Interlude 3
Emma didn't know if she would ever sleep again.
After Sophia left last night, she had been an anxious wreck, but there was some level of comfort in it. She had finally told someone the truth. Told them about seeing Taylor's eyes in her window.
And Sophia hadn't even thought she was crazy! Sophia had also met a new cape in a hat and scarf that looked and sounded like Taylor. Maybe Taylor didn't die; she just triggered instead.
Sophia had told her what it took to trigger, a long time ago, and dying in that locker definitely had the potential.
Emma hadn't been able to tell if that was a good thing or not. Maybe she didn't kill Taylor after all.
But Taylor might still kill her. Sophia had also told her what she did to Stephen.
It hadn't mattered, though, because Sophia was going to fix it. Going to figure out what to do. As long as she was around, Emma could trust her judgement.
Then Sophia didn't come back.
Sophia was supposed to be the strong one. She was strong. If something happened to her…
What chance did Emma have?
Should she tell anyone?
That would mean coming clean about so many things. Sophia's extracurricular activities. The crossbow bolts that killed rather than captured. What they did to Taylor.
She might be able to keep Taylor out of it. Just tell them that Sophia left and she didn't know where.
But… if Sophia was okay, and something just came up, or she was indisposed and couldn't answer…
Emma couldn't make up her mind.
She couldn't even text her. If the PRT investigated, they would pull the text message logs for sure. Sophia had drilled it into her never to put anything incriminating in writing.
All she could do was wait.
The panic had been somewhat manageable, while the sun was up.
But now, alone in the dark, Emma started to crack.
Keep the walls up, Survivor.
The walls were nothing but a crumbling, fissured mess.
Her heart hammered in her ears.
She curled up under multiple layers of blankets, but she was still so cold.
Why is it so cold?
The door to her bedroom opened, and Emma couldn't even bring herself to look. She just huddled deeper, as if the covers would keep the demons away. Maybe, if she didn't look, it wouldn't be real.
Maybe it was Sophia coming back.
She knew it wasn't.
The blankets were ripped away and the cold washed over her.
Long, slender fingers held her face like a vice, pointing her towards the ceiling. The frozen steel of a gun barrel pressed against her forehead.
"Scream, and die," a familiar voice hissed in the darkness.
She had been right. Sophia had been right.
Emma stared up along the line of metal and into the frigid black eyes of her best friend.
Even shadowed under the brim of her hat, her face covered in a layer of silver silk, Emma would know her anywhere.
"Taylor," she whispered.
Emma still didn't know if this was horrifying or wonderful. It was certainly terrifying, but underneath it was a strange warmth at the knowledge, the confirmation, that Taylor was still alive.
That Taylor was strong, somehow.
Emma could see it in her eyes. This version of her best friend was hardened and tempered, a core of steel and an aura of blood that even she and Sophia never quite achieved.
I did that.
"Hello, Emma," the ghost in the night said, pulling down her scarf and revealing her familiar face.
Either Taylor would kill her, or she wouldn't. If Taylor was here, and Sophia wasn't…
"Sophia's dead, isn't she?" Emma whispered.
"Yes."
The dark eyes didn't even flicker.
Emma knew that she wouldn't be able to drag any of Taylor's pain to the surface, not anymore. She would never twist and tug at Taylor's psyche with her words ever again. Taylor had crystalized into a sharp and jagged weapon, and if Emma tried to play her games, Taylor would just kill her.
It was terrifying, and it was invigorating.
I did that.
"Are you going to kill me, too?" Emma asked softly. It would be over quickly, one way or the other. Taylor wasn't the type to play with her prey.
"I haven't decided yet. What did Sophia tell you?" Taylor said, the gun rock steady against her skin.
"Everything," Emma breathed.
Do it. Make the pain and the fear and the cold drift away forever…
"Are you going to tell anyone?" Taylor asked, her voice flat and empty in the dark.
Part of her wanted to say yes, just to make Taylor pull the trigger. Complete the circle.
Emma killed Taylor, so it was only fitting that she kill her in return. They were locked to the bloody wheel together, breaking as they spun round and round.
But she couldn't lie to her best friend. Not right now, not like this.
"No," Emma whispered.
There was another long moment of silence, then the cold steel finally moved.
"I should kill you, for what you did," Taylor said, still standing over her in the moonlight. "You deserve it. You're a monster."
"I know," Emma said.
"If you tell anyone, I will find you. There won't be a hole deep enough to hide you from me. And when I do, I'll make you wish I killed you here and now," Taylor ground out through a clenched jaw.
"Okay," Emma whispered. She had already known that. She knew the black eyed hunter wouldn't hesitate.
Taylor turned to leave.
"They're probably tracking Sophia's phone," Emma said suddenly. She couldn't help herself. "I know you don't… use them. So you might not have thought of it."
Taylor slowly turned and the dead onyx once again pinned her in place like a bug.
It was quiet for a long time.
"Goodbye, Emma," Taylor said softly.
And then she left.
…
Colin Wallis, known to most of the world as Armsmaster, never did just one thing at a time.
Several different rotating monitors displayed his ongoing projects while he toiled at his workbench.
On one screen, a progress bar and a constantly updating breakdown showed the ongoing additions to his combat prediction algorithm.
On another, the security camera footage from the Medhall building played, split into several different angles.
"We're missing something here," Colin mused aloud. "An experienced villain wouldn't have stumbled their way through a heist like that. And a new trigger wouldn't have jumped right into stealing from Medhall."
"I'm running a database comparison on the firearm used to bypass the doors, but I haven't found any matches yet," a disembodied female voice replied.
The final monitor showed the digitally generated avatar of his closest coworker and confidant.
Dragon.
"You don't have to worry about this, you know," Colin said. He continued working to downsize the power source for his visor. He didn't want to be limited to only using it while in his power armor. "I'm sure you have better things to do."
"Everything is fairly quiet at the moment, in the grand scheme of things," Dragon said. "Looking at local problems occasionally helps keep me from becoming detached."
Colin nodded and returned his focus to the footage.
Reaching up to manipulate the video feed, he zoomed in on the firearm in question just as the intruder used it to blow a sizable hole in the maintenance door.
An incongruously large hole, compared to the size of the gun.
"Did they recover any bullets? That gun seems like tinkertech, despite the antiquated aesthetic," Dragon said.
Great minds think alike. Colin was already looking through the forensic reports.
A tinkertech ballistic firearm that caused more damage than the size of the projectile would suggest. That was familiar.
Sure enough, the forensic image of the ruined bullet was undoubtedly similar to the samples he had tested from the massacre at the Empire stash house.
Found you.
If he compared the blood sample, he was sure it would corroborate his analysis. He put in an order to have the sample transferred.
"It's Carpenter," Colin said. "The vigilante that killed the eleven unpowered Empire members at the warehouse on Thursday. At least we have a costume to go with the crime."
"A Mover, and possibly a combat Thinker of some kind?" Dragon said.
"That would definitely explain how they overpowered the Empire foot soldiers. I'm curious about why they stuck to non-lethal takedowns at Medhall, but left the warehouse swimming in blood," Colin said.
"An idealist?" Dragon speculated. "Someone with a personal grudge against the Empire, or just doesn't want to kill people who aren't part of the gangs?"
"Murder is still murder," Colin grumbled, even if he understood the sentiment.
"People come up with all kinds of justifications. Everyone is the hero of their own story," Dragon said.
Colin nodded thoughtfully while he reviewed the evidence from the Oakland warehouse.
"They're either a Tinker on top of being a Mover, or they're working with one," he put his thoughts into words while he read. "I agree with the combat Thinker part, as well. From what I can piece together, they never missed a shot. Impressive, if they were using the pistol from the Medhall footage."
"Have you made any progress analyzing the bullet fragments?" Dragon asked. He knew that she had access to all of his data, but she liked to talk about it. It helped to articulate theories aloud, and he wasn't going to complain about the conversation.
"Very little. The metal itself is some kind of amalgam, but the ratio of mercury is too high for the metal to be solid at room temperature without some kind of stabilizing agent. Other than that, the anomalous properties continue to interfere with my equipment," Colin grumbled.
"So you're either looking at a new team forming, or at least a duo, or you have a very versatile new cape in the Bay," Dragon said. "A grab bag?"
"Possibly," Colin said, pulling up Carpenter's PRT database entry. "For now, we will operate under the assumption that Carpenter is a Tinker in addition to their other abilities. That leaves us with an obvious Mover rating, a Thinker rating, a Tinker rating, and I believe a Brute rating as well. Too much blood was found at the warehouse for a baseline human to recover that quickly, and they seem unconcerned about the gunshot wound sustained at Medhall."
"They could have tinkertech that enhances their durability or regeneration," Dragon suggested.
"The outcome remains the same," Colin said. "Until we have more details, we may as well include it. As for a threat assessment… Mover 5? Possibly 6. They made short work of the security guards, but an armored squad with parahuman support should be sufficient."
"They only utilized non-lethal methods at Medhall. We have no way of knowing how much more dangerous they would be with Tinkertech weaponry, or whether they would be willing to use it against us," Dragon reminded him.
"I'll go with Mover 6. Add on a Thinker 2, Brute 2 for the additional perception and regeneration. As for the Tinker rating…" Colin tapped the display thoughtfully.
"We really don't have enough data to accurately measure that," Dragon said. "The threat level can vary dramatically depending on preparation and available resources. It looks like they put that pistol together in a garage with a screwdriver."
"Hopefully we can bring them in without significant incident," Colin sighed. "We need more Tinkers, and Carpenter is going to get themselves killed going after the Empire on their own."
Colin took a brief moment to scroll through the most recent police reports. Nothing really jumped out at him.
Several clearly unpowered robberies, a mugging, a drunken assault, a domestic violence report.
There was a potentially gang-related bombing reported in the Docks, targeting the hiring manager of the local Dockworkers Union.
Slightly unusual, but ultimately irrelevant. Nothing that screamed parahuman involvement.
"We'll go with a Tinker 4, for now. The pistol and saw based weapon are dangerous, but nothing extraordinary. If they have tech that can boost regeneration, we can reconsider," Colin said.
"If it is Tinkertech, it makes it all the more imperative that we find them," Dragon mused. "Tech that can heal or regenerate biology is limited. It's a bit outside Blasto's wheelhouse, and obvious examples like Nilbog and Bonesaw are self-explanatory. I'll see what I can dig up."
"Thanks, Dragon," Colin smiled at her avatar. He was about to continue down that train of thought when his phone rang.
Aegis knew not to disturb him unless it was important.
"Armsmaster," Colin answered.
"Shadow Stalker didn't report for patrol, and we haven't been able to contact her," Aegis said. "I've submitted the necessary forms through the console, but I thought you may want to know."
Carlos was always straight to the point. He would be a good addition to the Protectorate, but Colin was going to miss having him in charge of the Wards. He dreaded the inevitable period of Dennis' leadership.
"Any word from her mother?" Colin asked. He didn't have time for Shadow Stalker's frequent rebellions.
"She never came home last night. Apparently that's not uncommon, though."
Of course it wasn't.
"Check in with Renick and see if they can reach any of her other contacts. Let's not fly off the handle because Shadow Stalker decided to play hooky," Colin grumbled.
"Yes, sir. I'll keep you in the loop," Aegis said.
"Good luck," Colin hung up the call.
Carlos would probably need it. Sophia Hess was a handful on a good day, and he wouldn't put it past her to pull a runner.
Still, he wasn't going to waste resources tracking her until they knew for sure. She probably just decided that this patrol wasn't important enough to show up to. He would let Emily handle the disciplinary action. She was better at it, anyway.
Besides, he had more important things to do.
…
Daniel Hebert blew up his own house.
That was not on the list of things that Thomas had expected to happen.
He reviewed the multiple gunshot reports prior to the explosion.
Someone had clearly attempted to invade the Tinker's lab. Did the intruder fire the shots, only to trigger the lab's defenses, or was it something else?
The Cape that assaulted his base to free Daniel used a pistol. Both the pistol and hammer they used could have been tinkertech.
That's if they were even a cape at all, and not an autonomous creation of Daniel's.
They had known his name. Did that mean that Daniel did, too?
In one timeline, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed.
"Hey, Boss," an overly enthusiastic voice chirped.
Sarah knew that it annoyed him.
"Tattletale. Please analyze the police report sent to your email and provide any inferences that are not immediately apparent."
"So impatient. Can't I finish my croissant first?" Tattletale whined.
"I am confident in your ability to multitask."
"Fine, fine, one moment."
Thomas studiously ignored the obnoxious chewing sounds on the other end of the line. He could set up a timeline to kill her for his own amusement later.
"Huh. Weird. Well, it's not actually gang-related, but you probably already knew that. Best I can tell, this Hebert guy blew up his own house. Maybe tinkertech explosives? Probably hiding something." Tattletale speculated.
Thomas already knew that, too. Unproductive.
"Reports of gunfire. Dude shot someone and blew up the house to hide the evidence. No, something else. He shot someone, was worried that the gunshots would draw attention, then preemptively blew up the house to cover whatever was inside. That's… certainly a course of action."
Again, nothing that Thomas hadn't already put together on his own. Although it was nice to have his inferences corroborated.
"Anything else?" Coil asked.
"I doubt the explosion would have completely destroyed the body, so he must have stashed it somewhere," Tattletale said. He heard her take a sip of coffee.
That was something, at least. Daniel probably had a secondary lab, even though Thomas had never seen him go there. That would also explain why he was willing to destroy his primary residence.
He would have to reassign his surveillance teams, now that the Tinker's previous routine was disrupted.
Thomas closed the timeline without saying goodbye. Interacting with Tattletale exacerbated his violent tenancies and he needed to be level headed when planning his approach.
Someday, he would figure out the nature of Daniel's powers and his relationship with the Cape who knew his name. He had all the time in the world, after all.
…
Victoria Dallon found herself feeling strangely excited as she landed carefully in the hospital parking lot.
Her sister had been in the same rut for such a long time that any improvement was cause for celebration. Vicky did her best, but nothing she did seemed to drag Amy out of her perpetual funk.
Of course, the double dates weren't a fantastic idea in hindsight, but that wasn't her fault!
Victoria could understand why Amy wanted to keep this on the down low, though. The publicity surrounding New Wave was a constant factor to consider, even if their mother went a bit overboard with the image. They relied on public support, and every aspect of their lives were potentially open to scrutiny.
There was also the Empire to consider. Fucking Nazis.
Still, Amy could have told her.
The girl with the messy black curls and mischievous smile seemed nice, from their very short interaction last night. Less immediately spikey than Amy, at least.
Maybe Victoria could convince Anne that the double date idea had merit, and then she could stop Amy from being so critical of Dean.
She'd work out the details later.
Victoria spotted the red and white hood leaving the main doors. She floated over as Amy made her way across the parking lot.
Her little sister looked… relaxed, in a way she hadn't been in a long time. Amy normally kept her shell of spikes and acid up all the time, hunched in on herself and glaring at the world like she dared it to try to get any closer.
Tonight, Amy looked calm. Centered. Her shoulders didn't hunch and she didn't hide under her hood.
She even smiled when she got close. Not a real smile, but an ever-so-slightly upwards smirk on one side of her lips.
Which was basically jumping for joy, in Amy-land.
"Did you have a good time with Anne?" Victoria asked with a smirk of her own.
And the scowl and narrowed eyes were back, right on queue.
"I told you not to talk about her. It's none of your business anyway," Amy snapped.
Hmmmm. Trouble in paradise?
No, no, Amy was happy before, when she wasn't thinking about it too hard. The totally-not-a-thing was going well, and Amy just didn't know what to do with that, and didn't want to talk about it.
"I'm your sister. Your business is my business. It's in the contract," Victoria said lightly.
"I don't recall signing anything," Amy rolled her eyes.
"It's informal. Besides, I want to know! You've never done anything gossip worthy, ever. I'm starving over here," Victoria whined.
It sounded like whining even to her, but she really did want to know. Both because Amy needed to learn how to open up about this stuff to someone who actually cared, and because she really wanted to know.
"Fine," Amy kept up the scowl, but it didn't seem as rough around the edges. Victoria hadn't actually expected her to agree. "We hung out on one of our breaks. She talked about her plans for the evening, and her work. Are you happy now?"
Yes and no. That was more than she had ever gotten out of Amy about anything even slightly approaching a love-life before, but it was also depressingly bland. Obviously Amy was leaving out the interesting parts specifically to drive her insane.
"Come on, that's boring! I mean, I'm glad you're talking to people other than me, but still! Give me something!" Victoria pleaded.
Amy glanced over at her with a strange expression, like she couldn't decide whether to give into her demands or not.
Progress!
"Do you promise to shut up about her for at least a few days?" Amy asked, raising an eyebrow under her hood.
That was… probably worth it. She could control herself for the rest of the weekend.
"Deal," Victoria smiled.
"She brought me more cigarettes. They're the wrong brand, but they're not terrible," Amy said, the hint of a smile returning.
"Amy! I thought you quit! You told me you did!"
"I lied. Deal with it," Amy said casually.
Victoria frowned at her.
"She shouldn't be aiding and abetting your crappy coping mechanisms," Vicky said.
Something about that made Amy laugh harder than Victoria had heard in a while.
"Oh, Vicky, you have no idea," Amy said, shaking her head.
That was a bit concerning.
"Come on, let's go home. It's cold," Amy said, the ghost of a smile still lingering on her lips.
"I just-"
"Nope, you promised not to talk about her for a few days. That's at least three. I'm holding you to it," Amy said.
Now it was Victoria's turn to glare.
"Fine. But we're not done talking about the smoking thing," Vicky said.
Amy waved away her concerns like she was batting at an annoying fly.
Vicky wasn't sure if this newfound confidence was a good thing or not.
…