A Darker Path
Part Ninety-Four: Cards on the Table
[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
Protectorate ENE, Director's Office
Paul Renick liked to think he had a fairly good grasp on how to be Director in the new, post-Atropos Brockton Bay. Rule number one was, of course, 'do not annoy Atropos'. Fortunately, this rule was amazingly easy to stick to.
As a corollary, however, there was the understanding that Atropos was likely to occasionally borrow one or more of the Wards for her own purposes, with the unspoken but quite clear subtext that she was only asking to be polite. Paul still wasn't sure how he felt about this. It was something he suspected he shared with Emily Piggot; while she'd cooperated with the enigmatic killer, it was never something she was thrilled about doing.
Case in point: about fifteen minutes ago, Atropos had gone off to deal with Sleeper(!) in the company of Tenebrae and Miss Medic, along with Panacea and Glory Girl. This was another mystery for him to ponder; specifically, how had Atropos won over Victoria Dallon so thoroughly that she would willingly come along on one of these jaunts into the unknown? When Atropos began her reign of terror over the Brockton Bay criminal underworld, Glory Girl had been one of her most outspoken critics, but from what he'd seen of their interaction, all animosity was gone for good. While Glory Girl was still headstrong and opinionated, she listened to Atropos, and didn't argue with definitive statements.
He had to give Tenebrae and Miss Medic kudos for their aplomb around Atropos as well. Tenebrae's sister was (of course) known to be the head of the Atropos fan club (and had the signed Polaroids to prove it), but the lad had comported himself well in his meetings with Atropos, despite his obvious misgivings about the whole situation. In fact, he had made an excellent showing all round since his induction into the Wards, something that Paul made sure showed up in his record.
It was definitely a welcome change from the ongoing headache that had been Shadow Stalker's tenure in the same position.
He was only mildly startled when the portal opened in front of his desk. Miss Medic emerged first, followed by Panacea and Tenebrae. Glory Girl darted out next, with Atropos bringing up the rear and somehow managing to seem as though she was in no hurry at all.
The portal closed silently behind them, as Glory Girl vigorously rubbed her arms. "Jeez!" she complained. "That was way too cold for comfort!"
Paul frowned slightly. "I'm sorry, I could've sworn you just said 'too cold' and not 'too close'."
"That's what I said," she reassured him. "There wasn't any real danger, not the way we did it. But holy brass monkeys, it was cold."
Atropos chuckled. "I could've sworn I warned you that it was going to be." She turned her head toward Paul. "I did say it was going to be dark and cold before we left, right?"
Restraining a smile, he nodded. "Yes, I do believe I heard you say that."
"Yeah, but I can handle cold!" Glory Girl paused, as though reviewing what she'd just said. "I mean, my force field traps warm air, so I don't have to worry about it so much. But that was ridiculous levels of cold!"
"Russia, early spring, midnight, no cloud cover," Atropos recited as though reading off a teleprompter. "Trust me, it could've been worse. There was a stream at the bottom of the hill that was about two degrees off freezing. I could've dropped you in it, and I didn't."
"Thank you for that," Panacea said, apparently sincerely. "She's bad enough when she doesn't have frostbitten toes."
Glory Girl rolled her eyes, then turned to Miss Medic and Tenebrae. "And what about you two? You can't say it wasn't cold."
"Oh, I felt the cold alright," Tenebrae assured her blandly. "But not a lot of it." He reached into one of the pouches that adorned his belt. As if they'd rehearsed it, Miss Medic did the same. "We talked about it, and I got Kid Win to put warming pads in our costumes, just in case." There was a tiny click and he closed the pouch again.
"What—you—" Glory Girl whirled to Atropos. "At least tell me that you—"
"Sorry. No Tinkertech here, but full length thermal underwear for the win." Atropos stripped off one glove to show a slender hand with neatly trimmed nails, and a flannel sleeve extending from within her costume. She slid the glove back onto her hand with equal ease.
"So, I'm the only one who was freezing her butt off out there?" Glory Girl sounded distinctly aggrieved. "Why didn't someone warn me?"
"Um, what part of 'I'm dressing up really warmly here' did you not get, Vicky?" Panacea rolled her eyes even more expressively than her sister had. "Seriously, drop it. This isn't the same as the tiara. Nobody's picking on you. You made a bad call. It happens."
"She's right." Atropos put her hand on Glory Girl's shoulder. "However, letting you suffer the cold was not intentional. And you did your part anyway, which I greatly appreciate. Thank you for coming along, and thank you for making everyone else's job a lot easier."
Glory Girl blinked, taken slightly aback. "Oh, well, uh, you're welcome." She visibly squared her shoulders. "Couldn't have done it without me, huh?"
"I certainly wouldn't have wanted to try it without you there, no." Atropos squeezed Glory Girl's shoulder, then dropped her hand to her side as she looked around at the rest of the capes. "And that goes for everyone. You all did your jobs, and did them well. Thanks to you, Sleeper's where he needs to be."
Paul had to ask the question. "And where's that, exactly? Another Earth?"
"Hah, no," Panacea said cheerfully. "Atropos killed his power, Miss Medic and I fixed his brain, and Tenebrae booted him through a portal to a jail cell in St Petersburg. Vicky kept him calm the whole time, so his power couldn't act out before it was shut down. Turns out he was wanted for murder before he ever got his powers."
Tenebrae nodded. "That's basically what happened, sir, though I'll be writing up my after-action report as soon as I get the chance."
"I'm sure it will make for fascinating reading." Paul nodded to Atropos. "Thank you for bringing them all back alive and healthy. I had no doubt you would anyway, but …" He spread his hands in lieu of finishing the sentence.
"But it's not exactly standard operating procedure, and you'd also be on the hook if I hadn't, yeah." Atropos returned the nod. "Totally understood, and I do appreciate your cooperation in the matter."
"You are entirely welcome." Not very much to his surprise, he meant it. Despite her (extremely intimidating) record of kills, she was thoroughly down to earth, and never resorted to threats to get her way. Since the demise of the Simurgh it had been unofficially understood by all that what she wanted, she would get, but she never rubbed it in anyone's face. Also, going on an excursion with her was guaranteed to be valuable experience for the Wards, going forward. "Did you need my people for anything else today?"
"Not the Brockton Bay Wards, no." She turned to Glory Girl and Panacea. "Do you need a lift home, or are you good from here?"
"I'm happy to fly," Glory Girl declared. "Sun's still up, and it's gotta be warmer than Darkest Russia. Ames?"
Panacea shrugged. "Sure. We can talk about exactly what we're gonna tell Mom and Dad."
"Yeah, good point." Glory Girl drew a deep breath. "Just gonna say, Atropos, we didn't exactly start out on the right foot with each other, but you totally know your stuff. Even if it was way too cold, that was amazing. Any time you need a hand, I'm down."
"Good to hear." Atropos took a few steps away, then turned to face everyone. Two fingers tapped the brim of her hat. "Toodles." Then, at the perfect time to do so, she vanished.
Relevant Side-Story: The Right Woman For the Job, by Masterweaver
"Flechette." Emily looked up from her desk. "Do you know why I called you here?"
"I'm going to take a wild guess and assume it has something to do with Atropos."
"Not directly. But yes, she does factor into the decision."
Flechette shrugged. "Well I know you're not going to lecture me on subversive influences, you've actually dealt with her. What's going on?"
"Scribe," Emily stated without preamble. "What's your read on her?"
"Oh, that's a hard one." The girl tapped her chin thoughtfully. "She's tense, obviously. Everyone knows who she was, and she knows if she steps out of line she'll get shoved into juvie-probably something she wants to avoid, since it's where she triggered. So right now she's trying to be picture perfect, except she doesn't have a perfect picture of what picture perfect is. Wilkins gave her a very clear idea of what a 'hero' was expected to look like, so as long as she checked the boxes she was fine, but with you here? I think she's feeling the pressure, and lashing out at anybody she thinks can take it as a form of stress relief. Which includes you as well."
"Hm. She thinks I'd dump her ass as soon as look at her."
"Would you?" Flechette pressed.
Emily quirked an eyebrow. There wasn't any eagerness in the tone, it was simple curiosity-an exploration of options. "As the director, I'm legally obligated to give parahumans a fair shake. But the last probationary ward I had fucked up so badly that she was Atropos' first kill. And now I have one of the former villains of my old town play-acting at reformation. The fact of the matter is, I'm too biased to be impartial."
She spun the paperwork around. "Which is why I want you to monitor her progress."
"Ah." Flechette nodded, picking up the paperwork and reading through it. "Trial by fire, I see."
"I know her as an active villain. You just know her as an ex-nazi. Ironically, that makes you more objective than I am." Emily smiled wryly. "And while she might still see you as another chink faggot, she also knows you're friends with Atropos-i.e. the woman who murdered Kaiser while she was mere feet away. Not somebody to get on the bad side of."
Flechette gave her a half grin. "Director, I'm insulted. I'm a dyke, not a faggot."
"And one that can tell what people mean when they say things," Emily agreed. "You've got a better read on how many of her slurs are automatic and how many are genuine, on just how much crap she spews because she's been swallowing it and how much of her shit is all natural."
"Your military evocatism is showing, ma'am. At this rate I may have to file a complaint for harassment."
Emily shrugged an apology. "My point is, if anybody can sort the wheat from the chaff in this situation, it's you. So, what do you say?"
Flechette didn't answer immediately, reading the paperwork thoroughly before she put it down on the desk. "I reserve the right to bitch about this to my girlfriend."
"As long as you don't reveal any classified PRT information, like the identities of the Wards, that's fine."
"And I demand ten dollars hazard pay for every infraction I report."
Emily quirked a brow. "Five dollars, and I'll put in a priority order for a Spitfire plush."
"Already got one," Flechette admitted with a faint blush.
"Alright," Emily conceded, "then I'll call Gallant and Clockblocker and get them to write up a list of the best date spots in Brockton Bay."
"...Deal." The girl, to her credit, managed to maintain a professional expression despite her now visibly burning cheeks. "Now let's get the paperwork and make this official."
We now return you to the alleged narrative ...
Flechette
Scribe was up to something; Lily could almost swear to it. There was an entirely unwarranted air of smugness about her that had only shown up after the altercation with Shebang. The ex-Empire member wasn't quite sneering 'I know something that you don't' at her, but it was very close indeed.
The problem was, Lily couldn't figure out where it was coming from. She knew damn well that if Scribe had somehow convinced Director Piggot to make Lily back off from her (yeah, as if), she'd know about it, because the woman was a fuck-ton more proactive than Wilkins had been about communicating her needs and wants down the chain of command. Unlike with her predecessor, there was never any guesswork or mixed messages involved.
Neither (and this was important) had Director Piggot ever been stupid enough to piss off Atropos.
On a hunch, Lily wandered into the common room and checked the roster up on the board. It would've been ideal if she'd been put on patrol with Scribe, but that wasn't going to happen. Being a probationary Ward with an actual criminal record, Scribe was restricted to patrolling with Protectorate capes rather than fellow Wards.
When Scribe was inducted into the New York Wards, there had been no way to avoid letting the Wards and Protectorate capes know who she'd once been. Lily had no problem with this—she liked knowing who she was working alongside—but apparently Wilkins had been strongly invested in the success of Scribe's venture into the Wards. Lily got the impression that if the Director had been able to suppress the information, she would have. Lacking that option, she'd de-emphasised it as much as she could, in the name of 'a fresh start' and giving Scribe 'a fair shake'.
Having associated with Scribe on and off since her induction, Lily was all in favour of giving the girl a fair shake, preferably at neck height.
Among her 'fellow' Wards, Scribe was relatively nice, unless she figured she could get away with not being nice, as she had a few times with Shebang. She'd tried her luck exactly once with Lily, and had discovered the hard way that getting her ass kicked (both literally and figuratively) hurt.
Conscious of her own standing within the Wards, and of Director Wilkins' favouritism toward the newest Ward, Lily hadn't marked her permanently, and no official punishment had been levied. However, the lesson had definitely been taken to heart, and Lily was beginning to wonder in retrospect if that incident was also part of why Wilkins had been soured toward her.
Clearly knowing which side her bread was buttered, Scribe was the very model of propriety in front of adult heroes and any PRT employee (though, given Director Piggot's directives, she evidently wasn't as slick as she thought she was). Some of the Protectorate capes knew what she'd been like before Kaiser had died with his own sword stuck through his eye (which would never not be funny as fuck) but most of them had simply never bothered to read the files. Boomer was one of the latter; he was good at what he did, but he didn't know shit about teenagers.
Scribe, Lily knew, would run rings around him.
Not if I can fucking help it.
Scribe
This guy's an idiot. I can run rings around him.
As Tammi guided the metal platform (shaped vaguely like a large scroll, emblazoned with the PRT logo underneath, and specifically constructed to be bulletproof) across the New York skyline, she glanced sideways at Boomer. He was what most people had in mind when they thought of superheroes: muscular and spandex-clad, with a damaging close-ranged Blaster power. However, his best feature (as far as she was concerned) was his inflated opinion of his ability to pass on tips and tricks of the hero trade to newbies needing guidance.
Not that she was any way a newbie; she'd been an active member of the Empire Eighty-Eight for past couple of years. But he didn't need to know exactly how much she'd been doing with the Empire, so she made sure to treat his every pronouncement with the respectful awe he seemed to expect. As a result, he positively encouraged her to take the initiative whenever possible, and spent most of his time standing back and watching.
In other words, he was perfect for her purposes.
The people she'd been talking with (who she was ninety-nine percent sure were the Adepts) wanted to meet up with her while she was out and about, with an aim toward recruiting her into their number. She thought they were idiots for using the whole 'magic' schtick in the first place, but if it got her out of the Wards and into a solid team, then she'd wave a sparkly fucking wand all day long. And if the PRT came after the Adepts for poaching her, she could get the fuck out of town and find a team elsewhere.
"Hey," she said, pointing. "What's that down there?"
There was nothing down there, of course, but he wasn't to know that. He shaded his eyes and peered at the narrow side-street. "What did you see?"
She began to move the platform down in that direction. "Two guys, running, dark clothing. They might've had something over their faces."
"Good eye," he said, pulling a miniature pair of binoculars out of his utility belt and scanning the area. "Which way were they going, and were they armed?"
"Looked like south-southwest. I couldn't see if they were armed or not." She gestured in that general direction. "If I drop you off at that intersection, I can swing around and herd them straight back to you."
He only spent a moment thinking about it, which didn't surprise her. This was exactly the kind of proactive teamwork he'd been trying to foster in her, after all. "Okay, but be careful. Don't take any chances. If you see anything that looks even remotely like a gun, cover up and call me in."
"Absolutely." She tapped her foot on the floor of the platform, then slapped one of the removable side panels, designed to be independently controlled in the field. "They'll never see me coming."
"That's the idea, kid." He slapped her on the shoulder. "Let's do this thing."
Flechette
It had taken Lily a little detective work to figure out just where Scribe was going to do whatever she did on the patrol with Boomer. Each patrol had its own route that allowed a little variation; giving the ne'er-do-wells the chance to know exactly when the heroes were going to show up wouldn't be ideal, after all. While some parts of it were just too exposed to the public for any sneaky dealing to take place, it also covered some of the less well-off areas of town, where law-abiding members of the public were unlikely to be loitering.
That still left too much for her to cover all at once, but then she cross-referenced the patrol route with the stomping grounds of some of the independent heroes and villains in Manhattan, and she hit the jackpot. There was a three-block section where the patrol cut through the area usually held by the Adepts … who had been known to recruit Wards away from the heroes.
Gotcha, you little cow. I know what you're up to.
She was good at moving across the skyline, but all the same she was pushed to the limit to get to where she needed to in time to beat Scribe and Boomer there. The whole way there, she was besieged by doubts about whether she was going about this the right way. All she had to go on were strong suspicions, based on a smug look and her personal certainty that Scribe was up to no good.
While she didn't think Director Piggot would come down on her for a bad call, she didn't want to give Scribe the leeway to duck out from under future investigations. So she figured it was best that she check out the situation for herself; if she was right (which she figured she was) she could gather the proof and present it, and the Director could land on Scribe with both feet.
Of course, if Scribe was intending to defect today, that would be another thing altogether. Lily still wasn't sure what she'd do if that turned out to be the case, but she was sure she'd figure something out. While she hadn't had much to do with the Adepts, she couldn't see them going down to the wire for a racist asshole like Rune.
And if they do, I'll kick as much butt as necessary to bring her in anyway.
Scribe
Leaving Boomer waiting on a low building for her to herd the non-existent gang members back toward him, Tammi kicked the platform into high gear and headed off around a taller building to get out of his sight. She knew she'd only have a few minutes before he started getting concerned about her, meaning she'd have to make the time count. So where the hell are those Adept assholes, anyway?
It took her thirty precious seconds before she spotted a figure waving from a rooftop above her line of sight, and she began to gain altitude. As she got up to that level, she saw there were half a dozen of them waiting for her, spread out in a rough semi-circle. Glancing around, she came in for a landing on the rooftop. "Hey."
One of them stepped forward; hooded and cloaked with an hourglass on a chain around his neck, he held a brass sundial that seemed to have mechanical workings built into it. Tammi recognised him as Epoch, leader of the Adepts. "Scribe. Were you followed?"
"Not really." Tammi gestured back to where she'd left Boomer. "Got a minder, but we've got a few minutes before he comes looking. I guess being on the clock's kind of your thing, right?" She essayed a chuckle at the weak joke.
Epoch didn't react one way or the other. "So noted. You wanted to talk face to face?"
She took a deep breath. "Yeah. Wanted to know if you really were who you said you were, and weren't just jerking me around. A lot easier to talk about this sort of shit when we don't have to keep dancing around it and can just come straight out and say what we mean."
"Attention to information security is what's kept us from being swept up by the Protectorate so far." It was hard to tell if Epoch was telling her to STFU about the precautions or just making a point. "You've seen that the offer's genuine. Your power shows strong potential for working alongside ours. Now, my question for you is, if you're serious about jumping out of the Wards, how soon can you cut ties and come over to us?"
She was just formulating an answer when her radio earpiece crackled with Boomer's voice. "Boomer to Scribe. How are you getting along, over? Nobody's come out my end yet."
Panicking just a little, she did her best to ignore the voice on her radio. If they figure out I'm in contact with Boomer, they might think I'm fucking them over and lose my chance. "Um, maybe a week? I've got a few things in my room I'd rather not lose, you know?"
Just as Epoch turned his head to confer quietly with the others, Boomer spoke up again, somewhat more urgently. "Boomer to Scribe, come in, over. If you can't speak, click twice for 'all good', three times for 'there's a problem but hold position', and four times for 'danger, come now'."
Tammi dithered, her mind whirling in a dozen different directions. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what do I do? If she reached for the radio pressel now, they'd be sure to assume she was a plant by the PRT. It was what she'd figure, in their place. She wasn't, but that wasn't much fucking help right now.
Likewise, if she bailed, they'd probably think she was pulling some shit. Again, that was what she would think in their place. She'd watched Hookwolf work over more than one prospect who had said or done the wrong thing at the wrong time; not many of them had been able to walk away afterward. Some of them, she was pretty sure, would never walk again.
Several buildings away, there was an echoing boooom, and a familiar figure rose above the rooftops. Another explosion sent Boomer angling in their direction. Everyone looked in that direction, because whatever else Boomer's power was, subtle didn't come into it.
"Is that your minder?" Epoch's question was sharp.
"Yeah, but he wasn't supposed to—"
Epoch aimed the sundial at Boomer and turned some of the cogs. There was a blink of motion, and Boomer stood among them. Some more cogs clicked, and the Protectorate member froze in place.
"Ten seconds to choose," Epoch said. "Come with us, or go back and face the music. He's seen you with us. There's no walking this back. What's it to be?"
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. While Tammi despised everything the Wards stood for, especially the whole equality-for-all bullshit, everything was happening too fast. She really wanted more time to think this sort of shit over.
The trouble was, if she went back now, Epoch was right. Boomer had seen her with them. At the very least, questions would be asked. They would absolutely delve into her PHO private message log (she wasn't stupid enough to believe that they couldn't) and even though she'd never actually said anything incriminating, Piggy would totally use it as an excuse to punt her head-first into juvey.
Fuck. That.
She jumped off the platform as her power kicked it into movement. The Adepts jumped back, but she wasn't aiming for them. It was instead heading at Boomer, sweeping him off his feet and over the side of the building with the platform driving him straight down toward the ground like a metallic fist.
Even if he'd emerged from Epoch's time-freeze on the way down, he had no chance to avoid being driven into the unyielding concrete below, courtesy of her platform. She was pretty sure she heard the meaty crunch over and above the metallic clang, even as the side-panels from the platform danced around her. Turning and looking at the Adepts, she spread her hands in a voila gesture.
"That answer your question?"
End of Part Ninety-Four
[A/N: Evil cliffhanger is evil. Mwahahahaha.]
