======== SAMPLE 1 ========
 to save the world."

"There’s a million different ways this could go wrong. You can’t save everyone. You can’t ensure everyone has the talent, the motivation, the support system and financial means to pull it off. If you tried, something disastrous would happen eventually. You’re in the most dangerous time in the history of the world."

"People like you who say this is hopeless, that we’re so fucked, so doomed…" He paused. "If we all just stopped trying so hard and joined the others in trying to save the world, things would get better. It would be better all around. There would be peace. In ten or fifteen years, things would be okay again, and this problem wouldn’t exist."

Grue looked over his shoulder at Imp. She wasn’t moving.

"I’m not saying you shouldn’t try to help. I’m just saying there are lots of dumb things people say, and I’m not trying to stop you. If you want to hang out, go back to your room. There’s plenty of places to go and people to meet you if you decide you want to stay."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to understand something," he said. "I can’t put up with this, and you can’t put up with me. So I’m going to do this, and maybe I’ll try. I’ll walk away. Join the others in going and doing what they’re doing. Save the world. Stay home. I promise you, things will be okay."

He put his hand on mine.

"Skitter," he said.

"What?" I asked.

"Ten or fifteen years from now, I’ll still be here, and you can ask me questions, and I can give you answers. But right now, you should know I’m willing to walk away and do what it takes to help. You can stay at my place and eat whatever I want. You can go to my school and do what you want. Or you can join the other students. Join the rest of the people who were willing to come here and pay a visit to the principal. I really don’t care which you do."

"I’m not… not really. I… uh…"

"Skitter," he told me, again.

I was surprised to realize who he’d said that to.

I looked at Miss Militia. "I don’t… what does it even mean?"

"I don’t know."

"Well, I’ll explain, if it’s not too much to hope I get the right interpretation."

"Right. How does this benefit us?"

"The situation worsens if we keep fighting. We can afford to lose a few members of our group for each of the Nine we bring in. We can’t afford not to win some, and losing a few more could spell disaster for the future."

"And losing means suffering what you’ve already suffered," he said. "Difficulties, lost relationships, lost possessions, friends, possessions you might consider valuable…"

"Anything valuable?" I asked. "Your parents, your friends."

"We’ll see," he said. "Let’s not act like we lost anything. We could make do."

"Right," I said. Damn it. This had to mean something. I had to argue it for myself. "If we count everything we have to give up in order to cross this place, this-"

He stopped, turning his attention to the door, sliding his hand over the handle to unlock it.

"Come inside," I said.

He nodded once, and I guided Grue inside. We were separated by a curtain of stone. His dark hair was in a thick enough patch that nothing was visible behind it.

The others hadn’t returned yet. Even Imp and I couldn’t make out anything from where we were standing. A pit had formed behind each of the three doors, a roughly round hole, roughly the size of our parking garage. Each set of doors had been smeared with flake-black volcanic ash, then coated with a similar consistency to the ash that covered the hallways of a large-ish government facility.

"This isn’t how I planned to spend my time tonight," I said.

"It’s fine," Grue said. "I’ll use my power, and we can come back soon."

I nodded. Too many good moments to pick from, I thought. But that

======== SAMPLE 2 ========
 to go up against the Nine in that environment? My dad’s old team? Maybe?"

"I can look at them now. And they didn’t show."

"So? What do you want?"

"I want to protect her."

His dad gave him a curt nod in response. Even my own whispers were betraying that ineffectual twang with the deep voice that had sounded so long ago.

"You want me to work for you?"

"I think you’ve earned the right to an audience with your father. If you’re really determined enough to try and stop him, I can provide cover."

"I don’t want to stop him."

"You cannot, unless you plan to be on his team."

"I already am, but I wanted to start this conversation and discuss things in a more direct fashion. If you want to keep me on, I can. If you want me to stay, well, that’s up to him."

"I’m aware. Can I ask what you plan to do about the missing man? I was only recently able to track him down. His name is Grant."

He’d seen us from the surveillance cameras and the cell phone footage. He knew who Kid Win and Ballistic were.

"Your team is no longer active. Where are they now?"

"We attacked them, I expect. I expect they are in a position to protect their leader, and you, in exchange, you will provide me with information on my enemy."

"Your information will take us a ways to the bottom line, and the numbers don’t lie. My team is stronger, I think you will agree, and your goal will be achieved sooner than later."

"We don’t have resources that can help us there."

"We will help you find them. For now, we are going to take a moment to pray."

"Yes, Father."

"We have prayed for a long time. For your lost child, for you soldier, for yourself, so you may find your direction again."

"I appreciate your concern."

I turned to glance at the other members of the Wards. Miss Militia, Clockblocker, Flechette, Kid Win and Vista. Even Kid Win’s expression wasn’t entirely normal, as he faced the task of protecting his master. To even have them stand by and watch as he obstructed a potential murder would be like having a child take charge of the house. Uncomfortable, to say the least.

"I’ve thought it prudent to give you two tasks. To each of you, I send my sworn and individually ratified duty request."

They folded their arms. I resisted the urge to assume a combat stance and make noise, but did anyway.

"Goal?" Clockblocker asked.

"I want to protect our master. To ensure he does not fall in this trap, I will seek out my underlings and have them assist me in tracking down my old team. I will ensure they do so by means of spies and underlings, and I will use every device I have at my disposal to aid in this endeavor. I’d like each of you to step forward and make the most of this moment."

Nobody moved.

"They have all left. Your underlings will decide if any join us, as I have done, or if they remain loyal to me and remain outside. If anyone seeks to step into the breach, I will give them their due, and they will see their reward shortly after.

"As you leave, you will receive orders, and if you obey, I will give you another. To this new task, I will impart the knowledge of your services and the tools you need to tackle the enemies you’ve faced so far. Failure is nothing, and I will provide the means by which you may truly succeed."

My heart sank. Failure. I had no clue what I would do. This had to be some lie. Or just plain brainwashing.

But I knew better. It had been what I had done when I’d disobeyed the PRT in Brockton Bay, and I’d done it again when I disobeyed Genesis in New Delhi. I was better than Genesis, in every sense of the word.

Flechette spoke, "Everyone is being generous, Father. We can look after this."

The Wards all started to raise their hands, but Flechette took that as permission to proceed, standing without waiting for the response. She turned to Kid Win, and I could imagine her standing there, watching them, waiting with an almost spiritual understanding of why they had chosen their subservience over fighting.

======== SAMPLE 3 ========
 to have a chat with you."

I frowned, "Don’t suppose you’ll do me the favor of answering my own question?"

"Sure," she replied.

"You’ve been spending a good bit of money on your purchases, buying new clothes and gear. The others seem to be getting by okay?"

She hesitated, "Some are."

"If it isn’t Skitter."

She frowned. "What?"

"Can you please take the phone from my hand? I would prefer to keep it for myself."

"Of course."

She touched her earbud, "All four are accounted for. Coil is en route."

"Okay."

"Tell the others to be on the lookout for a potential reunion. I would like to keep them informed."

"Okay."

"What do you think?"

This from Amy? Or was it just the precog?

"I think it’s very possible they are meeting. I just… I’m not sure what they expect to see or how long it will take."

"Of course," she replied.

"Anything further?" I ventured. "My questions are for the better part of the price of the dinner. I’ve set my expectations in stone, and I imagine you don’t intend to break them. What do you want, Grue? What do you want to be, Tattletale?"

"What I want is simple. To stop the maniacs. The Slaughterhouse Nine, the Slaughterhouse Eight, the Slaughterhouse Nine’s children, every member of the Nine. The Protectorate is a joke. They’re going to try to kill us before the Endbringer attacks. To accomplish this, they need power, and they need it now."

There were chuckles from the others.

"And to stop the maniacs from getting their hands on any of that power, you’re going to have to give me that power."

"Can’t you see the pain on their faces?" Tattletale quirked an eyebrow.

"I don’t intend to use you."

She didn’t sound convinced. "No, I don’t intend to use you, Skitter. But you do listen to me, and it’s up to you whether you want to cooperate or not."

"And Grue is where you and I both agree that he’s here for the wrong reasons."

"Everyone’s here for the wrong reasons," Grue said, "We’re supposed to be working together."

"No. Because you know we can’t work together if you insist on being the lone wolf, without my informed consent."

"That doesn’t make it much better," he spat the words. "We’re going to get killed if we do."

"I’m trying to use my expertise to find a solution," she hissed the words.

"What solution? Killing the Nine, and everybody that matters. Everyone who worked for them. Killing the people in the city that you signed a contract with. Killing my dogs-"

She stopped.

"You can’t believe that," she hissed the words.

He didn’t respond.

"Everyone here knows what you did. Everyone’s supposed to be able to see the end of the world coming, right? Someone’s supposed to be able to predict it. But you can’t see it coming."

"I’m sure it won’t come," he said.

"Everything you make here is predicated on this, right? This idea that it’s you that’ll die, that the world ends. On a level, I have to believe it, but I think you’ll make it out differently than I do."

I closed my eyes for a moment. I could sense the others reacting, each drawing in a little breath to catch their breath.

I glanced at Grue. Could see him with his finger on the butt of his gun, tense, waiting for a chance to act.

I had to say something, but there wasn’t time. Not to sound cocky, or I’d start, I suspected, but something would have to give, otherwise I risked seeming like I was clinging to what I was doing.

"We’d keep going until-"

I shook my head. I felt like I could throw up, but holding my breath was better than doing it the hard way. I shifted my weight, shifted my body. I moved.

I moved myself into the

======== SAMPLE 4 ========
 to hold her from my reach, so you can’t use your power and leave me be."

"Your power can’t do anything you can’t measure," the Doctor answered, "And I can’t read or write you with my power. I have to rely on a few scraps of information from people who have worked with you, and a whole lot of your power’s properties we have yet to comprehend."

"We could, maybe. I haven’t worked up the courage to ask."

"In the interest of full disclosure, I have to pass on one request and one piece of bad news."

"What would I ask?"

"What would I want? That doesn’t really concern me. What would you want, Doctor?"

"I would like to see this finished. You have worked tirelessly for many years to help others. Many years, you earned a reputation as one of the foremost heroes in the world. Well, the days of being a hero are gone, and in your efforts to help others, you have made yourself into something more than they are."

"Thank you," I replied.

"There are things you would like, things you have worked toward to the best of your abilities. Rest assured, I am not willing to put you out to any arbitrary standard, to change you, or give you a trick or trick to work with that you do not want."

"And?"

"And there is one other thing."

"Whack!"

"If the Doctor were to give you a body double right now, and your power gave you one right after the other, would you refuse both?"

"Like I said, things could change."

"Well, your plan doesn’t work if your enemy figures out what you want, do they? So it would be better if your goal is one that you can’t even understand. That is all."

"But…"

"And that is all. Your plan is not only pointless, it is dangerous. It may even bring about the kind of world that is best left unsaid."

"I see," I said. "Not good, not good at all."

"Perhaps you should see a doctor?" the Doctor suggested.

"This is madness, talking to myself."

"Do it. It is safer."

"I-"

"Yes," the Doctor interrupted me, "Your thoughts are sane, now. You are sane. But I suspect you have a very strong need to change. Something to be upset about, seeing as how you have been this all your life."

"I don’t know," I admitted. "I’ve put up with more than enough stress in my life. How many people, outside of the group of people that I was close to when I was making my… well, my name?"

"Fourteen words," the Doctor replied. The rest of the names were on a slide marked just beside her.

"I was upset, because I was losing more and more faith that the future that I imagined myself leading would ever materialize. Cynics might say it was fear, but fear was a powerful thing then, and it is still powerful. Now, people tend to find it easier to overlook the injustices of the world around us. I would argue that was the case with you."

"You mean I will lead the Undersiders to some sort of success in this new world, where people are being forced to accept you."

"No." The Doctor spoke, and every word in the statement were sharp, clear and simply. "No. You will not lead the Undersiders to success. That has been your fate from the outset. You will not lead the Travelers to anything less than success. No patience, no amount of lying, treachery and deceit will buy you that."

"So you want me to abandon this city."

"You will not help me to lead this city to success. I will not sell you the city, and I will not convince the local villain groups to join me in taking over this city."

"You will ask for help. I will make use of that help. I will not ask for your permission or for your acquiescence."

"You will always be someone’s slave," I said.

"Yes."

"Then perhaps I should make a suggestion, Doctor," she said. "Rest assured, I will use my power to help you come to that conclusion."

"Are you saying I should abandon the Undersiders?"

"No. No, I am not. It would be naive to assume so."

"Then that is settled. Are you the Brockton Bay Wards team leader?"

"Yes

======== SAMPLE 5 ========
 to change it. I’d set my own expectations for her, and I wanted to be free to act as though she’d set her own standards for herself.

So she stayed where she was, her mouth agape, as I walked up to the table and the other woman, Miss Militia.

"You want to know who I am?" I asked them.

"Naturally."



"Metropolis," she said, her voice a little loud. There was something about the word that made it impossible to fool myself. That very fact that she’d used it made it impossible to fudge the fact that it was a secret, and that she was being very deliberate about it.

"Metropolis is a city bigger than New York or Los Angeles. That’s a bigger city than both, isn’t it? You know how big New York is? Cities get bigger as you get closer to the center, as you approach the center? Well, New York City is, sort of, a penthouse. Up until about… three-thousand nine hundred people got to know me, probably, and I was in the same class as them. As I see it, there’s two ways you can act so soon after joining the Wards. One is that you’re so new to it, you’re not old enough to vote and all the privileges that come with the city, and so you don’t get the hang of it, don’t get the sense that you belong. So you act like you belong, and that gives you an advantage, and your friends act like they belong, and so on. But it’s really more of a series of misunderstandings, petty jealousies and fights. And once you reach the apex of it all, once you get in the leadership and get the titles and the money and all that, you tend to lose touch with the basics. You start behaving, you don’t you dare upset me, which is why you can’t really act like you want to break me out of this. You act like you want to be with your friends, but you’re trying too hard, you’re being annoying, and we get into fights…"

She made a noise like she was about to cough up a stream of acid, not quite liquid diarrhea, but a belch.

"And you start fighting less, right?" I asked.

She shook her head a little. "I tend to stay active after I’m done fighting. I’m not normally one to be afraid, but this is a little puts me off balance. If I’m even still able to follow all of it, it would take me a lot of energy, and where are my bugs?"

"Bugs, they… they burrow," she managed.

"Hm?"

She fumbled with her fingers, then used a combination of her strength and my efforts to uncoil a spider from between her thumb and forefinger. I drew my bugs around the spider and stung it dry. It started trembling as it struggled painfully.

"Right, now, don’t move. I fucking love the sensation of a spider’s webbing around your leg," she said. She hooked her thumb over one ear and started whispering, "When you’re at your most active, you hear that? That’s the first sound I hear when I look at Canary and the others, and if I stick my neck out to get a better look, I can almost feel that. There. So we’re even."

Tattletale glanced at me. I frowned, "And she keeps saying the spiders aren’t supposed to hurt me. Can’t I leave?"

"Leave what? The fight? The fight inside the Wards?" Miss Militia asked.

I looked around at the rest of the Undersiders, then answered her with a growl, "No, can’t leave. I can look after you all, I can keep an eye out for trouble, but I’m going to make a promise to myself. If I join the Undersiders, I’ll give you all my spider powers, one every hour, so you don’t have to-"

"No," Triumph said, backing away.

"For as long as you have powers, I can keep an eye out for trouble," she said, "And if you try to leave, I’ll give you a full set of my powers, so you have one chance to escape. One hour, one minute."

"And if I try to leave?" Regent asked.

"For as long as you have powers, I can keep an eye out for trouble, but if I

======== SAMPLE 6 ========
 to save the world once and for all. All thanks to you, me."

She smiled and shook her head. "I had someone give me a hard time about how you are always the underdog, the loser."

That’s not how we do stuff, he thought. He glanced at her, found her glasses and fumbled with them to adjust her glasses. She stopped to cough and sneeze just behind his right ear.

"You can call me whatever you want," she said, ignoring him. She put one foot on the top of the counter and wrenched her ankle out of his reach, walking over to the drawer where the backfolding of her costume had been kept. A minute later, she pulled her shoes back on and walked into the elevator. He followed.

It took nearly five minutes before the doors were open. Each pair of eyes in the elevator was filling with curiosity.

Taylor.

"Hello?"

Her voice was barely audible.

"You left me a message."

"I didn’t do anything. I was worried you would."

"Because you are a terrible person, and I wish you the best, in all things, and I had to deal with some pretty heavy shit this past year, so I sort of needed a kick up the backside."

"Which isn’t a kick. Just… just put it in the mail," she said. She handed him a folded piece of paper. There were signature lines scrawled across the back, not unlike someone typed up a driver’s license signature. One at the corner of each page, not unlike someone’s legal name.

She opened the page.

Dear Taylor…

I’m not your mom. Someone gave you the name before you were born. The spelling is a little screwed up, though. So it’s spelled out in bold letters… you’re not my mother. I’ve looked it up, though. I’ve checked, even contacted the experts. The person who gave me the address said there was no way I could be your mother, not legally, not in the sense that you have the same rights and responsibilities as a mother. Not the kind of stuff that happened if you didn’t have a name that made you feel proud and happy in your newfound identity.

I’m… I’m not your daddy. At first, he was just a name someone picked out. A title or a role someone chose. Over time, it grew and became a burden. I won’t be your daddy. I stopped looking for that when I started looking for you, and that feels pretty fucked up. So I’m sorry if you feel uncomfortable around me, or if it makes you uncomfortable to realize you’re not my daughter.

I’m sorry that I didn’t pick anything more natural or fitting. Something more meaningful or fitting for you to call me by. I hope I wasn’t too hard on you in our last conversation, because I wish I was. There’s a peace in being human, I think, I think even I felt like that a little with you. There was peace in that realization. I have a bit of a reprieve now that I’m free, though. I’ll be back for more. I hope you’ll call me what you really are, whether I’m an alien or a father. You owe me one."

Taylor smiled. "I owe dad too."

"I owe you too."

"I wanted to say thanks for the chat, before you broke my heart. I won’t tell my dad the truth, and I won’t give him a reason, but I’m glad that you came back."

"For your sake, I don’t think I did a good job. If I kept digging, I might be fucking blind. Can you go for a walk for a bit? You can ask if you need to, or we can walk."

"Okay."

The doors at the front of the elevator were open, allowing Taylor to see the inside. She couldn’t make out the employees on the other side, but she could make out the children, both real and imagined. One was dressed like a little girl, sitting on a bed, holding her older brother’s hand. The other was a man, real bodybuilder type, wearing his casual white shirt with the extra wide, no-shoulder button of a bathrobe, and a tight black jacket with the hood up. She could imagine him with a disc that hung around his neck, maybe his fingers or toes. He wasn’t attractive, not in a literal sense, but she was irresistibly envious.



======== SAMPLE 7 ========
 to look at the group, not even smiling as I made my way around Bentley’s side, a smile gracing my features as I met his eyes.

"Trouble?"

"Just a little, man. My girlfriend is taking a vacation, for the time being. Things between us kinda got a head last night, so we’ve been on a bit of a break."

"Last night?"

"I’m waiting on my girlfriend to recuperate from some stress with some of the others. I think she’ll be back before then. I had a hell of a good time. I’m thinking I should go."

"You had a hell of a time. What’s the word?"

"Drama."

I stared at him, trying to find the words to respond.

"You’ve probably watched a lot of drama. You’ve probably seen it all."

"I don’t really watch drama."

"Well, I do. But I’ll admit, I’m pretty good at spotting the shit I like. And that’s without touching on the more serious stuff. You have to love the food."

"The food’s good," I said. I gave him a little twist in my back. He wiggled a little, then offered me a light smile.

"I dunno," he said. I nodded in a nod, trying to stay calm, "I’m okay with eating where you have it. If you want, I could get some food somewhere, after, say, dinner."

"Want? I can give you a little something every now and then. Coffee, tea, I could show you, you’ve made your bed, and I’ll give you a hand with setting it up, and all that. Maybe some light? I could make you a few hot showers for you, maybe, just to make sure you get some, so you don’t have to spend shit like I do."

I could hear in his breath a quiet sound. I turned my attention to appraisingly the space around his head. His hair, his beard. Was he tall? What was his waist?

"You’re in the company of Parian and Foil."

"Yeah."

"They know all about your secret identity. It’s a matter of time before they figure it out. Which is a whole other ballgame. Things get interesting when they start using that thing they were talking about making into a weapon, I dunno. They might have to make a move to get some leverage. I think the Undersiders are going to be okay with it."

"They are."

"I know they are."

"So what are you going to do, then? If you’re not comfortable with me following in your footsteps, whatever happens, I will."

I shook my head. "I don’t want to be a member of the Nine."

"Oh?"

"Nothing. I’m going to do what I can. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I really do want to be on our team. I want to be with you, and with the Undersiders."

"You’ll still be a member of the Undersiders if you tell them I told you to? Fuck me. I’m really not good with people that don’t have their backs to them."

"No. I’m not telling you to ignore my request. I’m just saying that without my consent, you’re not giving them the same leeway they’d given me. You have to understand, I’m not a bad person, and that gives me the leeway to ask for things. Like, oh, take a minute, a break from your group to cook and clean for one of the dogs. If you guys need a break from your shit to get clean, I can give them one."

"You need to cook? Why not me?"

"I don’t know. Maybe I’m too used to being in a group that’s handling all of the bullshit crap for me that I don’t get the vet bill of materials, like you guys are."

"No," I said, quiet, "Grue wouldn’t."

It did seem as if the Nine didn’t fully realize just how much work it would be to support a new member of the group in a crisis.

"Grue would be making the call. I don’t think he’s the type that relies on his buddy-hero’s

======== SAMPLE 8 ========
 to keep them from her. She didn’t even need power to see through the haze of smoke that spread across the sky as Smoke reached for her. Her bugs found her way to her by tracing the paths her body and her power had traveled through the sky. She could even tell which patches of ground Dad had been traveling as he’d approached her. Each time he’d stopped to stare at her, she’d set one of the patches of ground alight, burning with the food the bugs had eaten.

The flames had spread to nearby buildings, and as of yet, there hadn’t been any reports of anyone getting hurt as a result of Smoke’s wrath.

She’d set the stage. Now the others would do the rest. If she sent Chevalier, they would each tear into the nearest building, burning themselves and everyone within an eight mile radius with their heat. There was no guarantee that any of the targets would be habitable, but the resulting fires would be intense enough that the Nine would be unable to run. They would have to content themselves with destroying the houses and buildings that weren’t fit for anyone but themselves.

She had no doubt in her mind that these targets were where the Undersiders were, hiding out. They were the focus of Dad’s attention, now.

Just like that, she could see the layout of the escape route. For every target that the others had chosen, she’d set one in motion. She’d set the stage for the Undersiders to take the opportunity to escape.

They’d go to one of the hiding spots she’d provided, hide out, and she could see how Dad and Charlotte had been working to hide from the world beyond. There was a chain of domes stretching from one near-Earth spaceport to the next, about a nine mile radius around the locations that the Undersiders had chosen. When they reached one of the spaceports, they would be at the ready to take the long vehicle trips to and from the hideout. They would wait outside until the heroes arrived, and then they would slip out as the heroes opened the shutter to close it.

She began reorganizing her fleet. The Undersiders would be traveling in groups of five to ten, with more held back for more appropriate situations. A larger ship could take on more vehicles than ten if it wanted to. If the Undersiders wanted to be stealthy, a larger ship could hide a smaller one that way.

The ships were intended to reduce detection in the most ideal cases, when a ship could pass through walls or cover a larger area than was necessary. They were not intended to protect against all threats simultaneously, but if she was willing to use them in a pinch, they would protect a large number of people.

She began laying the foundation for the larger craft that would eventually carry her people into the thick of things.

The Undersiders would arrive at their destination, no doubt with a new set of costumes and new masks. Charlotte doubted the heroes would be so accommodating as to grant them entry to the complex, even with an implied permission to roam the grounds. The trip to Brockton Bay wouldn’t be without issue, however. She’d need to find a way of tracking them down.

She began laying out the strategies she would use in the wake of their arrival. Not only would they be monitored, but Chevalier would need to prepare to mark them as safe. Chevalier could track the movements of the airborne vehicles with relays hidden in his armor panels, but not the vehicles on the ground. The airborne craft were encased in forcefields that could be penetrated by most nonlethal ammunition.

Chevalier would then decide on a strategy to ensure the safe return of his people. He would decide on a way to mark the Undersiders as suspects, if they weren’t already presumed innocent until proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.

He’d pass on the message to the others, and with luck, the fact that everyone would be listening would help narrow down the search. There was no guarantee that the Undersiders wouldn’t slip through the cracks, but the best case scenario was that the Undersiders were marked as likely suspects for the sake of an eventual trial.

In the meantime, she would need to gather the information she needed. She would need to pick a name, and to begin laying out the necessary leads. Her fingers twitched at the reminder that the Simurgh had used the name Dana. Dana?

The thought piqued her interest. She set about looking for a clue: a record in standing ovations for the school board elections, that the district had voted to keep the name as it was, rather than changing it to something more fitting with the times. Dana?


======== SAMPLE 9 ========
 to turn a blind eye to crimes before the law could get in the way. But… well, I’m not going to get caught up in that. I’ve dealt with a lot of scum, taken a lot of hits, made a lot of enemies. I’ll make sure this doesn’t get brought to a head," she looked to the unconscious girl beside her.

"You saved the girl. Where should I start?"

"I started by looking at the people who would be targets," Faultline said.

"I know that," Rachel said, sighing. "But I feel like I’m missing the point. You asked me to look at the people who could be a problem, and I’m trying to look past the ones who aren’t going to cause any real problems."

"I read the file!" Faultline said, and the emotion in her voice was obvious. You did. "I read her file, and I’m not impressed. I mean, I got the sense she’s screwed in the head, didn’t see any signs of any improvement when we talked to her, but… no. I don’t see why you have her locked up like you did with the other prisoners."

"You do."

"That’s unfair. If I give you an answer, and you can replicate it, what happens if all of us give answers? It’s not fair to you, or the other prisoners."

"You’re going to explain to Lung?"

"I’m not going to waste an answer. He’s not a threat to anyone. If he wants to talk to the others, he can go to the Birdcage. There, we wait, we discuss matters, and we do what we can to minimise the damage. Sometimes we deal with him, sometimes we don’t. But we minimise the damage, and I like Lung, so that’s what I’ll talk about today."

Faultline frowned. "What about our resident fuckhole?"

"Lung is going to be here for a few days after he gets out of the hospital, before he starts recovering," Rachel said. "We don’t need him on his guard, or on the streets, where he might get into a few fights. I’d like to think we’re in fine shape, as far as our prisoners go."

Faultline scowled, but she couldn’t keep the annoyance entirely. "But Lung is a danger to everyone, Lung is a danger to the city-"

"And to us capes," Rachel finished.

Faultline smiled. "We don’t get enough credit, but the PRT and the Wards do get a fair share of the credit. The Protectorate and the DWU do too. Except for the villains, the people who work for the PRT and the Wards, there’s some good mercenaries out there who would sell me a… what? A non-lethal stun device?"

"Guaranteed to stun him," Faultline said. "And I’m not giving you a dime."

Rachel scowled. "That’s enough. We run this place, we save it, I go out of my way to see it and I find people to work under, and you, I trust you on a lot of levels, but I’m not going to risk my life, my friends, my family. So there’s that."

Faultline shook her head.

"So how do we fix this?"

Rachel didn’t have an answer to that.

"I’m a ten percent thinker, you’re a three percent thinker," Faultline said.

Rachel nodded.

"Okay. We need to figure out a way to make this work. And figuring that out is going to take time. Once we know that, it’ll be easy. We just need to figure that out."

"And you have zero interest in the work?" Rachel asked, her voice hard. "You want to be the bad guy."

Faultline didn’t answer, but she was sure to look Faultline in the eye, staring into her eyes. "Whatever else Faultline is, she’s still a person. I wouldn’t be working with her if I didn’t think her talent and her ability made her a bad guy."

"You can’t be serious," Rachel scowled.

"Seriously? You go up to the Wards and tell them you’ve got a talent, you’ve got motivation, you

======== SAMPLE 10 ========
 to do so. One by one, the prisoners came to obey.

"Well done," Dragon’s English VOID said.

Imp sounded her approval. "Well done?"

Cuff sounded just as enthusiastic, "Well done."

"Not even thanking him," Imp said, "Sheesh."

Cuff replied, "Fuck. That was easy. We’re gonna do this stuff justice."

"But not as well as you wanted," Imp said. "We better hurry, V."

The English- VOID started up again.

"I see," Imp said, "I’m going to miss this."

"I know," Cuff retorted, "But it’s more fun when we do it right."

Imp giggled, then made a small sound, almost childlike, as she replied, "Aw, c’mon."

There were chuckles from the others.

Imp finished speaking on behalf of the group, turning to head off, "We’re going to bump into the other group. Catch a ride?"

"You mean a fake," Imp said.

Imp laughed, "A fake."

Cuff only laughed in response to an inarticulate sound, "No. A thing that grows on me is the sound it makes when it moves."

"I’m sorry," Imp said, "You were a little rough with me when I asked to take charge."

"It’s fine," Cuff said, "I won’t remind you of that."

"No prob," Imp said. "You figure me in as much as possible."

Cuff’s smile briefly faded. "You guys were a little rough. It’s not a big deal."

"No, not a big deal."

"Fine," Imp said, "But don’t touch me."

Cuff just sighed.

The group made their way to the main floor, and the group of us stayed for an hour. There was talk of costumes, with some people making suggestions, and Imp making her own.

Aisha did her best to be professional, not wanting to be a jittering mess, and wanted to appear less than the others. A few members of our group made more than her, but she found a middle ground, limiting her outbursts, making it slow to respond to slight misfires.

That still meant there was the occasional misfire, where Aisha got a little rowdy, or where someone would get really angry and push her to act beyond her limits. When that happened, she just tried to avoid getting riled up, using her calm to avoid getting agitated, and let her emotions take over.

I think we all appreciated how professional Aisha was.

When Imp started to make her way around the rooftop, I gave her a small nod and took a step to the side of the building to settle into a sitting position, to help keep her from getting up.

There was a knock on the door. She opened it, and Colin was there.

"Hello," Aisha said, through deep, guttural lip-synching.

Colin was an imposing figure. He wore his armor in a simple, plain steel-toed design, complete with a simple, flat steel-toed panel that ran from his ‘chin’ to his brow, mottled darkly with bits of black. Everything else was covered in a basic costume, including his head, shoulders, armor at his knees, armor on his heels and a simple, square steel-toed boot.

He’d created a mold of the armor, so that each member of our team could model their own piece. It was a style of costume that read like something noble, even heroic, if we were being honest with ourselves.

"We run the second most risks," I said. "If we get into a dangerous situation like we did with Noelle, the chances of us surviving are pretty high, right?"

"Pretty high," Alec said. "We could die like jerks if it comes down to it."

Imp raised her hands, and they shimmered, almost glimmering, in the light that streamed in through the hole. "We could die like jerks. So why don’t we make it more complicated than it is?"

"Feel free," I said.

She glanced all around us, her fingertips jutting, palm up, fingers outstretched. Her bare hand was embedded in the wall, and the scythe-like blade in her other hand was embedded in something rough and material-heavy. It winked out as she gripped it. "I don’t care.

======== SAMPLE 11 ========
 to me, I made him bite his tongue.

"This is going to sound really dumb when I say it, but if I keep them here, you know they’re going to get me, and maybe not even in a humane way. Maybe not in a humane way either. I’ve been there. I’ve been through what you guys have. Yes, we’re different in some ways, but we’re the same in many ways."

"The difference being that you’re dangerous. If you’re not in the mood for a quickie today, Lisa, do you have any… other duties?"

"Um."

"If I’ve left you in charge of this building for a period of time, I want you in charge of the Undersiders. I want you to make a call about whether they want to keep working for me, whether you want them to be mercenaries. They can go solo, and that’s their prerogative. I expect you’ll want them to be independent because you’ve never wanted their company before. I expect you’ll want them to be part of my corporate structure, whether you like it or not. I expect there will be blackmail. You won’t be able to resist extorting me for access to people you want or need for a personal gain."

"What’s the difference between a personal profit and a… bigger profit?" I asked.

Brian frowned, "A bigger profit is that it’s almost always better for the end result. So if you offer me a choice between having Dinah or having you, I want you, no matter what you do, without her. That’s personal. She matters to me. I want you in charge of her team, no matter what you want. If you give me your card number when you leave Coil’s service, I want you to use that number to contact your territory and collect the Undersiders there. If they violate the neutrality you set in place, I intend to use my full array of means to stop you from hurting them or them hurting me."

"You want me to give you my card number for an anonymous number to contact your territory, so you can send the Undersiders after me?" Lisa asked.

Brian frowned. "I told you before, and I’ll tell you again, that you were the one who got me into this mess in the first place. You were the one who got me thinking about the future, about my vision for this city and the people in charge. I don’t want you to be leader of this group. I don’t expect you to be my friend. It wouldn’t be fair to you or it wouldn’t be fair to the other members of my team, and it wouldn’t be fair to the Undersiders."

"I have to be the one in charge," I told him. "Because you told me before, I can’t be the one in charge if you won’t let me."

Brian frowned. "What’s the alternative? Lung? Bakuda? I don’t know what they give you that’s better, but they all wound up being monsters. I’m pretty sure they took you down."

"That’s not a good thing?" I asked, "Because it means you’re leader of the group and I’m a sub-par member?"

"No. But it also means we have to be prepared for any of them coming after me, and they have to go after you, too. So it’s better to get you on board before any of them do."

I nodded, "Okay."

"I could get you in contact with certain people, if you want, but I don’t know what they are on the subject. I’m okay with dropping you as an ally if you get me into a position where it means fighting one of them. I’ll come with you."

"You mean I won’t be able to help you?" I asked. In a more normal voice, I asked, "Just dropping you as an ally is okay? You’ll still be able to help my team."

"If this is done, we’ll call it a tie."

"That’s great." I turned my attention back to the computer. I tapped out the words as I entered them into the terminal. The ‘We’ stood’ command, ‘Stand’, ‘Bakuda’, ‘Lisa’, ‘Grue’ and ‘Cody’ followed with a succession of commands, until there was

======== SAMPLE 12 ========
 to stay."

"Tattletale said the same thing. Your plan works." I said.

"I’m not exactly sure how. It might not work this time around, if we got another Endbringer like they got with Behemoth. Or the Slaughterhouse Nine. Or the Empire. If we get a seventh or eighth, we’re just asking to be replaced."

"You think they’ll replace you and us?"

"I think we might. But I think we’ll have to replace them, first. And we can’t do that if they keep coming after us."

I frowned, "Tell me they haven’t come after you."

"Not targeted at us, not yet. Maybe not in the foreseeable future. Not if these bastards can get their hands on the Nine, if they can get a foothold on the ground."

Rime nodded and sighed.

"The Nine are more organized than they were. You guys are probably scratching your heads right now. You know how hard it is to get any info on these guys. It’s not just that they’re smart like we said, but that we can’t track them down, and they keep changing tactics. They have a special trick up their sleeve. I know they tried to end our last stand against the Undersiders, but they’ve got something different in mind."

"Stick them with another Endbringer, but why?"

"I don’t know. But they’re smart, and they’ll probably adjust their approach until they can’t beat us anymore, or until they get bored and they pull something else. Probably makes sense to stick with the Endbringers, unless they’re willing to take on the Nine outright. Then we’ll see how that works out."

"You want to try to beat them outright?"

I thought of Tagg and the Undersiders.

"Their end of the deal is going to be having more fun, and we can’t stop and have a chat. Their end is more concerned with keeping us from having to lose anything critical."

"Except maybe the game theory. I remember you explaining it to them."

"I remember," I said, trying to sound casual, "I’ve heard it over and over again, so why argue?"

"I’d like to think we’re on the same page, Rachel. Or close to it."

I nodded, "Alright. Let’s do it. We step on the trigger of their powers, or they trigger yours, whatever. If neither of us are anywhere near the Endbringer, then whatever happens, it stays within the Endbringer’s range. I decide what that area is, it’s around them. Whoever controls the Endbringer controls the city."

"Right," Tagg said, "And you hold off on using your powers against the Nine if you can’t hurt them outright."

"Rachel, you’re one to talk."

"No, we’re talking," I said, quiet, "Not saying what to do, but I was just thinking that there’s a lot of tension out there, a lot of anger, all directed at one individual, and at one point or another, they’ve been asking for some measure of justice, for the other side. It seems like we get it, at least for now. Maybe the next dose of vengeance isn’t quite as sweet."

"Don’t get me wrong, you can’t really argue there’s justice for the innocent until you get round to solving the crimes of your own group," Miss Militia said.

It was another five minutes before we were finally released. The group had been escorted out of the secure area and onto the road outside by Parian, Foil, the women’s soldier and the deputy mayor.

"The city’s caked in a three-quarter-mile layer of scarring," Clockblocker said. "I’ll need to dig in someplace dark, and I won’t be able to find that with my power."

"Dig in the city?" Miss Militia asked. She sounded oddly pleased with herself.

Parian just grinned, happy to be free. "I will spend the night in your custody, do what you want. Sleep well. Or just fuck with my sister’s head again, whenever. Whatever you do, don’t get me on a mission, or I’m sticking you with a fine for fucking while."

"You are welcome," Tagg said, stepping away from the pair. He didn’t

======== SAMPLE 13 ========
 to stay up. I started to move again, almost falling over as I tried to get my bearings. I kept my hands on the window and tried to control how high I could move.

I’ve taken the first step towards fixing things.





Agitation 3.8


Bitch and I got up at the same time, so we shared the kitchen. I was a little relieved and a little embarrassed. I hadn’t taken off the top layer of armor that covered my foot, and the pain of the bruise hadn’t been nearly as bad as I’d thought it might have been. My first time getting my foot-cut was the hardest one yet, and it was even harder because it felt different than usual.

Her hand found mine and she squeezed tightly.

I was a little spooked. Every time she did it, it seemed to go faster. Twice in a row, she’d come in and I couldn’t get them in a good position before she left to go do something. When I was spooked again, I found myself checking on her every thirty seconds.

I was worried my foot-circumstances would throw my routine off, but I didn’t expect there to be any problems. The cut on the right foot had healed, as had the two shallow lacerations on my ankle. I would have expected a shorter, weaker peel like there was on the other bad scrape, but the damage was superficial. It didn’t do anything to hobble or walk or run with it exposed.

Bitch and I shared a bed for a few days before Bitch got an apartment. She found a small, intimate room on the second floor to herself, but she didn’t share any of my armor. She changed in there and put on my shoulder armor to cover my backpack and other personal effects. I couldn’t be absolutely sure that was done, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t, and I wasn’t about to argue. It was better to be protected than be mistaken or bothered by clothes lines.

When I pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt, Bitch set about dishing out the hot showers. I tried on a jacket, and felt awkward not knowing if it was intended to cover up my costume or my costume’s costume. I settled on a sweatshirt with a collar, a date on the front and a skull on the back.

"That’s cool," she introduced me, grinning.

I took it off, and she went to working, slinging the hot water bottle over one shoulder and changing her uniform, which was a mess of a one-piece, low-rise garment. It was one of those retro days when retro clothes were everywhere, so it was only natural to find myself wearing something retro.

"You’ve got a crush on Taylor Hebert?"

I shook my head, and she swept me over like a magnet. I felt dumb. Why would she put me on this shortlist of people she wanted to work over? If she didn’t want me, who else would?

"I’m glad she’s here. She’s such a wild card, and I love playing with her guts. But she’s not here to work for you right now, and as long as she’s not on the front lines of the fight, I’m not going to press you for information." She closed her locker and retrieved a box. She set a small, worn candle on the lid and lit it. I shut my eyes and waited. The light shined through the closed, blind.

Bitch’s eyes tracked mine, and I could almost see the split-second look of horror on her face as she realized my expression was cool. I would never have let myself go that far.

"No spoilers, please," she spoke in a calm voice, "My power will get me killed if she knows."

"Okay. Good. A final thank you, sweetie."

"I-"

She stopped as I turned my head to glare. She turned slightly in my direction, her eyes never leaving the burn she’d applied to my face. "I hope you did trust me when I said I could get you work done."

I shook my head. "I hate working for people who have a trap. You don’t have to do anything illegal, and I don’t want to, but I try to avoid doing anything to anyone’s feelings."

"That was sarcasm."

"You don’t need to work for free. If you’re about to shoot, you take out a loan, you lend me your power for a certain time, maybe for a

======== SAMPLE 14 ========
 to work for me and you. We’ll work together to protect him."

"The world’s better off without Regent on its side," she said. She glanced at me. "If the world’s screwed like it is right now, you’re going to be instrumental in taking care of it."

"And me?" I asked. "I dunno. Maybe if we had another way, like by selling the world to the highest bidder, we can pay off things. Give us an economic lifeline."

I could see the glimmers of hope die hard in her eyes.

So I asked, "You okay with this?"

She nodded. "Yeah. You know how much I appreciate the help you’ve had, and I’m willing to try this stuff out. If the world’s fucked like it is, it’s our responsibility to help ourselves."

So long as we paid our respects to Grue, to Tattletale, and to Armsmaster…

In that spirit, we broke the fourth loop. Each loop provided an opportunity for us to talk, to swap stories, and to dig for information.

I took the first, "I remember you weren’t so humble when I first came to Brockton Bay. Was your upbringing anything like mine? Any changes in how you view things?"

"No. But like I said, like I was raised a brat, I was taught to act like a brat. Work hard, play hard, be a leader, even if it meant things didn’t fit your way. That’s not who I am."

"How did you get such an impressive arsenal of weapons?"

"Just ask anyone who saw me fight."

You don’t feel that way?"

"Nobody ever challenged that. I’m like a lot of the guys who are looking to get into the cape scene. It’s not easy, and I admit I’m at the point where I feel like I should be playing the role of an Avenger, instead of trying to be a hero."

"You think you were destined to be a superhero?" I asked. "You’ve heard that line about the curse?"

"It’s bullshit. I earned my powers. I earned my reputation."

"You weren’t even a member of the team when they got their powers."

"I know. But with all the hand-wringing and complaining over the fact that they took someone out of commission, a leader from the team was let go and without a proper buffer of sorts, how can you even begin to imagine yourself on the team? I had more experience than most. I was one of the more versatile players around."

"You didn’t even have to do anything."

"No. I had to get by on my own. And the harder I tried, the more frustrated I got. I got restless. I wasn’t good as an individual, not good at acting. I started to doubt if I could ever regain the confidence I had."

"And finally, how do you get angry at yourself?"

"I don’t. I’m not. I feel like maybe every action has a reaction, some bigger than the original action. So maybe anger is the wrong word."

"How about pleasure? Anger or pleasure? Or both? Is that too hard?"

"I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that," she said, "It’s just a word. And… maybe I feel like there should be a word for me. I should be more concrete, if only to point out that it works both ways."

"You have an orgasm. Is that enough?"

"Maybe. I’m… a little masturbative."

"Mm," she said. The tension thickened. "So… do you need an orgasm for me? Or is that okay?"

"An orgasm would be fucking devastating, especially now that I think about it. I’m not sure how much I could actually reach my core, with that many years of training with a machine with no conscious direction. So I’m going to need to be careful."

"An orgasm would be awesome," I said. "And by the by, I’m going to cum soon. I’ll cum any second now. Just… keep going."

"Don’t focus on my lack of sex appeal," she said. "Just focus on how amazing this is, and how amazing it will be when it comes on its own."

"Okay," I said. I couldn’t keep the excitement from spilling out between breaths. I was

======== SAMPLE 15 ========
 to allow us to have the last word.

"Thank you for coming to the rescue of my people," Coil spoke, "We’ve tried to come to a deal with the Wards, but things have taken a complicated turn as you understand them."

"Which is?"

"You volunteered for a task that you know will put you in direct conflict with the rest of the Undersiders. They’re using their underlings to help finance a terrorist operation inside the city, using mercenaries who will murder the Mayor and Governor and burn their offices."

"Yes. That would be a violation of the truce. If left to the city’s own people, most likely."

"Can you imagine the reaction if the heroes forced such a situation?"

Coil nodded. "You’ll only get so long as you try to put things into motion. We’ll see how far you can go."

"Then I thank you. We’ve talked it over, and we’ve come to this agreement. I believe it holds."

A small smile touched his lips. "Then it should be simple to pass the terms on to the Mayor and the Governor. As I understand it, the truce only stands if and when one party is in a position to be ruler of the city."

"Yes, but what do you expect will happen?"

"The Undersiders will be brought into line. They’ll be encouraged to work alongside the heroes, if not to outright cooperation, then to the point that they’ll be eager to oblige. The city will be secured, and there will be no more undermining of the mayor’s authority."

"To subvert the peace? I’m concerned that things would get out of control any time soon."

"I would never counsel you to subvert the peace," Coil spoke. "As I understand it, you’ve reached the point where you have to act. In the interest of this bargain, in the interest of the people you claim to serve, here at the bargaining table, in this room, you’re going to have to act."

"Yeah."

"I’d rather you two held at arm’s length until such a time as you presented your side of the bargain to the city-"

"The city doesn’t exist anymore," Defiant cut in. "Nobody does."

"Then I would be happy to see the city things as they were when you first accepted the terms, for the sake of argument."

"The standards we’ve established won’t serve that purpose," Coil answered. "You want a pristine, egalitarian city ruled by a benevolent dictator? Fine. I’ll get behind that. I’ll get behind any of the reforms you require, restrictions or mandates. But until we discuss specific measures, like the taxation or restrictions on powers, ownership or use of such technology, or outright bans on such ideas from being tried out in another jurisdiction, I’ll be content to leave it to you to decide how we resolve this."

"To subvert the peace?" she repeated, pausing.

"I can’t expect you to hold to the terms, or I can’t expect you to hold to the terms, for the remainder of your term."

"I’m well aware that this is doable if and when we actually make it a reality. But for now, there is only one thing we do, and it’s going to cost you dearly if we don’t go ahead. You’re in charge of this council, and if you fail in this regard, we lose your assent to the terms we were discussing."

"I’ll have to decline your assent," Coil spoke. "Because you said it before we came to this council, and you agreed to it before we held our last meeting here."

The woman folded her arms, visibly irritated. "Good luck getting your county organized, Legend. Good luck getting the word out, and good luck with the truce. You could use me on this, I suppose."

Legend looked at the others in the room. Chamberlain, the Mayor, the Count, the new Protectorate members, the Watcher, the Holy Ghost, and the Bartender.

"My wife and I already discussed the particulars of the truce with you. Our initial concerns centered around the fact that it might be questioned if there was any double-standards in the end, as far as the terms were concerned. My concern was whether you would act on those concerns and heed our advice and call in favors from within your organization. You may have broken protocol on that front, but I think you’d be well within your rights to hold out."


======== SAMPLE 16 ========
 to the point that he couldn’t be bothered to turn his power off. He could use enough power to kill an Endbringer.

It was a tragedy that this young hero couldn’t afford to hang up. He would need to rescue her, collect her evidence, or track down the individual attacks that had killed her teammates and family.

Still, he had to face the fact that his team had lost.

Team leader, leader-shepher, the man who had taken on the biggest task of his life, it had all been for naught.

He’d never lost before, but he had lost.





Interlude 11g (Anniversary Bonus)


Two thousand and thirty five thousand dollars. That was the amount the Sánchez family donated every time they hosted a function. Every time the family hosted a function. They were one of the more established philanthropic families in the country, well stocked with money and connections. They had raised the bar.

"How the fuck do you do that?" Alex cocked his head to one side. "Lawrence is asking for fifty five thousand dollars, including legal fees, for someone who attacked the president of the United States."

"How the fuck do we pay someone to attack the president of the United States?!" Vivienne shouted from the front row.

"They’re not paying you," Stan replied. "They’re capping it at five thousand."

Vivienne’s sister from the beginning, she was a member of the Young Turks. A group that borrowed from the older generation, marketing themselves as wholesalers of bad old fashion feminism. The politics of the group, the fact that they shared power and influence with the likes of Spitfire and Gully, had drawn controversy from the outset. It was a similar dynamic to the Undersiders, only things were tense. Vivienne’s group was more moderate, less offensive. Stan was upset they had been brought into the negotiation, but he saw a risk in it. "Their goal is to help women, not provoke men into an unwinnable civil war."

Stan thought of the Brockton Bay residents who had come to watch the proceedings. Brockton Bay did have its fair share of provocateurs, and the group was keeping a close eye on the behavior of a small handful of them. That had been the case for the two most recent meetings between the two groups.

"You don’t want us to go home, do you?" Vivienne asked, her tone teasing.

"No," Stan replied, his voice firm. "But I don’t want to leave either. Not like I could. It would be a mistake, and I don’t want that."

His eyes moved to the hotel guests that were gathering in the lobby. In the same moment that he said ‘No’ to Vivienne, he moved his arm to send a text to the man from the news crew. The move was so tight it seemed calculated to convey a threatening tone.

"They’re not going to be quiet," Stan went on. "Anything you want to say? If somebody in the crowd hears…"

He looked at Vivienne, saw that same look in her eyes, that hard edge, the anger, the rage, it wasn’t there. Different color, framed by just a little more expression.

He’d lost so long ago, he’d never have that again.

"…voting rights. They’ve infiltrated every level of our society. To this day, they have not just infiltrated, but they have stretched, every aspect of our society is under surveillance, every aspect of our existence is regulated. There is no longer any doubt that they are fully cognizant of our every move, and the only way to truly trust them is to remain silent."

Alexandria stepped out of the hotel room, her costume taking the worst hit of the day. She wore knee-high black boots, a skintight costume that covered everything under the sun. Her body was a reflection of her expression, her features drawn out in straight lines as though she were deliberately contorted to make it impossible to look at without risking that look from the heroes and the Wards coming their way.

She walked with a limp as she strode from the hotel room, past the Wards, the PRT and the guests who were gathering in the lobby. She stopped at the far end of the hotel, turning to leave the hotel lobby.

"You said they are aware of you," Stan commented. "You’ve got to think that this isn’t the kind of thing you want people to pick on you over."

Alexandria didn’t respond. Her expression was flat, her features immaterial.


======== SAMPLE 17 ========
 to you, that they weren’t there."

"Yeah," Alexandria said. "Got the wrong impression."

Kid Win sighed. "You could have asked. It’s easy enough to remember the good guys, to believe we’re on the same side, even if we don’t always get along."

"I think we’re on the same side," Trickster said. "That’s one reason we’re riding along on the Undersiders."

"That’s good advice," Alexandria said. "Except it’s not always so. If you ask me what I want out of all this, the advice probably won’t convince you to do exactly what I want to. I’m sorry. It’s just… that. This."

She pulled the girl’s sweatshirt over their top-shelf sari pants. It was heavy, and her bare feet hurt. "What else can I do?"

"I could let you stay here."

"It’s more room to get things organized. And I’m not liking where this is headed. I don’t want to spend too long a time here, so I’m staying here. Maybe another night, maybe three, maybe none. I don’t want to get caught up in this, but first I have to find Tattletale, get my costume sized… and I’ll spend the next few hundred bucks on things I can use, so if I’m caught, or if the heroes catch on and I wind up in the wrong place, things can go really badly. There’s so far too many places that I could be wrong."

"Okay, that’s fine," Kid Win said. "Just… don’t get caught."

Alexandria left, setting the boy down on a mattress. Her costume was on its way there, too.

She glanced at Kid Win. "We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Maybe in a year or two, they’ll be calling me a wild animal."

■

"Dragon wants a hand?"

"You’re the leader of the local team. I hire you. You decide how I do my job."

"And I pick the candidates," she said.

"And I make my call on the candidates for all of the teams in the Capital-"

"It doesn’t matter," she said.

"It does," he said. He looked up at her, and she could see a shadow.

It was small. A point. She wasn’t sure she liked that.

He was young, attractive, and she felt like it was a slap in the face to all of the people who had worked with her and influenced her life. To the people who had been willing to sacrifice for her, to help her succeed where other individuals were failing. She felt like it was insulting that he even considered it.

She wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger on him, to fuck him up, to force him to live like this, to tear him apart. It was hard to think of a way to do it that wasn’t insulting.

Except maybe to get to that place.

"Okay," he said. "I’m not going to kill you."

"There’s no need for the two hundred dollar gift," she said. "My teammates already know. It’s not worth the risk to go off course and bring someone here."

"We need to talk about this after we’ve come up on time."

"Okay."

He sat in a custom-made chair for a while, then closed his eyes. She wondered what it felt like to have an entire team gathering around her when she’d been dealing with individuals with guns? It wasn’t like she was out of reach of the villains, was she?

He folded his arms. She felt out with her power, trying to pick patterns. His body language was so hard to read. Was there a kind of tension, like something was going on, or was she just more in tune with the emotions of her teammates?

It wasn’t like her power, and she wasn’t sure she was using her power effectively. She found herself missing the code that was being put into the events unfolding before her eyes, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that. It was natural for the human mind to tend to things in a certain order. It wasn’t just that the various individuals were so organized.

Dragon’s language was easy enough to understand. He spoke more like a mother than a father

======== SAMPLE 18 ========
 to go out in costume, or wear a mask, it was time to find out.

I made my way downstairs, met up with Pretender and Leet, and made our way to the loft.

"I love the costume," Leet told me, as we crossed the threshold. "It’s so different than when I did it for the cape thing. I could just as easily be a villain, dressing up like a hero."

"You’re a villain," I repeated. "And you play a villain role. You have to play a villain role. Or I play a villain role."

"There has to be someone that can do the job, eventually." Even Leet had admitted he wished he had.

"Yeah," I replied, quiet. I turned my stare back to Pretender and then walked over to the couch.

"And this is… it’s not all going to be perfect. I have issues. I haven’t exactly had a lot of time to figure out my new powers. I expected there to be some kinks and inconsistencies. And yeah, I think I need to figure out how to use them. I just need to find the balance between being practical and being effective."

"There are pros and cons to every step of the way," I said. "Cons being more risky, for one thing. I don’t want my power to be a club to some of these guys. I don’t want my bodyguards to wind up on their heads, or their wives or girlfriends being too close to the trouble that’s going on elsewhere. So I’m going to do the absolute, hardest possible thing I can. I’m going to murder you."

"What?"

"Murder you stand for."

"A little extreme," Leet said, "And a little crazy, to do at least one part of this at once."

"It’s not that," I said. "It’s just. If I’m going to be a villain in the future, it’s going to be a bad one. And if this accomplishes anything, it’ll be that. That’s what this is all about."

"What’s the aim?" Pretender asked.

"I don’t know," I said. "But being practical means looking past the obvious places to target."

"Your subordinates," Pretender said. "Your subordinates, your enemies and your friends. I’ve killed people who were worse off than you if they escaped, and I’ve killed people who were lucky to get away. People who were hurting, doing harm, or the opposite. People with super strength, invulnerability, or whatever. And I did that."

"Your power isn’t an end-all, be all, be all for good. It’s a power for good. The end justifies the means."

The only ones who were off limits were Stitch, Genesis and Bitch.

Pretender leaned back, "My power’s not perfect, but there’s a lot of means to make it as it stands, time after time. With luck, that will translate to a bunch of people liking my new role, a chance at a better one. I don’t know how it will."

"You could try changing your role, and see what works."

"I don’t want to force my will upon them."

He didn’t sound convincing. Couldn’t call it that. "Whatever."

"We’ll see," he said. "You don’t have a problem with it? I’m not going to drag you into this, as long as we’re on the same page."

"You’ve got my back, Pretender. I won’t complain."

"Let’s go."

We’d taken to the plan with Imp. There were points where we’d had more success than others, but we’d mostly succeeded. The worst half of the plan was a kind of double-entry book, giving us a plan, and a means to get by with less stress. It took time for the practical aspects to sink in.

We’d established our powers. It was a given, but a small one. With each passing day, we were getting closer to being able to do more with our powers. Interacting with people, controlling them, rendering them compliant, all things we’d already started doing as a group.

And then we got to the stage where we were interacting with the wild animals.

Imp was the opposite. She wasn’

======== SAMPLE 19 ========
 to look forward to see what they came up with," Faultline’s voice came from somewhere nearby. She was standing in front of me, heels on the ground, a plastic bottle in hand. "It’s a plan. A framework we can all fall back on. The Nine will be wiped out before all of us do, soon enough, but we all still have to live with the consequences of their actions. The fact that they’re still around makes us stronger, gives us more leverage against the other groups."

"Not sure if that works," I said.

"They’re going to pull something," Faultline said. "I’ll have to see what it is."

"You want us to break the truce," I said.

"There’s a middle ground," Tattletale said. "Do what you have to, but don’t expect any leniency. And don’t forget that the world will end without us taking any action, or letting it happen."

"I agree," I said, "But that doesn’t make the truce good," I told her.

"We can’t break it if everyone sticks with it," Tattletale said.

"Not likely. But let’s say we can’t hold out forever."

"Do what you have to," Faultline said. "But don’t expect any leniency for the other breaches. A breach of the truce pays."

"My money’s on ‘okay’," I said. "But don’t you run either?"

She didn’t reply.

"Then I don’t see why you can’t all make your way here with the rest of us and join us," Tattletale said. "There’s no reason we can’t all get on with it."

"I don’t think we’ll," Clockblocker said.

"You said the truce would protect us all," I said. "I guess it means that we can do what we have to, to keep from getting wiped out or losing everyone we care about."

"Can’t we?" Tattletale asked.

"You have to. Everything else hinges on you. Everyone else is competing with us, and losing means losing everything."

"The truce applies to both you and us," I said.

"Right," Tattletale said. "But the player with the bigger trick is probably going to win. There’s nothing holding her back."

"So we strike a deal?" I suggested. "We go to the chopper, fly off without a hitch, sit back, plan and coordinate?"

"That sounds good," Tattletale said.

"It is, but I have a better idea," I said. "I have other things in play. Can I get you anything, tech support questions, design stuff to help you build something? Anything to help keep the Protectorate going?"

"Sure," Faultline said. She had pulled out of the tent. When I looked, she was standing at the tent flap, her back turned to me. "Why don’t you go change, and I’ll come back for a chat?"

I nodded. I took my seat, folding my arms as I set my mask down on my lap, the brim pulled up to draw attention to myself. "What’s going on?"

She turned and spotted Glory Girl off on the other end of the world. She didn’t say a thing, just watching, her eyes not leaving the cloaked hero.

"He didn’t give you a reply," I said.

"He did. When I reached out to him, he was busy checking his phone, writing something on a piece of paper he somehow misplaced. I hurried to check the post-it note, and sure enough, there it was. It was his."

I shut my eyes briefly, then opened them. "You did this?"

"I helped."

"And you did this in the interest of being with him?"

"Yeah. I don’t think it works, but I helped."

"Really, it doesn’t work."

"That’s okay," I said. I couldn’t be sure, and I doubted she could see how I was really hurt. "We’ll figure it out, one way or another. Just… don’t be surprised if he lets you go."

"Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t."

"And you two?" I asked. "I mean, you have to keep in mind

======== SAMPLE 20 ========
 to ask, "What happened to our team?"

"Nothing serious, but one of our members is leaving and we’re scrambling to replace him. My gut is that we’re going to need to replace them. My money is that Jack is playing a long con, raising doubts among the Wards, and he’s trying to milk this for all it’s worth. If it weren’t for Faultline’s interference, we might have lost months or years of material."

Regent shrugged, "We’ve got ourselves a few hundred, Iirc."

Krouse turned his attention to the others.

"My money says we lost Coil. That guy would have stopped Jack-"

"He’s in the area," Jess said, "He could have spotted Mannequin."

Krouse glanced at his friend. "We can’t keep the Travelers from them."

"Mannequin isn’t a major player, and he wasn’t in major play. The Travelers are. But the fact that they got away, they haven’t been able to shake the idea that they might be back. They might make a move like they did against the Undersiders, and we could be looking at a fight."

"Or they couldn’t," Jess said. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Krouse repeated himself. "This is bad."

Jess frowned. "Look, we’ve got to do something. If Mannequin is dead, they killed Coil and laid siege to this city. And the fact that they might be making a late play means we can’t afford to stall. Unless we’re willing to turn the other group down."

Krouse glanced at the others. Jess was studying them, and her brow was creased in concern. The Travelers were a small group. They were all men.

"What do you want to do?" Luke asked.

Jess gave him a look.

"Let me think. We’ll give you my gun."

She took the gun with both hands, and he could see the flare canister atop it. She used the plastic bit of it to snap the safety off and load a round into her free hand. "You do this, and we’ll split up, get everyone packing for another fight."

Krouse and Jess nodded.

"Do three times your usual number for anyone who asks, I’m going to call Coil at eight hundred and eighty five dollars, his assistant for this fight, and my people for the next eight hours if they ask for it. If we can get into Brockton Bay, we can do it on our own."

Juliette gave Krouse a thumbs up.

"Then we go in guns blazing," Krouse said. "I don’t like that we’ll all be dead, but we can find a way to kill the real monsters, at least some of the time."

"Sounds good."

"Just know that it’s not going to be easy. The Travelers aren’t the sort that takes hostages. They won’t."

"If we just help the heroes get home from tonight, I can start making preparations for this next phase," Jess said. "I can prepare some defense lines for the long haul, or I can contact people and arrange help."

"But that doesn’t solve the problem, does it?" Luke asked.

"No. But it won’t be easy. I won’t tell you it won’t be, because it won’t be. I’ll ask that you be patient. I’ll give you three days, and if there’s no response from Coil within that time, I’ll take steps to make sure this doesn’t escalate into a major crisis."

"You don’t have a way of knowing I’m not lying?"

"No. But you don’t have a way of knowing where our priorities are. And as much as I want to deal with Jack and the other Nine members of the Triumvirate, I really do want to be on the defensive. I’m not as comfortable with these situations as I am with fighting the enemy on the offensive, so I’ll be patient."

■

Krouse checked on Noelle. She was curled up in a mess of blankets, no longer than half a meter across, and Noelle didn’t seem to be doing better.

She turned over, and Krouse saw a glimmer of flesh.

His heart sank.

The body part that looked like a facsimile

======== SAMPLE 21 ========
 to get her to stop crying?

I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I’d never really had someone cry, or a child come to me for help. Not really.

But the crying was one, at least. It was a part of it, and if everything else was okay, it was better than nothing.

It was better to do as I was told, and take the bad with the good. I drew on every tear I could. I felt like I had thirty seconds to get everything okay before I went downstairs and doused the family in the more traumatized ones in the alcohol and fresnelly poured the rest around the couch. My mom, dad and the kids were a blur on the other side of the couch, each standing on their own. I stood on the other side, facing Brian.

"Hey," Brian told me, "Don’t get drunk."

"I’m not any better," I said, and I didn’t even sound tired.

He smiled, "I’ve had a few drinks, though. Still reeling from your memory loss, and everything else. We need to start over if we’re going to fix it."

"That’s the gist of it," Brian said, "I have a sense of what happened, but I’m not good at remembering things like they were."

"You’re just talking to me."

"You have to understand, you and I are different people. You’ve been living in a box, inside the inside of your skull, for all these years. I have all the time in the world, it’s just…" he glanced at Lisa, "…crazy."

Brian shook his head, "I’ve had a few drinks. And my memory fades fast, so I can’t really store a lot of stuff. Only the part that matters. You’ve seen my face when I spoke, I’ve only ever remembered a very short speech. But I can talk, so I’m going to share with you some stories. Stories of people and places you probably haven’t heard of."

Lisa smiled. "Sounds like you know very little of this world we live in. I’m going to go with the impression that you’re a very short-sighted person."

Brian sighed, "Fine. So I’m going to share with you about my world and my life after the Endbringer attack. Five years after the events of the Endbringer attack, I’m still going to have PTSD, I’m going to be a shell of a person, I’m going to be suicidal. I figured they made the antidote, or at least all of the famous ones knew how to get it."

"What happens then? You get to a therapy session and a psychologist says, ‘So and so is the bad guy? Or, as I’ve been called, the socially inept and self-obsessed killer who wants to kill me?'?"

"Pretty narrow definition of ‘the socially inept and self-obsessed killer."

"Well, I’m going to go with ‘the definition the psychologist gave before he died? The good guys are the ones who are going to be the problem. Because I became their enemy, as much as anything else, I become their friend. That’s the end goal, isn’t it?"

"Yes."

"Which leaves me in a position where I can’t help the people in my territory. I’m going to go to the Protectorate, the Wards, the New York Protectorate, and any team that gets the balls to send me their way. They’ll give me the ‘treatment’, probably more power than I had before, and maybe a dose the top-notch heroes and villains in the city are using now that the cure is out there for everyone to see. They’ll take what I can do in return for their honesty and my team doesn’t have to worry about me anymore."

"And the city gets a pretty dinky villain back in the game?" I asked.

He fudged the definition of villain a bit further, "The cure, it doesn’t work when you’ve got something like Endbringer breath in the air and the airborne particles live forever, but the cities that the hero did it in tend to cure pretty quickly, so the cities are basically kept safe."

"How long until the Protectorate figures this out?" I asked.

"A year or two at most, and they learn to deal with it."

"Can you get the word out?" I asked.

"Sure."

======== SAMPLE 22 ========
 to work on your own. I’m just going to stand here, pretend I know anything. Or ask Grue to teach me."

The other cape glanced over his shoulder at Brian.

"We don’t have long, so this isn’t the time to ask," Brian told the man, "We should go. I’ll teach you."

The other cape nodded, and he left.

When they were gone, Brian sat down on the step behind me, "What’s wrong?"

"I’ve been having a terrible time with school," I stretched, glancing over at the rest of the group.

Brian gave me an apologetic look, then continued walking, "My dad thinks it’s a stress ball. It’s meant to be like a parent, let kids bond before they went to school together. I’ve been trying to be more responsible lately. Don’t understand this, don’t want to be, and I’m under the most stress because of it."

"It’s a ball, Alec," Brian smiled, "I think a lot of people get caught up in a lot of things in their adulthood, but I rarely get that feeling I’ve just lost it. You should try and pick it up sometime, and maybe have a good conversation with your dad about how you’ll spend some more time in the future, things aren’t as bleak as they seem. A few years, maybe, you and Brian can go back to your childhood and you can raise your kids together, or you can continue to be your student and never have to worry about any of that."

I didn’t know what to say. So I didn’t say anything. I folded my arms on his arm and put my head in his lap.

Brian rested his palms on my shoulders for a few moments. Then he smiled and held my chin, "That would be great. But let me talk to Miss Militia first."

I nodded, put down my mug, and turned to leave.

"Want me to call in a run?" Lisa suggested, "She works here, and she can probably give you a hand in moving things around, if you want."

"I like that idea," I replied, just to give her my best rock-paper-scissors answer. I still had an obligation, I thought. But I didn’t want this conversation to drag on any longer than it had to, with Brian sitting this one out for himself.

My exit left me with a half-finished mousetrap in the midst of the front hallway, two long distance calls in the living room and a bedroom, followed by some unpacking and taking off my armor. When the last was done, I pulled it from beneath my cape to find it too bulky to be carried. I directed bugs to help themselves to the tarp and improvised box of devices I had in my pockets, stuffing the device inside underneath the base. When Lisa returned with the bags, I found the bags already packed and was about to leave as well, but stopped as the front desk staff member by the name of Forrest bent down to open the next door neighbor’s mailbox.

Not quite the trap I’d seen in my earlier errand. Apparently the person who had given me the package knew my face, because the staff member there had a mailer at the ready. I was allowed to smile, to let the annoyance creep up on me.

The note got to me before you could open it.

Lisa?



I need to borrow a power. One that will let me track people, detect toxins in their environment, or other threats.



Will do.



Regent? Need your help?



I want to be ready. It’ll be a long haul.



Grue, I think I know what you need to do.



I’ll walk outside.





Insinuation 2.6


Grue and I had made our way outside, and were waiting in the parking lot for a ride when Alec and Aisha arrived. We gave the car to Grue, and he hopped out, humming a duet of songs I didn’t recognize, "You two make a good team."

"Grue, take care of Regent and Imp."

Grue did as he was asked, dropping the car and sprinting out.

When I spotted the dogs, I was a little stumped. Five or six blocks west of my house, they were in the midst of what looked like a typical mosh pit. Where the other mosh pits were more like groups of people huddling together, this one was more like a hunting party

======== SAMPLE 23 ========
 to the crowd, while the one in the tower, no beard, waited.

"They’re waiting," Defiant said.

"Because she’s pregnant with one, I think."

"Well, they’ll be watching from the tower," Defiant said. "Someone’s probably on duty when we arrive."

"Someone’s watching the watchers," Chevalier said, his tone a warning. "She can’t stop her, not like she is right now. So there’s going to be a few days where she doesn’t show. With luck, we can afford to delay her arrival a day or two."

"She arrives before dawn," Dragon said. "And if I use my time on patrol, I’m not in a position to go looking for help."

"Your teammate?" I asked.

"A distraction," Defiant said, his tone a warning.

"Right," I said. "Whatever."

"You’re going on patrol with me," Dragon said. "So you’ve got company. A few."

"We should get a vehicle," Tecton said. "We’ll stay here, buy food, and keep warm until we have a place to stay and food to eat."

"If it’s a wait-and-see job," Dragon said, "We lose the eyes of the local gangs and powers that be."

"It wouldn’t matter a bit if it was," I said. I glanced at Chevalier, who nodded a yes.

It would be a hassle to get back, to make sure the others were waiting, if the others were making the call, but it would be a cost of doing business, really – good guys we’d been hunting down would be dead, or arrested in another country.

Chevalier shook his head. "I trust Noelle to handle this, see this through to the end. With luck, we can split up our groups. I can go guard each territory for a set time, so I don’t get separated in the fighting that breaks out."

I watched as one group of our captive capes made their way to the outer edges of the Docks, past the terminals, the merchants and the various gangs that included the Teeth and the Crusaders, then took the side of the crowd that sat in a row behind the truck, sitting and standing.

Not all of them were outsiders. Some were familiar faces.

"You guys will protect my territory?" Clockblocker asked.

"Yeah," Defiant said. "Your call. I’m going to go patrol next week."

"Will do," Chevalier said.

I watched as they approached the edge of the area, and the surrounding buildings, looking for possible trouble spots. They found two bodies in the water. One man, one woman. Both clothed, each had dark circles under their eyes. The man had been beaten over the head, and the woman had been slashed across the eye.

There were two more bodies, in the water, near the water cooler area of the mall. There were screams nearby. The man had been a head and a torso, with more scoured off as he fell in step behind the queue. His girlfriend had been strangled. I couldn’t be sure of the nature of her injuries.

The bloodhounds were still in quarantine, I noted. Toothy, dirty, very little fresh.

"Who’s that?" I asked.

Defiant pointed, and his laser blade stabbed out, cutting the ‘bear trap’ ‘Cherie’, leaving only a smear of dark brown ‘dust’ across her shoulder and across her arm.

I noted that she was in the water, instead of in the shelter. She would be getting out by now, I realized. She’d found a way in.

She would be out by now? I felt a growing sense of déjà vu, almost. This wasn’t simply another case where we’d been beaten and tortured, as she’d explained to us earlier that day, but the end result, even. The same scenario, the same emotions, just at a more basic level.

"That girl is dead," I said.

"Died in the water," Rachel said. "She was getting free."

"Fuck," I said. "Fuck."

Chevalier nodded. "Good."

I looked at him, to double check he wasn’t looking at any of us. He wasn’t.

Maybe he wasn’t looking at us because he didn’

======== SAMPLE 24 ========
 to be here. It’s an extension of the system we built."

"You don’t have to do this. There are options. You could go back to Earth B."

She shook her head. "No. There is a world I’ve visited and recorded for the records. One I’ve led other groups to avoid, in large part because it isn’t pleasant to approach, and because it is potentially fatal for a fledgling’s existence if it leaves them entirely isolated from the rest of the world, with few possessions."

"I’ll try to avoid," I said.

"No, no," She said, her voice quiet. "Stop. Go home. I’ll need to speak with my benefactor. I’ll also want to make sure your kind don’t repeat a mistake they’ve made before. In the meantime, if you really want to go, you should leave. I don’t want any trouble for your kind."

I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it.

"You don’t want any trouble. You do want to go home, you’re going to have to accept some concessions. Accepting that I’m your enemy is one, but other concessions. I have enemies within the Birdcage. People who are loyal to me, and I aim to squash those people as quickly as possible."

"You did not say who I need to squash."

"I need a recalcitrant kind. People who will work with me no matter what. People who will keep their word but refuse to join the Birdcage. I need stubborn people. I need people who are unwilling to co-opt my ideas but who will work under me and help serve my ends. There are only two people who could serve those ends well. They are Taylor and you."

I frowned.

"Taylor," I said. "I thought you would call me by my real name."

"What?"

"I want a conversation. I’m curious what you think I should do, after you appeared on television with your hero, revealed your identity. I’d like to hear what you have to offer. The Undersiders would be a better idea. I’m focused on you now, Lisa. Arms them up if they need it put together. You have them, I have them."

"Alright." I could barely hear her, with her tone and expression changing so quickly.

"Please. Look me in the eye and answer these two questions. Do they want to go home? Or are they going to Coil’s compound, getting free and using Skitter’s power for their benefit?"

"I need to talk to Weaver and Trickster about this."

"I understand," she said, her voice tight. "Go to Coil’s compound. Stay there."

"Alright," I said, glancing over at Miss Militia, who was still inside her base talking to another soldier.

"You should know, Weaver, one of these guys in my group might be able to give you some help in the field. If I get a reputation with the locals, I might even be able to get a mission. You could even get the honor of serving under me."

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"I’ll see what it costs you," she said. Then, a little nervously, she "will she do?"

"Let me think," I told her.

"What?" she asked.

"I want to talk to you about-" she stopped as I raised one foot, off the ground, abruptly shifted to a more restrained walking pace, "I really need help getting the paperwork. Everything’s blocked out on this screen, just go to any one of the shelves, hit the power button, and you can probably figure it out."

"And I’m supposed to wait outside?"

"Yes. And if I leave, you’re going to have to serve me the rest of your term of incarceration, until you turn eighteen. I can give you the paperwork the old system was supposed to give you, with a set time limit. You make a contract, promising to support my plan and to serve me if you end your service before the time expires. But the biggest thing, and it’s the most expensive, is that I have to prove that I haven’t assisted in the planning, execution or oppression of any government department or agency, or that I haven’t done anything that is outside the scope of my attorney-client privilege."

"I see," I said, feeling dumb. This was her charging me with being an agent of change, pushing the envelope

======== SAMPLE 25 ========
 to. I’m just not sure I can work with this."

"What kind of world do you want to create, Skitter?"

She shook her head.

"That’s it. We’re both going to be held as prisoners for the foreseeable future, to ensure that no one gets to threaten us with jail. I know you want to be like them, to act like them. I really do. I want to be like them, because it makes you feel good, makes you feel like you’ve finally earned a place on their team, when really you haven’t really changed all that much. I know you wish they’d let you back in, that you’d be a part of their story, and they’d keep you company for the rest of your life."

"I wish they’d let me back in," she said. "Because that would- would be so fucking awesome."

■

"What the hell is this?" He heard someone talking behind him. He looked up to see the figure in the window. He reached out and tried to move his hand, but the window prevented him from doing so.

The man was tall, to be sure, nearly six feet in standing, his features etched into a visor that covered his lower face. Other features, including artificial lenses and a prosthetic eye, gave the man a rigid, gaunt appearance. He wore a simple dress that barely covered his bare midriff, and was dark against a black suit jacket with a chain extending from the lapel, trailing just beneath the ‘cape’ of his coat.

The man turned to look back at Brockton Bay. It was dusk by the time he returned. There were only a few families and groups of friends still staying. The area was empty. There were no adults in the houses. There were no people standing in the corners of the streets, just families and friends gathered for one last time before everything went to pot. Only one other spot of business was open, a ramshackle hardware store with a line of families standing in front of the front door. A young couple waited for the owner to come inside.

"We’ve got word from our superiors," the young man, Brad and Karen, said. "Skitter, we’ve been infiltrated."

Brockton Bay was located on the same planet as Earth Bet, nineteen parsecs from the Sun’s star, Pisces. It was a world with a relatively shallow ocean, with high mountains that stood behind hills, high grass that was evergreen and broad enough to encompass the landmasses on either side of them, if anyone wished to walk on the grass. It was a world where parahumans really did live a quiet, happy existence. It was a world that didn’t have many gangs, exactly. Brockton Bay had its own team of elite soldiers, who patrolled in the streets and the suburbs, keeping an eye out for trouble and offering any assistance that a police force or Protectorate team could want.

But there was more. There were rumors that Brockton Bay had their own team of heroes. Teams with teams. One of the teams, the Protectorate’s own team, had established a presence in Brockton Bay in late 2009. It had been an idea that had originated with a young man, Taylor, who had been contemplating attending university and pursuing a career in science, only to find out that he wasn’t interested in going to college at all. Feeling isolated and disillusioned, he had taken to using his power to communicate with anyone who happened to cross his path. The team had grown organically, growing to include a wide variety of people, ages and sizes. A second team, the Brockton Bay Wards, had spread across the city, and were somewhat more professional, more focused on protection and undercover operations.

"And you know about us," the young man in the windowless office had said.

"I know a fair bit, already."

"Not a whole lot. Let me search through the records. I asked around to make sure you were okay, and I got a fair bit back from the other customers. If anyone was making more than I did, they’d be making an awfully good offer."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to meet my client, the brilliant young man from Texas I just identified. He’s a client of mine, and I’ve got to tell you he’s one of the rare people who isn’t well. He’s not a superhero, he made tons of money off Wall Street, but that’s all gone now. He’s a wreck. People tried to help him, but it wasn’t always possible, and