A/N: Big thanks to TwoPence for brtareading this chapter, and helping fix numerous grammatical and narrative mistakes.

ooOoo

"Daww, is big bad Shadow Stalker jealous?" Emma cooed, rolling onto her stomach. She could almost hear Sophia rolling her eyes over the phone. "I seriously can't believe you need convincing. Join her. She's the only one actually trying to fix the city."

"You already know I can't," said Sophia. "They'd throw me in prison. Besides, Grue is a chode. If she wants me so bad she can kick his sorry ass off the team."

"How is she supposed to know that unless you tell her?" Asked Emma. She fluttered her feet back and forth above her bed. She hadn't felt like such a fangirl since she'd gone through her Alexandria phase a lifetime ago. She'd never expected to be able to recapture the excitement she'd felt as an innocent child. "I get that joining a fanclub is beneath your oh-so-important dignity as a cape, but this is your chance to get in with the new apex predator."

Like all things, there was a food chain among capes, and Shadow Stalker was right in the middle. There was value in taking down the footsoldiers, Emma herself was proof of that, but there was only so much Sophia could actually accomplish. After all this time, an A-list cape had finally come around who wasn't a total pussy, and didn't give a fuck what the media douchebags thought and actually did what was necessary to save the city.

Not just taking down the capes either, she'd purged the ABB as well. That's what a cape should have been. Someone worthy of admiration, unlike those preening choir boys in the PRT who only cared about appealing to prey like Taylor.

Sophia was silent for a while. "...Even if I wanted to join, it's not like I could. A bunch of the queefs on my team are transferring to Winslow so I've got to be a good girl scout."

"All the more reason," said Emma. "We can be a part of something here, don't you see? All eyes are on us, and we can show them what it's all about. You said she sounded like a high schooler right? Who's to say she doesn't attend herself?"

Emma had heard Everywhere's soft whisper into the camera after finishing off the ABB and had seen her execution of Oni Lee. Strange as it was, she sounded and looked almost exactly like Taylor. Same hair, same build, same voice, hell even the same cadence and rhythm. Not that she'd ever equate the cape who'd finally helped Emma feel safe again with the archetypical victim, someone so weak they'd never managed to grow a spine even after all of Emma's efforts. It was a shame really, that Taylor never had the balls to fight back. Emma had always wanted to be able to associate with her again, they'd practically been sisters, but Tay Tay proved time and time again that leaving her behind had been the right choice. It sometimes made her angry that Taylor had quit on life the moment some fucked up things had happened. Other times it frightened her. Without Sophia to push her, maybe she'd have turned into a lifeless caricature of a person too.

"Maybe she does go to Winslow," said Sophia. "Who says she even likes you? You're kind of a total bitch."

Emma rolled her eyes. "What's that matter? She obviously wants power and I'm on top of the hill. Easiest way to get it is to go the way of our good friend Madison."

Sophia snorted. "Hey, you wanna swim with the sharks, that's fine. Just don't be surprised if you get eaten."

Emma wasn't stupid, she knew that Everywhere was dangerous. Sophia just didn't understand. Couldn't. Emma did. She'd been weak once too, knew how hard it was to be strong, how easy it would be to go soft and backslide. Sometimes she had second thoughts, although less and less with time. Arrogant as it sounded, Emma just wanted her to know that somebody was in her corner, understood what she was doing, how hard it was.

Emma had to make sure that Everywhere knew that there was nothing wrong with being a predator.

ooOoo

"Look there," said Victoria, pointing at Everywhere's spindly arm on the 80 inch 4K television mounted on their lodging's ugly brutalist concrete wall, rewatching the Central Bank Massacre for the tenth time. "She pretends to stop to take a breath, but her hand touches the pavement right next to the containment foam. After that point, there's no record of her shooting any geysers. She must've been resetting her portal. Don't you understand? That's her weakness, she only has access to one pair of portals at a time!"

Uncle Neil shared a look with Eric and Crystal.

"She can redirect any projectiles that touch her," said Uncle Neil. "She can teleport herself, others, and objects as long as they're within line of sight. The Protectorate suspects that she has a minor thinker power to sense anything within one city block of her. She can even break the manton limit with objects small enough. She's a vicious, unstable murderer with a grudge against superheroes. She's probably the second most dangerous cape I've ever come across."

She'd been on the cover of TIME, gunning down a small asian girl by the ferry station, the headline asking The Next Jack Slash?

Others were calling Everywhere Eidolon-lite. But people called Victoria Alexandria-Junior, and she knew she was anything but. Victoria's power essentially boiled down to fine control of a force field; her apparent invincibility, flight, and strength were applications derived from her primary ability. Everywhere's powers were much the same, just utilized even more cleverly. She just had to trace all the different expressions of Everywhere's power back to their origins.

"Give it a rest Vicky," said Crystal. "Take a break. Mourn."

"I can mourn later," said Victoria. This was some of the best footage available to her. The Undersiders had destroyed all the bodycam footage of their battle with the Protectorate at Immaculata High.

Another shared look that Victoria couldn't quite understand.

"I think Amy is exactly where she should be," said Uncle Neil, finally being direct. Like it was so easy. Just forget about Amy… Forget about her… Abandon her…

Because she'd made one mistake? Weren't they supposed to be fucking superheroes?

Victoria sucked in an angry breath, forced herself to take another. Her fight-flight-freeze-or-fawn instinct had been activated- more specifically she was being flooded with estrogen, testosterone, and a shitton of cortisol- which made rational thought impossible. Telling them that they'd maybe fucking understand if they'd lost everyone they loved would be callous, cruel, and she'd regret it even though it was true. Or maybe she could ask something else that had been bothering her, making it hard for her to mourn since they cared so fucking much. Hey, did you fuck my mom? Are you actually my dad, Uncle Neil? Because Tattletale really seemed to think so, and everything else she'd said had been right on the fucking mark.

Another breath. In and out. Easy, easy, Victoria. Think about what happened the last time she'd given in to her anger. Simurgh level disasters. She'd destroyed her relationship with Amy, and she'd charged after Bakuda suicidally.

Of course she'd been angry. Bakuda had killed her fucking dad. But blindly attacking the lair of a known bomb tinker had been the height of stupidity, and it had gotten her mom and aunt killed. That said, they'd have probably pulled through if they had Ames with them.

But no. Victoria had destroyed the most important relationship in her life over something that had been undone in a matter of hours. Amy had even erased her memories of that night at the school, of being captured by Bakuda, which was why she wasn't suffering from PTSD like the rest of her family and still had enough emotional bandwidth to be a bitchy teenager.

Victoria would be better. Had to be, if she wanted to save her sister from the single most terrifying cape in North America. She relaxed her hands and realized she'd crushed the remote she'd been holding. Be better, Vicky, be better. She tossed the scrap metal in the garbage.

"You don't have to go," said Victoria, looking at Eric. "Lots of kids aren't going. Let me field all the stupid fucking questions we're gonna get."

She wasn't sure whether they'd be welcome or not, now that Bakuda's bombing had broken the fragile barrier between civilian and cape life. Their presence made every school a target, but the Protectorate couldn't just pull the capes out, not without unmasking them, and they couldn't just shut down the schools because they might be targeted.

None of which even got into the fact that everyone would know that she'd lost her parents, and Eric had lost his mom. She wasn't sure how people would handle it. She also didn't care. Distance, awkwardness, clumsy sympathy, none of it really mattered one way or the other. She just had to get through a few periods, maybe a few days, and everything would return to normal.

"I may not have your grades," said Eric. "But I still care about school and it counts now. I don't know if I want to go to college, I don't know what I want to do in life, but I want to keep my options open."

"That's a good mindset," said Victoria. "There's gonna be a lot of new people there. If you see anyone acting weird, let me know."

With that, the two of them left their temporary underground home and flew until they were within a few blocks of their new school. It wasn't Arcadia, that was for sure. The roads had plenty of potholes but were actually cleaner than she'd thought they'd be. It was the grown-ass men loitering in packs of two and three on concrete steps to the half-painted doors of shitty duplexes that caught her eye. A sign of gang activity. A lead to Everywhere? Maybe. She'd never been as familiar with the ABB as she had with the Empire which had invaded her backyard.

She'd confront them later. Eric was here, and she wasn't ready for Everywhere yet. She wouldn't risk him on her mission. The responsibility was hers alone. Another time.

"New students this way," waved a teacher. The students from Arcadia were herded into the cafeteria and given their schedules. She and Eric split up, joining their respective friend groups. Victoria accepted the condolences of her friends, and the conversation onto who was in the cafeteria, and who wasn't. Victoria was far from the only one who'd lost somebody. Basically everyone had lost at least one friend, everyone was sad, everyone was shook. She wasn't alone. It took away some of the sting of losing her parents and her boyfriend. Not a lot, they were still gone, but it was a reminder that she still had her friends, she still had people who cared about her.

Nothing of note happened in her classes. Some of the teachers acknowledged what had happened, some of them didn't, but US History went over the Reconstruction Era, Calculus went over integrals, and English went over Shakespeare. Just normal classes, if a few weeks behind the curriculum at Arcadia. Sure the students were… Rowdier… The classes were a little less… challenging… She'd never had a teacher swear at students for whispering to each other during a lecture, ignoring others doing the same in the corner, only to realize that the teacher wasn't actually being hypocritical and half the students were doubling as translators. But it was still school at the end of the day. Not so different than Arcadia.

Then lunch happened, and on the way to the cafeteria Victoria got her first true sense of culture shock. While an asian boy tried to sell her hard drugs, she noticed a lanky girl had her back pressed against her locker, her curly black hair just visible over a group of girls packed around her more tightly than defensive linemen guarding an A-gap run.

"Just ignore it," said the boy in red and green. "Trust me, you're gonna wanna chase this dragon. Soma. Sure it's expensive, but it'll give you all the fun of heroin with none of the downsides. Euphoria in a golden egg…"

Victoria tuned him out, focused on the bullshit happening right in front of her.

"What does she use to wash her face? A Brillo pad?"

"She should! She'd look better!"

"Never talks to anybody. Maybe she knows she sounds like a retard and keeps her mouth shut."

"No, she's not that smart."

A teacher walked by.

"If I were her, I'd kill myself."

And the teacher kept on walking. What?

"So glad we don't have gym with her. Can you imagine seeing her in the locker room? Gag me with a spoon."

Victoria waited for a classmate to jump in. Grab a teacher, not that it would help. Nope, they just walked right on by. What the fuck was wrong with these people?

"And she smells," one girl said, lamely.

"Like expired grape and orange juice."

Victoria committed their faces to memory.

"What's the matter, Taylor?" asked a familiar-looking redhead, wearing a tacky shirt that somehow made her even more unlikable. A bully and an unrepentant fascist? Lovely. The word Everywhere was stretched across her too-large chest. "You look upset. So upset you're going to cry yourself to sleep for a straight week?"

Taylor started to shake. She tried to push her way out but couldn't.

"You know your dad blames you for your mother's dea-"

"Her mother's what?" Metal screeched as Victoria pulled her fist out of the locker she'd just put it through. "Go on, finish the sentence. Make my fucking day."

Strange. They'd all been so talkative earlier. Now they had nothing to say.

"You know, I lost my mother recently," said Victoria conversationally, squeezing the stainless steel she'd ripped from the locker like it was a stress ball. "My Uncle didn't want me to come today. He thought I might be unstable."

One of the girls wimpered and pissed herself. But they'd been so brave earlier? Where'd all their confidence from earlier gone? Weren't they supposed to be fans of Everywhere? Didn't they think their hero was gonna protect them?

"Relax," said Victoria, smiling, tossing the redhead the ball of steel. "I'm not like you cunts. I'm not a fucking bully. You get one. Just one."

The beautiful redhead dropped the steel ball. Made sense, her arms were skinny and it weighed about thirty pounds. She gave a stiff nod, looking stricken, and hurried off with her lackeys.

Taylor was still pressed against her locker, her brown eyes locked onto Victoria. "Thank you."

"Let's eat lunch together," said Victoria. The invitation was partly out of duty, partly from curiosity, but also because she felt a connection, somewhere deep in her gut.

"Why?" Asked Taylor suspiciously, her hand gripped her locker tight. "Would Alexandria Junior deign to eat lunch with me?"

Victoria smirked. "You heard of a trigger event? Powers emerge on the worst day of your life. That shit you're going through might just make you the single most important person in the entire school."

Taylor narrowed her eyes. "Bullshit."

She wasn't talking about trigger events.

"Because it was my idea to go after Bakuda," said Victoria. "And maybe you know how I feel."

"Okay," said Taylor, her hand leaving the locker. They met up on the roof. Victoria flew, Taylor took the stairs. They ate in silence at first, but Taylor opened up some. Talked about her mother's death, the bullying she'd endured, the way it was ignored by the students, teachers, and administration. All clinical. Detached. Taylor thought the reason her plight had been ignored was because one of the bullies' fathers was a lawyer and the administration were cowards. The truth was worse.

According to Taylor, one of the bullies was Sophia Hess—Shadow Stalker. Look at that, dear old mom had been right about the Protectorate and accountability. They really were as morally bankrupt as she'd always insisted.

Mom, you were right. You were right. Sorry I couldn't ever tell you that.

"For the longest time I wanted to transfer to Arcadia," said Taylor bitterly. "And then it got blown up. Now my dad says he's going to sell Mom's house and make us move. He only agreed to put it off if I started going back to school. Fucking didn't know he was into that power-abusing bullshit."

"That's because he's not," said Victoria. "It sounds like he cares about you. Cherish him while you have him."

"You might be right." Taylor's bitter laughter was as familiar as it was unsettling. Victoria couldn't quite place it. "I wish I'd met you sooner Junior."

Was she trying to be funny? Or was she being off putting on purpose? And why did she feel so damn familiar?

"You came here to look for your sister didn't you?" Asked Taylor, studying Victoria with an uncomfortable intensity. "Why?"

"I…" Victoria licked her lips, stared at her white leather boots. What the fuck was she scared of? She was Glory Girl, one of the strongest capes in the city. So why did she feel like she'd just stepped into the Slaughterhouse? "I… I want to save her from the Undersiders. From Everywhere."

"She tried to mindrape you," said Taylor, tilting her head, analyzing Victoria like she was a bug under a magnifying glass. "And you want to save her?"

"It's…" Victoria steeled herself. "It's not her fault. Tattletale mastered her! And she… She took it all back, she set me right, even when that bitch Everywhere had a glock to the back of her head!"

"So Amy changed?" Taylor asked. "I'd be skeptical if I were you. If there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that people don't change. They can maybe be beaten into compliance, but change? That's impossible."

"People make mistakes," said Victoria, her voice faltering. "Ames is more than a sister to me, she's my best friend. She's done so much to help me over the years, and yeah, she made a mistake- a big one, but still just one- and she did what she could to fix it. At a certain point you've got to forgive people."

She wasn't even sure that she believed what she was saying.

"No," said Taylor. "You really don't. You shouldn't. You can't. Every single time I've tried to forgive someone I've been burnt, every single time. You want peace of mind? Become a monk, because the stakes are higher here. You want Amy to be the hero you thought she was; she's not."

"Maybe she's not," said Victoria. "But being surrounded by villains isn't going to help her become Panacea again. She needs to be around people who love her."

"Love," said Taylor bitterly. "Love, love, love. Love is all you need. Give me a fucking break. I used to be best friends with that lovely redhead you had the privilege of meeting, Emma Barnes. I know her parents. They love her. That's why good old Alan Barnes came to school and threatened our dear Principal Blackwell with a lawsuit, because he loved his daughter. For all his efforts to protect her, I think you did more for her today than he ever did. Love doesn't do shit. Fear is what matters."

Victoria's aura flared fury. Taylor stared at her distinctly unimpressed.

"You think I'm soft?" Asked Victoria, levitating a foot off the ground, so she could glare down her nose at Taylor. "You think I'm like Principal Blackwell? I'm not going to fucking enable her! I'm fucking Glory Gir-"

Taylor's hand was on her thigh. "And if I were Amy you'd have been mastered."

Victoria flushed. She'd gotten so used to her invincibility that she'd let a fucking civilian get the jump on her. And she wanted to take on Everywhere, the Michael Jordan of all things villainous? Yeah right.

Victoria grabbed a fistful of Taylor's sweater, and lifted her off the ground effortlessly. An inch, a foot… More. "But you're not. And I actually am fucking Glory Girl."

Taylor smirked. "And who exactly is Glory Girl?"

A fucking cape, that's fucking who! One of the most powerful in the city! She'd been scaring the shit out of neonazis for years, she didn't need a fucking lecture on criminal psychology from a civilian. Maybe she'd hold Taylor over the building, see if Brockton Bay's so-called golden girl really was so soft…

What the fuck was wrong with her? After all the shit she'd gotten in, she'd still lost her temper when someone supplied the bare minimum amount of resistance. She levitated down, and dumped Taylor on the roof.

"Sorry."

"And there it is," said Taylor, brushing herself, moving to the exit. "That's why I can't give you Amy."

What? Give who? How? Who exactly was she? Why did so much about Taylor feel so familiar?

And just like that, everything clicked.

"Wait," said Victoria, flying in front of her. "You said you wished you'd met me earlier. Why?"

"Because if you'd been around to protect me," said Taylor. "I wouldn't have had to turn to Everywhere."

Just as she'd expected. Taylor was ABB. When the heroes couldn't protect them, the people would turn to somebody who could, no matter how vile.

Taylor was what Amy would have turned into if Victoria hadn't been around. That's why Taylor felt so familiar, why Victoria had invited her to lunch. She reminded her of Amy. An Amy who wasn't in love with her. An Amy who actually held Victoria accountable.

"See you around Taylor."

"See you around Victoria."

She wouldn't threaten Taylor. She'd win her over. Get her to quit the ABB, and turn over Amy of her own volition.

ooOoo

"Fucking bureaucracy," said Danny's daughter angrily, taking another sip from her Blue Moon. Armsmaster frowned, she didn't look 21. "Trust them to get it wrong and fire the only fucking cape doing their job! But that's any big organization for you. Always clueless to what's going on on the ground."

"I like you Armsmaster," said Danny, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. "But I'd have had some serious reservations about killing a sixteen year old girl who'd just lost her mother. To be honest, I'd have probably turned on you too."

"How old are you?" Armsmaster demanded. She couldn't have been 21!

"Old enough to know that you were absolutely right," said Danny's daughter, blushing slightly. From the alcohol? "You're being too emotional Dad. You're not getting the scale of a potential plague. What if some villain took the president's wife hostage? Does that give him the right to give away the nuclear launch codes? No! He still has to be the president, and his responsibility is to protect the country over any one person, just like Armsmaster had to worry about the entire world, not Panacea's circumstances."

"Maybe," said Danny. "But still… I don't like it, and I'm not surprised you lost your job over it."

"I'm being put on temporary leave," Armsmaster clarified, draining his glass of ale. Not only had he lost his position, if Danny's reaction was anything to go by his popularity had vanished to nothing. "And not as punishment for my decision to give a kill order on Panacea, I was following established protocol. That isn't why I'm being forced to step down. Half my team hates me. The other half are dead, because I couldn't get them to follow orders. Leadership isn't about decision making- that's a naive conception- it's about getting people to do what you tell them. I couldn't. That's why Everywhere stands on the precipice of conquering the city, because I wasn't good enough. Miss Militia will be better. They will respect her. Follow her, like they wouldn't follow me. My removal was necessary."

True, his helmet read. He stared into the bottom of the empty glass. He'd lost control of his team. He couldn't remember how he'd felt at the time, Panacea had taken his memories of the event, and the Undersiders had destroyed the bodycam footage, but he'd watched the video patched together from a number of nearby sources. Seen their defiance. He'd felt his authority slipping away for years. He'd hoped he might salvage it, but his time at Brockton Bay could only be considered a failure.

"But you were fucking right," said Danny's daughter, still not understanding how little that mattered. "Bakuda had been neutralized, and Amy had created a self-replicating, airborne plague. It would have been fatal if anything happened to her. She knocked you out in half-a-second, meaning she didn't need the plague to take down Bakuda. It was an act of bio-terrorism, so nobody could stop her from doing whatever she wanted."

"That seems a little far-fetched," said Danny. "She was only 16, and she's been a hero for years."

"No, your daughter is correct," said Armsmaster. "The plague was created to give leverage against us. Panacea built her plague for leverage, as Bakuda built her bomb. The difference was that Panacea was holding all of North America hostage, where Bakuda was restrained enough to only threaten Brockton Bay. If you're comfortable with Bakuda being given a kill order, you must be comfortable with Panacea being given one."

"But why not work with the villains?" Asked Danny. "If they were offering help."

Armsmasters shook his hand dismissively. "Bakuda was a delicate situation. It was an operation which required precision, not firepower. I needed a team I could trust to follow orders."

He probably shouldn't say more, but what did it matter? He'd already lost his job.

"Dragon was helping me create a device that could hijack Bakuda's control over her bombs," said Armsmaster. "We were almost finished when Squirter attacked me unprovoked, and gave Bakuda the opening she needed to kill half my team."

Danny's daughter took several large gulps from her bitter ale.

"Your henchmen were incompetent," said Danny's daughter finally. "They thought with their hearts instead of their heads, and they're blaming you for making the hard decision that needed to be made. They're scapegoating you instead of looking at their own mistakes, and it's bullshit. If I were a new cape, I'd never even consider joining the Protectorate after what they did to you. You did what was fucking right and they railroaded you for it!"

"Then you'd be a fool," said Armsmaster. "Rogues and villains don't survive long and never accomplish anything."

"Neither has the Protectorate!"

"You're still here," said Armsmaster defensively. "The villains still operate in the shadows, rather than ruling directly. You haven't been killed by an Endbringer. You have the Protectorate to thank for that."

With that, the conversation shifted to other things. A new drug on the street called Soma, which much like its namesake from Brave New World, induced feelings of euphoria without negative health effects or clouding the mind. It was in all likelihood a creation from Panacea, which meant she was probably still under control of Squirter, was starting to experiment with her powers, and was continuing to create self-replicating bacteria.

Frankly he was more alarmed that she hadn't been given a kill order than he was about his own dismissal.

Danny's daughter didn't seem to understand the danger of it. She was too young to understand the more insidious ways that drugs could ruin lives, beyond simple physical degradation. Panacea was creating an emotional crutch for the most vulnerable, ensuring they would never heal properly, making them utterly dependent on a product that only she could provide. It was just another form of control.

Soon enough, the Herberts had eaten their fill. Before they left, her hand on the door, Danny's daughter turned.

"You're too good for the Protectorate anyways," she said. "Someday, you're gonna look back on all this and realize it was the best thing that ever happened to you. Your story doesn't end here. It's just beginning."

"Doubtful," said Armsmaster. "Brockton Bay is no better now than it was when I found it. Half of my team is dead, our headquarters destroyed, no major villains captured. My reign has been among the most disastrous in modern history. I am a failure."

"It's not your fault," she said. "If they'd have just followed your orders they'd still be alive."

"I led the branch," said Armsmaster. "Of course it's my fault. It was my job to get them to follow my orders. Knowing the right thing to do is easy, actually getting people to do it, that's the hard part. That's the job. And I couldn't do it."

He couldn't. He'd never been able to. The Wards were getting their ranks supplemented, but the city's actual Protectorate had not received sufficient reinforcements. Not to replace himself, Dauntless, and Velocity. For whatever reason, management wanted to concede the city to Squirter. Miss Militia would take the fall.

The Heberts had left, and he didn't feel any better. He considered calling Miss Militia. Giving her advice, perhaps a warning about the actual nature of Director Costa-Brown and the politics involved in leading the branch. But no, what good would his advice do? He'd failed. Spectacularly. His help would only lead her astray.

His cell phone buzzed. He checked the number on his monitor. Dragon.

He hadn't spoken to her since… No. Not right now. Later. He had to rebuild the prediction software he'd lost on the Endbringers. Leadership had never suited him anyways. The fate of Brockton Bay, its Protectorate, was no longer his concern. If he could just kill Leviathan, nobody would even remember…

If he could just kill Leviathan…

It was his purpose. His purpose… His purpose… It was his damn purpose!

Fuck! He tossed his keyboard.

Why couldn't he enter a damn tinker fugue? Was this how Kid Win always felt? Interesting- if he examined his environment, potential psychological blocks, perhaps he might-

No. Kid Win's development was no longer his concern. Miss Militia's readiness was no longer his responsibility. All that mattered was Levia-

A skeletal shadow flashed in his peripheral vision.

… He switched on the camera in his helmet, and made sure it was feeding directly to the Pentagon.

"So you've finally come for me," said Armsmaster, lifting his halberd. "Squirter. Know this. I will not go down without a fight."

Reinforce the taunt and focus her anger. It had been his idea after all. He'd known exactly what he'd been doing when he'd allowed Clockblocker to name her. He'd never been capable of the petty cruelty his position had so often required.

His story ended here. How many of the heroes had Squirter tagged while they were unconscious after she'd released her plague? All of them. This video would be proof. She could teleport to them at any time, banish them at any time. The Brockton Bay Branch had been compromised. Only after she'd eliminated all the heroes could the Protectorate make a move.

"Yes," whispered Squirter, her tone expressionless, her facial patterns covered by her garbage-bag mask. "I've come for you Armsmaster. I want to offer you a job."

"No," said Armsmaster firmly. "Whatever excuses you tell yourself, you are a villain. You've committed terrorism, murder, robbery, and taken control of one of the largest gangs in the entire city. You're not like Kaiser and Lung. You and Panacea are the two worst villains I've ever encountered. I will never join you."

"Join?" Asked Squirter. "No, you misunderstand. I don't want you to join my gang. I want you to lead it.

"I want to follow you."

True. His helmet blinked. True.

He faltered.

Nobody in the Protectorate had ever said that to him. Not in ten years. She was playing him. She was obviously playing him. She had to be…

But… When Bakuda had played her hand, when she'd unleashed her child soldiers to take advantage of the heroes' compassion, Squirter had been on the exact same page as him. Ordered the Undersiders to retreat, and helped him salvage the situation by turning his own halberd on his team. Without words they'd effortlessly been on the same wavelength, in a way he'd never been with the rest of the Protectorate. How much could he accomplish if he could just assume obedience? All his ideas he'd given up on could actually be implemented! Maybe, just maybe he could actually prove…

Was this how she had gotten so many to follow her? If so, she was more dangerous than anyone had predicted.

"No," said Armsmaster. "No."

"All this," said Squirter, motioning at his workshop. "We can replicate it. Your team, the Protectorate and all its politics held you back. The Undersiders are where you can achieve your potential, your purpose. Come. Destiny awaits."

"You're a villain," said Armsmaster, stumbling backwards. "I will never join you!"

"I don't want to be," said Squirter, advancing on him slowly. "You may not believe me, but I thought everything I did was right at the time."

True, taunted his helmet. True.

"I want to be a good person," said Squirter. "I just don't know how. I didn't like Panacea's plague, but I went along with it. She played me, she played Tattletale, played most of the Protectorate, but she didn't get you. I want to do right by the ABB. I want to save Brockton Bay. I want to help people. Show me how."

True. True, true, true.

"I got half my team killed," said Armsmaster bitterly. "You're asking me how to fix this? How to be a good person? I don't know. I thought I did, but nothing worked. Nothing worked, nothing ever worked. You're right here so I may as well ask. Why did you choose to kill so many people, rob a bank, how could you possibly think that any of that was remotely okay?"

Squirter stopped. "I expected more from you. Everything I did was for the greater good. I couldn't let Bakuda dictate the battlefield, so I robbed a bank to lure her out in the open. Holding back against the Wards would have telegraphed what I was doing. I've only killed people who deserved it. Villains who used their powers to bully others. The world is a better place without them."

"What separates you from them?" Asked Armsmaster. "What's to stop me from saying the world is a better place without you, and trying to kill you?"

"I've stopped the ABB from selling hard drugs," said Squirter.

"Soma," said Armsmaster.

"That's different," said Squirter.

"The ABB still commits crimes, thievery, muggings," said Armsmaster. "If at a lesser rate. You're responsible for their actions."

"They're not ABB," growled Squirter. "I won't tolerate it. Give me their names, and I'll see it dealt with."

"By having Hellhound rip them apart with her dogs?" Asked Armsmaster. "I've heard the stories. I'd rather not have a thirteen-year-old youth murdered for shoplifting."

"I wouldn't put Bitch on them for that," said Squirter. "But there would still be punishments. Give an inch and they'll take a mile."

"What specifically would the punishment be?" Asked Armsmaster. "Have you thought about it for each crime? You must. Justice must be blind. Rules must be codified, communicated, and standardized. You seem to think that you're capable of picking out good people from bad people. You're not. Nobody is. Eventually, no matter how smart you are, you will pick wrong. You saw what happened with Panacea. So long as rules are well communicated, your job as an authority is to enforce them. Not listen to sob stories, nor get angry and make up your own. In both situations, people will lose respect for you."

He waited for her to contradict him like any of the other Wards would have.

"Tell me more."

Someone was finally listening. Of course the only people who'd ever wanted his help were the most dangerous gang since the Slaughterhouse itself. But…

A triumvirate of Panacea, Squirter, and Tattletale. Auxiliary members in Hijack, Hellhound, and Grue. With himself in the lead, they'd have enough power to…

No.

No. They were villains.

"I've tried to work with your kind before," said Armsmaster. "Probationary heroes, we called them. What a joke. She ruined the camaraderie of the Wards and inhibited their progress, disrespected my authority which damaged my ability to lead, and had holes in her reports that always seemed to coincide with various gangsters being found with lethal wounds from crossbow bolts."

Armsmaster scoffed. "My administration called it coincidental, insufficient evidence to put away their little pet project. They like to pretend that everyone can be a hero, that anyone can be redeemed with some therapy and support. It is a fantasy that hurts everyone. The Birdcage was built for people like her. Instead we bent the law to give her another chance, and she took it as a signal that our threats were hollow. How many innocents have been hurt by the leniency I knew full well would burn us? I don't intend to make that mistake ever again."

"So that's it then? I can never do good? I can never be a hero?"

Armsmaster hesitated.

"For you there's hope." Armsmaster admitted. "Turn yourself in. I've worked with other capes with checkered histories, and some of them have turned out to be fine heroes. But it's always the ones who seek help, never the ones who have it forced upon them. You will never be able to control Panacea. We both know that whatever hold you have over her won't last, and soon she'll be justifying her next atrocity. Humanity might not survive her next mistake. Kill her."

"But she doesn't have a kill order," said Squirter mockingly. "Armsmaster, are you telling me to break the law?"

No. Of course not. The law had been quite clear. Self replication triggered a kill order. Panacea had been granted an exception from justice. The typical rules had not applied.

Armsmaster gripped his halberd. One last puzzle piece clicked into place.

The Protectorate had identified Panacea as the next Eidolon. If properly challenged, if properly cultivated, she might grow into her powers. She might be the cape they'd expended so much of their resources to find; one capable of bringing down an Endbringer. And with New Wave, Panacea had committed the greatest crime a powerful cape could commit in the eyes of the Protectorate: she'd stagnated. But within hours of joining the Undersiders she'd begun to apply her powers in new and exciting ways.

One city. Even one continent. Acceptable losses if it meant developing a cape strong enough to take down an Endbringer. Panacea's lack of a kill order was all the proof he needed.

Amy Dallon was Director Costa-Brown's new project.

"I won't kill her," said Squirter. "Not unless you order it."

Tattletale was a far bigger threat than anyone had ever predicted. In one conversation, Squirter had almost seduced him into villainy, expertly targeting doubts, insecurities, and weaknesses he'd never even known he'd had.

"No," said Armsmaster. "I will never join you. I will never lead you. I will advise you though. Kill Panacea and turn yourself in. That is your path to redemption."

"Advice is for cowards," said Squirter. "To dodge responsibility. We both know you're not a coward. You've already realized where you're needed. Where your purpose lies. Your destiny is here to be taken. Seize it."

Seize his destiny? Fine.

Armsmaster thrust his halberd at her, struck empty air. Squirter had vanished as suddenly as she'd appeared, like a ghost, a bad nightmare.

He slid to the ground. She could reappear at any time. He was dead unless he joined… And… He might… With enough time he might be able to come up with a reason… Not to join her. Because…

She'd convinced him. He just needed some time to think about it and he'd turn…

Shit.

With shaking fingers, he dialed Dragon.

There was a faint tapping sound. A clink of something hard on metal or glass coming from the vents. He ignored it. He needed to talk to someone. Get his head on straight.

Dragon was quiet, as he confessed his failures, his doubts, his temptation to go down a darker path to the only other cape who'd ever seemed to understand him. He bared his soul to the only tinker in the world he would call his superior.

"I need your help on a project," said Dragon. "I was given the specs to the bomb Bakuda made to destroy Brockton Bay. Director Costa-Brown wants us to reproduce it, but shrink it down."

The Protectorate could only want the bomb for one reason. To take down an Endbringer.

Colin felt a smile touch his lips. Others might have tried to console him, empathize with him. Dragon gave him work. "What is the maximum weight limit?"

"300 pounds."

He was so, so lucky to have Dragon. He finished the last of his Blue Moon and got to work.