I don't want anything from you. I have enough money that I'm not in danger of starvation or homelessness. I don't need to antagonize someone whom I have nothing against for a little more filthy lucre. And I'd rather not take resources you need to do your job effectively, because when the Empire torches half a city block everyone suffers."

"That is"-- the Director paused choosing her words carefully-- "an unusually enlightened view of the situation."

I shrugged. "Perhaps, but I'm something of a social pragmatist. I'd rather make deals where everyone actually likes the outcome, rather than make deals where people just accept the outcome. Even if the latter benefits me more in the short term, the former keeps my options open for later, and is less likely to get me killed."

The Director nodded at me. "I can respect that." Then she said, "If there's nothing else, I think we can adjourn this meeting."

"I feel like we're forgetting something important," Grue said.

We all looked at one another, before Chatterbox said, "Did, uh, did anyone untie the Mercenaries of Coil?"

"We were going to untie them? That doesn't make sense," Regent said.

"Are they dead now?" I asked.

Tattletale shook her head. "It hasn't even been a full day, so probably not, but someone should probably look into it."

We all looked at the Director, who sighed. "I'll dispatch a PRT squadron to look into rumors of parahuman activity. Just give me the location."

I stood up and nodded toward the woman. "I would not want your job, Director."

"Most days, Sandstorm, I don't want it either."

Last edited: Jun 26, 2018

474

LuxSola

Oct 31, 2016

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