A Darker Path

Part One Hundred: The Eve of Battle – The Countdown Begins

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Zion

It was one thing for the Warrior to decide to hunt down the cause of his growing disquiet, but it was entirely another to have the slightest idea of how to actually achieve this aim. No matter what sensory power was levelled at the problem, no data of any note was returned. He was reduced to teleporting randomly around the planet, examining each new location in a gradually more frustrating attempt to glean even the slightest hint as to where his foe might be lurking.

All he needed was a shard or a name to focus his ire on. Once he had either one, his retribution would be swift and merciless.

Hebert Household

T minus 12 h 17 min

Atropos

When I woke up on Saturday morning, I became aware that something was bothering me.

I wasn't quite sure exactly what it was, but the feeling of hair standing up on the back of my neck just wouldn't go away. Even Ending had nothing to add, save that he was the one feeling it and I was getting the overspill. It wasn't like the usual threatscape warning: that always gave me chapter and verse on whatever asshole thought he had a chance of beating me, including how to End the threat in a hilariously appropriate manner.

This was a lot more nebulous. The only thing I could put it down to (and Ending concurred) was that someone or something was looking for me, but didn't know who they were looking for, or even where to look. However, they were absolutely looking, and they weren't about to stop until they got some kind of lead on me.

The upside of all of this was, as soon as my mystery pursuer figured out who I was, I'd know for a fact who they were, and how to take them out of the picture. All I needed was the lead time to pull it off.

The downside was that, given the intensity of the feeling, I suspected that the available lead time was going to be inadequate for my usual level of prep. Also, that a well-aimed shot or stab from my usual implements of Ending might be insufficient to deal with the incoming problem.

Lucky for me, I had options.

Philadelphia Parahuman Asylum Temporary Outpatient Rehabilitation Facility (aka 'PATOR')

T minus 11 h 57 min

Sveta

Waking up in the mornings these days was glorious. It didn't matter that alarm clocks were annoying by their very nature, or that one normally had to take a trip to the bathroom directly upon rising to get rid of overnight bladder pressure. Even the inconvenience of transitioning from warm and comfortable to upright and less comfortable failed to pull the smile from Sveta's face. She'd been back in human form for just over a month now, and the buzz she got from it every morning still lit her whole day up.

Humming to herself, she made her way downstairs and headed for the kitchen. Learning how to walk all over again had been a little bit of a trial in the early days since her re-bodying, but Mrs Yamada had been endlessly patient.

Making breakfast for everyone was both Sveta's self-appointed task as 'house mom', being the one who had been freed from the curse of her powers a full two weeks ahead of everyone else, and also a good way to teach her reflexes that she only had two hands these days, and not a multitude of tentacles to grab things. Plastic crockery helped; when she dropped them, they bounced instead of breaking.

The first to show up after she started was Earl. "Hey, Sveta," he greeted her cheerfully. "How are you doing, this morning?"

She beamed at him. "Amazing, thanks, Earl. Check the bacon for me, please?"

"Sure thing." As he headed over to the stove, he sighed. "I had a bad dream last night. That the noise was back, but I didn't even know it."

"Oh, no!" She turned to him, full of concern. Earl had been one of the most socially ostracised people in the Asylum, because his sound drove everyone away. As a result, he was still getting used to having casual conversations with people. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "I used the technique Mrs Yamada showed us, and turned it into a lucid dream. I couldn't shut the sound off in the dream, but I could wake myself up, and as soon as I did, I knew everything was okay." He leaned against the bench with both hands, head down, which told her that everything wasn't okay, not yet.

Putting down the egg she'd been about to crack, Sveta moved to his side and gave him a hug. This was another hangup she was working to get over; in her previous life, to hug someone almost invariably resulted in their death. Once she was in the hug, she could draw comfort from it, but initiating it was often quite hard.

"Don't forget to tell Mrs Yamada, in the next therapy session," she reminded him. "She can't help us if we don't tell her." That was a truism she'd learned the hard way, along with 'therapy isn't a cure, it's a journey'.

"Yes, mom." But there was no sting in his words, and he returned the hug anyway. "I'll set the table, if you want."

"That would be really good, thanks." She turned back to where she'd left the eggs. Life in the PATOR facility had its routines, but everyone there was working to learn (or relearn) how to function in the outside world. Socialising with people was a huge part of it, but there was also learning how the actual world worked: even simply buying things with money was an oddity for some people. It certainly had been for her.

Fortunately, nobody needed around-the-clock care anymore, or even locked cells. They could figure out how to be normal people again, in a safe environment. Which was very important for their progress, considering the whole concept of 'outside' had begun as a foreign and terrifying idea to some of her housemates.

But they were all making progress in their own way. Earl had even raised his voice the other day, without immediately shutting down and retreating to his room.

One day at a time. We're all going to get there. Sveta believed that implicitly.

T minus 11 h 43 min

Atropos

Cherie frowned. "So, you think something's stalking you? Doesn't your threatscape usually take care of that sort of thing?" She stirred her morning cup of tea (I'd introduced her to the proper way of making it, and she'd embraced the concept fully) then sipped it.

"No, it's a step back from that." I took a bite out of my toast. "Apparently, I've done something to piss off someone, but they don't specifically know it's me who did it. So, they're looking for a name to attach to the deed. Until they do, I won't be able to get the four-one-one on them either."

Dad shook his head, a frown on his face. I could tell that he was applying his Administration powers to figuring out the conundrum facing the three of us (as a 'group activity', this fit the bill) but coming up blank anyway. "That honestly doesn't make any sense at all. You've never hidden what you do. You're well known for advertising your kills on PHO, sometimes the day before you actually do it. How is it that someone can be angry at you for one of your many exploits, without knowing that it's actually you that did it? I mean, you've literally made the name 'Atropos' into a global phenomenon."

"Interdimensional," Cherie pointed out, not entirely helpfully. "Everyone on Earth Shin knows who she is too. And probably Aleph, for that matter."

"Yes, thank you. I got that." He ran his hand through his thinning hair. "What could you have done that's so serious that someone's searching for you over it, but they have no idea you're the culprit?"

"Someone who doesn't have access to the internet, or any of the mainstream news services." I looked at the dubious faces of my dad and my best friend, and shrugged. "Well, it's technically possible."

"Okay, so it's someone who has literally been living under a rock for the last three months," Cherie posited, ticking off points on her fingers. "One of the people you ganked was important to them somehow, and they're looking for the culprit the old-fashioned way, except they're so out of touch that just asking someone is beyond them. They're not on social media, or the internet in general, they don't watch TV …"

"… or read newspapers," Dad interjected thoughtfully. "Which puts them beyond old-school to positively Luddite in attitude."

"Newspaper?" Cherie was pretending to be serious, but I knew she didn't really mean it. "What's a newspaper?"

"Something like your social media homepage, except you don't need a phone to read it," he retorted dryly.

"Don't … need … phone." Cherie tried out the phrase as though hearing it for the first time, then shook her head with a broad grin. "Sorry, you've lost me there. What's Luddite mean, anyway?"

This time, I could tell she didn't actually know. "Opposed to technology in all its forms. But it's more than that. Like you said, they'd have to be so far out of touch that just talking to people is beyond them. And they pose a significant enough threat that I know something is going on, even second hand like this."

"You know what that actually makes me think of?" Dad had his glasses off now, cleaning the lenses with a cloth. "The Endbringers. You killed the Simurgh, but how sure are you of the other two?"

"Well, until you asked me that question, I would've said 'absolutely'." I frowned and scratched my lower lip with my thumbnail as I checked with Ending. "Everything I know says that the Endbringers and their legacy is being Ended. There's even a Tinker in New York who's going to be providing a way to get rid of Behemoth's radiation contamination, once she's finished dealing with the Grey Boy loops. But I'm beginning to wonder if I really know everything."

"I know nossink!" Cherie had been treated to a Hogan's Heroes marathon by Dad on our last pizza night, and it had left her in tears of laughter. "But seriously, is a fourth Endbringer possible? One that's trying to find out what happened to the other three?"

I shook my head. "Eidolon was the originator. His powers are gone, so there aren't going to be any more." Leaning back in my chair, I pulled my phone out. "There's something I'm missing, I know it."

Cherie tilted her head. "Are you seriously going to call a friend on this one? Who do you possibly know who can help you?" I knew she was partly joking (but only partly).

I adopted a lofty tone. "And they laughed when I set out to make the lives of people better, all over the city." Tapping in the number I needed and pretending to ignore the who, us? dumb-show they were putting on, I put the phone to my ear.

T minus 11 h 39 min

Oracle

Dinah Alcott sighed and pushed her cereal around the bowl. Her parents were talking brightly about how wonderful it was that the Mayor had arranged for the Betterment Committee to handle the rebuilding of the city, while somehow managing to dismiss the entire aspect of where the money was coming from. Her father sounded a little disappointed that he hadn't been picked by his brother-in-law to go on the Committee, but she suspected he would've been a lot less comfortable having to take orders from Danny Hebert. She'd never met Mr Hebert, but she'd heard he didn't take any kind of shit, ever.

She couldn't wait to get the bus down to the Boardwalk and meet up with the others. The shows she did with the rest of the Rogues' Guild were the highlight of her week, and just chilling with them before and afterward was all kinds of awesome too. To them, she wasn't just some dumb kid: she had their backs, and they had hers. And with Sabah's sartorial advice, she was the sharpest dressed kid in school, so there was that too.

Her phone rang, and she pulled it out of her pocket. When she saw the name on the caller ID, her eyes widened. She'd never put Atropos' number into her phone, for the very good reason that she didn't know it. But now she was getting a call from that very same number?

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, Atropos is calling me?

"Gotta take this," she mumbled, pushing back her chair, and escaped into the living room.

Of course she was going to take the call. She was totally sure (well, to a 96.432% certainty) that once Coil found out about her, he would've had her kidnapped and kept her drugged-up in his basement for his own nefarious purposes; Atropos had neatly nipped that in the bud by murdering him first. There was a reason she'd had Parian pattern her costume after the one belonging to the black-clad killer.

"Hi, Oracle," Atropos said as soon as she had the phone to her ear. "I need a question answered, if you're available." She sounded professional and businesslike, and had even managed to avoid making her request into a question.

"Uh, well, yeah." Quite aside from her own personal debt in the matter, while Dinah hadn't been there when Atropos saved the Guild from Bastard Son, she'd heard chapter and verse about it from those who had. Also, viewing the footage of the curbstomp Atropos had perpetrated against the eight would-be combatants—and everyone else who'd gotten in her way, or otherwise drawn her ire—had only reinforced her decision to side with the person who could kick ass with that level of style and precision. "Go ahead and ask."

"So, I've got the feeling someone's looking for me, but hasn't yet figured out who I am. If I don't make any prep in, say, the next twelve hours, and I'm attacked by this mysterious stalker, what are my chances of winning?" For all the worrisome scenario that she was positing, Atropos sounded positively upbeat about the whole thing.

Dinah didn't feel the same way, especially after the numbers popped up in her head. Even more bizarrely, a second answer showed up next to the first one, when she hadn't so much as asked the question for it. "Uh, without prep you've got a ninety-four point one three six nine percent chance of being dead in twelve hours. With plan A, you've got an eighty-nine point zero three seven percent chance of winning."

When Atropos spoke next, there was a frown in her voice. "Thanks … but I'm pretty sure I didn't ask for a second question. I do appreciate it, though."

"Yeah, I know." Dinah knew that shrugging or shaking her head would have no effect on a purely voice phone call, so she didn't do either. "I didn't even ask the question. The answer just showed up all by itself."

Atropos' response was somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. "Right. Gotcha. I'm guessing my power had a word with yours. Thanks. You may have just helped save the world. I'll see you later. Toodles." The call ended, leaving Dinah staring at the handset.

What the heck did she mean by 'my power had a word with yours'? Also, what did she mean by 'save the world'? Only Atropos could say either of those things and make it sound normal. Shaking her head, Dinah went back in to finish breakfast.

Predictably, her parents hadn't even noticed her absence.

T minus 11 h 38 min

Cherish

Taylor ended the call, but kept the phone in her hand as she turned to Cherie. "Okay, it looks like Plan A is a go. I'd like your help, if you're interested. Stage one, anyway. How do you feel about using your life experience to help people who've been fucked over by their powers?"

Cherie blinked, trying to connect the dots between A and B, but getting the impression it was more like A and Z. "How's that gonna help save the world, exactly? Or is this another 'Power of Friendship' moment that I'm totally missing the hint with?"

Amusement welled up in Taylor's emotional song. "Well, the power of friendship—no pun intended, this time—will actually feature here, but like I said, it's a two-stage plan. The role I've got lined up for you is in stage one. Stage two is where it gets really interesting. Or it will, once I've figured out exactly what I'll be doing, and to whom."

"So, why the reference to saving the world?" To Danny's credit, he managed to make the question sound off-hand. "Are we talking about Scion, here?"

"We might be." Taylor waggled her hand from side to side. "The only reason I'm doubtful is that I haven't yet made any moves against him. If I had, he'd absolutely know it was me, and he'd be blowing up my threatscape like Behemoth throwing a tantrum. Also, even if it was another cape, if they took me out, there'd be nobody to deal with Scion when the time comes. So, 'saving the world' applies either way. In any case, it's all quiet on the western front, so the jury's still out on exactly who's trying to get a line on me."

"It's a good thing Accord doesn't have our house bugged," Danny observed after taking a drink of coffee. One corner of his mouth quirked upward at Taylor's questioning glance. "He'd definitely be putting a hit out on you after mashing together two metaphors like that. But more seriously, Oracle's the precog, right?" He looked at her quizzically, his musical accompaniment shifting from amusement to concern. "I can't help but feel you're missing a bet by not asking her who's coming after you."

Taylor shook her head. "She wouldn't have been able to tell me, which is another tick in the 'Scion' box. But there have been other capes that were able to spoof Thinker powers, so at most we'd get a big fat 'maybe'."

"You know I'm in." Cherie had decided this for herself the moment Taylor asked the question. She owed Taylor basically everything: more importantly, they were friends. "So, what's stage one of your plan?"

Taylor put her hand on Cherie's shoulder in silent thanks. "Doing something nice. Because there's nothing like actually doing a good thing to use as a cover for doing a sneaky thing. Now, I gotta make some calls, and see how fast I can put this thing together."

Philadelphia

T minus 11 h 37 min

Mrs Jessica Yamada

When Jessica's mobile rang, she suppressed a momentary flare of irritation. She deserved time off on the weekend, just like everyone else. But everyone who had access to this number knew to only call it if things were getting serious, so she sighed and picked it up from the breakfast table. "You've got Jessica. What's the situation?"

"Hi, Mrs Yamada." The voice was both breezy and familiar to Jessica. "Sorry to bother you on a Saturday. Good news is, there is no situation for you to worry about. There is a favour I'd like to do for you, though, if you were interested."

All of Jessica's instincts immediately went onto high alert. Atropos had done nothing but good for the people under Jessica's care, but for her to call up out of the blue and offer a favour for free, there had to be an angle she was working. On the other hand, there was no point in being rude, and Atropos always made a point of being polite and reasonable. "I'm listening," she replied cautiously.

"You are actually correct. I do have an ulterior motive, but we'll get to that in a moment. The favour I wanted to do was pay a visit this afternoon to the folks in the PATOR facility and give them a bit of a pep-up. Congratulate them on doing so well, that sort of thing. At the same time, I was going to bring along a bunch of capes, teens and young adults, who haven't had the easiest time dealing with life in and out of costume. Get them to mingle and chat, and maybe share some of their coping mechanisms."

Jessica blinked. The initial admission had taken her entirely by surprise, which was possibly its intent. But that was nothing next to the proffered favour.

Giving Sveta and the others a chance to sit and talk to capes in a controlled environment, to ask questions they'd normally never get to voice … that would be huge for them. And Atropos' presence, considering the intensely positive light they saw her in, could only help put the gathering at ease. There was only one thing left to find out.

She decided that bluntness was the best way to approach the question. Atropos had built her reputation around … well, around killing anyone she'd said she was going to kill, but also around being plain-spoken, and never dodging questions. "It all sounds quite nice, but you did mention an ulterior motive. May I ask what that is?"

Atropos chuckled, as though she'd been looking forward to answering the question. "It's pretty simple, actually. I wanted to offer them work with the Brockton Bay Betterment Committee once they leave PATOR. Because of the Committee, we're currently host to Eagletons, ex-villains, case fifty-threes, and other people who have nowhere else to go. Nobody's going to care where they came from, or treat them differently because of it."

"Ah." As an ulterior motive, it was … fairly innocuous, actually, while at the same time being very much something Atropos would do. She remembered hearing something about Canary playing at a charity function for the Brockton Bay General Hospital; Atropos had been involved in that, too. "And there will be work for all of them?"

"Sure. Every time the Committee hires on more people and starts their induction training, Accord gets an update on their capabilities, and the plan for the rebuilding gets adjusted to accommodate the difference. Nobody gets stuck in a job they can't do, and there's work for everyone who wants it."

There was an aspect that Atropos hadn't mentioned, which Jessica didn't believe for a second the black-clad killer had forgotten about. "And of course, this would mean they're no longer our responsibility to house and feed."

Atropos was grinning by now; Jessica could positively feel it over the line. "That would follow, yes. So, your thoughts on the matter?"

Slowly, Jessica nodded, more for herself than Atropos. "I see no problem with it. What time were you thinking of showing up, so I can tell them to expect you?"

"I was thinking maybe mid-afternoon, going into the evening. That'll give both of us time to get all our ducks in a row. Sound good to you?"

Jessica still had trouble believing how easy it was to come to an agreement with someone who was so adept at visiting murder and mayhem on others. Truth be told, her interactions with Atropos had been unorthodox to say the least, but they had universally turned out for the good. "It does. I believe I will take the time to drop by myself, to see how things are going and to thank the capes you will be bringing along."

"That'll be nice. You've already met a few of them, so they'll be happy to see you again. Toodles." The call ended with just as little fanfare as it had begun.

Slowly, Jessica put the phone down again. Across the table, her husband lowered his newspaper. "I thought you weren't working today."

She found herself chuckling in disbelief. "So did I."

Composing herself, she took up the phone again. There were calls to be made.

End of Part One Hundred