10

Chapter 10

A Darker Path

Part Ten: On a Pale Horse

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

Taylor

"Hi, Dad, I'm home!"

I was pretty sure he wasn't in when I unlocked the back door, but my power didn't actually tell me one way or the other, so I called out just in case. He didn't answer, which worked for me.

Dropping my backpack on one of the kitchen chairs on the way past, I stopped at the fridge and took a couple of cold-packs out of the freezer section. Then I headed down into the basement, closing the door behind me.

Tucked under the workbench up against the wall was an old beer cooler of uncertain origin. Nestling inside, packed in crumpled newspaper for extra insulation, was the container I'd taken from Medhall. I took out the cold-packs that were already in there, and replaced them with the ones I'd brought downstairs. The temperature inside the cooler was significantly below that in the basement proper, which worked for me. I replaced the lid and shoved the cooler back under the bench for the time being.

Nobody had interfered with the artistic arrangement of spider-webs I'd left over the cover to the coal chute. Removing the cover, I took out one item; the key I'd used to deactivate Coil's security system.

There was a soldering iron down here, and I plugged it in and let it warm up while I re-secured the cover and draped new spider-webs over it, making it look like it had never been touched. Then I fixed the key in the vice and briefly used the angle-grinder on it. Once I'd trimmed away the parts I didn't need, I built up the rest with solder, then took it out of the vice and shaped it with a file until it was just the right shape. As with the last time I'd done this, I had no idea what it was going to be used for, but my power was sneaky like that. I just knew I needed the key.

After tidying away the evidence of what I'd done, I headed upstairs again, taking the key and the old cold-packs with me. Dad would be home soon, and I wanted to make a start on dinner.

While I assembled the ingredients, I considered the latest series of enemies I seemed to have made as Atropos. Alexandria, Eidolon, someone called Contessa, someone else called the Number Man, and a woman called Doctor Mother. Of the group, Contessa was of the most interest to me because she had apparently attempted to gain information on me, personally, using some sort of 'I-win' Thinker power. Also because, after my power had smacked her power on the nose with a metaphorical newspaper, she'd alternated between anger and resentment for quite some time.

In fact, she was still thinking about me in a hostile manner, which of course brought her to my attention. And now … she was thinking of doing something about me. Involving a pistol. I put down the knife and trotted upstairs to my bedroom, and opened my closet.

My power informed me that she was about to open a portal right behind my head (this involved two other capes, off on an alternate world I was currently unable to access, but they made my List anyway). I ducked turned, and as the portal opened, I shoved my pistol barrel through. A moment later, I withdrew it. The portal closed.

"I thought not," I mumbled, put the pistol back, and went back downstairs to keep making dinner.

I'd have to kill Contessa if she actually became a serious threat to me, but so far she was just coming across as a petulant child. Fortunately, if petulance had ever been a reason to murder someone outright, about three-quarters of the Winslow student body (and one or two of the teachers) would've already ended up on my list, so she was safe for the moment.

Or rather, she would be if she ever stopped trying to play stupid games.

Contessa

Humming to herself, Fortuna screwed a suppressor onto the barrel of the pistol she used most often. It balanced the firearm just right, allowing her to shoot accurately without fatiguing her wrist. Not that she intended to shoot anyone right now, just convey a message.

If you try that sort of shit with me again, you will die.

Once the weapon was ready, she pulled back the slide and chambered a round. Just in case Atropos' combat Thinker ability informed her of such things, the pistol needed to be ready to fire. Her finger squeezed the trigger, applying four out of the requisite five pounds of pressure.

"Doorway to the back of Atropos' head," she murmured.

The tiny portal flickered open before her and she saw her target very briefly before it was obscured by another pistol barrel, pointed straight in her face. She froze, putting her hands up automatically. A moment later, the pistol was withdrawn. The portal closed.

She was shaking as she put the pistol on safe and unscrewed the suppressor.

The message had been well and truly delivered.

If I try that shit with her again, I will die.

Taylor

"Can you keep an eye on dinner for me?" I asked as I headed through the living room. "I've got a project I've just remembered I have to get done."

"I'm pretty sure I can do that for you," Dad agreed. "Far be it from me to hamper your schoolwork. Do you need a hand with it?"

I shook my head. "Nah. I know how to do it, and it should only take about twenty minutes."

"Well, good, then." Dad turned his attention back to the TV. "Dinner is safe in my hands."

"Thanks." I went through into the entrance hall and started up the stairs.

When I got to my room, I closed the door then hit the power button on the computer. While I was waiting for it to boot up, I went to the closet and pulled out the phone I'd acquired via a detour on the way home. As I'd thought, it had a voice recording option.

Sitting back down at the computer, I began to look online for a sound generation website.

Saint

The truck trundled into Brockton Bay just on sundown. Coming from the northwest and bearing Canadian plates, it didn't draw any attention; the border was less than two hundred miles away, after all. Rolling through the back streets, it eventually pulled up next to a motel that existed in the murky area between 'not actually a national chain' and 'rooms by the hour'.

Mags set the handbrake, shut off the engine, and turned to Geoff. "I'll go in and pay for the room. You wait out here. When I get the room key, we'll go straight there. No wandering around in public."

"Oh, come on," he protested. This was all way too much. "It's not like I'm going to be recognised."

She sighed. "You just had to get a tattoo that lights up. On your face. Now, the foundation I've put on there will cover up the glowing aspect so you aren't visible from a distance, but I'm no Hollywood makeup artist. Close to, people are going to wonder why you're wearing makeup. So, I'm paying for the room."

Grumpily, he watched as she strolled across the forecourt to the administration office for the Zig Zag Inn. The tattoo was an integral part of his identity as Saint. Everyone who saw it knew who he was.

When he took down Atropos, everyone would definitely know who he was.

Taylor

The computer speakers were not the best, but with the phone leaned up against them just so, the whiny, scratchy noise would be captured perfectly. It had taken me fifteen minutes to type in the requirements for the apparent gibberish that was being recorded by the phone, but now it was done.

As the sound ceased, I picked up the phone and hit the icon to stop recording. A quick playback assured me that it was perfect, so I shut the phone down and stored it back in the closet.

The Path to removing all influence of the Dragonslayers was taking me into some very strange places.

PRT Building ENE

Conference Room A

Director Piggot

"Okay, everyone, settle down." Emily rapped on the table with the butt end of the remote. "In case anyone has been living under an actual rock since Monday, a new cape called Atropos has emerged on PHO, and killed Oni Lee, Coil and Kaiser. In the cases of Coil and Kaiser, she not only stated the time she would do it, but she also seemed to waltz through high security in order to make her extremely flashy kills. In addition, she's also infiltrated this building's own security in order to steal some highly dangerous chemicals, and used Medhall's facilities to make them more dangerous. Tonight, her stated target is either Lung or Skidmark. It is our intention to prevent this and take Atropos into custody. Any questions so far?"

Assault raised his hand. "Yeah. Why are we trying to save them again?"

She glowered at him. "Save your jokes for the break room. We're being serious, here."

He didn't put his hand down. "So am I. Lung has murdered people. He'll be going to the Birdcage just as soon as we can actually fight him to a standstill without burning down half the city. Skidmark is undoubtedly responsible for ruining dozens if not hundreds of lives, not to mention those lost to overdoses. Atropos so far has killed Oni Lee, Coil and Kaiser. She hasn't missed a hit yet, against some very tough targets. Do we really want to put our lives on the line to save two utterly amoral gangsters from a terrifyingly effective hitwoman?"

"That's not our intention," Emily shot back. She surveyed the heroes and PRT officers sitting around the table. "I am not ordering anyone to take a bullet for either one of those—in the case of Lung, it would be superfluous—but if she swings and misses, it might trigger a rampage. More likely in Lung's case than Skidmark's, admittedly, but they both have the potential to be very dangerous when angered. Also, it's public knowledge that Atropos is going after them, and has already murdered three others. If the Asian and black communities see us not doing our best to end this before it goes any further, then it won't matter that they are criminals; this would have a strong possibility of becoming a race-related matter that could sink all our careers."

"Understood," offered Commander Holden, head of one of the PRT strike teams. "How will we be doing this, then? What are the rules of engagement?" He looked like he needed the reassurance, especially since half a dozen moles had been arrested in the wake of Coil's death and the Calvert/Coil reveal, and more again following the cracking of Kaiser's computer systems. A lot of people were looking askance at their fellow troopers and superior officers, probably asking themselves, 'who are they really working for?'. It was not a healthy atmosphere.

"It's going to go like this," Emily stated. "Stage one is shadowing and observation. We have limited fliers, but New Wave volunteered when I asked, so Lady Photon, Glory Girl and Aegis will locate and shadow Lung, while Shielder, Laserdream and Kid Win will locate and shadow Skidmark. They will also be accompanied by remote drones piloted by Dragon, who has sent a suit down to assist us in this matter. The shadowing teams will not approach their observation targets; they will stay in the air and out of range of punitive attack for the duration. Their only task will be to call in any unusual activity, or if Atropos is spotted. At the first sign of danger, they are to leave the area immediately. The Dragon drones will cover their retreat, if need be. Are we understood so far?"

Lady Photon raised her hand. "And if we see Atropos in the process of attacking?"

"Call it in but do not engage," Emily reiterated. "Atropos has been issued a tentative threat rating of Combat Thinker Nine. It is to be assumed that if she's seen you, she's already figured out how to either kill you or otherwise neutralise whatever threat you pose. Only adult heroes with Brute-style powers or troopers with significant armour will be authorised to close with her, and they will all be equipped with containment foam as a primary weapon. Lethal force is only to be used if she poses a clear and present threat to the life of one of your allies or an innocent bystander."

Glory Girl, alongside Lady Photon put her hand up as well. "But why can't we just—"

"Miss Dallon." Emily made her voice hard and sharp. "Are you having trouble understanding the phrase 'do not engage'?"

"But I can take her!" burst out Glory Girl. "I'm bulletproof, and no amount of Thinking beats a fist to the face!"

"You, evidently, are not thinking." Emily laced her fingers together in front of her, in lieu of tearing her hair out. "Oni Lee thought he could take her. She shot him in the face with his own gun. Coil thought he could take her. She cut his throat with a pair of shears, in the middle of a high-end security system that she somehow disabled. Kaiser thought the Empire Eighty-Eight could take her. She shoved a sword through his eye while they stood around like dummies. One more time: I will not be authorising junior or non-Brute heroes to engage Atropos in combat. Once Atropos is sighted, the observation teams will call it in and do nothing else. Do I make myself absolutely clear?"

Brandish, on Glory Girl's other side, put a hand on her shoulder, and she subsided. After a moment, she mumbled, "Yeah, okay."

Emily suspected it was anything but 'okay'; however, she had a briefing to run. "Good. Now for the second stage. Once Atropos is sighted and the observation teams have called it in, the ground teams will be moving in. This will consist of armoured PRT troopers in vans, and Brute-rated or otherwise protected heroes. Armsmaster and Manpower will be in the team covering Lung, and Dauntless and Assault covering Skidmark. We have to assume that this attack will preclude one ground team from being able to support the other in any significant time frame, though I definitely urge you to try. Once this happens, we'll also have a chopper in the air with Miss Militia on board, and Dragon will likewise be providing air cover with her suit and drones."

"Question." Armsmaster had his hand in the air. "What are our priorities for arrests? If, for instance, Lung is disabled during the fight, do we arrest him as well?" His whole attitude said quite loudly, 'we'd be stupid to pass up the opportunity'.

This thought had already crossed Emily's mind. "Our number one priority is Atropos. Once she is disarmed and in custody—and by that, I mean either tranquillised, encased in containment foam, or manacled hand and foot with a bag over her head—then you can turn your attention to any other villains who happen to be lying around. Not until that moment. Is that understood?"

"Understood, ma'am." He put his hand down again.

"Good." Now that the briefing seemed to be on track again, she clicked the remote and projected a map on the far wall. "Team Alpha, on Lung, will be focusing on this area …" A handy laser pointer built into the remote marked the location. "… while Team Bravo, on Skidmark, will look for him in this area."

Hopefully, she mused while the briefing went on, everything would go if not exactly to plan, then close enough that the PRT wouldn't be horribly embarrassed in the process.

Yeah, good luck with that.

Taylor

The time had come. All the players were in place, awaiting their inevitable movements on the board. I knew where Lung and Skidmark were, where the PRT and allied forces were, and where the Dragonslayers were. I also knew where I'd be, which was nowhere near any of the above, until I chose to be.

Putting on the costume was like coming home after a long day at school. The comforting weight of the long-coat over my shoulders, along with the dagger-shears at my waist, felt right. I left the mask and hat off for the time being.

The container I retrieved from the basement was reassuringly cool to the touch. I wanted to keep the contents of the capsule below sixty-seven Fahrenheit because that was the boiling point of hydrofluoric acid, and it was best for all concerned if it stayed in a liquid form for as long as possible. Gaseous hydrofluoric acid, as my power gleefully informed me, possesses no friends whatsoever.

I let myself out of the house, once more possessed of the Screwdriver of Unlocking, and went looking for a likely mode of transport. The motorbike I'd left a few streets away had long since been located and repossessed by its owner, but there were cars aplenty for me to choose from. Flipping a mental coin, I went with a modest little hatchback, idly wondering if the owner would ever find out that their ride had been 'borrowed' by Atropos, and how they'd feel about that.

Meh; I didn't care anyway.

Sliding into the driver's seat, I found the spare key—in the ashtray, this time—and started the car. Letting my power do the driving, I pulled out onto the road and headed for my first target. I still had an hour to go, which was good, because I had a stop to make along the way.

Skidmark

"All fuckin' aboard," Adam gloated as he clambered into the passenger seat of Squealer's latest contraption. "Mush, you okay back there?"

"Yeah, I'm good." The words were accompanied by a sigh and a wafting of marijuana smoke. "This is some good shit."

"Yeah, yeah," Squealer snarked as she closed the driver's side door and hit the button to kick over the important systems. "Just don't hotbox us too much. I wanna be able to see where we're going."

"Just so long as we can and that bleeding rectal cyst Atropos can't," Adam said. "Is this a good plan, or is this a fuckin' genius plan? We'll be invisible, we'll be on the move, and this bad boy is fuckin' bulletproof. She can look around our hideouts all fuckin' night and she won't get a thing."

"Damn right," Squealer said, and put the vehicle into gear. "You don't often get good ideas, Skids, but when you get 'em, you get 'em."

"Hey!"

"Well, she's not wrong."

"Shut up, Mush."

As the vehicle rumbled out of the makeshift garage, Adam pulled out his own pipe, along with something a bit stronger than Mush's weed. If they were going to be driving around for the next few hours, he figured he might as well make it enjoyable.

Fuck Atropos and the whore she rode in on.

Taylor

I pulled to a halt and parked a little way behind the truck that was my target. The car I'd 'borrowed' was just far enough back that nobody looking from one particular motel room would spot it past the other vehicles in the parking lot. Getting out, I closed the door quietly, then pulled on the morph mask and the hat.

The way was clear; I walked briskly up to the truck and pulled out the key I'd fabricated. It slid smoothly into the padlock holding the rear roller-door down on the back of the truck, and unlocked it with a gentle click. Still, I didn't roll it all the way up; lifting it just a few inches, I slid my hand in at one end until I found the first security panel. The six-digit code only took a second to type in, even working by touch. Then I went to the other end of the roller-door and did the same with the panel at that end.

Saint, it appeared, was nothing if not paranoid.

With the security measures out of the way, I raised the door another couple of feet, then rolled up and into the space within. I knew if the door was left even partly raised, Saint would notice it on his next pace around the motel room, so I rolled it down again with my foot. What I had to do next could just as easily be done in pitch darkness, but they'd thoughtfully wired in lights, so I found the switch and flipped it.

Within the truck, taking up most of the available room, were two bulky sets of powered armour and the racks they were attached to. I wasn't exactly well-read on the Dragonslayers, but I got the impression these were smaller than the ones they usually committed crimes with. That didn't matter to me. By the end of the night, they would be better known as 'pile of junk' and 'other pile of junk'.

Up toward the front of the truck, there was a set of heavy toolboxes, bolted to the interior wall. I opened the simple clip holding the third drawer closed and took out what I was looking for; a handheld keyboard. Another tool from a different drawer allowed me to pop open a panel in the side of the nearest suit. The keyboard plugged straight into the socket thus revealed, and I quickly brought the suit to standby.

Then I started typing.

Lesser minds would have reprogrammed the suits, or even locked them down. I chose not to, though I could easily have done either one. Instead, I went into the visual identification section and made a few minor changes in the data I found there.

The helmets of the power armour suits involved a HUD that overlaid imagery for the pilots. For the most part, this was a good thing, because at night or in other low-light conditions, the suit sensors were likely to be far more sensitive than Mark One eyeball. However, this meant that the suits could be made to lie to them, and they'd never know it until it was far too late.

Shutting that suit down, I made the same changes to the other suit before putting the tools back where I'd found them.

It was amazing what possibilities there were in swapping around a few crucial ones and zeroes.

[A/N: So this chapter turned into a two-parter. Expect the next part tomorrow or thereabouts.]

End of Part Ten