Fandango 1.4

It was before lunch, so I couldn't go home. Didn't have the money the Undersiders promised yet, and needed to research them anyway. I did have enough to drop by a coffee shop. I ordered a strong tea and the biggest, most unhealthy brownie they had, and sat there for a minute, eating.

Mmm, chocolate.

After my caffeine and confections had been consumed, I headed to the library, my mood somewhat recovered. I hummed along to the music, idly making some butterflies dance along in a nearby flowerbed.

I walked into the library, rented a computer, and sat down. I shouldn't stay long; people might wonder why a school-age teen wasn't at school, and I didn't need the attention.

Firing up the browser, I got onto PHO, and began browsing for info on the Undersiders.

Or I would have, if there was anything worth browsing for. The Undersiders were nobodies. Bitch was the only one I had even heard of, and I hadn't recognized her because the wikis all called her Hellhound, which had to be the most generic name I had ever heard. She was the most popular one among them, followed by Grue. Tattletale had a stub that basically said, "We are aware her costume incorporates the color lavender in some fashion," and Regent didn't even have a page on the wiki. I would have been upset by the lack of information, but I wasn't exactly looking for a flashy group.

Bitch did worry me, though; her past seemed checkered at best, based on her fan pages. I couldn't afford to reserve judgement here. I didn't know these people, not yet, and the lack of information made the decision harder to make. I still had to meet them tonight, and I wanted to have a plan by then.

Other cape teams in town. E88, ABB and Bridge Street Merchants, nope. Uber and Leet, unlikely. Coil? Nope, kills people, or otherwise has them killed. New Wave was a family team, and again, heroes, so probably wouldn't be friendly to a Master. Faultline's Crew?

I clicked the link, scanned the page. Faultline's Crew was a mercenary villain team, who did pretty much anything but murder. Much like the Undersiders, they'd be well-funded, so I wouldn't be short on money. They didn't get much flak from the heroes, as they only rarely did any jobs in town; but at the same time, I'd have to find reasons to leave for days at a time for work, while still in high school.

I sighed. I really didn't want to think about the thrill that idea gave me. I could just quit going to Winslow, let the bitches win. Join a merc crew, be a villain. But what would that do to Dad, knowing I was a high-end mercenary, putting aside my education and safety for the sake of a thrill? I wasn't ready to tell him how bad school was these days, and that would have to come out if I went that route.

Other independents in the Bay were just that: independent. They didn't want a teammate. Parian was a rogue, just wanted to make clothing, and Circus worked alone, and was versatile enough to escape if she pissed anyone off. There were some snippets about a guy named Browbeat, but I couldn't find much beyond that he was a Brute; he seemed fairly forgettable. The problems with a cape city, in a nutshell. The only way you stay independent is to never go out, or to be strong or quick enough to survive.

So, I had to decide. Go out as an independent hero, where my power would likely still make me a wanted woman, and where I had no safety net, but allowing me freedom? Join Faultline's Crew, with more safety in numbers and less heat, but sacrificing the last of my pride, my education, and alerting my dad to my cape life? Or the Undersiders, a riskier option, but one that let me keep my secrets?

I'd like to kid myself, say I wasn't mostly doing this for selfish reasons, but it wasn't really a choice. The Undersiders were the best option for me, right now. They seemed like okay people. I'd be upfront with them, ask about their histories, but barring complications, I could work with them.

Decision made, I checked on the forums.

At the top of the "Defeats and Captures" board was the listing for Lung's capture. I read the info given, but it was mostly speculation. The PRT did credit Armsmaster with his capture, but had apparently decided to keep the odd details of the victory to themselves, at least so far.

I was on their radar, though. No turning back now.

Other recent additions included an update to the ABB roster; A tinker named Bakuda had joined them recently, and her specialty looked pretty scary. She was responsible for the bomb threat at Cornell University a few months back, and as such, the best speculations said she created futuristic bombs. Combined with Oni Lee's tendency to do suicide bombings, it was a scary prospect. Worse, I had pissed them off last night, assuming word got out somehow; I would need to be on my guard.

I logged off the computer shortly after that, unsure of what I should do with my afternoon. Dad had a rather random schedule, so going home this early could raise questions. I had little money, and I didn't want to attract attention by playing hooky.

I could go patrolling- no, it wasn't a good idea. I might be powerful, but last night had made me aware of how important other people could be. Lung might have seriously injured me if not for Bitch's dogs, and there was no way I would have won against him if the alleyway hadn't been distracted.

I finally decided I was being stupid. I was in a library. I should just read awhile, put the morning out of mind a bit, listen to some more music. I headed to the stacks, and began to prowl.

Five hours later, I uncurled from the comfy chair and closed up Maggie Holt and the Mysterious Stranger. I debated borrowing it, then decided against it; I already had probably a hundred fifty bucks in textbooks to replace, and I didn't want to add a library book or two to that total. I sadly replaced the book in its spot on the shelves, committing the chapter number to memory in hopes that it might still be here when next I returned.

Catching the bus was hampered somewhat by the light rain that had approached as the afternoon wore on, but I got to the stop before I got too soaked. It did darken my mood; I was once again reminded of the day before, and once again I endured the glances as I got onto the bus, dripping a bit as I made my way to the back.

The ride was uneventful; a few ABB got on, but they made no trouble. I got off the bus, ran home in the rain, and noted the lack of a truck in the driveway as I made my way inside. I still had a few hours before the scheduled meeting, so I changed into some dry clothes, then got started on dinner.

I started up the water and preheated the oven, then dug out the ingredients to craft a tasty spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread. Meatballs were added to sauce to cook, mushrooms were chopped and sautéed, onion followed in kind. I mixed and melted garlic butter, added some sugar, parsley, and pepper, and brushed it onto the sliced Italian bread, humming along to the local classic rock station. It really was too bad they couldn't reach the whole city, but I picked it up okay at home.

Bread went in the oven, music went up, and I rocked out to some Led Zeppelin. Food got stirred, bread was checked, and I bobbed my head as Gimme Three Steps started up.

I may have busted out an air guitar for some parts of it.

Too soon, though, the song was done, and so were the other things. I unceremoniously dropped the guitar, diving into a flurry of activity to keep everything from burning and overboiling. I managed it, although I hoped Dad liked his garlic bread on the crispy side.

Speaking of which, there was no sign of him. His hours were flexible, based mostly on how many positions he could fill that day from the near-endless pool of unemployed Dockworkers.

I served up my food and sat down, twirling the spaghetti in time with the music. Ironically, ever since I had resigned myself to a life outside the hero teams, I had begun to realize just how far dad and I had drifted apart, and made a point to spend more time with him.

That said, I still couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth about the bitches, and telling him about my powers was just a bad idea in general. I couldn't exactly let him know about my plans for the night without that, and I hated lying to his face.

I speared another meatball, eating it with a bite of garlic bread. Maybe it was for the best that he wasn't home tonight. That decided, I finished my meal in a decidedly unladylike haste, and scribbled a note. Checking out a job offer, taking pepper spray, food in fridge, be back later; it seemed convincingly casual, and it wasn't even lying.

I put my costume and pepper spray in a tote, mentally beckoned my critters to dance along, and headed out into the twilight, whistling along to Devil Went Down to Georgia.

The meeting place was up north, surprisingly close to the alley we'd met in last night; a dismal, broken down area, filled with people the city had forgotten. The buses rarely came out this far; the few businesses that operated here were small, run-down stores that looked closed to my outsider's perspective; power was a luxury on some streets. Ostensibly, the ABB owned this area, but as things got closer to the old port and the boat graveyard, the lines between ABB territory and plain shithole started to blur.

I should have guessed that it was a good place for a small team to work from. Nobody would even care as long as they didn't interrupt the Lord's Street Market, which was only a few blocks away.

The building in question was an abandoned factory, red brick, massive yet shattered by time. The sign above the rusted loading bay door proclaimed to the barren, cracked street that this had been the home of "Redmond Welding", at least in its heyday. Now, it was a microcosm of the state of the Docks as a whole; crumbling, faded, full of vermin, and overgrown with weeds.

I made my way around the back, quickly changing into my costume, then made my way into a side door. Almost without thinking, I had taken the mice and bugs, and as I opened the door, they began forming little groups, swirling and marching to the music in the shadows. Four people and three dogs were inside, and while I didn't expect this to be a trap, I felt better having something to fall back on.

I closed the door, intentionally slamming it to draw attention. The people upstairs helped the girl on the couch- presumably Tattletale- up, and made their way down a spiral staircase while I waited.

First down the staircase was- shit, they didn't wear their masks?

I could tell it was Grue; his movements and body type fit. In the dim light, I made out a black tank top over rippling, toned muscles, dark skin, a strong chin, and either dreadlocks or corn rows, I wasn't entirely sure.

Behind him, taking the stairs carefully because his arm was in a light sling, was Regent. Under the mask, he was a stereotypical pretty boy; dark curls, sharp, almost feminine features, and lanky. For whatever reason, he was wearing a half-buttoned shirt, leaving it open in a 'V' through which I could see the wraps of bandages covering his chest.

Tattletale was next, a cute blonde with freckles and a quiet, knowing smile that widened as she looked my way. Surprising, since she was also in a sling, and distinctly favoring her left side; she must have been either hopped up on painkillers, or trying to power through her pain.

Lastly, Rachel Lindt, or her preferred name, Bitch, came down the stairs, followed closely by her dogs. She herself was large of build and strange of posture; her dogs were attentive, calm, and extremely well-trained, considering the mice they no doubt heard and ignored.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and I called out from across the derelict factory floor.

"Why didn't you wear your masks?"

Grue turned to me, and I strode out under a dim, dusty bulb, so he could see me better.

He shrugged, his expression that sort of confused 'I figured it was obvious' look people get. "We wanted to show some trust, for one. Figured thanking you face-to-face was better than some tense costumed meeting in a dark alleyway, you know?"

Regent piped up; "Yeah, plus the alleyway thing was just this side of cliché," pinching his good hand, "just before it went from 'too cliché', to 'so cliché it's funny'."

Grue sighed. "Ignore him, he's the team's loveable idiot. Every team needs one, or they get too gritty." He smiled conspiratorially, ignoring the punch that comment earned him. "You know how it is."

Bitch was looking straight at me again, like she had some problem with me. I met her eyes, trying to understand why she might have a problem with me; did I remind her of someone? Maybe she just didn't like outsiders. She dropped her gaze.

Tattletale spoke up, her voice slightly tinged with strain. "Why don't we head upstairs, and talk business? You could put your music on in the background, relax a bit."

I thought about it. If they had speakers upstairs, this was probably their base, and I had no idea of half their powers, or what kind of people they were. On the other hand, I did want to sit down; my legs were tired from the long walk, and it wasn't like they were more likely to have boobytrapped the actual base without boobytrapping downstairs first.

I nodded my assent, and Bitch was the first back upstairs. Following the others, I ascended the staircase, leaving the vermin to their dancing.