What the actual fuck is going on? Two chapters in… just over a week. Who am I and what have I done with Buixy? (pls ignore the fact that last chapter was not written by me).

Anyway, finally we're back to Halloway Family Drama. Apologies if this chapter is a little janky, it was written over the space of nearly ten months (though the back half was written over the past week). Gonna try to get another chapter out soon, but that depends on how my work schedule shakes out. That's all… enjoy!

Purpose of a Hero

"And you're sure about this? You're certain they won't come here?" Carlyle nodded solemnly and glanced over at Linda's grave expression. It had been Kate who pushed him (threatened would be a more accurate term, he supposed) to tell his mother-in-law and Miles about Rat's intel, and, while he agreed they deserved to know, it was still a challenge for him to look the old woman in the eye. 'First, I took their daughter away; then I kept their grandchild in the dark about their existence, and now I've put them in danger again by coming back. I know it's what's best for Melody, but just how much more pain can I put this family through?' He sighed and leaned back as far as the rigid wood of the dining room chair would let him.

"At worst, they'll send scouts to keep an eye on us while Melody and I are still here. However, my contact feels that as long as they feel Frank is a non-threat, they will not attack," he explained. Linda pursed her lips so tight they turned white, and it seemed for a moment she was going to speak up but thought better of it. She worriedly glanced toward the living room, where they could hear the sounds of Kate and Sawyer, the latter playing with his toys and the former distracting him from the tense conversation happening in the next room. Across the table, Miles frowned and brought up a hand to press against his temple.

"What about when we go back to New York? Surely they'll know you told us something, and even if they don't come for us themselves, who's to say they won't outsource the work? There are quite a few villains or thugs out there that would love another whack at me," Miles said nonchalantly.

"It would be best for you to stay here, but…" Carlyle trailed off. Miles, despite the tenseness in the air, chuckled lightly.

"Yeah, I don't think Kate would take too kindly to you sending her niece back into the fire and asking her to sit here all safe and cozy," he remarked, taking a long sip of his coffee.

"And what do you think?" Carlyle pressed. No matter how strained his relationship with this family was, their safety was of the utmost importance to him. His brother-in-law paused and set down his cup before shrugging.

"Kate will always do what Kate wants. She's too headstrong just to stand by. Always has been. That being said, she isn't a fighter, no matter how deadly her right hook is," Miles said with a tight grin. His casual expression soon faded, becoming more serious, and he spoke after a moment of thought, "If it were up to me, I'd rather they stayed here too. The last thing I want is for my family to get caught up in the affairs of Heroes versus Villains. I've seen the aftermath of those fights firsthand. However, now there's you and Melody to think about. If we're back in New York, we're certainly in more danger, but we're also closer to you both. We'd be giving up a little of our own safety to give you some support."

"I can't ask you to do that," Carlyle interjected, his fists clenching. A feeling of dread was beginning to creep its way through his body. 'Please. You have to stay. You have no idea who you're dealing with. You have no idea how easy it would be for them to make your deaths seem like a revenge hit by some street thug. For your family's sake, Miles, you cannot get involved,' he pleaded, though the words never left his mouth. Miles shot him a grin and pushed his chair back from the dining room table.

"Nonsense, that's what family's for, right? We gotta look out for each other," he said as he got to his feet and walked into the living room, leaving Carlyle alone with Linda, whose intent gaze followed her son-in-law as he went.

"He's a good man, has been since Kate first brought him home," she said fondly, catching Carlyle off guard. He frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose, signing exasperatedly.

"Who does he think he'll look out for? One small misstep, even a hint that he may become a threat, and they'll kill him. He's a fool." He was half expecting the old woman to chew him out for the insult, but instead, much to his surprise, she smiled.

"The best men always are, " Linda said thoughtfully. She turned to him and, despite her neutral expression, her eyes pierced into his. He swallowed thickly and glanced away. He'd never really known how to approach his mother-in-law. Whereas Frank was all too happy to voice his hatred of Carlyle at any given point, Linda was much harder to read. Despite her outward kind demeanor, she had a shrewdness that always left him unsure of where the two of them stood. "I must say, I'm surprised that you have an inside source on such a secretive organization. Are you sure you can trust him?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation. Rat had been his insider and confidant since his teenage years. In their experience, most ignored the pudgy man due to his lack of a powerful Quirk and general unkemptness. However, that made him the perfect information broker. No one had ever seen him as any more than a coward allying himself with the most influential people he could. They never expected him to turn around and sell their secrets to the highest bidder. Despite working the seedy underbelly of society for most of his life, he'd stayed true to his moniker, and he'd never once been caught. "He's never let me down before."

"If you're certain." Linda paused, her withered hands reaching for her teacup. "This is the same group behind the tragedy at Yonkers, correct?" Carlyle nodded, and she sighed. "You say we'll be safe, but the fact that they know about us is a worrying thought. Frank has been so careful to stay off the radar over the past thirty years. All the people who could have told them about us have been dead for even longer than that."

"Not… quite everyone," Carlyle said, though there was some hesitation. He hadn't anticipated revealing this much of Rat's intel, but his guilt urged him to continue. Linda's features hardened, and her grip on the ceramic mug tightened. "There is one man –an old Pro Hero who had a run-in with Frank around thirty-five years ago in Seattle."

"I'm guessing this man is still alive and has joined this organization then?" Linda asked rhetorically. Carlyle grimaced, then continued.

"His name was once Maestro. Though, nowadays, he's known as Prophet or, to the public, as Elliot Copely."

"So they've even infiltrated the Hero Council, then?" If she was surprised at this revelation, her face didn't show it. 'She must have been keeping a closer eye on things than I thought. The names of the Hero Council aren't very well known to the public.' She fixed him with a calculating look before understanding crept in. "It seems this goes deeper than you'd like to disclose. Don't worry; I won't pressure you. Then again, heroics in this country have always been rotten at their core, so I doubt I'd be surprised by whatever you could tell me," Linda said. Without saying another word, she rose from her chair and grabbed their now empty teacups. When she got to the sink, she was unsurprised to see Carlyle had followed her. She watched from the corner of her eye as he leaned against the breakfast nook. "Prophet… I recognize that name from somewhere."

"Yes, he was the one who…" Carlyle trailed off suddenly, the words getting lodged in his throat. Linda hummed thoughtfully as she began washing the small pile of dishes before her. Eventually, the cascade of emotions (primarily guilt and uncertainty) playing out over Carlyle's face settled, and when he spoke, his voice was carefully emotionless. "He was in Las Vegas. He… he was the one who killed Maximillion and Jeanne Abrams."

Carlyle watched as the older woman's shoulders briefly tensed, and her hands paused in her scrubbing. He vividly remembered when he'd first heard the news about their deaths. It had been weeks after the fact when he emerged from his grief over Harmony and reached out through his network to find out the details of the battle. It was a blow that unexpectedly hit him hard. While they'd never really been close in the few short years he'd known them (Carlyle wouldn't even go as far to call them acquaintances), they had been eternally more accepting of his and Harmony's relationship than anyone else.

"I thought they had retired after the birth of their son?" Linda admitted, breaking him out of his reverie. Her task had been forgotten, her hands hovering still above the soapy water. "I'm sorry to say I never put much thought into their fates at the time."

"As I understand it, when they heard what had happened to Harmony, they joined the hunt for Vesuvius. Their son… Derrick attempted to get custody of the boy, but he was in no state to care for another child at that time. He could barely take care of his nephew. The boy had no other surviving family, so he ended up in an orphanage," Carlyle explained. Linda frowned at that last bit before resuming her cleaning. Regardless of the heaviness in his chest, Carlyle allowed a small smile to slip through his facade. "Believe it or not, he's actually in Melody's class at the Forge. In another life, they would have grown up as friends. Strange how fate works at times."

Linda's expression darkened. "So many lives were destroyed in the span of just a few weeks. It's still hard for me to see how that all traces back to little Lydia. That girl was so sweet whenever Harmony brought her here. Not a day goes by when I don't wonder why she did what she did," she admitted. 'Not so sweet anymore,' Carlyle thought, their meeting at the tournament still etched in his mind. He doubted Linda would recognize the manic woman who had attacked him. "She had a child, too, if I'm remembering right."

"Yes… I–" Carlyle stopped, frozen by the sound of someone rapidly ascending the creaky wooden staircase leading to the front deck. His hand automatically drifted towards his lower back, where the familiar cool metal of his revolver pressed into him. Before he could react, the footsteps reached the front door, and without slowing down, a blue and red blur rushed past him, heading towards the staircase to the second floor. "Melody?"

The girl gave no sign that she'd heard him, instead sprinting as fast as she could up the steps. Without pausing to open the door, she burst into her mother's room and dove onto the bed, making it creak loudly. Melody stuffed her face into the pillow and let out a muffled scream. Her heart raced in her chest as she fought to steady her breathing, no easy feat considering how far and how fast she'd run from the clearing. Anger burned in her gut, and she couldn't stop her body from trembling. Her face felt hot, and she knew, in the back of her mind, that it had nothing to do with her sprint back to the house.

"It's not the Quirk of a Hero."

Frank's words still roared in her ears, making her grit her teeth. She let the anger overcome her for a moment, grabbing the pillow from beneath her face and whipping it towards the opposite wall. It struck the television stand with a surprising amount of force, and Melody heard several things fall onto the carpeted floor, as well as the sound of glass breaking. Almost instantly, she felt a surge of guilt and glanced over to see what had fallen. Lying on the floor were the three books she'd purchased during her outing to the Maine Mall and the framed picture of her mother and her classmates.

Her anger finally seeming to fade, Melody swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up to retrieve the fallen objects. She felt a pang of regret as she picked up the frame and saw that the glass had fractured, leaving spiderwebs of cracks marring the faces of her mother and her friends. "Sorry, mom. I'll get a new frame next time we go out," she said aloud, her voice small as she set the broken frame back on its place of honor atop the dresser. Next, she bent down and grabbed the pair of books. Her eyes focused on the cover of The Hero Compendium, and she sighed, her anger beginning to bubble beneath the surface again.

"And look where it got her."

Harsher than she'd meant to, she slammed the book back onto the dresser, making it creak, followed by Your Quirk and You. However, her eyes lingered on the plain black cover of the final book, The Villain Index. She'd flipped through it briefly on the car ride home from the mall, but other than that, it had sat, forgotten, beneath the other two. From what she'd seen, it was no different than The Hero Compendium, just detailing Villains instead of Heroes. She reached down to grab it off the floor but froze as her fingers brushed the hardcover.

"Girl, you were born from a legacy of murderers and madmen. On both sides of your lineage."

Melody yanked her hand back as if she'd touched something red-hot. Her lips fell into a frown as she glared at the offending object. 'He's lying. Dad would have told me about something like this. Frank is just a bitter old man who's trying to get some sort of sadistic kick out of this.'

An image of Linda's kind smile flashed in her mind.

Kate teasing her as if they'd known each other for years instead of just days.

Her mother's smiling face surrounded by a group of friends.

Her father bursting into her room for his midnight training sessions.

'Legacy of murderers… did he really expect me to believe that? That's ludicrous,' Melody thought. She gave the book another scowl and turned back towards her mother's bed, intent on leaving the Villain Index lying on the floor where it belonged.

However, the small voice in the back of her mind, personifying her doubts, was getting louder and more insistent.

Purpose of a Hero

"How the hell long are we supposed to sit out here in the bushes for, Erin?"

"Until we hear otherwise. Hell's wrong with you, Kris? Lady Vesuvius was very explicit that we watch for any opportunities. You really wanna go against her and get melted, be my guest and keep complaining," Erin hissed to her partner, who pulled her knees up to her chest and began to pout. Erin rolled her eyes and glanced back through her binoculars at the faded red house. 'Finally, a chance to prove ourselves to Lady Vesuvius. If we can get the girl out on her own, she'll surely make us her new lieutenants when we deliver her on a silver platter.'

"Hey, isn't this guy supposed to be, like, super dangerous or something? Why would they send us instead of someone like Puppeteer or that Orochi guy everyone keeps talking about?" Kris asked meekly. Erin sighed and shot her an exasperated look.

"Puppet is in New York, and that Orochi is way too much of a loose cannon to do something as lowbrow as a stakeout. Besides, why would the Generals bother with something like this? They have much more important stuff to do." Judging by the apprehension visible on her friend's face, Erin guessed she was still unsure. "Look at it this way; we finally get a chance to show what we're made of! We got passed over for the Yonkers job because we were too new at the time, we haven't been told about the new big plan, and Lady Vesuvius kept us in the base while she went off to the Halloween Tournament. They've only ever given us the grunt work. When we catch this girl, we'll be freakin' rockstars back at base!"

"If you're sure."

"Of course, I'm sure! Look, you trusted me when I got us outta that hellhole, right? So trust me now when I say everything's gonna be fine. Okay, Kris?" Erin said confidently. Just then, she caught a flash of red and blue barreling through the front door. She grinned and let out a 'whoop.' "I've got a visual, Kris! Get the recon drone out. We gotta get a closer look." As giddy as she was, Erin mistook the chill that ran up her spine as a sign of her anticipation. "Damn, that Quirk of hers is gonna make things difficult. We might need to ask R&D for some anti-Quirk restraints or something like that if we're gonna catch her. Just tranqing her is too risky when she could wake up and escape without breaking a sweat. Oh well, that's a problem for another time. At least now we know for certain she's here. You got that drone, Kris? …Kris?"

"I'll admit, I'm surprised you were able to get past the fence line." Erin started and spun around to face the unfamiliar speaker. When her eyes landed on its owner, the color drained from her face. The man's face was cloaked in black fog, and his skull grinned maliciously as he towered over her. Then she caught sight of the eerily still shape lying at his feet, and her breath caught in her throat. 'Oh gods, Kris!' The girl's skin was pale, and her chest showed no sign of movement. "It seems I'm starting to lose a step in my old age. I can't help but be perplexed, however."

"What did you do to her," Erin demanded, her cracking voice betraying her. Frank tilted his head in question, not even sparing a glance towards the girl lying on the ground in front of him, before continuing on as if she'd never spoken to begin with.

"Sending two amateur girls fresh out of school to spy on someone like me? It's almost sad how little value your lives must have," Frank said. Gathering her nerves, Erin took a deep breath and then attempted to dive for their supply bag (which she knew held Kris' pepper spray and taser). To her horror, every ounce of strength left her body at that exact moment, causing her last-ditch attempt to fight back to fail in spectacular fashion as her legs turned to jelly, and she fell face-first into the dirt. Tilting her head to the side, off of the ground, took a near Herculean effort, and when her eyes locked with her attacker's, Erin wished she had enough energy left to turn her head back. "Now then, why don't you and I have a chat? If you tell me everything you know, I might even let you live."

Purpose of a Hero

'Today is just full of unpleasant surprises,' Frank thought irritably as he pushed open the front door of his home. Almost immediately, the tension in the room hit him, and he heard, rather than saw, his son-in-law march over to him. The two men glared at one another with equally thunderous expressions.

"You led them right to us."

"What did you do to her?" In tandem, their voices, fueled by anger and decades long hatred, shook the windows of the small kitchen and made the playful sounds of Sawyer and Kate in the opposite room come to an abrupt halt. Carlyle's rage was only intensified when Frank sneered and walked past him to the refrigerator. "I'm not in the mood for games, Frank."

"Didn't know I was known for playing games, Carlyle," Frank shot back with mock politeness. Ignoring the much larger man's bristling, Frank busied himself by grabbing a bottle of liquor and snapping off the cap. "She awakened her Quirk today. Quite the traumatic experience to go through, not that a Quirkless man like you would know. Wasn't exactly happy with the hard facts of her blood."

"What have you told her?" Carlyle demanded, though Frank clearly saw the slight widening of his eyes.

"The truth. It's about time someone did that," Frank barked back, taking a long swig from the bottle. For a moment, Carlyle's stormy expression wavered. His own faux-calm broke at that, and he scowled harshly. "You've always been spineless. The only reason you're keeping all of this from her is so you can sleep better at night."

"Everything I've done has been for her own good. She's still a damn child, Frank! It's what Harmony would have–"

"Don't," Frank snapped, whirling on his son-in-law with fury in his eyes. The temperature in the room fell several degrees as Frank fumed. "Don't you dare bring my daughter into this."

"Franklin," Linda interrupted, a warning clear in her voice. Her husband paused at the sound, seemingly having forgotten there were others in the room, and frowned. Carlyle, as well, looked abashed and hung his head, though judging by his clenched fists, Frank could tell there was much more he wanted to say. Satisfied at the, most likely brief, reprieve from the animosity, Linda turned her attention to the large puzzle laid out on the dining room table. "Now then, you said Melody awakened her Quirk. How did she handle it?"

"Wasn't exactly pleased with the result," Frank said, somewhat annoyed at the change in topic. "It's a good thing it happened this soon. She had enough energy built up to decimate the clearing as well as some local wildlife, hence the extreme reaction."

"I wouldn't call it extreme," Linda said softly, not looking up from the table. "Melody is a kind soul. I'm not at all surprised this would be her reaction to something like this. Firsthand evidence that her Quirk goes directly against her beliefs? She was never going to take it well."

"How exactly did you manage to awaken it? As I understood, you two had been having more setbacks than successes," Carlyle interjected, his tone accusatory. Linda paused in her puzzle assembling and turned her head slightly to give the men a cautionary look, but both ignored it.

"Meditation, becoming in tune with life, all that nonsense is excellent in theory, but in practice, it amounts to little more than irritation. So… I used my own method." Carlyle's expression turned livid, and he straightened to his full height, the top of his balding head brushing the ceiling.

"You used your Quirk on my daughter?" Carlyle growled. Although his son-in-law towered over him, Frank didn't so much as blink as he met his withering glare.

"You brought her here for my help. Don't explode on me because you don't have the stomach for what needs to be done."

"You could have killed her!"

"And she could have killed every single one of us with how much foreign energy was stored up inside her!" Frank snapped back. While the two glowered at one another, Frank didn't miss the way Carlyle's hand drifted towards the small of his back, and neither did Carlyle miss the thick, black fog collecting around their feet. In the back of his mind, Carlyle heard Linda calling out for them, but he didn't even spare a glance in her direction.

In the end, the tense silence was only broken by the thudding of footsteps coming down the stairs. Immediately, Carlyle let out a breath and spun to face his daughter but paused as she came into view. Her face was nearly as red as her hair, and as she stormed across the dining room into the kitchen, her wild, furious eyes never left Frank's. Carlyle only noticed the slim, black book she'd been carrying when she slammed it down on the breakfast nook. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Frank briefly stiffen at the sight of it. When Melody spoke, her words shook with anger and apprehension. "You're the Reaper, aren't you?"

"Mel–" Both Carlyle and Linda tried to speak up but were drowned out as Melody flipped the book open to one of its final pages.

"'A serial killer that leaves no marks, nor signs of trauma. His victims seemingly dropping dead for no apparent reason. The only clues tying him to so many crimes is the telltale black mist his few surviving witnesses described and the look of shock left on the faces of his victims.'" She read aloud, her voice low but remarkably steady. Frank stared at her for a second, his expression unreadable, before chuckling.

"Got it all figured out, do you?" His flippant tone caused her to falter, and her building rage simmered out as she noticed just how quiet it was in the connected rooms. She noticed her father and grandmother's frowning faces and turned to see both Kate and Miles – they must have entered while she was distracted – watching the scene unfold with matching uneasiness. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

"You all knew?"

"Melly, dear–" Carlyle started but was interrupted by the icy glare his daughter sent him. He'd been expecting something like this since he decided to come to Maine, so it was unsurprising when her frostiness morphed into something akin to betrayal.

"You knew. You knew about him. You knew about this place and this family. You knew about my Quirk, and you told me none of it!" Melody shouted, her eyes burning. "What if I had hurt someone? I nearly killed Damien and Ms. Whittaker, and you still didn't tell me! You let a complete stranger shatter everything I ever thought I knew about my Quirk instead of just telling me yourself! Why? What else have you been keeping from me?"

"Melody… everything I've done has been for your own good. Every action I have taken, every secret I've kept, and every promise I've broken, I have done so because it is what's best for you," Carlyle explained calmly. He watched as Melody transitioned through a dozen different emotions in just a few seconds before she seemed to settle back on fury.

"Keeping my family—my one living link to mom a secret, is what's best for me? Letting me go to school knowing I could lose control and kill all of my friends is what's best for me? Letting me live with the delusion that I could be a Hero one day is what's best for me?" Melody roared, causing Carlyle's breath to catch in his throat. While she looked at him expectantly, he averted his eyes and deflated. Melody, her lips pursed together so tightly they turned white and hot, angry tears flowing down her cheeks, sucked in a small breath before pivoting on her heel and retreating back upstairs. While half of the room's occupants looked after her worriedly, none stopped her as she stomped away.

"I wonder how you're going to sleep now," Frank said spitefully before he turned and walked straight through the front door. Carlyle stared after his daughter dejectedly, then slammed his fist into the refrigerator door – denting it – and let out a loud curse.

Purpose of a Hero

Carlyle's been keeping secrets? Who would have ever seen that coming?

Now, originally this chapter was supposed to be split between Melody and Taiga's attempts at befriending Narruk, but there was just too much going on with the Mel storyline and I don't really like writing super long chapters, so I'll probably have the Taiga stuff next chapter (unless that gets away from me again, in which case I'll probably do another "Special" like last week's chapter.

On that subject, I actually have quite a few ideas for "Special" chapters that will focus on character/relationship building. I know it'd be weird and break up the flow of the chapters (maybe I'll just post them as their own story, I dunno), but early PoaH Buixy wasn't too good at the whole writing thing (not that current Buixy is much better, but that's besides the point).

Alright, enough outta me. Hope y'all enjoyed!

NEXT TIME ON THE PURPOSE OF A HERO:

Chapter 56: Into the Veil