======== SAMPLE 1 ======== ,"‘he could see them, for the other world that was nearby, in the shadows near the edge of the balcony. The D.T. officers had collapsed, blood streaming from their eyes. He knew exactly which way the damage was, and he was rapidly running out of time to help. It was like seeing a doctor work, only he was really touching people’s wounds, dressing them. The people here were only human, and he was destroying them, slowly, methodically, with a kind of grim despair. The other world was disappearing, just a question of when, not a question of a place. -the D.T. officer near the beginning of the balcony had collapsed, blood pouring from his nostrils. -didn’t move, only lie there, struggling, trying to inject some life into an ugly situation. -did nothing, but he was spreading fears, suppressing every thought except his immediate surroundings. -he was being forced to use his power, and it was doing very little good. ■ "It just struck me," Jack spoke, as he opened the door to regroup. "The irony of your being wounded the way I am. You would choose healing over destruction." "You injured me." "You would. But I rather you be the healer than the one who gets hurt." Jack smiled. He gathered all of their disparate information. What he did knew was often wrong, but he felt it all connect. It was reality. Everything they saw, every part of the body he touched, each part played a role in how that part performed. It wasn’t much, he couldn’t even touch the tips of each finger, but it served as a foundation. Each touched a part of the body he’d never touch himself, viewed as an abstraction. -Gone were the days where he could chart a course and then fly. Nowadays, the opposite was true. Everything was colored by things he couldn’t see, by the things he could’t touch, things in between realities. Some parts of his psyche demanded he touch others. The nipples of his cranium, his pink skin, the eyeballs that harbored the ghostly images of his deceased teammates… some, like the horns of his skull, he couldn’t touch at all. He touched his chest. Chest. Solid. Not warm, but not as bad as it might otherwise be. He felt the steel of Jack’s knife on it, the tension, the pressure, a dull ache. He touched the ‘cage’, a metal room with doors inside. It was black, far more so than he’d seen before. Each door was labeled. -Gone were the days where he could chart a course and then fly. He flew forward, seeing more of the prison on his every passing hour. -Gone were the days where he could chart a course and then fly. -And the days where he could chart a course and then fly. -Gone, in large part. -He flew forward, seeing more of the prison on his every passing minute. -Gone were the days where he could chart a course and then fly. -Gone were the days where he could chart a course and then fly. -Gone, in large part. -He flew forward, seeing more of the prison on his every passing second. -Gone, in large part. -He flew forward, smelling the sweat, the cold, the open windows and the noise. A murmur ran along the length of his spine. -Gone, in large part. -He flew forward, finding his way, finding the cogs. -Gone, in large part. -He opened his mouth to speak, and he could hear it, though his ears were deaf. -Gone, in large part. -The journey was so quiet, so quiet, so dreamlike, so abstract. A kind of suspended animation. He could picture it, the feelings one must have, if one were to travel back in time, if one were to imagine oneself where they were in the past, where they were now. -Except it wasn’t real. It was some elaborate trick, a trick he couldn’t grasp. He flew through a series of reverie, the images he’d seen becoming blurred, disappearing. He flew through another series of reverie, this one of Niflheim, his host. A kind of home invasion. And he came face to face with Weaver, who was standing a ways away. -Oaf. ======== SAMPLE 2 ======== ," she said, her tone bored. "I’m going to kill you," he said, in the same instant she was supposed to turn on me. Then he laughed. It was a sound barely audible over the city, but it still managed to bring tears to her eyes. The pair of them walked out of a small supermarket, itching with self-pity. I almost liked being able to ignore them, because it gave me an excuse to procrastinate. The wind blew, and it stirred the snow. I shivered. My legs were aching, and it wasn’t just from the cold outdoors. I could barely sit upright, and every movement brought painful stings up from the blistering cold. The shops had all closed down, and the streets were empty. Here and there, cars still lined the streets. People were running scared. In one spot, I saw a group of men and women sliding down a snowy street in the dead of night, holding hands so they walked in the opposite direction and slowed to a walk. I wanted to see more, but I couldn’t spare the energy. I reached out with my power. Focus. The subject of my thoughts abruptly shifted. The area in which my thoughts moved the fastest was my right hand. My right index finger was beneath the thumb. I had an arrow pointing to my left. I cranked it up. A street view. I’d taken a picture of it, once upon a time, when I first found myself here. A man in a suit, walking a dog. The man’s face was peevish, teeth set in a perpetual grim frown. He spoke, and the accent was clear. He’s from London. I knew my way around the Tower. It was why I had been telling myself I had to help the people of this country. The man didn’t listen. "You’re not allowed on the premises, let alone invading someone’s privacy." "But-" The accent changed to Pakistani, "That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?" The man’s face crumpled. He flopped over, his hands on his stomach, eyes wide with fear and anxiety. "I’ve already told you why I’m here. I’m on their side. Not mine, but they think we should help. This is their fight, not mine. If I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have asked." He shook his head, his shoulders going rigid. "Listen. I’m not going to make any enemies with my message, even if you kill me the second day. But you killed those people. People I’ve cared about for months. I might even forgive you, if you thought my message was worth it." The man slowly slumped over. He shook his head violently, as if to shake off the words. A child could have done the same. I only managed a forced chuckle. "If you want to treat my people like you did in the Army, then fine. I won’t judge you, but I won’t defend you either. But if you’re going to stick around and make this into a job, then you’ve got to learn to return my regards. And if your boss thinks you’re cutting you too close, then know that I’m going to be sitting this one out." The man slowly sank into a chair and disappeared. "What I’m saying," I said, "Is that if you want to prove you’re a man of real value, you should consider the sack. If you want to prove you can cook, clean, lift a dead man’s foot, then you’ve got to improve your manners and learn to cooperate. If you want to stand out, you better make yourself at home, or you’re going to make yourself a latecomer." The man groaned and made a sound of discontent. "If you think you can do all that, then fine. If you’re content to work your ass off for my brother and my sister, then I’m content to let you keep working for me. I won’t be offended if you take five thousand dollars, walk away with it, or give it to one of my people. Just so long as you treat me fairly when you do that." "It doesn’t really matter," he retorted. "If you think you can clean up the city and get things running again, then I’m going to refuse you the job. Period. If you want to vent your anger somewhere else, come ======== SAMPLE 3 ======== ," I said, emphasizing the ‘I’. "You’re scared," Regent said. "A bit. I think my guts are boiling with anger, and I feel like I’m going to throw up any second." "So it’s a good thing you don’t have a power," Tattletale said. "Because you’ll be wishing you had one, for this very reason." "I wish I didn’t," I responded. "I feel like shit. I’m more depressed now, and my power’s not helping." "There’s hope, though," Tattletale said, "Most definitely. If you give it a serious try, you’ll find that you can alter probabilities and find solutions to almost any problem. Whether it’s getting home, getting one’s bearings in a given situation or figuring out who’s in control of themselves. It might even help you in the long run." "I hope so," I said. "Fuck it. I don’t want to stop and get a hang of this. I’m going to get in a fight, and some asshole is going to snap." "There are options," Tattletale said. "There is a reason you have your mask on, here. A large part of that’s because you wear it to protect yourself, while you’re making yourself vulnerable. Your face and body will be harder to find, more difficult to change the odds. But there’s other ways. Playing it safe, being reckless and opening yourself up to being defeated by someone who isn’t even on the same page as you. Playing it safe, even, but also trusting your gut and knowing that there’s nobody closer to you." "What if I told you I knew more about that girl over there?" I asked. "Well, that’d be your chance to strike a deal," Tattletale said. "First come on the deal, first serve. If you want to hit her, you hit her. If you don’t want to, you fuck it up." I frowned, but I didn’t refuse. "Get in the habit of hitting," she said. "It gets your priorities in order, your dogs in order. Work on making the first move, be aggressive with your aggression. It’s the only way to stop someone you care about from mounting a bait-and-switch. You can also do it without demonizing the guy you care about." "Not my thing," I murmured. My mind was racing. If I passed this up, it would be a life-changing mistake. "You say you don’t care about your dogs. But you paid me to help, didn’t you? That’s more than you’re used to. Get it? The same thing with Cauldron. You don’t feel bad about stealing something from them, because they made it so good." "Sorry," I responded. "Nothing about this. I… I don’t generally own up to my feelings, but I do have a kind of guilt. I really did abandon Aisha because I knew she wouldn’t be useful in a pinch, and I really did have to sacrifice myself because I had to protect the people I care about." "Personal responsibility." I nodded. I glanced at the others. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t quite figure out my tone. "Yeah. That." "He was nice, wasn’t he?" The question came from Lisa. I chuckled, briefly. "Skitter. How’s the farm?" I paused. God, am I tired. I glanced at Lisa, who didn’t look thrilled. "It’s not going well," Lisa admitted. "The chickens’ head came off during the fighting, and Alec is having trouble adjusting to his new body. We stopped by a doctor, and he said he fits somewhere between a toddler and a toddler, so he could be a toddler for half the day, and he wouldn’t mind a bath." "Thank you," I said. "I’m going to rouse, then talk some more." I sensed her getting up and heading off, and pulled on her jacket to climb into the next car. Rachel was in the passenger seat, her hand on the wheel. My search of the library turned up too many books. I gave up and stopped at the front desk. "Aisha is currently being held in custody by the Hero・Per ======== SAMPLE 4 ======== ," her voice was hushed. The woman turned to walk away, stopping at the edge of the parking lot. She glanced up at Parian, "That’s my daughter," she spoke. Parian looked confused. "She didn’t say anything. I think she was heartbroken, and I think she blamed us for what happened to her." "I… what did you do?" Parian asked. The woman didn’t answer. "I didn’t do anything," Parian said. "But you made her happy," the woman said. "She misses you, even now. I wanted to believe she would go back to being normal, after being cut. But she doesn’t. And if she does get better, I hope she realizes you’re her mother, and that this is her home. I don’t care anymore. That you took care of her, after I made her wear a uniform and tell me she’ll die in childbirth if I leave her like this." "No," Parian said. It hurt to speak. "Don’t. Don’t tear her family apart, just because you think I’m a bad person." "I’m almost done saying everything I want to say. I won’t turn anyone away, but there’s certain things I won’t be able to. I’ll concede this, but I’ll have to decline your offer to join me in trying to find those things. I’ll try." The woman turned to leave. "I’m… I’m going to stay. I’ll be a good mother. I’ll make my peace with this." "I’m sorry," the woman said, quieter. "Be… because you love her? I… I’ve tried to be a good person, and it’s just… there’s something about her that… screws me the fuck up. And it’s all been explained to me. It might even fit. Maybe it’s… all the shitty person things I’ve put myself in. All the shitty person things you’ve done." "You’re not a person who responds to therapy," Tecton said. "It’s worse, I think. You’re the worst kind of parent. The… what’s the word? The… the bad influence of… maternal instinct? Overly maternal, maybe. Over… controlling, says the child they’re supposed to emulate." Parian turned to leave, and Glory Girl’s hands clutched Parian’s own. "What did you do?" Parian asked, horrified. Glory Girl looked at Tattletale, her face knit together in concern. "Nothing. I… I’m sorry. We’ve tried to be good parents, and I’ve tried to be just as forgiving and considerate in some other areas, but sometimes I can’t let go. Sometimes I can’t let go, and sometimes I deny it all, and stuff just feels wrong, or ugly, or ugly nonetheless." "You can’t stop thinking about it?" "I’ve been trying to make space for Dinah, and it’s… not a thing. Things get more difficult with every day I don’t have the help of my dad’s friends, and… I don’t want to sound negative, but I feel like I’ve accepted Dinah more by default, because she’s in a bad place." "Does that mean you want therapy?" the woman asked. She sounded angry. "Yeah. Definitely. It’s that kind of environment. You get to talk, you get to ask questions, and you get to feel listened to. It’s nice." "It’s not something I need anyway, and-" "It’s therapy," Glory Girl said. "It’s… it’s the only place I can go. Everyone else is… run of the house. I’m out here alone." "Why?" "Because I want to. I’ve been trying to make peace with the fact that I’m going to be a motherfucker, and all I want is for Dinah to be where I am. So maybe I salvage this relationship, and have you join me in helping her get home." "You’re trying to hurt her, and turning her into a prisoner?" the woman asked. "I ======== SAMPLE 5 ======== ," She replied without turning to look me in the eyes. "And maybe he won’t. I don’t know. So maybe I should just do what I want. Break him?" "It’s not the easiest thing to do," I admitted. "Because it’s going to get people hurt." "Yeah," I said, and I was almost glad that I couldn’t tell her how much I really felt. "But if we can’t get him out of here before night is over, and if we can’t get him home, then I don’t think we can get anyone hurt doing this, and I think the Protectorate will suffer for it." "Don’t," Tattletale said, stopping me, "Don’t be stupid. It’s not like you have any particular strengths or weaknesses. You’re strong enough that if you put one point in and it doesn’t do any good, you can just keep adding things." I shook my head. "Good capes don’t need to know." "What?" Needle and thread asked. "Don’t be stupid. Good capes don’t need to know everything. There’s bound to be stuff that’s useful to know, and it might be something that works in a given situation," I said. "You know how I’m going to handle this. I won’t mince words, I won’t give away the nuts and bolts. I’m going to tell you guys to leave the city, leave Brockton Bay, and if you’re willing to work for it, to help support us in going out and grabbing those people we need." I knew the Wards would be on the line, but it seemed to me this was the best way to go about it. "Okay," I said. "You want to do this in your territory, territory that hasn’t been cleared by capes, by parahumans." "Yeah," I said. "Which is it, then? Do you want to be the capes who set an example, go out of their way to help people, or do you want to do as we asked and come back?" "Whatever," I said. "If you’re going with the Chrysalis interpretation, then I’d say you’ve got three options. Pick one, and we’ll see if we can’t tighten things up enough to be useful, or you can try to bust us out and use us." "Either way, it doesn’t look good, you two." Tattletale said. I turned to look at her, "We’re getting into another fight, and I’m not sure I can do this," "If you blame me, you’re more likely to do it right." "I hadn’t. If you’re going with the Chrysalis interpretation, your option is to accept it and help us, or don’t help us at all. It doesn’t sound very noble." "My options are… accept it and let me die or let Coil kill me and I’ll probably get turned into a human test subject." "There’s a middle ground. Coil’s going to kill me for our own good, and I’ve dealt with the risks. In the interest of bringing us in line with everyone else and giving us the benefit of a doubt, I’m okay with giving you the benefit of a doubt." "Okay. But you’re still going to do this." "This is a little different." "I’ve thought about this sort of thing my entire life. Working toward something. Decades ago, I even started to think about what happened when I was young and powerful. What happens when someone is both powerful and young. Not so much the case with us, with you. I suspect that if you followed my line, you’d wind up right here, after all of this." A long silence stretched out. I didn’t dare open my mouth. "I suppose my line is a middle ground between the two extremes. Either you’re a very young teenager with powers, and I was a thirtysomething adult with powers, or you’re both powerful and young. Either way, it doesn’t really matter," Tattletale said. I looked at her. "If it doesn’t matter, what does it matter?" "It matters. The world will end in a matter ======== SAMPLE 6 ======== ," she shrugged. "So she’s not a cape. She’s a villain?" "I think she’s pretty much a villain. She wants to be," I said. "I think what she said about wanting a team to work for her, the whole humiliating incident, it had something to do with that." "Not sure I buy that, or if you’d made that connection and I’d been a villain working for Coil. But I think so." I glanced at her; she wasn’t smiling. "What does she want from me?" "Nothing big," Brian replied. "Nothing big," Lisa conceded. "Just saying, I’d say something reassuring and then some." I nodded. I was feeling better. "Thank you, Taylor," Lisa said. "I’m glad." "I’m alright," I said. I could maybe sense the others around us, my dogs and the various people packing light and simple packing materials into their bags. "Where are you?" "This cell. It’s more isolated." "I know. I was just visiting." Lisa nodded, guileless. "Do you have a book?" "Full-length novels," I informed her. "Not a lot, but there’s stuff." "Alright. I’ll look forward creating some light reading material for the younger groups." "That can be arranged. I’ll meet you halfway." "I’m going to go, let me get my backpack and then I’ll meet you halfway," she said. "That’s fine. We’ll look forward to it." "I’m on the way," she replied. There was a pause. "Skitter," Alec said, "Ready?" "As soon as I can," I answered him. "I still have to clean my room." "Fair enough." We retired and got our things out. I took the time to tidy up my old notebooks and clippings, and organize them by interests. My list of errands and places I’d gone grew to include a detour I’d taken on my last excursion, visiting some of New Wave’s more notable leaders. Portland, Oregon. My list of errands and places I’d gone: ■ April 18th: Visit to Arcadia High. ■ April 19th: Ted talk at the Oregon Convention and Conference Center. Main floor, with all the other colleges and universities on the East side. Huge crowd. My dad being a part of the gathering made me think of moving to a smaller town. ■ April 20th: Ted talk at the University of Texas. I’d missed the start, because of exams. ■ April 21st: Jihad talk at Ball State University. Main floor, with everything else being on the West side. I stayed at one of the larger hotels. ■ April 22nd: Jihad talk at Clarendon University. Mydland campus, capital M. Mockshow of a bunch of kids running around. ■ April 23rd: Riot at the University of Cincinnati. Ruling class action from the students: class action. My old high school had its own version of the network, before the cable was getting to them. I wasn’t on the cable, but I had seen enough slop to know how it worked. Cable brought the news to everyone, so they wouldn’t be segregated further. It was the same with the news on the other channels. Everyone had a feed. ■ April 24th: Riot at the University of Wisconsin Madison. I heard some bad things. Bruises, coughs, bloody noses, people crying. ■ April 25th: Riot at Emory University. Not sure about the other campuses… ■ April 26th: Riot at the University of North Texas. Not sure if the other events made up for the bad weather. ■ April 27th: Riot at the University of British Columbia. Not sure if the other events made up for the shorter notice. I shivered. It was a nice place, but I was still getting used to the cold. The only one I was really afraid of was Grue. "Hey," Brian spoke up, "Back to the subject of Skitter." "Yeah. You weren’t too nice to me when I visited you college days. That was a big mistake." He frowned. "So, what brought that up?" "I was going to ask you to leave, Tasha, but I wasn’t sure ======== SAMPLE 7 ======== ," "Is she the only one with red hair?" I asked. "Yeah," Rachel said. "No, but no less than ten percent of the time. What color hair?" I pointed at her head. "Spit-up," Hannah said, as if that answered the question. "I could give you a puppy?" I asked. "Puppy? Is that a thing?" "It is," she said, smiling. "There are more breeds out there, but I think a puppy is the most PETA." "Do you have one of the pit bulls?" I asked. "Pit bull, sounds like a good idea," Rachel said. I looked at the other two. Made sure they weren’t thinking, then offered them my hands. "Give them one hand," Hannah said, to the effect of, "Trust me." The other two gave Rachel what she wanted. "I’m glad we can come here safely," I said. "I’d have felt far more welcome in the dark, empty places of this headquarters if the others weren’t so scary." "They are," Rachel said. "My people have been waiting long enough." "And I can come in and help," I said. Hannah nodded. "I can do that with a group of mostly junior workers. Or you can come in and watch the fire while I help your people. Make sure they have some experience in something related to work here." "You have a bodyguard?" Rachel asked. "You’ll have to take my word on that. I don’t know if you’ve rotated through the Protectorate squads, but that wasn’t it. You’re going out with Piggot and the others for the first time? I wasn’t really feeling it, until you offered. I’ve never been able to get used to the idea of not needing people. It’s nice, liberating." "I can’t tell you how excited I am." That should have been the climax to the joke in a nutshell, except it wasn’t. Hannah wrapped her arm around my shoulders and kissed me. "I never really learned, you know," I murmured, "But I’m glad to have you on board." "I sure hope you’re not about to get your ass kicked by someone," Rachel said. "Because then I’d probably kick your ass." I glanced at the laptop. The CHIPS were running through the updates and scans as she tried to weed out the noncritical strings. Miss Militia had started a video. The last few minutes of the old video were missing or corrupted, but the remainder played on long loop. Miss Militia said something in Russian. "Translation?" I asked. "Yes. Be quiet. Shut up. I only want you to be happy." I bit my lip, hard. "So you want to know what happens next, after all this detour I’ve made for you?" "Oh, I’ll figure it out when I get back," I said, by way of an excuse. "You have a new power," Tattletale commented. "And a whole lot more enemies to go up against." Extinction 27.3 The video played like it had just aired. I could barely make it out over the noise. "You… did?" Tattletale asked me. "What?" "You had a power. And you were thinking about using it." I started to put words in Tattletale’s mouth, and was surprised to realize that I hadn’t even started the video before I realized. "Those people," Tattletale gripped the end of a man’s hand, keeping it back as she spoke, "Those are the people you talk to about powers? I thought… I was assuming you watched the news." "Not much, has to say." "There’s a new class of cape out there now. The Tinker. They’re the ones taking what Alexandria made and applying it to everyday items. Newer clothes, appliances, cars, computers… all with the added twist that they can take concepts and apply them to physical things. Tattletale, can you shed any light on what’s going on?" "What I know is that the heroes who talked to me are planning something. A law enforcement conference, this is the proposal they have in mind." "Law enforcement? I don’t get it." "The heroes ======== SAMPLE 8 ======== ," he repeated, in a calmer tone. "Unless you’re calling me a monster. I would never strike you in the face." This time, he turned his attention to Panacea. He looked her straight in the eyes, and none of the gentleness or warmth that had accompanied her looks any better. A spark of anger. Not the kind of anger he’d experienced before. Another kind of anger. He’d been expecting a kind of retribution, had forgotten. "You ruined my day," she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I’m the person you want to talk to," he replied, in a tone that was more measured than usual. "Fuck you, man. One more day without the bugs, and I’m done. I’m done with being annoyed every time you force someone to use a particular gadget, and I’m done with being annoyed when you force people to use a particular program." "Well, that’s what you were when you came to my house, back when I was having some problems with my dad. You were annoyed because I didn’t leave your side to wait for you back at the hotel. You made me use my bugs to try to quell the blood that was pooling around your mouth and your nose. I warned you before I went out to get my stuff in order, so you wouldn’t do anything rash with your evening. You told me you’d be careful, that I shouldn’t touch my dad with anything while I was taking a nap. Well, tonight was a night I changed my mind. It was horrible, I had to deal with bugs and cockroaches and spiders, and you didn’t let me take enough of a break to get my affairs in order. I wound up having to put down those bugs and cockroaches and spiders, and when I did, you started crawling all over my face." He stood and walked around his desk, prodding the mouse that sat at the end. He stared at the woman’s swollen, beaten face, moving his thumb along the blood-slick patch of skin. "Do you take-" "I don’t think so," she said, and the urge to cough made standing painfully painful. "It burns." "Why don’t you use your hands? You don’t have to." She stopped and looked at him, one hand on her head. "Because it hurts." "Why do you care? All I’ve heard about is what you told me. That you met some people, you are very close to them. And that they don’t even know. They’ve left you in the dark. You want me to touch you?" Lisa reached out and covered Lisa’s mouth, putting a hand on her head. "No." "No? Then why the fuck are you here?" Because we have the money. Because we’ve been preparing for this exact scenario for weeks. The last terrorist attack was fifteen minutes ago. This is a pre-emptive measure. The terrorists won’t be coming any closer to you tonight, so we have to act preemptively. The city won’t end on a Sunday. "I have a solution," Lisa finished. "But it won’t be immediately make sense, because I have a vague idea of what I want to do with my power. So I’ll explain it for you. A lot of people are turning to you because they have blinders on. You fill them in as much as possible, then we distract them long enough for me to work something out. The terrorists won’t be able to respond as fast as I do, and if I’m doing something right, they’ll notice the delay and delay another five or ten minutes. Eventually a hostage goes home, or the hostages are all safely in my custody. The taxpayers are protected, and you get your pay. It’s that easy." "What do you want to do with your power?" Alec asked. "I don’t know yet. As far as I know, what separates me from other tinkers is that I’m public. I don’t hide anything from the world at large. I spread the word. People from all walks of life come to me, offering expertise. My ledger is a treasure trove of information about a world I’ve only recently discovered. I am transparent, and anyone willing to pay for the privilege can view my sources. My agenda is clear. I save humanity." "And you want to save the world," Alec said, "After saving humanity, after murdering Endbringers and founding the group that would become the ======== SAMPLE 9 ======== ," Tattletale said, "It can be hard to get your thoughts in order when you don’t know where to start." "I have a few theories. The first is that I’m smarter than I think. I don’t completely believe it, but I think I understand myself better than I thought I do. The second is that I’m more reckless. As clear a picture as I can get of it. The third is that I’m a little more calculating. The former isn’t a complete picture, but I think I get by with it." "How do you measure your success?" "Words. Pages. Not a hundred pages a day, but I manage. Successes. I put in half for each year I was gone, got a fraction of a percent closer each time. But I’m still very, very far from being a full-time student. And I’m still paying full attention to my territory, and keeping an eye out for trouble." "You didn’t set foot in the school. Unless you’re saying you knew teachers and took extra notes." "I didn’t. I was in a prime position to find out, so I went looking. I couldn’t ask the teachers for their IDs, and I couldn’t sign anything, not even in the privacy of my own room, but I have a few ideas. One is that there’s a cadre of young people with powers who are receiving government handouts. Groups of them, apparently led by the Professor." "With Mr. Gladly’s group, going by what Mr. Gladly said, they’re going to prey on the most vulnerable members of the public, the underclassmen, the mentally ill, the faggots, the mentally diseased. They’re then going to train their hands in how to operate the clairvoyant, the knife-hand, or some variant thereof, and voila, they have a whole other set of tools, able to tackle bigger problems. Think about it. If the Protectorate’s underclassmen are all going to be psychopaths, it’s primed time for the Protectorate to clean up the mess." "That doesn’t change your situation," Tattletale said. "You’ve still got a gig, a prestigious position, and you’ve got a mission." "A mission," I said. "To save lives. I can live with that." "But I don’t know if any of us will be able to save any of the big guns. The Wards and the Protectorate won’t let us." "The Wards? You’re talking about toppling them. Of course you are. They exist to protect us. Except they’re funded by taxes paid by the people who want to keep the city in chaos. Which is the exact wrong thing to do. Trust me when I say I have far more experience than that. I’m not some puppet master telling others what to do." "The Protectorate, Inc.," I said, "They’ve been going to war for decades, starting with their initiation and winding up with the major battles of the last decade. Just about everyone who fought in a major Protectorate event back then is a Protectorate member. The major exception to that rule was Alexandria. She wasn’t a puppet master, though she did have a set of powers that almost zipped around the Protectorate, passing her damage to the individual combatants. When the fight was over and the other fights started, she was MIA, a certain thinker taunting the group from the sidelines, never to be seen again. The only way anyone would think she’d survived would be if she’d been a robot. Which she didn’t. She was a living machine." "Yes," Director Piggot said. "Alexandria wasn’t one of them. Something about her?" I shrugged. Director Piggot smiled slightly. A little bittersweet. "Tell me more about her, and about your organization in particular, and I’ll tell you as much as I can, for the sake of argument," the Director said. "A quirk of fate, as far as I know," I said. "It’s not unusual for heroes to fight alongside villains. It happened here. It will happen here. I’m just not someone who’s willing to put himself in the line of fire. Heaviest fights aren’t won with firepower, and I’m willing to bet that if we went all out, we wouldn’t make it out okay." " ======== SAMPLE 10 ======== ," "But we just got called out of our home, dinged for cheating on our tests. We-" "We did," Lisa said, stopping as he raised one hand, "We took a hit on our test scores. But the good news is, we already knew that. I’m not worrying about that. I’m worried about the damage we could do in the news." "We could get compared to other teams." "I worry about what that team could do," Lisa sighed, "I know it’s bad on a lot of levels, but I’m hoping there’ll be something to come out of it. I really do. My mom and I have talked about the concept. Not talking and saying we’re bitter, but just talking." "You and the law school classmates." Lisa smiled, "Yeah. There’s a bit in there, about being a mule to the law school dropout, about not being a loser." "Not a loser, then. A victim." She paused, then added, "But you can look at me and I don’t dwell." "You don’t?" His tone was concerned. She smiled a little, then replied, "I’m thinking about our meeting you today, Mr. Porter. What better way to start off your new term than with a bang." "Bust?" "No way! He wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that without the proper education!" She laughed. "Oh, come on," he said. He set the paper bag down on the coffee table, "It’s lame, it’s lame and it’s going to offend someone." "Think about what it would do. If it was just the two of us dinging around, there’d be no squabbling, there’d be less fighting, less strain on our relationship…" Lisa paused. "Oh, I don’t care about the dropout/loser dynamic. I don’t care about which team wins or which team loses, or which team has more focus. I don’t care about those things." "Well," he said, "Maybe there’s a dynamic there that I don’t get, that I need to check with you about." "Maybe. But I’m already a week into my second term, and I’m getting increasingly worried that I won’t be able to carry on my relationship with you in the spring semester. If you want me to go, I’m not going to refuse you, and I’m definitely not going to say you’ve decided you’re not going when you want to be and I’m not either." "So you’re going to be my wingman?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "That’s what I came here for. If you want, I can stay here while I try to get settled. I can eat my spinach and wash my clothes in the shower, maybe. And you’ll have a relationship with me, even if we don’t officially-" "You’ve already said that. You want." "I’ll keep my mouth shut, win, or win heavily. Win for me, and you lose more than anything." He flicked his hand over his other arm. There was a distant sound of a building, then a heavy crash. Buildings rose around the periphery of the area, as tall as buildings were exposed on a horizontal plane. "There," he said, finally. "One and a half buildings with nowhere to go but up. Only way they’re going to clear that much out of a building is if they’re trapping everyone here. Denying people what they want or need." "I’m not wanting to do that, even if I’m a pretty decent candidate for getting in my turn on the job. I’m just looking for a clean, reasonable way to make a few dollars here and there. I’m not opposed to cooperating, but I’m also not opposed to working together with others if that makes us all feel more welcome. We could even look nice doing it." "It does," Alec said. "Everything I want, more," Lisa said. "My branch, anyway. I’m all for the idea of doing this in a less shady way. I’ve got cash, I can get help with whatever." "It does, sort of," Alec conceded. "But the people you want to help aren’t likely to be friendly." ======== SAMPLE 11 ======== ,"’t enough. It would be so easy to just give up. To simply accept that he wasn’t going to make it. "No," he spoke. There was a hint of anger in his voice. He shook his head, as if to ward me off. "Fuck it. Fine. I’m going to go get some stuff. I’m going to stay here all night, so I can feed myself and give some of my family what they want." The kid that was almost burrowing up inside me shrieked every time her lips moved, her head moved, as if she were responding to every sound he’d created. "Feed me?" I asked. "Don’t be a hoot," he snarled. "Feed me. Don’t make me laugh. It’ll make me feel better. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make you something, I promise. I can cook, I’ll help around the house. I can clean after your dogs. You can go do what you want. Drink sake, eat pizza, whatever you want. Until you’re used to it. Then I’ll take you out on dates. Or pretend like I’m going out and partying until I’m broke and homeless. Then I’ll kick you for lying to me." I shivered. Eidolon was making light of things, and light, I liked it. "I’m not saying you have to let me do anything with your welfare," I said. "I’m just saying… you’ve seen better days. You know you want to break the rules. But once you’ve done that, the rules can be bent the same way. You can live like this forever, and then you can do whatever you want." "Oh god," she said. "Your choice," I said, not taking my eyes off her. "Because I’ve seen worse. I’ll tell you what it’s like. When I was first starting out, the villains made fun of the cape who could turn invisible if he set his hand to something. It was just one thing in a long series of stuff I’d seen mocking me. It didn’t sit well with me. I snapped." "I think you’ve bent the truth," she said. "I have," I answered her. "It’s been a hard few weeks for me, with the newspaper stripping me bare and the bullying." "So you’re not happy, then." "No," I said, sighing. "No fucking shit." "That’s the thing, right there," she said. She had the look of someone who wasn’t sure what to say next, but was confident enough to want to keep it for herself. "People say I have no friends anymore," I said. "But there were some good days. I had a good one." "I think you’re still good." "People always say that when they’re judging you. I’m not a naturally optimistic person, so I think everyone is projecting that onto me," I said, feeling humbled. "But I’m getting this tattoo that says, ‘I’m going to do this all. For the rest of my life, I’m going to work to make sure things get better here. End of the world. Scion’s going to attack some stupid non-threat and then I’ll be done with supervillainy." "I’m sorry," she said. "What?" "I’ve been dealing with some pretty fucked up people in life," he said, looking down at his feet. "People I care about and stuff. It’s been a rollercoaster ride." He smiled a little, but it was almost a sad expression, with the hopeful expression he’d worn in the past. "You’re not all fun and games, Taylor. There’s a lot worse things that people have done to me than laughing at my misfortune. I’ve had heartaches, I’ve been smothered in guilt and envy, and I’ve killed a man. You’re not all that, are you? I’ve been there." "I’m not saying I’ve got it all together. I’m admitting I don’t." "You didn’t get it together with anything that deep being in the world. You’re from the same generation as Regent ======== SAMPLE 12 ======== ," Coil said. "First Tier cape? No. But we can give him something to do, even. He’ll appreciate the assistance, and the other options may be exhausted before the end of the week." I nodded. "In the meantime…" he trailed off, pleased with himself. I turned to look at him in the mirror, and he gave me the lowest possible response. "You should finish your patrol, explain what happened, and then get back to this." "I… there’s a middle ground," I said. "I can do both, explain and focus on the one thing I want to do." "Okay. If I’m not too much trouble to get you anything, can you keep the stuff you stole from the school to take with you?" I shrugged, lowering my head to take the bag. "Can I get one of the official school uniforms as a souvenir?" "As a friend. Don’t be shy." "Okay." I was. Then he offered me this as his response. "I won’t forget it. I’ll see if I can persuade my dad to let me take it home." I stopped and took a second to compose myself. "Let me know when the game’s over," he promised. I nodded. With that said, we parted ways. I headed downstairs, and I got two neat bags, one marked ‘Skitter’ with the school logo on it and one marked ‘Bitch’ with the words, two pairs of goggles and two feet of chain. With my power, I verified the entire way through with the bugs, and marked the entire process with Cirrus’ flight pack. I took a second to compose myself, marking the time with little and copying my notes over from memory. Once I was secure inside, I began combing through the sock, a two-inch codger sticking out of each pair of briefs. I pulled them on and began tugging the ends tight, with the little tweezers to ensure they were all tied in place. It took twenty minutes, and I finished when I was done. I tossed the worn-down sock into the wastebin. "Thank you," I spoke into the headset. "Later, some of us get their pay, the rest take a few hours to get comfortable, and the last few stop for a few days of work and vacation. Most don’t get any of it, and the hell they were paying you then, the people who were working for you, they’re telling you it was a fraction of what they were getting now. You beat them." She sounded so jovial, so eager. So optimistic. Disappointed in her lie? I held back a chuckle. That little burst of joy when I saw the smile on her face and her eyes spark with tears showed even more of an effort. "Maybe you should see a therapist, before you start treating people like people. You have to understand, a lot of these people, they’re addicts, or they were homelesswives or they were victims of circumstance. These people are designed to be in your debt. There’s a genetic element as well. The trainers and providers we use have to put values on things, and each one has a set of ‘rules’ that they’re ‘supposed’ to follow. The more you try to force people to follow them, the more likely they are to defy, to fight back. Some are clever enough to turn regular common sense into a power fantasy, and the exercise routine adds up. "They might have even changed the rules to make it so you can’t. You’re nearly as smart as the top dogs, but you’re conditioned to follow a set script, a set routine. The trainers, the authorities, the laws that have been instituted to protect your turf or protect yourself, they’ve set you up so you’ll always be in the right headspace, believing it suits you, and your place in the world is so threatened so early in your life that it’s barely perceptible." More of my emotions were on display as I displayed my fear, suppressed even in myself. I’d spent years trying to be good, and all it took was one bad moment to demolish everything I’d worked so diligently to build. My relationships, my career, even the friendships I’d forged in athletics, they were all in tatters. It’s a shame someone like Lung drew him. "I’m going to go, I think," I spoke, cutting him off before he could speak. "I ======== SAMPLE 13 ======== ," she said. "Right." "You know where I live," he said. "I’m not trying to fuck with you. I know where you live. If you were trying to get me, you would have done two things. You would’ve given me the wrong address, or I would have left you in a cell with an angry bulldog." "In the BirdCage?" Regent suggested. "Probably. No, I’m thinking I would rather spend the night in a cell with you, because it means I get the fuck out of here and try to sleep, then you wake me up." "Don’t you dare," she said, "Be utterly and completely unhinged, even as you pose no danger to anyone. Catch me while I’m distracted or if I’m pissing myself." "So there’s two versions of this bitch of a name," Regent said. "One good guy, one bad. What you were saying before made too much sense, I had to… change it." "What’s the use of all this, Regent? You’re barely an abstraction, you’re just a guy with powers. I can’t even wrap my head around how you’d pull that off. You have to punch someone, you have to displace them somehow…" "Rapidly shrinking and speeding up?" Regent asked, for the D in RAPID was the bad. She let it out slowly, almost inaudible. "Rapidly reorienting the internal organs? No, that doesn’t work either. You force people to one side, they’ll both rotate on one side, and there won’t be any traction. Rapidly contracting and then rapidly expanding?" "And there’s the crucial bit after that," he said, "When I push, they both contract at the same time and tear free before I can get them full size. Drowning. Because there’s no blood vessels, and the fluid inside just circulates throughout their body, getting caught up in the processes and then it gets released as a concentrated mass as they breathe." "They’re kept in suspension to keep them from moving too much, until they can be disposed of one way or another," Grue said. "Sort of. They drown too soon?" He nodded. "Not likely," Tattletale said. "Exactly. So I asked Raptaur what she does. She drew a circle around her mouth and I think it was around the time she started rolling over and shit getting uncomfortably warm in her mouth. She draws a bit of smoke around the outside of her mouth and it’s like drawing a circle around the mouth but with teeth in between each breath. Could probably inhale a bit easier, spit out the stuff that used to be in her mouth, and they’re almost liquid." "Can you spit it out?" Regent asked. She opened one of the cans and held it to the stove, whisking the edges up until they were as smooth as she could. "No problem. Doesn’t taste like anything. Doesn’t taste like shit either way." "Okay," Grue said, "You win, you get a shitload of cash, and we get some asylum seekers with mental instability to ourselves." "Fuck you," she snarled. "Good," he took the money and gave it to Grue. "See, I discovered something while I was doing research for Coil. The person who makes these bulletproof vests is calling himself Doctor Mother. He’s not even a real doctor. He just runs around in civilian clothes and claims to have all the answers. For about $200, you can get a Doctor Mother implant. That way, if a fight does break out, you’re covered. Or, if you’re brave, and you pay him well enough, you can even come home and claim asylum." "I’m not saying we shouldn’t pay him. We should. He’s getting more and more popular, and popular is good. But we should at least listen to him. And when we do, we shouldn’t dump him on the street or into some alley." "If he acts as if he has an answer for us, we should listen to him. And if he doesn’t act as if he has an answer for us, we shouldn’t pay him. Or we should say we won’t pay him and get people to do something, and he starts treating us like dirt. People who never gave a fuck about the asylum or the city or ======== SAMPLE 14 ======== ," I cut in. "They’re pretty useless, as far as I’m concerned. They’re not even disposable. Let me know if you need anything, and I’ll grab it while it’s on the way." She nodded, then headed into the van. She opened the back, and I grabbed a smoke. It was a minute before the van pulled into the parking lot behind a hardware store. Lisa pulled up, and there was a line of people just around the corner. "Bring it," she said. It was. My dad popped the trunk, climbed in, and then opened the back. I popped a cigarette into the mouth-watering end, sucked it out, and then pulled the cigarette out of the other. I haven’t tried relighting it, but my dad didn’t seem to mind. "I can live with this," Lisa said, "Maybe we will, after. We’ll see what happens." I shrugged, "It’s the end of the world, has to be the way things are. We used to be on the same page, in the same community. It’s a shame we parted ways." "A shame?" Lisa asked. "You were always so happy and relaxed." "You’re old-fashioned. Traditional parents, you have them both?" Lisa looked down at the ground, touched her lower lip in a half-frown. "No. But I’m still pretty unhappy for the nth time." Chrysalis 10.3 Lost and found. We were so tense as we searched for Brian’s house. The location was so out of our way, it barely seemed like a chore. Then reality set in. There was no safer place to be. The day Brian found out about Aisha’s secret was like a club for both of us. Except there was none of the jostling, the constant feeling of being on the edge of your seat excitement and alarm, the constantly shifting priorities and worries. It was like being in a dictatorship. We weren’t the only ones with concerns. Cherish looked at Brian, "What about Bitch? What’s going to happen with her?" Brian shrugged, "Not much of a worry. My concern is for your well-being, and it’s critically important that I find her before other people do. Places she could be hiding are everywhere. In our laundry, in the couch, in the walls. I spent an hour Monday morning looking for her, and I have a feeling I found her. More than a feeling, but I feel it nonetheless. So until I hear a different kind of confirmation, the search for Bitch is going to be almost impossible. It’s not that I can’t, I’m pretty sure I can find her-" "You said she was the scariest bitch in the entire city," Alec cut in. "Ever." "Brian, stop that," Lisa pulled on his head again. Brian’s head turned. "I wanted to say thanks," Brian said. "I wasn’t going to, really. I’m interested to hear what Brian’s thinking." Brian smiled, "Maybe we should part ways?" "Maybe. I still think it was a shitty idea to split up our squad, especially with the possibility of them trying to attack the others while they were distracted," Lisa replied. Brian smiled, but he didn’t reply. "I’m going to head back," Lisa said, "Take care of a few things first. First and foremost, we’ll need a new uniform for the winter..." "There’s costumes for every occasion," Brian pointed out. Lisa pointed at the closet where the females couldn’t or wouldn’t dress in costume. "You want to look through the rest of the way?" "The one I found was from the day Rapture happened. It was kind of boring as-is, but it did have some basics down. You don’t want to spend too long surfing the web, so I’m not going to bother." Brian nodded. She gave him a pointed look, "I’ll help with the search, I’ll help pick out the right uniform, and I can do that until five in the evening if you want to go home." He nodded. She grabbed a change pad and started browsing. After a few seconds, she smiled at him, "Why don’t you go home, and you let me keep the costume? I’ ======== SAMPLE 15 ======== ," Coil responded, "Anyways, he’s back to normal, quick to anger, eager for a fight. Be patient." "He’s angry. He’s acting like he’s lost," Tattletale said. "We know he is," Coil responded, in his monotone, almost disconnected from our conversation. "I suspect he may be lost. This situation is not what it used to be. We’re on our way home." "Gotcha," I said, as I set foot on the hard floor for the first time in over a decade. "Welcome to Echidna," Coil said, when he’d managed to catch me off guard, "It seems you’ve made a good first impression. I must admit I’m surprised you’re willing to stop by, given your history." "Not the history of criminals, I’m just looking for the underskirt," I said, "To change the topic, I just wanted to check in. Have a seat." He took a chair just to my left, and Dinah was the one to sit down. She looked at me, and I gave her a quick nod. "The Travelers are looking for a chief strategist and strategist-elect," Coil said. I gave him a curious look. "A chief strategist? No. I thought you’d want someone who’d be able to assess our enemies, sympathize with us, and communicate well." "I do want to, yes. And my other protégé," he drew out the words, "Needs a good memory." "Any opinion polls you can throw? I was doing some research, not long ago." "Writing a paper on Squealer, it doesn’t seem to be the same person." He gave me a funny look. "You write in complicated characters?" "I use Chinese characters," I said. "If you want something more in depth, feel free to talk to me. But generally speaking, what I need is someone who can speak three languages fluently, and who is able to work with computers. I don’t want someone just because they have the ability to speak another language, I want someone because they’re good at it, and because this otherness is something they can pull off." "People with bad rep or no previous knowledge in a field tend to be like that. Others with good rep, on the whole, are like Laurier. People who can do a lot with little. The people who’ve built a reputation on being able to pull different stunts, even if theyre pretty mundane in nature. That’s a strong enough rep that others will, on a subconscious level, know they’re suited to be the superhuman." I looked at the Travelers, and Dinah gave me a one-eyed glare. "So this is the poster child for broken heroes, or the poster child for people who’re too cautious, or both," he finished, in the same second his thumbnail was showing, "If you wind up being the poster child, I think we can work around that." "Not really the case," I replied. "Point taken. If you want a hard and fast rule, Taylor, it’s the one that we use, because you’re already well on your way." "If it helps," he said, "Keep in mind that Tattletale said we’d enlist the Undersiders if we got one of you guys, Undersiders first, so you don’t need to put us off kilter too much with another recruit." I nodded. "Cough is a good thing," he said. "Hey," I said, "Not taking shit from Taylor, right?" "No," he said, "But that’s a good point. Apologies if I seem cocky." "Feel better?" I asked, "Anyone telling me I need to get well?" "Yeah," Dinah said, as if she’d rehearsed the words several times. "Feel better?" I asked, a touch defensively. "No," she said. "Not at all." I felt a pang of sympathy. Especially as it was coming from one of the people who’d been most responsible for my not getting sick. It took three attempts, failing that, or maybe it was the pain in my chest, that I was having second thoughts about, to get me moving. "Hey, Skitter. Feel okay?" "Feeling pretty light. No, it’s fine. Just… not good." ======== SAMPLE 16 ======== ," her voice was hollow. "What did you do?" "Threw a fit. Bet they’re lying." I clenched my fists. "I told you. They’re puny, useless. The Simurgh brought her down because she thought she was cute. It was a nice gesture, good on her behalf. Except I was right. Maybe I’d hoped the Simurgh had been trolling us. Now I realize they’re very real, very dangerous. One leak, and all of us could be dead. The Simurgh’s little stunt this morning has us all a little more cognizant of just how vulnerable we really are. We’ve got ourselves a crisis." "I don’t understand." "I’d call them," she said. "A couple hundred thousand dollars in donations. They’re all deposited here. They’ll be ready to send out by the end of the day. They’ll need some kind of courier. I can use my bugs, but that’ll be hard with the wind, rain, snow, and changing conditions." "Then send the PRT a message. If you can’t, we’re still going to do it anyways. I don’t care how many people we save, we’ll still be in harm’s way. Just… don’t." "Why?" Alexandria asked. "Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t change what we did, doesn’t change the fact that we’ve been taken from our rightful place, just like that." "We’ll come back to that," Alexandria said. Bentley lunged, and Bentley was the first to stumble to his feet. He advanced until Alexandria was at one knee, her chin on top of his head. "I don’t care." "Then you should care. This… it’s not right," the Doctor said. There was no warmth in the corners of her mouth. At all. Only cold. "Doesn’t matter," Bentley said. A growl rose in the monster’s throat. "Whatever. I care." "You don’t care about us," Alexandria said. "You don’t care about Scion. You cared about your sister, but you care about us. You cared about Butcher, but you care about us in this same way. You don’t care about one thing, now. You care about all of us. The pain you feel, the hope you have, it’s not even the most basic, basic emotion you feel. It’s an ugly emotion, one you fought hard to quell deep down inside, and you fought all the harder to express it out loud. The hope is that it can inspire something from the monster inside. The monster that wants to come after us and kill us, that can and will." The man’s face crumpled, and he fell to all fours. The claws had been torn to shreds, and one claw was grappling with his neck for balance. The wound was bad, but he was trying. "If you were sure you could…" Alexandria started. She stopped when the words spilled out of her mouth. "Let’s see…" One claw grasped his eyes, tearing those pieces free, and he let his head bang against the floor. She grabbed his right hand, and he was all too aware of claws tearing through his shirt, of more claws tearing into his derrière, and of arteries clogging his veins. "Let me go," she said. "My work is done. Do what you have to. There is no point to going up against Number Man. Real men work." The man rumbled, and his words were strained. "…Do what you have to. There is…" He shook his head, and the rumbling cranked up once again. "…nothing left to you but to obey, to submit to whatever I tell you to do. But I’m going to put it this way. If I don’t hear it, you might think I’m making excuses, or that I’m trying to put things off for later reference. But I’m really telling you to… this is your present, your purpose, here. It might not be very good, but you’ll thank me when it’s all said and done, and then you’ll have my blessing. I don’t care what you think of me, I don’t care about what you do, but this is a present." The man reached out, and the wound ======== SAMPLE 17 ======== ," he said. He glanced at Bitch, who was still standing. She was glaring at him. He turned his attention to the two dogs. "Don’t," Bitch told him, at the same time he said, "Don’t do it." "Okay," he said, and he managed to sound convincing. "Can you go call the cops? If police are called, they’ll be on their way." She turned her head, so her head was in the way. He wondered if she heard him. He continued, "If they’re calling themselves off-duty, they’ll be taking up arms against us. They’ll have guns. They have training. It’s totally different." She didn’t reply. He wondered if it was because he was losing his patience with her, or if it was just because he wasn’t willing to go the extra mile and try to convince her. Maybe it was the latter. He knew she wasn’t the type to take his words to heart. "If you want to do this right, this isn’t going to be a fight. Just me and you?" "I don’t want to do this wrong." "Okay," he told her. "Be a good girl." She smiled wide, then turned back to work. He gave her a pat on the back before heading back to his office, grabbing his backpack and throwing it over the back of the chair. There was a pause. No. Not a hurry. A little more formal. "It’s a little early. Did you have some business to attend to?" "Completed some paperwork. The manager was going to be here shortly." "I’m not a lawyer. I don’t know what that means. I’m also not a surgeon, doctor, physicist, or psychiatrist. I don’t really have those skills." "Somehow, I can only surmise that you’re telling me you’re not going to help on this count. But you’re not going to fail. You’re just going to have to let go. You’re not a bad person, I don’t think, but you’ve let yourself get wrapped up in your hobby, and your core values are really quite fragile." "My core values?" He blinked, hard. "My family. My friends. And maybe my cause." "Your friends. I’m not saying you’re not good. Good at stuff. I’m just… not happy." "All my life, I’ve been on the battlefields. I have friends, and we’re a family." "You don’t feel like a friend anymore." He shook his head, "Don’t change the subject. You’re not going to change my mind." "No. I’m not. You can’t change who you are. Only the persona you adopt." "It doesn’t matter," he said. "I won’t change who I am, whether I have powers or no. I’ve got this ingrained in me from the beginning: I’ll do whatever you want, no matter how odious it is, and I’ll stick with you no matter what. That’s still me, man. That’s something you can’t change. If you want to change me, you’ve got to make me miserable." "You could." He shook his head. "No, you won’t." "Fine. But let’s avoid the long discussion later. You need to take your friend to the bathroom, if you’re going to stay out of trouble for the day." "That’s fine," he said. He flinched at the sound of a television screen. The computer was cranked to the highest setting, and the only thing on the other side was a text file. Reading it wasn’t too hard. The problem was that it was filled with case studies of people who you could turn into talking therapy dogs. He clicked on the next one, a photo of himself with his mother and father. He was given only two seconds to respond. "They take turns brushing your teeth. You start to get it, you turn the computer off, turn off the TV. Turn the computer on. There’s a picture on the screen. You’re staring at it. You’re smiling." "I know," he said. ======== SAMPLE 18 ======== ," he asked. "You have that." He pointed in the general direction of the cafeteria. That would be the meeting place. "Okay," Alexandria said. "This is going to sound really dumb, but what can you tell me that isn’t obvious?" "Everything." "And the rest, I could maybe prove is true, but it’s the least I can do. I’ll trust that you know what you’re doing." "I kind of hope you’re right," I said. "Because then I could maybe convince the others." "Doubt it," she said. "Do," I said. "See, I’ve talked to the others. The doc… there’s a consensus that the Doc is the one who has the answers. He’s the one who has the philosophy. There’s only gaps. He knows enough, but I’m sure he’s losing his readers." "You don’t have to flip flop on me," Defiant said. "It’s the sort of gamble you need to make with your power. Most of the time, you wind up with bigger and better things to focus on." "The world ends… sooner than later," I said. "And I have the knowledge, but the Doc doesn’t. He’s losing his readers." "What if I offered more details?" I asked. "How would you use it? Get the full story?" "You’d have to ask him," she said, "But he’s too proud, and he would almost hate me if he knew." "But the world ends soon, and I have the power I need to end it. I’ve used it for disaster relief," I said. "And I might be able to help with something like this. I’m putting my life on the line, because the world is about to end, and because it won’t end quicker than I think. They said it, didn’t they?" "It doesn’t matter," Alexandria said. "The world doesn’t end in a year." It dawned on me how badly I was underestimating the PRT. Alexandria was one of the top villains I’d dealt with, at the very least. "It doesn’t matter," I said. "Just saying. There’s got to be a way. I’m almost willing to sacrifice everything, including the life of the Undersider I’m calling on to help, if it means we can get this done." "There isn’t," she said. "You wouldn’t even be half as effective if you had something to hide." "Everything I have is public knowledge," I said. "Everything everyone knows. The PRT wants to be secretive. Everyone is aware of the curfew, the rules Tattletale set. They’ve enforced it with checkpoints, with beatings, even beatings with batons. Everyone knows the Inquisition and everything that accompanies it. The only difference between me and them is that I took an active role in planning and adhering to the rules. They don’t really care that much, right now, if I break the rules or if I get in the way as the head of an organization." "They have plans," Alexandria said. "Big plans." "If they plan to attack the city," I said, "They’ll attack the people who aren’t playing along and I’ll go after them. And I’ll make sure they don’t get any of the money they planned." "The money?" she asked. "Brockton Bay doesn’t just dump resources onto the world, it dumps resources onto itself. Interested parties can observe this manifesting in the local ecosystem." "Doesn’t matter," I said. Interested parties don’t tend to include me. "The important thing is that we’ve got hard data. If you want to get in on the action, you’re going to have to hunt me down." "Do it. I won’t make any big deals of this. I’m willing to hunt you down. Don’t forget that." "If you want to make a big deal of this," I said, "Take my cards. I won’t say anything until you’ve dropped the thing. You’re going to lose them eventually anyways." "Drop them? You mean you’ll just hand them over?" "I� ======== SAMPLE 19 ======== ," She added, "I like the chaos, the unknown. If I have to wear a costume to go out in costume, I’m wearing their costumes." "They’ve got their concerns. I’m happy to help with your particular situation." "No fucks given," Rachel walked around the table, "Even if I had my preferred method of attack." "You want to know my method?" "Kill." "Kill?" "I’m thinking I’d like to keep my mouth shut. This situation is bad enough that I’d like to keep my mouth shut about the bigger picture, keep it under wraps for the time being. I’d like to avoid stabbing the full, obvious issue at the heart of the problem. That, and I’d like to give the civilians time to organize and get things in order." "Alright," Parian said. "No fucks given," Tecton said, "Good." "No fucks given?" I asked. "Well, at least I’ll have my clothes on, at least. We’ll get you dressed up, then." "Don’t suppose you’ll explain?" I shrugged. The uniforms didn’t give a lot away. "Three sources. One insider." "An inside source? You don’t want to say. It could be a decoy. A trap." "I don’t really care," I said. "It’s interesting. I’m not interested. I just want to make some time to myself, get my affairs in order, and talk about the stuff that really matters." "I’m sure you’ll find it interesting," she said. "Whatever the case, we can arrange a time to talk when you have more in hand with the Wards." I frowned. "You have a new costume?" I shook it. "Just the pants, most of the time. They’re slightly comical in a lighthearted way. It suits me, personally." "No pressing for details. Keep it simple, as much as you can spare." I shrugged. "Skitter. How is she?" "An excellent girl, overall. I’ve been getting better in every department. In speech, in communication, in more serious stuff. A lot of it is a lot like Emma’s stuff, though a lot more grounded. Ready?" "Ready." "Not a problem." "The only new thing that worries me is the curfew. I volunteered for it, myself, on the same terms she did. There’s this consensus that it was drawn out, justifying the measures. I don’t know why it was drawn out, but it seems to have been an act. I’m okay with being outed as a member of the Wards, although I’d prefer to avoid doing anything stupid." "A while back," Parian said. "You could have brought it up earlier. I don’t really care." "It would have made the conversation that much more interesting," Parian said. I couldn’t help but chuckle aloud. I would be more funny then, I thought. "It seems we’re going to be getting some assistance for the conversation," Flechette said. "Toasters," Parian said. "We open it now, here. If you can’t make it into the minute, count here. Fifteen seconds." I opened my mouth, then closed it. I wasn’t sure why I did it, but I managed to keep my mouth shut as the women in the PRT uniforms came down from the stairwell and led me toward the door. Flechette swept my hair behind my head, and I met her eyes with one of the many looks I’d expected from her. "We’re not giving up anything quick," Flechette said. "I’m not saying anything, am I?" "Am I?" "You have to tell me what it’s all about, first. The woman who had the suitcase strapped to her back. The young woman who’s in hiding, trying to distance herself from the rest of us. The disgruntled employee who’s making the shift to the Company’s side. The little traitor among us. And you, Miss Militia, I’m sure you saw the video I just put online. You probably know who I am. You know I’m not dumb." "I wouldn’t ======== SAMPLE 20 ======== ," Miss Militia replied. "He’s got a purpose. It’s not just for his own benefit. He thinks the world ends, and he can use that to decide what happens to him." "He’s going to be a threat. Once he decides something, he doesn’t change it. He doesn’t listen to reason. Even if he believes it’s me, he’s going to act." "Even if you tried to stop him? He’s going to act because he’s one of us. Because he has an agenda." "Yeah," I said. "He’s going to listen to reason. And even if we try to communicate with him, even if we try to stop him or lead him to think we’re beneath him, he’s still going to act because he’s listening. He’s a part of that system. He just doesn’t like what he’s hearing." Miss Militia nodded. I looked at Miss Militia again. She shrugged. "So it’s like, if you had cancer, and someone’s taking care of you so you can get the tests you need done? I get cancer, you’re getting tests. Cancer, if you’re lucky, gets treatment. And the tests keep failing. The person who’s doing the cancer treatment is always one to get tests free, always one or two to get free tests. And you wind up with another test free, and the cycle starts anew. It doesn’t have to be cancer. He could have other conditions. You could have celiac, for example." Faultline’s eyes went wide. "What?" "It’s like, you go down to the water cooler during one of the crises, or go to the board room during a meeting, and a cape is pitching in with testing done, or helping with production. And I’m in the back, literally, feet away from whoever it is that’s pitching in, and-" "Clockblocker." "Clockblocker. How many times have I seen him?" "With Aegis." "How does that work?" "Think about it. If it’s a question about powers, and your power is foremost in mind, Aegis is the guy who plays the long game. He’s the one who decides right before the test, plans his approach, so he doesn’t get shut down, and so he doesn’t fuck up the test. The result is that every time you go to bat for luck or wiggle out of a pinch, you’ve got the chance to get fucked." "Right." "The way it works, if you’re fast enough to catch up, you’ve got the chance to win the test. Every time you go, you get a few percentage points off. So if you’re coming the closest to success, you get a chance." "Right." "And when you’re not making as much money as before, you get poked in the pocket, sure, but it’s bigger, it gets harder to ignore. Every moment you spend there, you’re being poked, and I can count the people who’re keeping the spotlight on you. It’s not just failures, either. It’s the people who join the Wards, and those that brush you aside or find something to complain about." I felt a chill. I couldn’t articulate it. I directed my concern to Armsmaster. "Why?" he asked. "It’s all over the place. Some of it is intentional. Including me. A few of them aren’t. They don’t like the way I handled things here, and I’m not just saying that because I dislike the way the Protectorate conducts business. I was there. I heard them say so." "How do you know this?" "I heard it, frankly." The flapping of clothes was a sound, intermittent, like breathing. The man woke up slowly. "Worry about your people," I said. "Only part of it," he said. So much for my applied paranoia. "Okay," I said, "Sense things." My power was slack. There was so little to do. I focused on the bugs that found their way into the apartment, the area where Aegis and Aisha were housed. Within arms reach of the door, I directed them to the point where there wasn’t anything to find. A ======== SAMPLE 21 ======== ," Tattletale added. "Not about me? I can do this. I’ve got this. I’ve got my hostages, I’ve got my men, I’ve got my equipment, and I’ve got my Rime feed. I can reset the Rime feed to get the most from it." "But you didn’t get the—" "Get to it," Tattletale interrupted her. Miss Militia shut her mouth, staring at the screens. Grue, Imp, Regent and I joined them. "Um. Can you guys fill us in?" "The Rime feed only updates the third most relevant frame. The white box is the global warming, red is the radiation, green is poison. You can’t really do anything but click on each individual frame." "The radiation," I breathed. "It means something different for each individual cell. The more you learn about different parts of the planet, the more you’re going to understand about where the different parts of the planet come in contact with the rest." I nodded slowly, starting to struggle to find a way of phrasing it. "It’s… how does that relate to the stuff I was saying about the decoys? The fact that I already know the general gist, maybe even suspect something." "It doesn’t," Tattletale told me. "I know stuff. You don’t. I know stuff, you don’t. That’s one more thing that’s going to make the difference between you two thinking alike and me thinking alike. And I already know some, because we studied the Simurgh. If you haven’t figured it out yet, you shouldn’t wait. You should shut it up and go away quietly." I tried to process that. The Simurgh’s sheer mass wasn’t conveying anything I wasn’t already aware of. "Your point?" Grue asked. "The Simurgh… she was here. More or less." "She opened a portal to Earth, didn’t she?" He asked. "Only this time, she spent it all on flying, and she has a whole battery of self-replicating mechanical drones and suits of armor ready to pop open and inject a dose of poison into your brains for a few seconds each time you take a deep breath." I opened my mouth to speak, but came up wince instead. "Her army of replicants has a whole battery of neurotoxins and carcinogens in it," Tattletale said. "She’s going to bring all the ones from the deck up to replace you. It doesn’t make sense, with how her and the Simurgh got to be here, but you can argue that stuff leaks through the gaps in the hull." I shut my eyes. Even just thinking about it made my entire body react. "Oh. You don’t need to worry about that," Tattletale said. "Simurgh can give you a fair amount of time to recover. Twenty to thirty seconds at most. Replicas of your armor and gear are stored in special containers just beneath the surface of your skin. A few backups come with every update, so you can keep an eye on your vital stats." "How do you know the name of the first?" I asked. "Simurgh?" Tattletale asked. "It was in the announcement, but I picked the name to honor one of the first Americans I met," I said. "You know that right, Grue? It’s the girl who talked to me in the coffee shop. Name’s Parian." "Oh. She’s okay," Grue said. "She has a bad trigger event, didn’t she? I think it’s more related to the way she thinks than the actual killing. She went from being all about fun and games in life to being all about killing." "What is the trigger event?" I asked. "If it comes down to it," Tattletale said, "Your eye can see patterns. There’s something in your DNA, just a general look for it. A heartbeat apart, you know it. So yeah, if it’s a hand, a digit, something in your shoulder or somewhere in your back, chances are good it’s a good one." I opened my eyes. Tattletale was on the other side of the coffee table, working on a word processor. She glanced at me, and her eyes moved right over my face. I met her eyes, and she looked away. "Okay ======== SAMPLE 22 ======== ," "That’s it?" "I thought I might offer some support, in case things got bad, or if my territory somehow came under attack. But things have taken a turn for the worse, and I’m worried that my ability to provide for my family might be in question." "I… may I?" "No. You can stay here, as my ward. But I should be able to give you more security, with my squad of heroes surrounding you, and maybe a… more… secure means of transport." "I don’t like them," Jessica Yamada said. "Not exactly. But they’re doing something. Are they changing?" "Maybe. Perhaps. I don’t like nor do I trust them, so I don’t like being forced into this." "I can understand that," Jessica Yamada said, "But I’m not sure I like this in the slightest. This isn’t improving my country." "You want to be useful." "This is as far as I’ll go. I won’t make any promises, I won’t make any promises I can’t keep. But I can give you my help." "In what way is this going to improve my country?" "Your people are in better shape, now. Your leaders are more experienced, and they’re more capable than they were. More protected. More informed. Your institutions are in better shape, if you’ll forgive me saying so. I’d argue you’re doing a magnificent job of hiding the fact that you’re in a weakened state. The best part of a decade, at least, of hard experience, information, knowledge and current events." "A decade?" Kenta nodded. "You’re Davy Crockett, captain of the ball and butterfly of the Texas Home Fleet. I’m talking to you about starting your own territory, raising your kids to be the leaders of their households, being trusted with the running of their households, instead of having them commanded by a Commander of the Guard." "A decade?" Kenta nodded. "It was your choice. It was a last resort, really. You had no idea at the time you made the call to reassign your duties to me. I can’t promise I’ll be there when you need me, when you’re in a pinch, but I can’t promise I’ll make the call I made." Kenta stared at him. He swallowed the lump in his throat. "It was the only rational thing. Assuming things don’t turn out badly, which I don’t think we will, but I wanted a stable family and a career in the defence industry to have. If you’ll forgive me my saying, it’s in your best interests." "And taking care of my grandkids?" "That’s why I’m bothering you, in the end." Kenta rose from his seat, offering a small wave. "Yes," she replied. "Yes it will." He nodded. They walked downtown. Downtown was a different sort of area. The buildings here weren’t in the best shape, and the streets were muddy, filled with debris and swamps of wet water. "You’re not staying?" "I’ve made arrangements. I will be in touch. Keep an eye on your grandkids." "I don’t want to leave," Jessica Yamada said. "But…" "But I already told you I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t love you." "I know," Jessica said, just under her breath. "Why did you tell me you’d do it if you didn’t love me?" Because that’s the easiest answer. "Because I have to love you, and I know that if I ever said the words aloud, they will. I can’t withhold it." Kenta looked away. "Grandpa and Grandpa have their own issues. They worry about their grandkids." Kenta nodded, slowly. "But they love you, and they don’t want you in their lives any more than I want you in mine. I’d feel differently if they had an issue with it, you understand? My children would feel the same way. My own family would feel the same way." Kenta’s eyes widened. "Okay. I get it." "It’ ======== SAMPLE 23 ======== ," "But you said you’ve done research." He shook his head. "I don’t have time, and I’d rather keep doing what I’m doing. Working with my power, talking to objects, and understanding how they work." "And you have ideas," someone said. A girl, by the door. "If you’re talking about ideas," he said, "Then I have a deviant counterpart who has no deviant counterpart. A fan-made counterpart." The girl spoke up, "I didn’t see that." "I can’t really see, unless you’re talking about the powers. The body doubles have mostly been destroyed. The bodies have been reformed, but the DNA’s not. I’d think the creator got them to function more like their originals did, give them more versatility." The girl opened the door next to her, "I don’t want to talk about the powers until we’ve had a chance to investigate. You don’t have anything to say to me?" "Say what you will," he said. "Can we eat in the cafeteria?" Emma asked. "Or do I have to stay home and feed my family?" "Do you have a dress code? You are most definitely not talking to me." "Will that be alright? I saw a bit of thigh high socks on display." "I go in tank tops. Black." "I can live with that. It means different things to different people," he smiled. She frowned. "I’m getting that feeling I’m in the minority here. Everyone here seems to know the norms and rituals around here, and it bothers me somehow. I’m not here to upset anyone, but you’re probably wondering why." "Oh, I don’t think I’m the only one who looks at me when I talk." He smiled at that. "You are. In any event, this is a bit of a crossroads. All of us are military veterans. Our country went to hell. I’m sort of wondering what’s going to happen here. If we wind up staying, what happens to my people?" "I can’t imagine it will be pretty." She turned around, "There was something touch about the way you were handling the fight." He shrugged. He could picture it. Blades of steel extended from the palms of his hands, poised at fifty-two and fifty-three points. A sphere of metal, hot enough it burned his fingertips. "Became a tinker. Made this sphere of metal, so it could weather the elements. The way your people were, they didn’t get left behind. I almost mistook it for a weapon." "You bastard!" he hollered, not moving from where he was holding the sphere. "The world’s going to end in a year and a half if you don’t address this. It’s already starting. This little aggression is going to eat away at you. If this keeps up, you will leave. Your people will likely go on the offensive, and you will have to train to deal with them, which takes time you don’t have. If this keeps up, you will have to leave the Protectorate." He raised his arms, then folded them across his chest. With claws like a turtle’s, he rushed forward. Herbal tea. It seemed like an odd thing to drink, when she was suggesting mugging for kids, but she found the concept easier than it had elsewhere. "Don’t mug me, dragon. I won’t accept the deal." "I open the door. You won’t." "World’s going to end in a year and a half unless we do something. It’s a matter of time before we get into another serious crisis, with the next big one taking longer than the last." He went on, ignoring her. "The President has said he expects we will win, this crisis aside. I ask that you help secure our borders, deal with those drug lords who have infiltrated your communities, and see that those who still wish to subvert or undermine the system are met with the same harsh measures." "Drug lords? Are they puppets of the Central Intelligence Agency or the PRT?" "Both. Both acting on orders. I would like to stop them. To put them on notice that they cannot continue doing what they are doing indefinitely. And I would like to put this drug lord in a facility where he can be detained until he can be brought into custody." ======== SAMPLE 24 ======== ," Tattletale said. "Just to be clear… the man with the knife is still alive, at least for now." "He’s not holding himself aloft anymore," I said. "What kind of parahuman does he think he is?" Tattletale asked. "Not an A.I. or anything close to it. But he’s still the same. Still thinking the same way. Betting he’s more worried about being seen as the bad guy than about being killed." "How long does the countdown last?" I asked. "How long does the plan last?" "I don’t know. But he won’t be able to destroy the Echidna unless there’s an answer to be found. And he won’t be able to destroy her unless there’s a plan B." "What sort of plan will he use?" Grue asked. "His last attack was indiscriminate. He hasn’t attacked this many times, but he keeps doing that. It makes me wonder how he’s keeping it up." "Your pats on the back don’t seem to fit with your day to day." I shook my head. "It’s all about the tactics he thinks he’ll use. And I’ve got an idea. He didn’t just get one of my teammates, he has an easy way of killing me." "So?" Tattletale asked. "What does this plan do?" "It requires three things," I said. "A way to track him, a way to get to Canada, and a way to get Jack to stop. And if he’s learned anything from fighting Endbringers, it’s that he doesn’t need to kill to get stopped. He can hurt me, and he’ll get a chance to hurt me before anybody else can." "We’re going to lose Jack," Grue said. "Four, maybe. But we’re going to win this." I could picture it. "I don’t like this outcome," I said. "Not in terms of the end results, but in terms of morale. We lost Eidolon, and now we’re going to lose Jack. And we don’t even know what we could accomplish if we work together." "I don’t either," Regent said. "But either of us are going to head home in tears. And Clarke and I will be much happier than the unhappy couple." "Not that we’re in any better shape," I said, "But we’ll take whatever hurt he does and turn it into strength." "I won’t turn down a job like that," Regent said. "No," I replied. "That’s a no, alright? Except I already said no, and I already say fuck you, to all the other offers. Because this is bigger than me, and I’m not about to bend at a goddamn trick for a favor. I’ll kill you." "You actually pulled that off," Regent commented. I raised my head to look at him. "Let’s postpone the fight. Jack’s going to lie to us about this. Let him use Panacea instead," he suggested. I shook my head. "People will wonder why we waited four times as long to kill him," I said. "And besides, why go through the hassle of going through the motions when we could just call in the big-rig and bomb the place?" "It’s a sub-standard plan," Grue said. "And it takes a certain type of person to carry that shit and execute it." "I can do the same thing," I said. "Call in the big guns." "Fuck that," Regent said. "No. It doesn’t work. We called for help, we made the first move, the big moves, and then we waited another hour-and-a-half to a day before we got the response we needed." "I used my bugs to make the first big move," I said. "Thanks for the tip, but that’s it. I was hoping to do more. Get Tactical, Inc. to start pulling his weight, getting the military to step up to the plate." "That wasn’t enough, I told myself I could fly, and now I’ve got Atlas." "You need a bigger stick to sell the idea of playing nice," I said. "That’s the last point I’ll be ======== SAMPLE 25 ======== ," her voice was as quiet as a whisper in the background. "I guess it’s a good thing this is a long drive. We’ll be at this address for just a little while, maybe." The driver asked, "Don’t you/he mean to them?" The Confessor 9.2 "No," Amelia replied. "I just want to help." "I know. I’m not trying to hurt them. Even if I’m a psychopath. I’m only trying to help." A dark look passed over Charlotte’s face as she read the statement over the car’s soundtrack. "That’s my number, not yours. Let’s hope I don’t have to make a mistake." "What if- if I get stuck in some black hole of insanity? That’s the kind of nightmare fantasy world you’re imagining for me?" "It’s not a mistake. It’s the whole point of your condition, in the first place. I can see it." "I don’t see any consequences." "But they will come, one way or another. And the consequences will surprise you. They will surprise you, because you’re gradually coming to the correct conclusions. You want to break free of your bindings, break free of your parents’s rules and expectations. In the doing, you’ll break free of your mother’s rules and expectations. She will break, and maybe even you. Maybe even you’ll break, and there’ll be no consequence for both." Charlotte glanced at the man. He’d stopped talking, and the car started rocking in an instant, then he started speaking. "We’ll see. In the meantime, we can discuss the subject later. In the meantime, I’m going to have to head back." "Is that OK?" "I will assist you, as promised. With this job, I’ll help you find your own way. I can read your emotions and intentions, and I’ll draw up plans that you’ll like." "I… don’t know that I like all this." "I just got an important message from my superior. You should let him know that you’ll consider his offer for a promotion before you give it a serious consideration. He’s already started working out which projects you’ll end your summer with, and he’s already got some projects in hand, some he’s ordered and some in progress. There’s no point in holding on to any projects, getting a promotion, or making any plans at all." Charlotte thought back to those days. The glum, uncertain, anxious environs of Adventurer #3’s home, the endless orders from his superiors, the constant worry and sleeplessness from his mother. How did his new boss view the drama? Did he get some shred of satisfaction from this? "I’m disappointed, Charlotte, but there’s no mistaking what I’m doing. I’m putting my all, and yet I don’t know what I’m doing. It has to be this one thing that I’m completely unqualified to touch on, so let’s fucking end here." He began to slide the box of packages down the ramp. "This is my gift, right? To set the stage for the rest of your life, this gift of a life, so you know what it’s like to have someone close to you come in and try to manipulate you." She shook her head, "Not my gift, no. I didn’t know you’d put any thought into it, and I didn’t think it would be this… long. I was worried it would be another empty promise, something I’d just walk away from. And if it turns out to be a fraud, if I find out you did this to try to fuck with me and if it turns out that all this was a trap laid by someone I had no idea was a clone, then I’m fucked. I’ll never get another gift from you." "I don’t care about the future! I’m just looking for answers, and any help I can get will be invaluable." She started to walk away, then stopped. "Seriously, Charlotte. Don’t go making me say goodbye. Please. I-" She stopped, turning to look at him. He took another second to compose himself, before she spoke. "Thank you. This works. ======== SAMPLE 26 ======== ," she answered. "The time signature is off-" "The time signature is right, but I’m getting a sense of randomness. There’s echo, and I’m seeing links and echoes of things. Way things are worded, there’s no ambiguity at all. Just give me one more second to make sense of this, and I’ll figure this out." "Okay," she said. The window for reorienting us hermetically sealed shut, after the first of our three revolutions. "There!" A boulder crashed into the aquarium, partially submerging it. I raised my head to see what had happened, and saw Rachel and her dogs thrashing under the water, trying to dig themselves out, frantically searching. "Trying to figure out how to use this," I said. "Brockton Bay doesn’t do gradients. It’s a city, and the residents have a way of making mountains out of hills," Brian pointed out. "What part? Simpler than that," Lisa pointed out. "They make these weird distorted hills that almost look like mountains," I said. "Effect of the geography," Brian clarified. "Right. I’m thinking it’s the same kind of effect that made this area look like a giant volcano," Lisa pointed out. "You have to understand, Taylor," I said, "Simplicity IS effect. We can’t abuse it, can’t throw almost anything at a complicated equation. This is one small thing, and it makes a big difference." "The whole point of having a city like this," Brian pointed out, "Is that it’s such a contrast. If we have three sides to every equation, you get a lot of nothing. Gutter poverty, drugs, entire neighborhoods full of people with everything but the clothes. It’s such an ugly situation, and you can almost see it with your own eyes, it feels wrong. Except, look at this. Whole areas around here have been turned into Shangri-La, the highest end end of the market, populated by people who have all the money, the best clothes, the best houses. Eden Falls, for all it’s flaws, was such a peaceful place. A place where you’d expect no less than ten criminals to congregate at a single time. Countless people, all buying and selling things, spending their earnings, and then leaving to go back to their own groups and their hometowns, in the hopes that one of us will see them. The same people who built this city so long, and paid so much for very little. "Hey," I raised my voice, a little too loud, "Not your cup of tea, Taylor. I’ve walked up behind you a few times and tried my hand at translating, so help me out if-" "Don’t," she said, and there was a kind of uncharacteristic emotion in the sound, "I’ve been paying lots of attention to the little details you’ve picked up over the past couple of months. Break this down into its component elements and I’ll let you know what I think of it." "What do you think of it?" I asked. "It’s my baby, my rock. It’s… I won’t say it’s unique, but it’s mine, and if it bleeds, it’s blood and one or both of my parents surviving." I’d heard the first bit before she even said it. Infection. "My partner," she said. "My partner? You’re talking about the guy I’ve ridden all over the place with, who barely looks half as handsome as he seems. I’m not sure if it’s just habit or a natural lack of self-assurance, but you know what I mean. I spent three years riding shotgun for some guy who was never going to be more than a local kid in a shitty town. And I can’t get over it." I couldn’t say much to that. "Hey," Lisa said, "Don’t sweat it. People are going to respond to that. People do. It was the result of a lot of work, and a lot of missed opportunities. But we won’t hear about it because it doesn’t matter, and we won’t dwell on it, and we won’t dwell because we know this is, like, the most important thing in the world to us-" "I know," I interjected, speaking my thoughts aloud. "Yeah ======== SAMPLE 27 ======== ," I muttered. "You’re a thinker," he said. "You saw that coming. That’s a badge I probably need some redeeming qualities if I’m going to pretend I’m anything but a basket case. That said, you probably have an answer for this. I’m open to suggestions." I stared at him. The worst I could do was offer a non-committal response. Give him hope, and he might take it. He studied me for several long moments, apparently considering. "I know about you. I’ve seen you succeed where others failed. I sympathize with that, Taylor Hebert." "So you agree. We’re in a position to help you, Mr. President?" I asked. "I can’t say for sure, but I would prefer for the whole darn thing to go to plan, with you acting as my partner and advisor." I sighed. I knew it was dumb, but this wasn’t the brightest move. "Then I will wait here, until you’ve had a chance to talk to your partner and check in on me. Then I will come back and help." "Sounds like a plan." "In the meantime, we can eat dinner? I’ve been meaning to get my hands on some ramen." Infestation 11.1 I could sense my passenger darting to the refrigerator. I hurried to the refrigerator and opened it. Chefs prepare food in preparation for a meal in one of the rooms at the Four Seasons Hotel. Jack mentions the meals being one of the conveniences the hotel offers. Infestation. A creeping evil that claimed the attention of the local D.T. police force, with them as the unwitting victims. A serial killer with more plans than we could count, devouring an entire block of the city, including the sewers, storm drains and surrounding area, and leaving nothing for the local gangs and cartels. One member of the local underworld caught wind of their plan, and with little more than rumors and empty promises, they set about implementing it at once. They eliminated the trash cans as a form of attack, replacing it with countless piles of bags filled with water. Soon everyone was using this new source of drinking water. Other gangs and police forces soon noticed and honed in on this new practice, forcing the gangs to change tactics or be forced to move away. By the time the raids were over, the water was running off the ground, trash bags were still dumped onto the streets and trash bags littered over the city. Soon the entire city was running clear of trash. I could remember the first time I’d been on a boat and wondered how much I’d actually believe that the boat was made of glass. Trouble was the same with nearly every aspect of my life, so maybe it hadn’t really hit me that hard. Maybe I was more open to the idea that my parents were walking, talking and being actively nefarious when I saw them on the boat. Being told to go to the bathroom, only to find that my body had shut down, leaving me wondering if I’d actually bleed? Or worse, if the bathroom really was turning off, would I really be able to bring myself to go up to the bedroom and fetch my taser, her revolvers and my pepper spray? There were a lot of potential consequences if I did decide to go, and I didn’t want to think about it just yet. The prospect of going to the police chief and telling them what had happened still paled in comparison to what I was about to do. The key would be using my swarm. I was almost positive I wouldn’t be able to if it weren’t for the pepper spray. Even knowing the body armor I’d bought, even if I didn’t own or use it, my brain was telling me it wouldn’t be effective against most threats, if it even made a difference at all. There were two obvious places I could get those things, and both were in the parts of the city where the police didn’t have a presence. The first was a thirty minute drive west of the city, around the outskirts of the Docks. I’d take the bus instead, to minimize the chance that the police got a hold on me. That said, I still needed the pepper spray. I could only hope I could find a tinker that would make it nonlethal. Getting the pepper spray onto my person didn’t seem to be a problem. There was only regular pepper spray on site, and a metal frame bag I apparently didn’t want to touch with a ten foot pole. I put it in ======== SAMPLE 28 ======== ," I said, "And for what?" "For the man in charge," he said. "He doesn’t get enough credit. He deserves more." Lisa smiled. The smile she’d never shared with me. "I’ll kill you," I said, a little too loudly, "If you make me change my mind…" "I’m going to kill you," he said, too abruptly. There was a kind of fury in his tone that I hadn’t really expected. "That’s fine. Really," I said. "Just… tell me you don’t want me gone. That’s enough." "I want this city saved," he said. There was a surprisingly strong emphasis there. Ridiculous, as far as I was concerned. "From the people who hate us to the people who want to hurt us." "The people who want to hurt us? They’d be the-" I stopped as Tonks barked. Tonks raised her voice, as if to drown it out, "Teacher! The man who’s causing this! The one who’s set this in motion! Teacher!" "Stop!" Tattletale ordered. "Is it in Japanese? If you can, explain it. It’s not just the lack of English in the group. There’s also the fact that there’s a lot of us that are stuck in a time loop. Nearly a third of us don’t speak the language, we’re too busy trying not to burn our fingers or break our toes trying to process this." "The time the PIs went to the movies?" Tonks poked me in the chest, hard. "No. As a group, we got the message loud and clear. It doesn’t matter. The movies are bad." Tonks tapped my chest as she said it. A harmless aside, but it still sent a clear message to me. I’d given up, a hundred percent, I thought. I couldn’t point to any particular event that pointed to a particular person or thing. But if there was some clue about who I was, or if there was some other clue that would throw some useful clues my way… "What’s with the anger? The lack of focus?" "That dream I had? I got distracted." "That was the bad one. The one you told yourself would happen. The bad dream where you had to repeatedly choose between failing and living your worst moments. The bad place, where your constant attempts to please only made things worse." "Enough," I said. "You don’t have to explain." "What do you think happened?" I met my dad’s eyes. "It didn’t work out, obviously. But seeing him there… it made me realize that there’s probably a lot of people out there with worse dreams, with less hope. Who’ve they been since the world was turned inside them? They’ve got hope even if they don’t have it in their bellies. But there’s a lot of people out there with hope, and if they get their hopes up about a job well being done, a loved one dying, a city surviving, a member of their family getting hurt, then they somehow barely have anything left to lose. They got to carve out a tiny bit of hope at a time, and all they want to do is hope they can do it all again. That they can hold out forever. Grow to love and hate and search and pray and do all those things over and over again and never find the one they were born to do." She stopped, then. "That’s not what I’m saying. I meant that I don’t know what to do right now. I don’t- I shouldn’t have said that." I nodded. She started to speak again, but the security cameras around the building went silent. Every step of the way, my dad watched. He’d been among the first to pick up on the truth, had been the first to ask for it. Had he even been the right man to ask? Interlude 11e (Anniversary Bonus) How the hell did the others stack up? When Illinois joined the Unites States Army, it immediately turned to suspicion. Within days, rumors spread like wildfire. The soldiers would search local civilians for weapons or personal effects bearing the serial numbers of their uniforms. Women and children were the prime target, along with anyone else who might be able to identify their intended targets. ======== SAMPLE 29 ======== ," his voice was hushed. "You’re more of a leader, now." "More of a leader than top dog, depending on how you define it," Shadow Stalker folded her arms. "But I like the man and I respect him. So you guys are getting the short end of the stick, here." "I respect you too, but that ends." "We’ll go down in history as the bad apples," Shadow Stalker joked. They were good like that, that’s all. I stared at them. Lung was intimidating, with a build that was just average for someone his age, his hoodie bearing the brunt of his cobalt blue curls. But the really scary guy was Shadow Stalker, sporting what I soon found out was a prosthetic eye and missing earlobe. The rest of the guys around them looked like they just happened to be one of the good ones. Might have to say good riddance to the Steel Ranger, if I didn’t already have Shadow Stalker in a seriously dangerous group. Clockblocker and Vista were the antitheses of that. Clockblocker was average for his age, height and build, a little taller, broad shoulders and arms. On the other hand, he had a prosthetic eye and (presumably) missing eardrum. He was dressed like a supervillain with a white costume with a hood, a skirt and cargo pants. One of the nice things about his costume was the fact that he could tighten the material down to his skin, giving it a more mechanical look. He had a steel sword suspended from the belt loop, which I couldn’t exactly draw and don my costume. He was backed up by a squad of people in full gear, all with their faces and bodies shown in black and white. Vista was the opposite. She wasn’t all there. I saw her with one hand pressed to her stomach, her eyes closed, her lips spread, as if she were feeling guilty. Her hand was crossed over her chest, her arms folded. A small computer set was set into her belt, along with a series of colorful concentric circles and squares. "We know who he is," I spoke, my voice raised as I spoke. I kept my voice low, my focus on their group. "Shadow Stalker. He-" I stopped, glanced at Clockblocker. "Was right about." "So. Let’s clear some things up. First off, I can’t give away Suspicion members in case any of our group do something really stupid and someone spots them and decides to tell everyone." "Suspicion? Like, what’s the difference?" my dad asked. "All members of the Nine are represented. In Vista’s case, the other Weaver clone is there as well. But the other one is a villain," I said. "And they’re the real dangers, aren’t they?" Clockblocker asked. "She’s the one who gets hurt the most," I said. "She’s probably going to get the most damaged." "Is she going to get more damaged if we goad her?" Clockblocker asked. "Fuck off, assholes," I snapped. "I keep getting sucked into the rut as far as my ability to analyze capes. I can’t speak for the others, but for me, it’s almost like it’s ‘okay, now we’ve got the info and tricks cuffed to our wrists for the time being. Only problem is, once I snap, they become loose ends that I’ve got to tie up. Like the little thing about the pepper spray incident." "It gets back to the point you said it?" Clockblocker asked. I shrugged, "It does. So I’m just going to have to get used to it. Once you’ve convinced me that you’re comfortable enough that I don’t have to worry about stuff like that, and I’ve convinced myself that this isn’t a situation where I jump to conclusions, I’m not going to push you on anything." "I’m not exactly fine when you’re spitting me out of conversations," Clockblocker said, sounding annoyed. I turned around. "I’m not going to snark at your expense. It’s fine. I’m cool with it." "Go on," he said. I shrugged to make myself get settled. I wasn’t feeling much better. Sickness, my stomach screaming in agony. I took a deep breath and tried to calm ======== SAMPLE 30 ======== ,"‘I’m sorry. I need to find the rest of her." "I can’t tell you what to do. I never listened when you told me you had to kill you to save her." "Didn’t have to. I was there for it too. You’ve probably had more than a few people in the room over the past few weeks and months. They talked about giving you a few seconds of hope, about giving you a chance to live, to be heroes. I remember they were close to you, even if I didn’t know the details. It’s an ugly tear in history. What’s going to you do?" "Oh." She reached into the darkness that was slithering around her feet and withdrew three cell phones. She spoke into them, "Merida. The name is a mouthful, it doesn’t sound familiar." "Oh. I remember." She withdrew a worn cell phone from one pocket, "And Othello. The name did not sound right, I have not heard it since I started paying attention to this conversation. I think you’re going to like what I have to say." Othello frowned. "It’s time. The others will be arriving soon. We need to decide where they are going, so we can head to them. I saw Purity in the miasma, she has twelve other clones around her, and her biggest threat is an aged Blinker in a steam suit. I think the Blinker should take a break, recuperate, then come to Brockton Bay with the rest of the heroes. Purity will keep the city in order, her subjects safe. Othello will bring in the rest of the major players, put them all in their places, and then leave in a small helicopter. He can teleport well enough that heroes won’t be in immediate range." Othello nodded assent to that. "We’ll leave the rest of you to decide what to do with the rest of your day. We have a job to do, a plan. You have been hard working, and you know your job. If this goes well, we’ll have guests arriving soon." She waved a hand dismissively. Othello frowned, a slack jaw. "You’re hired. You’re here to help, aren’t you? You could be working for free. Or you could earn some cashier on the side." Othello shook his head, then waved the hand of his longsword, "I am not. I have to keep this up and running. I earn money hacking and I keep my mouth shut." "This is for the best. I’m glad we’re doing this with the Wards," she answered, "So long as you don’t do anything too stupid or illegal, we don’t have to worry about your stuff." It was a farce of a world that Regina thought she found herself in. A television with an ad missing from the beginning. A voicemail, from a potential employer. "Hey Doris," the first thing the human voice said, "You gotta hear this. Supervillain. Doing a live broadcast in front of a sold out crowd. Will be on the beach from now on!" Doris was a burly, greased ex-military guy with a costume that blended real art with bubble wrap and a decorative machine gun strapped over his shoulders. Supervillain? She looked at the man. He was content to let her believe it was her song. She tuned out the TV. There was a hold on her power. A man in a suit reached out of an alley and kicked a television set. It crashed into the wall. The remaining TV set rebounded through the wall once more, and this time, he held it up to the wall to calibrate the position. The calibration took longer than it had the last three times, and every channel in contact with the calibration device was blind. Doris stared at the screen, a motionless spot between one and two minutes in duration. "Here’s the deal, Dori," the man intoned, "You win this, on September eighteenth, ten years from now, eleven years from now…" Doris turned to see the screen, went a few seconds before she could speak. A projection of a young man in a suit with a camera was showing her the same image. A white outline, reaching down from above her head, with a blurry middle connecting the two. "You’re president of the Brockton Bay Wards. That’s it." "It’s not official. I didn