0.8
'We are too late.'
The realization stung Velocity worse than he thought it would.
When the calls announcing that Fontaine had taken to the field against the ABB first arrived, the speedster barely had time to think before running out the door and leaving the rest of the team behind. Not something he usually did, as he favored teamwork and coordination, but this time something was different.
There was an urgency to his thoughts, a pressure that clamped painfully around his chest as he weaved and dashed around buildings, cars and potholes, looking desperate to find the villain before it was too late.
Before Oni Lee forced the girl to escalate.
It's almost ironic that a man who craved the freedom to run and do what he wanted with his time would feel so obligated to another person for the first time in a while. Even if he cared for his coworkers and the teens they mentored, Velocity couldn't say he'd ever felt this frantic since his time in the military.
'She'll be safe. She's stronger than everyone else in town.'
The reassurances rang hollow in his mind.
Yes, Fontaine was powerful. Unfairly so. But as the one who was forced to interact with her the most, Robin could tell that beneath the haughty self-assurance so often displayed by teenagers, Fontaine was… fragile.
Maybe it was the sudden bouts of self consciousness, maybe it was just the fact she was a recent Trigger, but he knew, deep down, that she didn't know what she was doing.
And Fontaine didn't know how terrifying the world could be.
If someone like that was scarred by a monster like Oni Lee… just how bad would it get?
The answer, as it so turned out, was horrifying.
Standing in the middle of a massive red puddle was Fontaine. Having ended the fight just over a spur of concrete jutting out into the Bay, the remains of her enemy had come down around her. So she simply stood there, looking shocked for lack of a better word, slightly hunched over and with eyes that seemingly stared lost into the distance.
She'd barely reacted when he showed up.
'She wasn't the only one speechless.'
What could he say? How should he react when you saw another cape standing on top of a puddle of vibrant, eerily familiar red. The cloying smell of copper and salty rain stinging his nostrils as Robin tried to think of something… anything he could say to break the somber silence.
Oni Lee was dead.
He had to be.
And his shoes were probably stained with what was left of the man.
He could also finally see the girl properly. Whereas before pictures and recordings of Fontaine were slightly blurred and distorted by the water layer she wore over her costume, now Velocity could see what the girl really looked underneath it and the bravado.
'She looks… small.'
No, perhaps withdrawn. She was young but what really made her feel small was the slouch in her shoulders and how her clothes looked half a size too big on her. Like a kid putting on their parents' clothes for the first time. It was hard to not see her in that light.
That was when the others arrived.
Armsmaster's motorcycle came roaring in first, a heavy duty model borrowed from the motorpool, followed by PRT vans not far behind. The group moving out into the boat graveyard and onto the scene seemed to finally snap Fontaine out of her reverie.
She looked at them.
Looked at him, yet Robin had the impression she wasn't really seeing them.
"Fontaine, we would like you to-"
Armsmaster was interrupted by a sudden roar of rain as droplets coalesced into existence, the air drying as they swirled around the girl to form a new layer, this one much larger than previously record, two massive wing-like appendages forming over her shoulders and lifting the girl off the ground.
From her back a large fish-like tail burst from her coat tails and a pair of shark fins from her sides flowed into being. Most importantly, her face was now completely covered by a dense liquid armor shaped like a helmet, concealing her identity as a massive glowing cycloptic eye flashed ominously at them.
Armsmaster raised his arm, shouting a command to hold position at the troopers as they came out of the vans.
Only to be completely ignored as the younger cape turned her back on them and shot out of the crime scene fast enough to make Velocity blink, leaving behind a spray of fresh water and a massive, now dry, bloodstain in the middle of the boat graveyard.
It felt ironic in a way.
The girl who helped clean up the very same place now stained it. Had Robin been the type for poetry he would have made a comment to that effect. Instead he almost found himself running after her.
But to say what? He didn't know.
"Did she say anything?"
The speedster shook the idle thoughts away as the rest of the Protectorate walked into the area, Armsmaster leading them in with a look that was a cross between confusion and annoyance.
Robin shook his head.
"Was silent when I got here, not a word." And given how chatty the girl was when they talked, that worried him more than he cared to admit.
"Should we follow her?" Militia piped in from her spot on top of a van, eyes trailing the shrinking form of the water cape as she flew away with her binoculars.
"No. We had orders to move into the Bay and resolve the ABB situation. The ban on directly confronting Fontaine still stands."
Velocity sighed.
'Try not to sound disappointed, Colin.'
Then again, she did kinda blow him off and leave without a word, but he was willing to look past that in lieu of the possible trauma the young cape was likely dealing with right now.
"Any other casualties?" He winced at the question. Not wanting to know the answer.
"No serious ones amongst the ABB, most are sporting broken bones and bruises, one or two might have gotten a cold but that's far from hypothermia. They'll live."
It was too good for them, in his humble opinion.
Shooting up the docks and blowing up buildings. Just what were they thinking?
"She's gone. Dove into the water." Militia supplied, one eye pressed to a scope that looked two steps shy of Tinkertech, and Robin let out a small sigh of relief. Though Oni Lee might have been the sole casualty… he couldn't help but feel like they lost something more important.
Or, rather, she did.
PRT Headquarters
Thomas Calvert felt inordinately pleased.
"Yes ma'am. My team is running analysis on the serial number right now. Armsmaster was more than happy to use his laser scanner to pull the filed off details and I've got two of my people investigating where the sniper rifle came from."
Piggot frowned and gave him a stiff nod, but the civilian contractor merely gave the director a polite nod.
Though, were he being completely truthful, he could tell her the rifle, the grenades, and several of the automatics came from a particularly industrious cartel affiliate who had been more than eager to help arm his own men. Where the ABB got a Browning fifty cal, however, he did not know.
"Honestly, the heavy weapons are a bit more pressing." Assault cleared his throat, speaking up in the small moment of silence. "Yeah, big gun scary, but those idiots bolted a machine gun to a boat and Oni Lee was packing some very illegal heat. I don't think I'm speaking for myself when I say that I'm really, really glad he didn't use either of those around civilians."
"No." Piggot said. "Merely on civilian targets, to taunt another cape." Ellisburg was heavy on her shoulders and the woman sagged. "Who has killed him and severely injured forty two non powered gang affiliates."
Armsmaster pressed a button on a remote, the computer screen on the briefing room's far wall beeping as his power point changed to the next slide.
"Yes. And, having confirmed with Brockton Bay General, Panacea has already seen to thirty of them, exactly, with the last twelve refusing treatment at this time." The man had his helmet off and his lips twisted up into something ugly. "Which I must admit is most likely our own fault."
Piggot's eyes narrowed, exhaustion banished in a single moment, as she turned to face her colleague with a great deal of sudden suspicion.
"Because we permit parahuman healing of criminal suspects? That legitimizes extreme force so long as it is nonlethal?"
A power armored shrug was answer enough.
"Dammit." She swore, softly, Thomas experiencing a moment of small wonder at the noise. "We've been leaning on a teenager to brush aside any collateral or complaints."
Knowing he'd better head this train of thought off now, lest the dear director decide to pursue a course of reform, he split the timelines and cleared his throat.
"With all due respect to everyone in this room, I don't believe that pragmatic or humanitarian reasons would encourage that train of thought. Both because minimizing the human costs of parahuman rampages keeps New Wave, and by extension all heroes, in the good graces of the people. It helps reduce spurious claims of excessive force or abuse by PRT and Protectorate personnel, a good thing and mere coincidence."
He paused for a moment, already dismissing the other world where he did not speak up and muttering broke out.
"I can show you the numbers on the sheer scale of a money pit other departments had to shovel their funding into dealing with immediately, verifiably, provably false allegations of just that. Or on just how often such claims are weaponized."
The others shifted uncomfortably, happy for the justification to settle for the status quo and the tacit defense of both their pragmatic and allegedly idealistic excuses for apathy.
"And what about Fontaine?"
Emily however seemed eager to jump to the next leg of the meeting. Nobody liked having to dwell on office politics and damage control. And really, everyone in the room had skills better suited for dealing with more direct matters than administrative ones.
Aside from Thomas himself, of course.
"Our team arrived at the scene and attempted to communicate with her. She appeared in shock and unsure, and left the Boat Graveyard before we could stop her." Armsmaster reported curtly, clearly displeased at being brushed off if Thomas said so himself.
"And we don't have any idea where she might have gone?"
The Protectorate leader shook his head.
"Our buoyancy sensors detected movement a few hundred meters off the bay area, but then she dove deeply into the ocean. Without dedicated equipment, we would be searching blindly."
Calvert nodded in acceptance, but made a mental note to add said equipment to his proverbial grocery list.
Wasn't there a Tinker up in Canada who specialized in underwater technology? Mostly working as a rescue and salvage operations expert. Perhaps with some resources he could procure some of his gear without too much of a fuss. Or approach the young man through a proxy.
One could never be too careful about mixing their private and work life.
Though, again, it would prove to be no problem for him.
"What a mess… are we sure we have no avenues of contact?" By now, he imagined Emily would be grasping at straws for a solution. Direct conflict with a parahuman capable of sinking the Bay was out of the question, and he was aware that she had been trying to establish a rapport with the girl through one of the more… personable members of the Protectorate.
They didn't need Armsmaster scaring her away, after all.
'Though in my personal opinion, Militia would have handled the job better.'
"We… got there too late."
Velocity was slumped over in his chair, mentally exhausted to the point it was seemingly affecting him physically.
"Maybe I could have tried to use a foam grenade, Oni Lee couldn't have teleported out of that, or maybe just distracted him or-"
"Or died yourself."
Armsmaster cut the main off, brusque, almost harsh.
"He was not playing with a teenager. And while we haven't seen him attack that viciously before, he was utilizing fragmentation and incendiary weapons, in addition to knives, a sword, and several handguns, some of which were loaded with modified, steel jacketed rounds."
The other heroes turned to look at their leader, who seemed confused, almost surprised his words had garnered such attention from his coworkers.
"To be absolutely blunt, I prefer that a young woman take a life in self defense, however tragic that might be, than for you to lose your life."
"Indeed." Coil agreed, short circuiting any possible deviation from the briefing. "The ABB is finished, now, once and for all. Lung has fled, any lingering remnants in the city have disappeared or returned to civilian life, and their assets have all been cleared out. In less than twelve hours, too."
His smile never wavered from politely professionalism, but he was feeling rather pleased with the fact that about two thirds of all the relevant accounts had been drained thanks to his little Tattletale and a few choice timelines.
'Lung might be a coward, but he's not stupid.'
The man had, understandably, cut his losses and moved to Boston after a fishing boat brought him to shore, and then one of his informants had reported sightings of the man.
Finding a way to contact him was a trivial matter. And the offer of a fresh start somewhere deep in the country with no major bodies of water was all it took for the dragon Shaper to cut off the deadweight and allow Calvert to wield them as temporary pawns.
Muttered comments about roaches, cowards, or simply people with a few more brains than the rest of their fellows went unremarked on as Piggot finished digesting what she'd heard. Seemingly coming to a decision and rising to her feet to announce it.
"And that's enough for now. Velocity, get some rest. Armsmaster, let me know if she calls again. Rennick, we have things we need to discuss. Remember, the do not approach order is still in place. Dismissed."
Thomas stretched as he rose from his seat.
While work was done here, there was bound to be more waiting for him when he was back home. With the ABB publicly excised, new opportunities were bound to appear, even if he'd failed to get much on the Fontaine girl aside from further confirmation of her overwhelming power.
'Maybe a different approach is needed.'
When playing against an unknown opponent, testing the waters and making acceptable sacrifices were viable moves. The loss of the ABB in its entirety as a puppeteered, suborned gang was lost to him, but most importantly Coil discovered one more thing.
His power hadn't foreseen Oni Lee's death.
Panacea
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
"Do I have permission to heal you?"
Her words grew more bitter with each reputation, even as those waiting on the great and wonderful Panacea of Brockton Bay General to make all their problems go away. And maybe it was because the last person had literally spit on her, but she was really, really struggling to not scream in frustration.
The thirty eighth thug, all asian, all the result of some stupid cape fight down at the docks, was still swearing even as she turned a mangled hand from a glorified sausage casing back into a usable limb, needing only to cannibalize some of the man's fat stores to fix what would have been an otherwise permanently crippling injury.
And he simply sneered, cradling the limb, eyes darting, as his good hand pulled against the handcuff holding him to the other side of the hospital bed.
Amy didn't bother saying anything and just walked away.
"Hey girl, you need some coffee."
One of the on duty nurses didn't even ask her opinion on the matter before shoving a cup of bitter, black, custom roasted good shit into her hands and slapping a pair of homemade muffins on a plate.
"No, I gotta handle the rest of the intake first." She sipped at the nearly boiling hot liquid and found it just short of scalding. "Delicious, thank you."
"Oh, those idiots? They declined to be healed. We got to actually do our jobs for once. You've got a few minutes to rest."
Suddenly confused, blinking, the Striker found herself in a chair without thinking as one hand idly moved food to her mouth and the other lifted a cup when needed. She was, however, extremely, inordinately pissed. Though the pins and needles pique had faded into a blue, sluggish sort of indistinct rage at the bitch who had made a game out of brutalizing the fools she had to put back together.
Yeah, yeah.
She knew the drill.
Self-defense, gangsters touting hand cannons, the full nine yards. Everyone and their mother made these arguments for use of force on PHO, yet she had never seen a cape be stupid enough to go through with brutalizing almost four dozen people because she happened to be having a bad day.
'Not since that Frostbite weirdo.'
At least that idiot just put half a dozen thugs on stretchers.
"Still… I suppose its good I got to the civilians first."
Amy didn't exactly have a lot of love for the ABB, in fact, were you to ask for her opinion, she had sometimes fantasized about a great many horrible things she could do to the gang of rapists and kidnappers. Usually after treating a girl who'd been raped or beaten just a little too hard and they had to drag her in for a quick fix up.
"But this new psycho, she killed Oni Lee, yeah?"
"Yeah."
The nurse, Jamey, nodded. Her brown ponytail bouncing slightly as she did so.
"Good riddance to bad trash, then. But is it too much to ask for an overpowered idiot that knows how to dial things back? I can't fix death if she has an 'accident'."
Nightmare scenarios aside, escalation like that meant the other villains in town would escalate in turn. And fixing up the graveyard aside, at least seventy people had been injured today because of the ABB and another forty two wounded in retaliation against the gang.
"Agreed. I'm just glad we don't have to worry about that psycho bombing anyone else. Stuff like that… I remember when that just didn't seem to happen in America."
About forty years old, with grey showing under the color in her hair, the nurse was, in fact, old enough to remember back when things had been different.
"Now we get to pick up the pieces."
"Yeah." The agreement came again. "At least most of it today were small abrasions and the odd broken nose."
Jamey squeezed Amy's shoulder.
"Thank you, like always."
The healer waved her off.
"My pleasure."
And if there was even less life in those words than usual, well, Jamey, the other nurses, the doctors, not one of them would bring it up.
For better or worse.
And then, when her day couldn't seem to have gotten any worse, the phone decided to start ringing. Amy's heart skipping a beat as all sorts of terrible scenarios flickered through her mind as the number for their 'secure line' flashed across the screen.
"I'm here." She tried to sound like she didn't want to yell a bunch of questions at the top of her voice.
"Sorry, Amelia. Is this a bad time?"
On the other end of the line, Amy recognized her aunt's voice. She sounded distracted, drained, but otherwise relieved. When she did hero work, Amy usually put her phone on silent mode so she could focus on her patients, the only reason she even heard the phone was because it was programmed for the secure line to always sound a unique ringtone for emergencies.
"No, no. I just got done. Is there… a problem?"
She could hear Aunt Sarah say something to the side, the call too garbled to make out what.
"No problems, no, but a report came in that Lung was spotted in Boston. I wanted to make sure everyone was safe and sound and when I called, there was no answer. You put your phone on emergency mode again." There was no accusation, but a plain recognition of her habits.
The veiled accusations would come later when she was home.
"Well, I'm okay so you can tell everyone for me. I'll stick around in case there's any stragglers and then head on home."
There was silence on the other end of the call for a moment.
"I was also calling to let you know we're having a family night."
Family night.
That was code for a New Wave meeting. Well, there would be burgers and a movie but the implication was that they needed to discuss what was going on in the city. And that meant an entire night stuffed in the same room as other people instead of peace and quiet in her room.
'Just what the doctor ordered.' She couldn't help the acerbic bite.
At least this time they'd have something interesting to talk about.
"And the others?"
"The kids were in school when the emergency calls came. Right now it's only us helping with clean up at the Graveyard. There seems to be an ongoing investigation…"
The implication was clear.
They'd be talking about this later.
"Yeah. I'll be there."
Amy hung up.
Her coffee was cold.
Hebert Household
Danny was going to buy a cellphone.
Not for him, not really.
He already had one he used for work, which he left turned off at home for reasons that should be abundantly clear to anyone who knew him personally. But lately, the situation at the city was starting to become too chaotic for his taste. Things were changing too fast, and what he thought as sureties in his life could be gone by the same time the next day.
He needed to be able to communicate with people.
More importantly, he needed to talk to Taylor.
Because, just like him, she had completely rejected the notion of using cellphones after the accident. But like any good parent Danny worried about his daughter. Worried that while he was stuck inside the Union building, praying and hoping that the heroes arrived soon to sort out the mess going on outside and that Taylor wasn't anywhere near the Docks when it happened.
'Her walks are in the morning, but she's usually home by ten.' He tried to reassure himself.
Taylor stayed at home for the most part. Sometimes she left home to meet with friends or get some exercise, but it would be out of character for her to be anywhere near the bay area when things started blowing up.
Why didn't she call, then?
His mind swirled with terrible thoughts, goading him into chasing the horrible trail and spiral downwards.
If Taylor was home, she'd have heard what was happening.
If Taylor was home, she'd have tried calling him.
Or at least call the Union.
They had a landline, she knew that.
'You're being too paranoid, Danny. Think things through. The bombs knocked the power out, even if she tried calling you wouldn't have heard it. And you didn't call her because you were too busy trying to keep people calm.'
Yes, that much was true.
He hadn't spent a single moment alone since the ABB decided to rampage across the docks. Keeping people calm, making sure they were as safe as possible, and later on coordinating with the authorities when they showed up to help clean up after the mess was over took a hearty chunk of his time.
It was his fault they hadn't gotten in touch earlier.
"She's probably worried sick about me."
Still, the thought of her being well and just angry at him over any other alternatives did a lot to calm him down. Especially after he ran half a dozen red lights to get home as soon as he could.
It took a while for the PRT folks to let them out of the building, the threat of leftover bombs was more than enough to keep even a rowdy bunch of union folks quiet and still as the docks were looked over for an hour. Only after the streets were confirmed safe they were let out.
And by then Danny's phone had run out of battery.
Just his luck.
His car rolled to a stop in the driveway as Danny slipped it into park and was out before the engine stopped rumbling.
Perhaps he was still a little jittery or perhaps panic had leant him a degree of speed he usually lacked, but clearing the squeaky step, opening the door, he instinctively sped up when he just didn't hear anyone.
"Taylor?"
He called out, even as he pushed through the empty kitchen and into the living room. The TV was off and there was no response.
"Taylor!"
His voice was sharper and Danny definitely felt a little panic once more coloring his thoughts as he jogged over to the staircase.
"Honey? Are you home?"
Reaching the top of the stairs in what felt like two steps, he couldn't help but jump a little when his daughter stepped out of the bathroom, yelping in surprise, before he finally, finally relaxed.
"Oh, Taylor, thank God. I'm sorry for scaring you."
Hand on chest, hair in a slightly damp ponytail, his daughter needed to close her eyes for a moment before nodding.
"Yeah. Sorry for that, Dad."
And just like that he had no idea what to say.
"I… you're ok?"
She was a little pale, her face was wan, and her eyes were red. Like she'd been crying. But, standing there in a T-shirt and baggy sweatpants, his child looked so pitiful. Yet he simply had no clue, no fragment of an inkling what to do, what to say.
"Dad…."
Her voice was broken and he moved, without thinking, to hug her.
But when Taylor flinched he did too.
"No."
She reached out to him, grapping the sleeve of his jacket.
"It's ok."
And hugged him.
Danny simply closed his arms around her, gently, pulling her tight, realizing she'd been terrified. His workplace had been bombed, people she knew had been in danger, the city itself had been attacked again!
"Shh, shh." He held her tight. "It's ok."
Sobs, half silent, though no tears, came soon enough. And as they stood there, perhaps in a somewhat awkward position, he just pulled her tight, promising Taylor that everything would be ok. Because, at least for right now, it would be. Even if maybe he was telling a little white lie.
"Hey kiddo." About ten minutes later, Taylor, still and quiet, turned her face up to look at him. "Why don't you head down to the couch? I've got a bag of DvDs I forgot about in the car, I'll go bring those inside. We'll order pizza and watch a movie tonight. Sound good?"
A nod and a weak smile. He just kissed the top of her head and walked his daughter downstairs.
Perhaps another ten minutes later he walked outside once more, sitting down on the steps of his front porch, and sighed.
"Hell."
Part of him wanted a drink.
Mostly he wanted his wife.
But above both of those things was a need to make sure Taylor was ok.
A deep breath of salty air, slightly cool as the sun slowly set and flickering street lights stuttered to life, and he centered himself.
'Things are really changing.'
And it wasn't all for the worse. The Boat Graveyard was cleared out, the Union was actually making money and getting contracts to dismantle the ships, and now, against all odds, somehow one of the three pillars of misery that haunted them for the best part of a decade was gone.
The ABB was gone.
And all because of a single person.
'Maybe we should try and get in contact.'
He knew more than a few people who were all too willing to throw the water controlling cape a party over the help she gave them. Others were more cynical about it, a cape was a cape, if not Lung then that meant they'd need to worry about Merchants or worse when they tried moving into the docks.
Only now they knew something much bigger and scarier was living there.
"We'll have to close down for a few days, evaluate if there was any damage to the ships. Maybe call the mayor's office." Rubbing his face and muttering to himself, the union man voiced his thoughts. He'd heard that the PRT was staying away from the docks because of the girl, and while for good reason Danny couldn't help but resent them for it.
The girl hadn't done anything wrong.
Kicking Lung out, cleaning the bay, literally, and dealing with a problem that was left to rot at their doorstep. And now they were isolated, having to huddle inside their buildings because they were too scared of someone who was trying to help?
Alright so maybe he was more than a little bit resentful.
'Calm down, Danny. That's your father talking.'
He took another deep steadying breath, pulling his phone from his pocket.
Maybe he did have time for a quick call. Today had been quite the rude wake up call for them, and if the PRT and the Heroes were gonna act like this, then they needed to adapt and survive.
'Now where was his number again…?'
"No." Danny shook himself, forcibly punching a different number into the phone. "Taylor first."
And so he returned, victorious, with movies he'd rented on the way to work, and then left under the back seat so no wandering eyes decided to grab them, and two pizzas, a two liter, and breadsticks on the way. Fiddling with the television took a little longer and so did getting settled in, but it was a sacrifice Danny was more than happy to make.
So, settling down next to Taylor, he was only too happy to punch play on an old musical, watching as people in colorful costumes danced and sang.
Simply taking in the show as his daughter leaned against his shoulder.
Because even if the world was on fire, this house wasn't.
They had this moment.
'This.' He thought to himself. 'Is good.'