Foxtrot 3.3

Rachel was still a bit of a mystery to me on the best of days. The devotion she had for her dogs was something I deeply admired, but the almost feral body language she had around people made it hard to approach her. She was short-tempered, lashed out often, and the one moment of genuine connection I thought we'd shared felt like a footnote in the events that had followed.

It was surprising, then, that she walked into the Loft the next day and immediately joined me on the couch.

"Judas, up," she commanded, pointing at me, and before I had really processed things I had a squirming mass of heavy muscle and fur panting happily away in my lap. Brutus and Angelica sandwiched Rachel a moment later.

"Hi, Judas," I sputtered, shifting a bit to redistribute the weight. "Oof. Not complaining, Rachel, but what's the occasion?"

She grunted. "Heard you hurt yourself yesterday."

I scratched under Judas' chin, nodding sheepishly. "Alec told you?"

She nodded, staring at the TV rather than look at me.

"Is she mad at me?" I stage-whispered to Judas, who responded by cocking his head slightly. I rewarded his participation by getting an itch between his shoulder blades that was throwing off his happy little tune.

Rachel grunted again, and I wondered if it was an answer or just her way of telling me she thought I was being annoying. Either way, I stopped teasing, and settled back in to watch the news with my new sofa-mates.

Alec finished up in the bathroom and walked back, stopping to look our way a moment. I shrugged, and he rolled his eyes, mumbling something as he moved on to the kitchen.

"You're healing okay?" I ventured. "I didn't see you after everything, but they'd worked you over pretty bad."

She glanced my way, then down at the dog melting into a swaying puddle as I worked through his itchy spots. "Concussion's annoying. Nose still hurts. Had worse."

"Same," I admitted.

Alec wandered back into the sitting area, a sandwich in hand. He grabbed the remote on his way past me, flipping through channels as he walked over to the recliner.

"Nothing's on," I warned him.

"Wrong," he said, stopping on a channel and leaning back. "11 o'clock on a weekday means Real Housewives of Toronto, followed by General Hospital." He took a big bite of his sandwich.

I grimaced, mentally preparing myself for the trials ahead. "Right, don't know why I didn't think of those." I shifted my arm and turned my music up a few notches, for all the good it would do me.

Lisa and Brian interrupted the drama TV marathon half an hour later.

"No, don't get up," Lisa called as she heaved armfuls of groceries up the loft stairs. "Well, Alec could stand to, but five bucks says he won't!"

"Too cheap to bother winning that bet," Alec said, making no attempt to move. "Make it fifty and I might surprise you next time."

"As if," Brian said, reaching the top behind Lisa with a dozen more bags in his hands. "You'd want at least enough for a new game, that's my bet."

"Sorry I can't help unload," I chimed in, waving my hand vaguely at my lap. "Rachel decided I wasn't getting up, and Judas is getting sleepy."

Lisa looked over the kitchen island at me, flashing a smile. "You're fine, seriously. Relax!"

"Sooner you two get better, the sooner we can pull a job or two," Brian agreed. "Gotta focus on recovery or you'll never heal. Boss doesn't want to meet up for another two days anyway, so forcing things isn't gonna hurry that up."

I thought about mentioning how it wasn't really about getting on to the next job, but I didn't think it was worth arguing the point. I wanted to help because I didn't want to sit around, not because I wanted to be useful or anything.

"Anything worth snacking on?" I asked instead. "We haven't gotten around to lunch just yet."

Brian looked down at the bags, then to the full loft. "I'll throw a few pizzas in the oven, I guess?"

A chorus of approval came from my teammates and I. Lisa and Brian went back to unloading, and the commercial break ended.

"I just don't understand the appeal," I commented dubiously as the show replayed the scene of a redheaded woman with an excessive plastic surgery budget screaming herself hoarse as she tried to chase her fellow 'Real Housewife' out of an overpriced boutique store. "I mean, what's even happening here?"

"Ally's pissed 'cause Fenn hit on her ex-husband at the baby shower for Denise two episodes back," Alec explained without looking away from the screen. "She thinks Lily here put Fenn up to it, and Lily just crossed the line by implying Ally had her shot with Dan and it's Fenn's turn anyway."

I winced. "That just made it even less appealing, actually?" I got exposed to enough of that kind of social maneuvering secondhand at Winslow, even though the attention of the Bitches Three kept me from getting sucked into the social hell.

He let out a long-suffering sigh, glancing my way for emphasis. "The whole point is that they're all terrible people, dork. It's like watching a bunch of cars blast through an intersection at full speed when the traffic lights are down, either they keep missing each other by inches, or you get some spectacular crashes to remember."

"In other words, he has the worst taste, and he's not apologizing," Lisa chimed in, plopping into the beanbag next to my end of the couch. "Luckily, now that we're here, you've finally got a tiebreaker vote. Alec, gimme the remote, you can catch up with your soaps on DVR."

"Not a democracy," Alec protested, and to punctuate his statement he pulled the remote free to turn up the volume.

Brian, who happened to be crossing behind Alec's chair at the time, casually reached over and stole the remote. "You're right, it's not," he said smugly.

Alec made a gesture, and Brian fumbled his prize with a curse. "Rude," he snarked as Brian massaged his forearm.

I sighed, and swelled the volume of Alec's tune for a second, tweaking it to match my music. He visibly flinched, eyes wide as he looked my way. "You wouldn't," he pleaded, a look of betrayal plain on his face.

I smiled sweetly, enjoying the sound of Pour Some Sugar On Me. "Oh, I would," I said airily. "Surrender, or sing for your supper."

"This is unfair," he complained, but didn't stop Brian from collecting the remote. "I can't fight a cripple, and I can't sing for shit. What's the point of being a villain if you can't watch TV without getting robbed by other villains?"

"You should ask Uber and Leet," Brian joked, and I almost laughed before my veins turned to ice. He stopped short, realizing what he'd just said too late, and opened his mouth to apologize.

Before he could shove his foot in his mouth, I cut him off, forcing my smile to return. "They learned that lesson the hard way, I guess?" I joked weakly.

Rachel huffed in amusement next to me, and Alec grinned, taking the joke for what it seemed to be. Brian shifted uncomfortably, but turned to the TV and started looking through the channel guide.

Beside me, Lisa rested a hand on mine and murmured, "Oh, hun…"

"I'm fine, really," I murmured back, only half-lying, knowing she probably caught it anyway. "It's done. No reason to kill the mood for their sake, right?"

She squeezed my hand in acknowledgement, and thankfully dropped the subject. Brian pulled up Rocky VI: Victory Cryin', and we spent the next few hours eating pizza and heckling the plot, which seemed to have mixed up Rocky and Rambo scripts and just ran with it.

Despite the moment of awkwardness, I found that I was smiling on the bus ride home, wishing I still had a big puppy in my lap to push the affection into. I closed my eyes instead, bobbed my head to the music, just letting myself get lost in the shifting pulse of the city around the bus as it traveled. God, how long had it been since I felt this relaxed?

In a lot of ways, becoming a villain was turning out to be the best decision of my life. Was it worth the losses? Not even close, not after Bakuda, but I could do better. I would do better, so that there could be more days like this one, so that I could look back and feel this feeling when I thought of my life after becoming a cape.

Dad and I decided to eat out for dinner, ostensibly to celebrate my recovery and return to 'work', mostly because I suggested it and neither of us felt like cooking. I had a fair bit of disposable income these days, and Dad was finally starting to get comfortable enough with it not to fret when I suggested using it.

It still felt strange, handling a big bill at a restaurant myself without blanching at the numbers. I had to remind myself that there were five digits in my account, and two or three wouldn't change that.

We were on our way to a diner in the Docks Dad knew for some late-night pie when my phone buzzed. Surprised, I dug it out, smiling apologetically as Dad shot me a meaningful look.

"No calls while we're on the road," I reassured him as I dug it out, even though he was the one behind the wheel. I still wasn't completely used to the thing, a shiny slab of metal and glass that seemed entirely too large compared to my poor MP3 player, which had succumbed to its injuries after the Trainyard. It buzzed again as I pulled it out. I fumbled for the screen wake button, unlocked the phone, and checked my texts.

Lisa: Smthn happnd, chk in

Lisa: TURN ON RADIO

Confused, I reached over to press the volume knob on the dashboard.

… advised to find shelter, as fighting may be widespread and indiscriminate. Several members of the group are convicted of murder, looting and terroristic acts, and under no circumstances should you approach any individual named in the leaked documents. The PRT is still verifying the information, and has declined to comment at this time. Again, for those of you just joining us, the mayor of Brockton Bay has declared a state of emergency following the release of documents alleged to reveal the identities of the parahumans and high-ranking members of the street gang known as the Empire Eighty-Eight. Citizens are advised to find shelter…

Dad had pulled over at some point in the broadcast as we listened in shock. My phone buzzed again, and I hurried to reopen it.

Lisa: T, u read me?

Taylor Hebert: Just heard the news. With my dad, not at my house. What should we do?

Lisa: 1 sec

Lisa: B livs dwntwn wit sistr & mite b trgtd, ur dad willin 2 hlp?

"Dad, Lisa says Brian lives downtown," I parroted. "He doesn't have a car, and he's got a sister. You don't have to say yes, but Lisa thinks we could get them out of there before things get bad?"

His hands were gripping the wheel, his knuckles white. I didn't even need the glance at his face to know it wasn't fear. He looked at me, and there was a pained rage there.

"I can, kiddo. You want me to drop you off? This could get dangerous, I've got a few stops to add myself."

I almost laughed. If he knew what I'd been up to to end up injured… Instead, I looked down at my phone and began texting Lisa for the address. "No, and we should get moving," I said as I typed. "If we're adding more stops, we'll need to hurry."

He put the truck back in gear. "Sometimes, I wonder about this city," he said as he drove. "Not two weeks ago we had a massacre, and now this. Shortsighted bastards."

I kept quiet.

"If I give you some numbers, can you call a few people for me, Taylor?" he asked suddenly. "If we're gonna evacuate a few people we know, we don't want to get greeted by a shotgun."

I nodded. "I can do that. Brian's apartment is 425 Atwood Street, he'll be ready when we get there. Who am I calling?"

"The Keels, first, they're near Atwood. Jim Keel." He rattled off a number, gunning it to make a yellow light.

The next few minutes were a series of short calls. Only three of them actually achieved anything, half of them going to voicemail and a fourth catching a man who was already out of town for a job interview the next day. Dad pulled the truck up to the front of a nice-looking building, and I texted Brian that we were there.

With the vehicle at a stop, I finally had a moment to gather some wildlife into my troupe and get a sense of the city. The night was raucous, a cacophony of sirens and gunfire that echoed through the concrete jungle around them.

"There's gonna be riots," my dad said quietly as we waited. "E88 was the last big gang in the city, and they've been eating up territory for weeks. Why would someone just throw out sensitive information like this? People are gonna die."

I flew some bats and a pair of owls up above the buildings, trying to get a good view while Brian's rhythm rode the elevator down with what I presumed must be his sister. "Revenge, maybe? Or whoever it was thought the cops and PRT would just bury it, maybe. Villains get free all the time, unless they scare people and don't have enough backing to get out anyway, right? Hookwolf's been on a Birdcage sentence for like two years, and he's still on the streets."

Dad looked at me in surprise, raising an eyebrow. "You sound like you've thought about it a lot, Taylor. You're probably not wrong about the motive, but…" He sighed. "Taylor, the system being flawed doesn't necessarily mean the system isn't better than the alternative, you know that, right? Winslow can burn for all I care, but that doesn't mean all high schools are gonna be like that, and the alternative is not having an education."

I huffed in disbelief. He thought I was talking about high school? If it worked as an excuse, I'd take it, but his words still stung a bit when put back into the context I had meant them. Would his words be different if he knew I was Earworm, that the person we were picking up was a villain and his kid sister? Or would he want me to throw myself to the PRT and just hope that maybe this time, the system wasn't going to screw me over just for being inconvenient?

Thankfully, Brian reached the truck before I had to come up with an answer, hurrying to load a complaining teenager into the backseat of the cab and pushing a small duffel bag into the middle before climbing in.

"I owe you one, Mr. Hebert," he said politely. "If Aisha got hurt, I don't know what I'd do."

"Call me Danny, and it's no problem. You two buckle up, I've got a few friends to bail out tonight myself."

Aisha bounced in her seat, and I was subjected to the brief, unwanted realization that the middle-schooler had more of a chest than I probably ever would, and her top really wanted to brag about it. "Ooh, we're doing an underground railroad bit? Or are you taking us across the border?"

Brian groaned. "Aisha, behave, and get your seatbelt on. Sorry about that, you two."

"You and Alec must never meet," I decided aloud, turning to face the road.

It was only because of my power that I could hear Brian mutter a brief prayer in agreement.