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Early hours of Tuesday 15th March, Coil's Headquarters

Assault couldn't keep himself still- not that that was a problem he was unfamiliar with. Always too much energy, that was his problem- bouncing from one thing to the next.

Well, right now he was literally doing that- going from helping to haul the last of the mercenaries out of the base to securing the stockpile of drugs they'd found inside to checking on Coil himself for the fifth time, fizzing with nervous energy even though it was barely past midnight.

To be fair, a full-scale gang bust didn't happen every day. Plus once Console had confirmed Battery was unhurt from her cat and mouse game with Uber & Leet, all that anxiety got funnelled into the hyperactive column instead.

The guest of honour was sitting pretty in the back of an armoured transport truck, shackled to his seat and blindfolded for good measure. No such thing as too paranoid when it came to Thinkers, after all. They hadn't taken the gag off him yet either, although he hadn't tried to say anything once he'd been brought out of his little hidey-hole.

Armsmaster had frog-marched him out of the base and locked him in personally. Probably the Protectorate leader had felt the need to visibly demonstrate that he'd contributed to the operation, given that his planned role of leading the charge had gone out the window. Of course, once that was done he'd disappeared back inside to get at Coil's computer and see what data he could extract; no doubt he'd show that off in the debrief.

Velocity was leading a squad of troopers in through the other entrance to strip out all the stuff left in there- like the machine gun Coil had had pointing right down the cargo entrance. If it hadn't been for Velocity and Flashbang's new manoeuvre, they would have been Swiss cheese.

The Dallons were all gathered by their car along with Elpis and Ironclad. Panacea had her hand stuck through an opening in Ironclad's armour, but her focus was on Elpis as they had what seemed like a heated discussion; Panacea gestured wildly with her free arm, hood pushed back to let her hair spread out over her shoulders. Opposite the healer, Elpis shifted awkwardly, fiddling with her hands as she answered.

White robe with red cross, and dark armour with a blue cape. They couldn't have contrasted better if they were chalk and cheese.

Assault smirked a little to himself. It was kind of funny to see Panacea, arguably the least dangerous cape in the city, making battle-scarred Elpis cringe and shuffle her feet like that. It reminded him of when Battery went off at him for leaving the dishes in the sink.

Things were going to change after this. Probably New Wave wouldn't be so keen to team up with Elpis anymore, not after she'd let the Undersiders run off. Not that he disapproved- a little leniency on the bad guys was necessary at times, pragmatically or on principle.

Maybe the Protectorate could offer some collaboration? Armsmaster had been pretty eager to have the bright young Tinker on the team, and Miss Militia spoke highly of her.

Assault definitely wanted to work with her some more too- although admittedly he wasn't thinking of recruiting her. No, he had something else he wanted to talk to Elpis about: the possibility of shared experiences.

Make some time for Ironclad too- he seemed like a good kid. Interesting power, there.

Movement near the hatch caught his eye. Armsmaster's helmeted head rose out into the night air, turning this way and that. When he caught sight of Assault, he gestured with one hand for him to approach.

Assault took one step, then two, which turned into a bouncing lope as he used the impact of each footstep to move faster, reaching Armsmaster in a second. "What's up?"

Armsmaster grimaced. "There really are explosives in the structure. It seems the Undersiders were being truthful about that self-destruct."

"Jesus." Assault shook his head. "I never figured Coil for the type. Sounds more like Accord. Didn't he put a death ray in a building once?"

"Death ray is a strong word," Armsmaster replied.

"That's two words."

"We've got the mercenaries bagged and tagged, and all the evidence we need," Armsmaster continued, ignoring Assault's comment entirely. "We'll cordon off the main section of the base until ordinance techs can get here to go over the place."

"Got it."

Across from them, Panacea finally pulled her arm out of Ironclad's armour- the hole closed up, and the boy expanded a bit as he stepped back and stretched. Elpis nodded and said something to Panacea, who turned away without a word.

Ironclad tapped Elpis on the shoulder as she watched Panacea flop into the Dallon's car and shut the door; the two armoured figures said something to each other, then turned and approached Assault and Armsmaster. The Dallons started up and drove away behind them- Assault saw Elpis give them a backward glance.

Assault stepped aside to let Elpis walk up to Armsmaster, which put him in line with Ironclad. He gave the lad a look up and down, lingering on the domed helmet and the shoulders that looked like two halves of an anvil.

"Nice suit."

Ironclad yawned- the armour made it echo oddly. "Thanks," he said at last.

Assault laughed a little. "Yeah, you get used to the late nights. My sleep rhythm's all shot to hell these days."

"Do you need help with anything else?" Elpis was asking Armsmaster.

"You've done enough."

Assault winced.

Elpis reared back a little. "Fine. All yours." She vaguely waved a hand at Assault, who nodded back, and stalked off towards her car, Ironclad trailing in her wake.

Assault held his tongue until the pair had started driving away, then turned to Armsmaster. "Seriously?"

Armsmaster shrugged and started in the direction of Coil's transport without a word. Assault followed after him, intent on having the discussion.

"Come on, that was petty and you know it."

"She shouldn't have interfered with my arrest."

Assault scoffed. "Oh please. You and Brandish swinging, Hellhound's dogs biting, Grue's darkness- it'd have been a miracle if people hadn't died in there."

"I would have handled it. I've prepared specific countermeasures for the Undersiders' abilities."

Assault spotted Miss Militia circling the transport as they approached, kicking the tyres and making sure the doors were all locked. Assault skipped around Armsmaster and took a couple of bounding strides to reach her first. "MM, help, please," he mock-begged. "Boss-man's being stubborn and I need your wisdom!"

Miss Militia rolled her eyes fondly. "Assault, what did I say about trying to be cute?"

"That I do it so well?"

Militia opened the driver-side door and pulled herself up into the cab. "Save it for the debrief, Assault." She belted herself in and shut the door, expertly ignoring Assault's puppy-dog eyes.

Armsmaster pulled his halberd out and slowly ran the head over the sides of the truck, over the green and white lights on the roof, under the chassis, and all around the cab and engine. A couple of little lights on the haft went green, and Armsmaster nodded, collapsing it into a slim rod and returning it to his back.

"All clear," he announced, slapping the side of the truck. "Get him out of here."

Assault shrugged and stepped back as the driver started the truck and shifted into gear, pulling away from the construction site and onto the road. Two other trucks went with it, sliding in front and in back of the transport, to make sure that Coil got to PRTHQ for holding nice and safe.

Assault turned back to go see what else needed doing, and saw something dark move between buildings.

He dropped into a crouch, bouncing from foot to foot, feeling the pulse of kinetic energy build up in his legs. "Movement," he hissed.

Armsmaster yanked his halberd out again. "All points, eyes up. Possible activity."

Every trooper present dropped what they were doing and reached for weapons. Velocity's voice came over the comm. "Sir, do you need me?"

"Not sure," Armsmaster said, doing something to his halberd. The head spread out into something like a radar dish as he moved it back and forth.

There was a tremendous crash.

Assault spun around to see the lead truck down the road spin almost 180 degrees on its tyres until it pointed back the way it came, rocking on its suspension. The engine was caved in from the left side, something having ripped into it.

"Velocity!" Armsmaster shouted, already running for the transports.

Armsmaster might have beaten Assault in reactions, but Assault's foot speed was better- in five strides he'd drawn level with his leader, then bounced himself high to see what was happening.

The brief glimpse he got was of a broad figure in black armour, pointing his palm at the transport truck. There was a whipping sound, and the windscreen cracked all over, bulletproof glass hanging on by a thread.

Assault came down on his feet and used the kinetic energy to throw himself to the side, so he could flank the mysterious figure.

The world flickered, and Assault slammed into the side of the rear transport, rocking on its axles. His power kicked in to redirect the energy away, but he still knew he was going to be bruised as hell tomorrow.

Miss Militia had thrown herself out of the transport truck by now, and fired at the mystery man with a fat-barrelled gun. The rubber bullet hit him in the middle, and Assault heard his shout of pain even from a distance. Then he seemed to flicker upright, and ducked to the side.

Troopers poured out of the rear transport, rifles at the ready. The two guys at the back were armed with containment foam sprayers that connected to the large tanks on their backs.

Assault pushed himself upright as the troopers made for the villain, and jumped high over their heads.

The world flickered again, and Assault found himself cannoning into the back of the pack of troopers, just as one of the containment foam guys landed on half of the squad. Everyone went down in a pile of limbs and uncomfortable metal.

The troopers who'd avoided being knocked over turned in confusion, and suddenly one of them disappeared, replaced with Miss Militia. A second later, Armsmaster appeared in place of another, halberd held out with a crackling taser at the end of the haft. A couple more whipping sounds came from near the front, along with cries of pain.

The Tinker swore and turned his head towards the top of an adjacent building. "Militia! Flare!"

Miss Militia's weapon flickered with green energy, became a flare gun that she aimed high and fired. A brilliant light shot up high, illuminating the scene.

A second man was perched on the lip of the roof dramatically, like he'd struck a pose just then. He looked like he'd just stepped out of a theatre, or a circus ring- a black suit and top hat, with a red mask and snappy white gloves.

Militia's gun was a rifle again, shooting a nonlethal round into the man's mask, sending him reeling back. A moment later he flickered too, and hastily stepped back from the edge.

Armsmaster's halberd reconfigured into a grappling hook that fired at the roof. He shot up after it in hot pursuit.

Assault hauled the fallen containment foam guy upright, along with some of the guys under him. Militia fired another flare for good measure, then gave a couple of hand signs to the troopers and led them around the rear truck to the transport.

Assault decided to stick closer to the ground this time, running after the troopers with bounding strides.

The armoured villain was popping up from behind the wrecked front truck to point his hands and shoot attacks at them. Assault saw one trooper go down, clutching his shoulder with a howl. Assault quickly pushed his way to the front, focusing his power across his front.

The next shot took him in the chest. Assault let the momentum disperse into nothingness- and what momentum! It felt like a harder hit than a bullet! -, and the projectile hit the ground with a musical tinkle.

When he glanced down, he saw a dollar coin staring back at him.

The armoured Blaster reached into one of the many pouches on his costume and brought out a handful of shiny coins.

"Hit the deck!" Assault roared, flinging his arms wide.

The coins slammed into his body, and his power strained to withstand all that kinetic energy. Bits slipped through, adding to his collections of bruises.

Inanely, Assault wondered if he was going to end up with a bruise shaped like George Washington's profile. It'd certainly be the weirdest injury he'd got in this line of work.

The troopers hadn't been completely spared. One of them had a coin stuck in the front of his helmet, being dragged away by his buddy as he writhed in pain.

Miss Militia pressed against his back, using him as a human shield. "Say when."

"When."

Militia spun around to point a gun from under Assault's arm and fired. The rubber bullet hit the Blaster in the thigh, and Assault threw himself forward as the man fell to one knee.

The world stuttered- suddenly the Blaster was on his feet, backing away as he filled his hands with objects.

Assault kept coming, but his vision stuttered again, and the Blaster was ducking out of sight behind the cab of the lead truck.

A sound like a bellowing bull came from behind and above. Assault bounced himself to the side and turned as he used his power to come to an instant stop, keeping the Blaster in sight as he glanced toward the noise.

Something- and boy was it a thing- plunged out of the sky and dropped onto the squad of troopers, laying into them with flailing limbs. It looked like a winged bull-monkey thing, with a long thick head and brawny arms and legs. Its wings were batlike, and a thick tail lashed behind it as it spun in a circle, hitting the troopers aside. Some of them were able to scramble to cover- others stayed on the ground.

Militia opened up with a riot gun, pumping rounds into the creature. Thick rubber bullets slammed into its wings as it spread them over its front as a shield, backing away.

The Blaster turned from where he'd been watching and aimed both palms- one at Miss Militia, the other at Assault.

Assault surged to the side, and felt something clip his leg as a handful of junk shot past him, smashing into the wall behind him. But he'd already closed half the distance to the Blaster, and another bound took him right up to the guy.

"Boo," he said, slapping a hand to the man's chest.

The kinetic energy was spread throughout the Blaster's entire body, so he was thrown into a sudden backwards skid, boots scraping along the ground until he hit a bit of scrap from the trucks and pitched over on his ass.

Assault charged him again, zig-zagging to avoid another shot-

The Blaster was getting to his feet-

The Blaster was getting away, so Assault changed direction-

The Blaster was exchanging shots with Miss Militia-

A streak of red zipped in, kicking out at the back of the Blaster's knees. Velocity's Breaker form circled around the Blaster at high speed, pummelling him from all angles, keeping him too occupied to reload as he staggered away.

Assault kept pushing forward through the flickers, but now they were coming less frequently. Out of the corner of his eye he could see MM flickering as she dealt with the flying bull-monkey, switching her weapon out for tougher models that increased in damage. One shot tore a hole in the creature's wing webbing, and its pained noise was a trumpeting bellow.

A second later it flickered back to its uninjured state, but Militia was sticking with the ammo that tore its wings and shredded its hide, forcing it to throw itself behind the transport truck. Militia quickly knelt and snagged a containment foam grenade off one of the fallen troopers. Her weapon flickered into a grenade launcher that she loaded with expert speed, aimed high, and fired over the top of the transport truck.

The bull-monkey hastily threw itself into a tumble away from the grenade, which exploded into a pile of yellow-white foam between the transport truck and the sidewalk.

Assault rolled to the right, came up in a crouch. There wasn't a flicker.

Line of sight, he realised. The Travellers must have had someone else on overwatch, like the swap-teleporter, but they were both limited to line of sight.

Assault grinned, and threw himself to the ground in a bellyflop. He made himself bounce up and forward like a human torpedo, straight for the Blaster. Velocity zipped out of the way in time for Assault to cannon into the villain's midsection.

The Blaster went down in a heap- Assault wasted no time in grabbing his arm for an armlock-

The Blaster vanished. Assault wheeled around to see him on his feet again, grabbing a little baggie of something out of a pocket and dumping it into his palm.

Velocity's blur zipped away as the pile of sand became a tight cloud that shot the length of the street. Assault couldn't blame him- sand at Mach One would have stripped him to the bone.

Assault bounced himself to his feet as the Blaster set coins between his fingers, ready to fire. There was a brief pause as they sized each other up in the middle of the chaos.

A shout echoed from the roof that Armsmaster had grappled up to. As Armsmaster swung his halberd, the top hat villain threw himself backward off the edge of the roof, right over the pile of confoam.

In mid-air he swapped with Armsmaster, who dropped feet first into the foam as the teleporter sprawled back on the roof.

Assault braced his power over his front and charged straight for the Blaster-

The world flickered yet again, and Assault cursed violently as the Blaster was now running away. Velocity pounced on him again, only for the teleporter to throw himself off the roof once more, trapping himself up to his waist in the foam. A second later he was next to the Blaster, speckled with foam but otherwise untouched, and Velocity was in the foam, struggling like a fly on glue.

Armsmaster had already deployed the confoam solvent in his halberd and was melting himself free, while Miss Militia fired at the bull-monkey as it threw itself at her. One shot caught it in the eye and the creature collapsed. Militia staggered back in shock, only for the creature's body to begin dissolving.

"Light it up!" Top Hat shouted as he followed the Blaster into the mouth of an alley.

Assault threw himself behind the lead truck to evade whoever the time manipulator was, rolled underneath it, and used a pulse of movement to slide forward on his stomach, making a mental note to thank Battery for making him watch that nature documentary on penguins with her.

Armsmaster had just ripped himself free of the foam, blobs still stuck to his shoulder, when he stopped and looked up. "Everyone get back!" He roared.

Assault looked up too, and saw a point of light rapidly descending through the night, too bright to look at, turning the dead of night into blinding day.

For a second he thought it might be Purity, one of the most dangerous capes in the Empire Eighty Eight. Her power lit her up like burning magnesium, allowing her to fly and unleash incredible blasts of spiralling light that could go through buildings. But the shape of the light was perfectly round, and he could feel the heat on his face increasing-

He threw himself away as the light stopped a few feet inside the alleyway. Even from twenty feet away, the temperature was incredible, forcing him to back up further as he felt every pore on his body start to sweat.

Miss Militia was already behind cover, and Armsmaster quickly sprayed Velocity with solvent and heaved him free of the confoam, hustling the two of them behind the transport truck. Assault joined them with a leap and a bound, careful not to look at the light.

"What the hell do we do now?" He asked, crouching on the hot tarmac.

Armsmaster's face was hard to make out in the deep shadow of the truck, but his tone was grim enough by itself. "We can't afford to let them get Coil out. Use any force below lethal if you have to."

A second later, the light winked out. Assault blinked at the sudden change, looking back and forth to try and kickstart his night vision again. The air was still like the inside of an oven, but the heat wasn't blasting over him like standing in front of a furnace.

Armsmaster poked his halberd round the side of the truck, then his head. A muffled curse followed.

Assault cautiously mirrored him, inching his head past the front of the truck, and gave a long, low whistle at the sight.

The bricks at the mouth of the alley were glowing red from the heat, cracked and splintered in places. The tarmac on the ground below and around looked shiny and smooth. Assault realised with a jolt that the ball of whatever-the-hell had melted the tarmac into liquid. A few silver puddles on one side must have been the trashcans that had been standing there.

"Fuck me sideways," Velocity swore. "What the hell was that?"

Tuesday 15th March, Afternoon, PRT Headquarters

A broad-shouldered young man with a mixture of sports pads and leathers, all in black; lower quality than the fitted bodysuit he'd worn last night.

"Ballistic," Armsmaster said. "Can accelerate objects to supersonic speeds with a touch."

Next picture, a high-res picture from Armsmaster's visor- a lanky man in an old-fashioned top hat and tailcoat. His red mask had holes for the eyes and mouth.

"Trickster. Exchanging teleportation of people and/or objects."

Several pictures of strange creatures, all of them far from what nature could produce.

"Genesis. Changer with an unknown range of transformation."

A tall man in red, with a cheap iron-on clock face across his front. His face was wrapped up in a black scarf.

"Perdition. Rewinds people or objects through time at 3-second intervals. Luckily he can't rewind things indefinitely, and he seems to be limited to line of sight."

A slender girl lost in a hoodie with a sun symbol on the front.

"Sundancer. Pyrokinetic- creates a ball of fire that she controls remotely. Temperature is estimated in thousands of degrees."

All five pictures lined themselves up on the projector screen. "The Travellers," Armsmaster said grimly. "They're itinerant villains, never staying in one city for more than a few weeks. First noticed in Illinois, they've been wandering across the country for the past year. Most recently they were in Boston, where they raided Blasto's territory and demolished one of his labs. We've confirmed from Coil's files that he had hired them after that to supplement his mercenaries."

Assault took another sip of his coffee and tried to blink away the gluey feeling of his eyelids. Despite getting a decent amount of sleep once they'd locked Coil in a cosy underground cell, he still felt like hell. Maybe it was the fact that this particular day had two 3 o'clocks in it for him. That never ended well.

"Despite their powers, the Travellers do seem to avoid going all out and causing large amounts of damage, most likely to avoid a hard response." Armsmaster paused, then added, "I say 'seem' because while they haven't been conclusively linked, there have been reports of large-scale destruction and chaos in areas the Travelers visit, which is at odds with their usual MO."

The range of expressions in the meeting room varied- Miss Militia had her scarf down for once, and her eyebrows were drawn together thoughtfully. Dauntless looked concerned- Velocity just looked tired.

"With that combination of powers, it'd only take a couple of mistakes to go overboard," Battery noted, sat around the corner of the table from Assault. She subtly shifted the foot she'd hiked onto Assault's lap at the start of the meeting, and he bumped her other foot with his own.

"True," Armsmaster conceded. "Still, we'll have to be extremely cautious with this group. A squad of heavy hitters, cut loose from their employer just as they arrived in town…" He grimaced.

Assault grimaced along with him. It had only been half a day, but already the E88 and ABB were reacting to Coil's organisation going under. Gangers in colours had been spotting inching their way through the outskirts of Coil's old territory, quietly expanding their lines. Coil's soldiers had been enough of a force to hold his own against the other gangs, force them to split their attention; with him gone, they'd have no-one to fight but each other, and a lot of profitable territory to fight for.

Adding the Travellers to that could make things go to pieces in a hurry.

"There are some other unusual points," Armsmaster added. "Stories of disappearances around them, sightings of 'monsters'- and Coil had a large, reinforced vault in his base that was apparently marked specifically for their use."

Nobody spoke for a moment. Eventually Velocity asked "Do we have any idea what that's all about?"

Armsmaster was already shaking his head. "No. We're trying to get their file sent up to the Think Tank, but so far they're low on the list.

"Moving forward," he continued briskly, "any further questions?"

Triumph raised a hand. Still adjusting to the grown-up squad, Assault reckoned. He still fiddled with his lion-head helmet when he was nervous. Gargoyle was fidgeting next to him, the only guy at the table with less experience.

"About Genesis- can she change her forms on the fly?"

"Good question," Armsmaster said, flicking back to the pictures of her many forms. "It seems her form is set until she relinquishes it or it is destroyed, and there's a gap of time before she's able to reappear. That does limit her threat level somewhat.

"In fact, based on multiple reports of Genesis returning from having her body destroyed, we think it might be a remote projection. If we can confirm that, then there's no reason to go easy on her."

"So then we can just pop the bubble and move on to the rest," Dauntless summed up.

Assault saw Armsmaster's jaw clench slightly. "That is one way of putting it, yes."

"The costumes are different," Miss Militia pointed out. "Perdition and Sundancer didn't show themselves last night, but the others were wearing high-quality outfits."

Armsmaster nodded, untensing a bit. "Based on their sightings in Boston and Thinker analysis, it's believed that they performed the attack on Blasto under orders from Accord. The costumes might have been part of his payment to them- it fits with his known neuroses."

"So do we have any ideas for engaging them?" Assault asked. "We only did so well last night because they couldn't risk hurting Coil."

Armsmaster nodded. "We believe line of sight protocols apply for Trickster and Perdition- break their concentration, come at them from an angle, block their vision. Genesis- as Dauntless so bluntly put it, just 'pop the bubble' and move on. Ballistic and Sundancer could be dangerous if pushed, so either drop them before they get started or try to deal with them from a distance."

"Have we told the other heroes about them yet?" Battery asked. "New Wave's forcefields could stop Ballistic at least."

"We're keeping them in the loop. I'll pass a summary on to them next time I see them."

"What about Elpis?"

Armsmaster's head swivelled like a tank turret toward Gargoyle, with about the same level of inherent hostility. The newbie shrank a little in his seat, much more vulnerable-looking out of his stone form.

"I mean, we should tell her too, right? She gave us the heads-up that they were coming at all, and she might have some ideas we haven't thought of…" Gargoyle trailed off in the face of Armsmaster's unwavering gaze.

"I agree; Elpis should be informed. You've said yourself that Tinkers work better with forewarning to prepare- and that woman's a force of nature when she gets going."

Assault gave Battery a glance as she said that to Armsmaster , then bumped his foot to hers again. She shot him a small yet sweet smile.

"She's put us in a difficult position," Miss Militia cut in. "Assuming command in a tactical situation is one thing- interrupting a Protectorate arrest is another."

Assault rolled his eyes at MM's by-the-book attitude. "Oh come on, Hannah. The Undersiders practically gift-wrapped Coil for us- that's worth some leniency."

"One good deed doesn't give you a clean rap sheet."

"It's a start. Who knows, maybe one or two of them could come in from the cold. We know villains can change for the better; that's why I married Ethan at all."

Assault grinned and pecked her on the cheek.

"What?!" Gargoyle yelped, throwing himself out of his chair, which fell over with a clatter.

Dauntless snapped his fingers. "We didn't tell you they're married, did we?"

"No, I know that part, Assault mentioned it last month. What I didn't know is that Assault used to be a villain!" Gargoyle's face was comically shocked, eyes popping and jaw hanging open.

Armsmaster banged his hand down on the table. "Enough."

Gargoyle jumped, and hastily tried to sit down, realising too late his chair had fallen back. He sprawled on the floor in a heap.

Triumph quickly grabbed him by the arm and hauled him up again while Armsmaster fumed silently. Once Gargoyle was back in his seat, awkwardly avoiding everyone's gaze, the team leader spoke again.

"Yes, Gargoyle, Assault used to be a villain by the name of Madcap, down in New York. Battery and Legend arrested him, and he chose to join us as a probationary hero. He's been a well-regarded member of Protectorate East-North-East since. That's not the issue up for discussion.

"Neither is Elpis choosing to let the Undersiders go the issue. The issue is that she went against the Protectorate's authority and interrupted an arrest in progress, instead of attempting to communicate with us. She allowed an entire team of villains, one of whom is wanted for murder, back onto the streets, rather than accept our judgement on the matter.

"It isn't about whether any of the Undersiders will choose to surrender, which I highly doubt. It's that Elpis has burned a lot of trust with us by using wanted criminals as informants and then setting them loose without any lawful authority to back her up. Redeeming villains is not relevant here."

Assault hesitated, then bumped his foot against Battery's. When she glanced his way, he nodded meaningfully at Armsmaster and raised an eyebrow.

Battery's mouth tightened for a second, before she nodded an okay.

Assault cleared his throat. "I've been meaning to say, sir; I think it might be very relevant."

Heads turned; Armsmaster turned that visored glare on Assault. "Explain."

Assault sat forward and leant his elbows on the table. "To be honest, there's not a lot of heroes that will work with villains outside of really desperate shit- which is fair, most villains don't with heroes unless it's all going to hell. When Elpis took some kid off the street and built her up strong instead of hauling her in for property damage, I figured she just had a big heart. It certainly paid off- Spitfire's a good kid. Same deal with Ironclad, I thought nothing of it- Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, right?

"However," he tapped a finger against the tabletop, "now she's managed to get the Undersiders informing on their own boss, and third time's the biggie. Even if they were desperate, that takes charisma- the kind of charisma that comes from being able to relate to them. And being able to relate to them like that might be another reason why she let them off the hook."

Armsmaster's posture unwound a bit as the realisation dawned. "You think she's a former villain."

Assault ticked points off on his fingers as he listed them. "She showed up out of nowhere and ground the Merchants down to nothing; took on Stormtiger and two of the Teeth; fought Crusader's ghosts hand to hand, and one of the troopers swore he saw her snap one of their necks."

"She smacked Lung around just last week," Battery pointed out.

"Right, exactly, thank you," Assault said, "and last night she helped us take out one of the big three gangs, while cutting some slack for petty crooks. She's got power and skill way ahead of what three months of experience should give her. So either she's got a former hero identity that she's hiding, God only knows why- or she's a former villain trying to turn over a new leaf."

Armsmaster rubbed at his neat beard thoughtfully. "Do you have any thoughts as to who?"

"Beats me. I never heard of a mechanical Tinker on either side of the fence, even back when I was Madcap."

Dauntless cleared his throat. "We know she's got a Tinker power. But what if that's not her only power? A Thinker power might account for the rapid progress."

"Possibly," Armsmaster said dismissively, "but Tinkers rarely get secondary powers."

"They do if they're a Grab-Bag cape." Armsmaster paused, then gestured for Dauntless to continue. "I've been reading up on multi-triggers, things like that. There've been reports where members of the group develop violent, even murderous behaviour to each other. She might be hiding herself because there's people out there trying to hunt her down."

"They're both interesting theories," Miss Militia admitted, "but we don't have any real evidence of either. For all we know, she might simply be a fast learner."

"So," Velocity said, "either she's a reformed villain, a Grab-Bag on the run, or she's just that good."

"Wait, hold on," Gargoyle interrupted, "What exactly are we talking about here? What, are we going to run a background check on her? Haul her in for questioning? Elpis helped us against Lung, for crying out loud. If that's not hero behaviour, I don't know what is. We should trust her."

"We've always kept an eye on Elpis," Armsmaster said dismissively. "It's basic protocol to keep track of other heroes in the area. In light of her recent actions, and possibly Assault's instincts, it might be time to take a closer look at her."

"If I'm right, are we floating her an offer?" Assault asked.

"If you're correct, we'd have to bring her in no matter what; We can't let a villain escape justice, even if they're attempting some good now. After that, what happens depends entirely on who she was before. She'd have to pay her debt to society one way or the other- but there aren't a lot of villains mild enough to get a deal.

"That's all theoretical though," Armsmaster finished, straightening up. "We've got off-topic; Does anyone have further questions regarding the Travellers?"

There was a resounding silence.

"Very good. You'll get an in-depth information packet e-mailed to you within a day or two based on their PRT files. Dismissed."

Everyone slipped masks and helmets back on as Armsmaster made for the door. As soon as the last mask was back in place, he strode out the door, headed for his lab.

Assault turned to Gargoyle as they were getting out of their seats. "So, you wanna know how me and Battery met?"

Thursday 17th March, St Patrick's Day, Arcadia High School

"How long do you think Amy's going to be mad at you?" T asked as he clicked around on the library computer.

I shrugged. "I don't know. She's been pissy with me since the moment we met."

"Sheesh," T muttered. "Hey, check this out."

I leaned over his shoulder to look at the Parahumans Online page he'd brought up. The coloured tags at the top indicated it was a wiki page for a villain group currently active.

The Travellers.

The page had been updated just yesterday, giving their last known location as Brockton Bay, with a warning advising people not to engage them due to their highly dangerous powers.

"Man, their costumes look like crap," T said to himself. "Except the guy in the top hat."

"Trickster," I supplied. "Why are you looking at this anyway? The Protectorate files will have better info than this."

T shrugged. "Maybe they missed something. Besides, those files feel kind of clinical."

"It's government intel, of course it's clinical."

"Yeah, but getting eyewitness reports from people on the street might be, I don't know, more detailed? Like, you know how they felt when these guys were causing shit, if they were hurting people for kicks or if they just grabbed the money and ran."

"He's got you there," Bearskin pointed out.

I shrugged at both of them. "So? Is there anything we could use?"

T shrugged, scrolling down to read some comments. "Doesn't sound like they're in it to hurt people. If they were it'd be pretty easy for them to take out a building."

I nodded. The information package the Protectorate had given me yesterday had included some pictures showing the aftermath of their attempt to break Coil out. The image of an alleyway where the bricks had melted and dribbled down to the ground was stuck in my head.

The Butchers had, of course, coveted such a power at once. I was still keeping Dirty Rotter down after his comment about me getting myself turned into Extra-Crispy Taylor.

"Well, we'll figure out what to do about them later. Might be they'll just move on to another city now that their meal ticket's been busted."

"And the Undersiders? What do we do about them?"

I watched him as he typed in the address for a video game strategy guide, an unpleasant thought coiling through my mind.

"Oh for heaven's sake, just ask him," Needler snapped at me.

"T?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you think I made the right call? With the Undersiders?"

T stopped typing, blowing air out through his lips. Then he slowly leaned back in his chair until he was staring at the ceiling.

"Honestly?" he said. "If it was up to me, I'd have just smacked them stupid and let the Protectorate sort them out. I don't like the idea they're running around doing fuck knows what. I mean, you read Hellhound's page, she's killed people."

I winced. "Yeah," I admitted.

T was quiet for a moment. "But it wasn't up to me. You're the leader. I'm the muscle of this outfit. So I'll trust your judgement."

"Muscle my ass," Firecracker snorted. "I could snap him like dry firewood."

Despite Firecracker's off-colour commentary, I felt a great rush of affection for T all of a sudden. "Thanks, T," I said warmly.

"Welcome. So long as we're taking those guys down the next time we see them." He straightened up and scrolled down the page a little.

"Yeah, they only get the one pass. Though if they've got any brains between them, they'll probably skip town with whatever they can carry. They're not the priority."

"So what is the priority?" T spun his chair to face me. "Empire or ABB?"

"Empire," I said without hesitation. "They've got more capes, but they're overall easier to fight. I don't want to go up against Lung or Oni Lee without a lot of back-up."

"Yesssss," Anchorage hissed. "Let's go smashing swastikas!"

"That's for the future though. Let's take the rest of the week to recover. I need time to get my armour back up to scratch, and you still need to catch up with your sleep."

"Works for me. Let me know when we're getting some action."

"Of course. Still on for breakfast on Saturday?"

"Yep. Amy's probably not going to make it though, right?"

"Nah, she'll still be sulking," Tock Tick predicted. "You mark my words, that girl won't be coming along."

"Honestly, she probably won't," I said to both of them at once. "But I should have a plan by then. I'll start repairs tonight, get my stuff back up to scratch," I lied.

I was planning on fixing my equipment up over the next few nights, true enough- but Tactical and Quarrel had been insistent over the last few weeks, and I'd put in a lot of effort for my real plans tonight.

Getting a fake ID had turned out to be trivially easy. The hard part had been repeatedly hinting to Dad to plant the idea, until he'd mentioned this morning over cornflakes that he was going to be out late with some of the guys from work and that I shouldn't wait up for him.

Which suited me just fine, since I would be out late too.

St Patrick's Day was today; I had some absent friends to drink to.

Evening of Thursday 17th March, South Downtown

The mood on the street was cheery as I walked down the street. Brockton Bay wasn't particularly Irish, but then again, most people celebrated St Paddy's for the drink anyway. The bars I passed had varying degrees of loud music and bad singing already.

I was dressed for the occasion- green top and warm coat, plus a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, extensive makeup, and a ring through my eyebrow to complete the disguise. Hemorhaggia's old necklace, the cheap little four-leafed clover keychain with Kiss Me, I'm Irish in the centre, bounced around my neck with every step.

Alice Kelly had joined the Teeth after Tactical's reign, so they'd never spoken directly. Still, he'd held a familiarity with her through the eyes of the other Butchers.

Quarrel had fought alongside her while they were grunts in the Teeth. They'd bonded over badmouthing their teammates, low-budget horror movies and dollar-store candy, playfully bickering over whose power was cooler.

Now she was gone, and we were left with the memories.

My destination came into sight- a narrow building wedged between a couple of restaurants. The sign above said Murphy's. Light spilled from the windows, and music leaked through the door. I thought I recognised the song.

"I like this place already," Vladimir said.

I took a deep breath, catching the scents of whiskey and stout. Then I pushed through the door, settling myself into a particular mindset.

The bar might have been narrow, but it extended far back, enough that it felt like half the block. It was definitely aiming for an aesthetic- green wallpaper, dark wood for the booths, bare boards for the floor. There was even a brass rail along the bar that ran the length of the room.

"God, this brings back memories," Tactical sighed. His family were proudly Irish, and he'd grown up hanging around places like this since he was little, sitting alongside his father as the man played cards and smoked rollups with other men of ambiguous occupations.

Eventually he'd been old enough for his da to give him his first taste of beer, and then a full glass, and then whiskey.

And then he'd been old enough for his da to press him into the family business, and things had all started to go sideways.

I shook off the memories like cobwebs- none of us wanted to dwell on that shit tonight. Instead I made a beeline for the bar, pulling myself onto a stool. The bartender gave me a passing glance when I raised a finger.

"Two shots," I said in Tactical's Boston Southie accent.

The bartender cocked his head. "And that'll be two shots of what now?" he asked with an amused tone.

"Two shots of holy water," I shot back on Tactical's urging, rolling my eyes. "Whiskey."

The bartender shook his head with a smile and pulled two shot glasses off the stacks at the back of the bar, plus a bottle of whiskey with a pouring cap stuck in the top. He set the glasses in front of me and filled them with practiced motions. I was a little surprised he didn't ask me for any ID, even if it did work in my favour.

"Now, I don't know you well enough to start a tab, so if you please, that'll be $10."

I slipped a bill out of my sleeve and laid it on the table, then tossed the first shot back before I could hesitate.

The whiskey was decent stuff- it wrapped itself around my tongue and burned the back of my throat as I swallowed.

I let out a sigh that felt like it had been building my whole life. This was the first time I'd really tried alcohol- the Butchers had years of memories of course, but sooner or later you had to make your own memories. A lack of pain and an iron constitution made the experience easy for me.

I switched the empty glass for the full, and looked at it for a moment. "Alice," I said at last, full of thoughts of the Irish girl who'd been one of the Teeth's finest. Then I slowly sipped it all down. It was smoother this time.

"You're from Boston then?"

I glanced across- a man with a cocky grin and intricate knotwork tattoos on his forearms had perched himself on the stool next to me.

"Really?" I drawled, playing up the accent. "What was your first clue?"

He laughed. "Yeah, I guess that was a bit obvious. Bit curious what a Boston girl's doing up here?"

"Trying to drink."

"Hey, don't be like that," Stoneknapper said. "He's kinda cute…"

"You get drinks tonight," I snapped. "Don't push your luck."

"Alright, fine. Christ."

The man raised his hands. "Right. Fair." He paused, licking his lips nervously. "It's just- I saw, with the shots… My mom passed away last year, and this is the first St Patrick's without her. So, you know, thought you might want to get it off your chest."

"That's a hell of a personal thing this early in the night," I managed, bemused at his sudden honesty.

"People always say I talk too much. Hey Barry," he said to the bartender as he passed by, "Guinness and- what're you having?"

I followed Tactical's request. "Guinness too. But you're not buying it for me," I warned.

"Fair."

"Tell him," Quarrel said.

I managed to keep my expression neutral, but it was a close call. "What?"

"Tell him about Alice. I fucking miss her, and somebody ought to know about her. So fucking tell him."

I chewed my lip as Barry the bartender pulled our Guinness for us. The music changed- The Cranberries now.

It wasn't until I'd passed Barry the money that I spoke. "Friend of mine. She got caught in a gang fight."

The tattooed man hissed between his teeth. "Holy Mother, that's rough. I'm sorry."

"Yeah." I sipped the Guinness. Tactical had always got a hint of coffee under the malt and the hops, and I could just about taste it too.

"Her name was Alice. Started out as kind of a work friend," I lied, remembering how Quarrel had joined the Teeth a month after her Trigger, sick of living on the streets and full of spite for the entire rest of the world. Hemorhaggia had handled her initiation of claiming a trophy, loaning her a knife to chop fingers off the corpse.

"Then, you know, get some drinks," and some weed; "see a couple of movies," mostly horror movies, and they laughed at the people who died in them.

"Pretty soon she was my favourite person there." Certainly more than Spree, who could be a real pain in the ass when he was organising things, or Muramasa, who had something of a rivalry with Hemorhaggia and Quarrel both- Hemorhaggia because he maintained that he was the more dangerous close-range fighter, and Quarrel because she wasn't as vocal about her Japanese heritage as him.

"Sounds like a good friend," the tattooed man said.

A memory floated up, of Hemorhaggia splitting one of the Adepts almost in half with an axe when he'd got the drop on Quarrel.

"She always had my back," I said.

The tattooed man tilted his glass in a small salute. "Well, to Alice then."

I tilted my own glass and took a long sip of it, licking away the moustache it gave me.

The tattooed man set his glass back on the bar just as a hand was set on his shoulder. "Billy, are you bothering the ladies again?" said a fat man with a moustache of his own- as thick and dark as the bristles of a yard brush.

"Aw come on Lee, gimme a fucking break," Billy complained.

"I'll give you a break alright," Lee said, gently nudging his fist against Billy's nose with a chuckle. "Sorry, Miss," he said to me. "Hope my nephew's not being a pest."

I had to laugh. It reminded me a little of the old men Tactical had watched with awe as a boy, who'd affectionately mocked all the younger folks around them. The first time Tactical had brought a girl around, they'd spent all their time recounting every embarrassing story of him they could think of just to watch him squirm.

"No, it's fine. Just talking. Absent friends," I explained.

Lee's moustache shifted from side to side. "Ah. Sorry to hear that. Is that what brings you to town?" he asked, signalling Barry, who wordlessly poured him a glass.

"No, I'm here for family," I said truthfully.

"Always a good reason to travel," Lee opined, accepting his glass. "Speaking of, to introduce us proper, this here's my sister's boy Billy, and I'm Lee. Lee O'Daly."

The surname was vaguely familiar to me- I thought Dad had maybe talked about someone of that name as a Dockworker.

"Rose Kelly," I said, clinking my glass with his.

"Well, Rose Kelly, if you're toasting absent friends, might as well not do it by yourself." He indicated a table with a few empty seats. "We've got half the O'Daly clan here tonight, so you won't have to settle for what passes for conversation with Billy."

"I'm sitting right fucking here," Billy complained. Neither of us looked at him.

"I'm for it," Tactical said.

Quarrel nodded. "Sounds good."

The rest of the Butchers chimed in too, mostly positive.

I shrugged and stood up from my seat. "Sure, why not?"

"Here's to you, to me and one and all," we sang in a ragged chorus, "The day that D'arcy's drunken donkey won the race at Donegal!"

Several hours after I'd arrived, everyone was about as drunk as that donkey, singing along to every song on the jukebox, the boombox, and one song a man had found on the internet and played through his phone. Even Billy was slurring his speech, despite switching to cranberry juice a while back, which everyone had gently mocked him for.

Thanks to Needler's regeneration and the various Brute powers, I was barely tipsy. It was the atmosphere and the sense of camaraderie that had relaxed me- or maybe it was being able to talk about some of the Butcher stuff, even if I had to filter out the incriminating details. I got the impression that the O'Dalys were doing the same with me, if on a lesser level.

It filled a need I'd barely realised I'd got from the Butchers- to be a part of a crowd. It certainly wasn't my own- I was an introvert even before Emma decided to make me a target. But the Butchers had largely been extroverts in life, and being the figurehead and leader of the Teeth meant there was always a crew around you, ready to jump at your word.

So with backslapping and stumbling dances and toast after toast, I gradually became another Irish girl at Murphy's getting my pride on, Alice's clover necklace bouncing through the air as I laughingly attempted to follow someone's demonstration of step-dancing.

The door banged open, letting in a draft of cold air. I didn't bother to turn my head until I heard someone shout "Top of the evening, lads!"

There was a great shift in the room as everyone looked to the door. Several men had come in through the door, shaking off the cold and stepping aside as more piled in, maybe fifteen total. The first of them were already heading for the bar.

"The fuck is this?" Dirty Rotter asked, more curious than annoyed.

Barry the bartender took one look at the man in front and pointed a finger at the door. "Get out."

"What?" The man said in an injured tone of voice, leaning against the bar. "We're just in here to get a drink, celebrate the night."

"You're not doing shit in here with that around your neck," Barry said. "Out."

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Flinch murmured uneasily.

The man laughed easily. "Ah, come on, that's bad business, turning away paying customers. Just pour us our drinks and we'll sit nice and quiet."

"You'll not stand in here, let alone sit," Barry snapped, going from stern to angry. "No Empire in my bar."

There was a shift in the atmosphere- before, everyone had been curious, a little put out at the newcomers.

That one word stirred everyone up. The O'Dalys started to spread out a little, arms slipping from shoulders to hang at their sides. There was a clearing of throats and a cracking of knuckles among the men, and some of the women. The other patrons shrank back- I saw one dark-haired girl in leggings retreating into her booth until she was almost entirely under the table.

The spokesman clicked his tongue, still smiling like this was all some big joke- now that I was paying attention I could see the eagle necklace he was wearing, and notice the other men were sporting short haircuts, patches, tattoos; all the other subtle little signs that you learned to spot in Brockton Bay.

Billy laid a hand on my shoulder, gently coaxing me backward. I didn't move, curling my hands into fists as I felt the anger start to build in me.

This was my night off. This was a night for Tactical to connect with his roots, and for Quarrel to mourn her friend, and the Butchers to have fun and drinks, and for me to relax away from cape stuff for a bit.

But the Empire just had to be here. There was nowhere in the city they wouldn't try to go, no peace they would give. They'd killed Hemorhaggia and looted her body, they'd hurt Spitfire, they'd dug themselves into this city like a tumour and slowly sucked the life from it.

And here they were again.

"You'd better do this right, girl," Butcher growled. "You know what they need."

"I know," I replied, shaking Billy's hand off my shoulder.

"Get the clover out of the way," Quarrel hissed. I tucked it inside my shirt without question, safe from getting snagged or grabbed.

The spokesman glanced at us. "We're just here to drink," he said, half to Barry and half to the ranks of irate Irish. "No need for you to make it a problem."

Liam stepped forward, moustache bristling. "He said get out, boy. That's walking or crawling, but you're going out."

Barry was busy pulling the bottles off the shelves and placing them out of reach, but he spared Liam a nod.

The spokesman's smile shrank a few degrees. He pushed himself off the bar to stand upright, straightening his jacket. "Just out of curiosity," he said softly, "What happens if I say… no?"

Liam pulled a hand out of his pocket and held it up. A dollar coin gleamed between the knuckles of his first and second fingers. "Billy?"

"Yeah?"

Liam tossed the coin to him. "Go put on B7, there's a lad."

"Right." Billy slipped through the crowd, pausing by me to put a hand on my shoulder again. "You should get back, Rose," he whispered, "This is going to get ugly."

"I know," I whispered back, not taking my eyes off the thugs.

"Is nobody else going to ask what the fuck B7 is?" Firecracker demanded.

Billy shook his head and moved past me. I didn't turn to see what he was doing, but I heard a clink at the back, a moment of silence, and then a hiss of static through speakers.

I knew the tune as soon as the music started, and I understood why Liam had chosen it. The sound of the Dropkick Murphys' best song filled the bar from edge to edge.

"Oh fuck the hell yes," Tactical groaned. "This is MY fucking song!"

"Last chance," Liam said, balling his fists up in front of him.

The spokesman sneered. "You're gonna-"

The lyrics started, and so did Liam with a right hook that sent the spokesman toppling over.

I'm a sailor peg/and I lost my leg/climbing up the topsails/I lost my leg!

The O'Dalys barrelled forward with yells. I outpaced them all, leaping forward to ram my fist into a tall man's sternum. He folded up instantly, vomiting onto the floor.

"Use skill, not power!" Muramasa warned. "You are unmasked here!"

Needler voiced her agreement. "Focus on your technique," she scolded.

If I knocked someone senseless with a single punch, that would seem odd for a skinny girl to manage. I wasn't armour-clad Elpis in here.

So instead, I slammed my palm into the vomiting man's temple, just hard enough to send him falling to the floor.

A big guy I thought was named Shawn-with-an-S-H bodyslammed one of the goons before he could dodge. Liam had the spokesman in a headlock while he kicked out at another guy, and Little Dave was banging yet another goon's hand against a table until the switchblade in it fell from battered fingers.

The old memories and skills came to me like an eager dog. The Butchers were veterans of bar brawls- original Butcher used to start them for fun. Every dirty trick, every low blow, every groan-inducing attack had been learned or honed in places like this.

One guy had taken off his belt to lash out at people with the buckle end. I ducked his swing and kicked out at his knee, just light enough not to break it. He howled and dropped the belt to clutch it, in time for Billy to come in with a wild yell and a leaping punch.

"On your right!" Anchorage shouted. A guy with a Confederate flag patch on his jacket knocked Tall Dave down with a brass-knuckled punch and rounded on me like an angry bull. I stepped forward, weaved away from his first swing, and let Needler's power guide the flat of my hand into his throat.

He choked and staggered back, but I didn't have time to press the attack before danger sense flared. I jumped back in time to avoid a random thrown glass, then stepped forward again as the flag man tried to stagger away.

He tried to get his fists up again, but I just hauled his arm aside and punched him one-two-three in the face until he slumped against a booth.

"Get the knuckles," Stoneknapper said.

"What?"

"Get the knuckles," Stoneknapper repeated, with an air of exasperation. "They'll be useful."

I rolled my eyes and quickly checked there weren't any other Empire guys nearby to sucker punch me, then grabbed the Confederate's hands and prised the brass knuckles off him. They were a bit big for my hands, and uncomfortably sweaty, but I slipped them on as I got back up to help.

The fight was swiftly going in the O'Daly's favour- they had the numbers, even if the Empire had come prepared for a fight. As I watched, Little Dave and Medium Dave were kicking a guy who'd curled into a ball on the ground, and Liam was bashing a ginger man's head against the doorpost.

One Empire thug had pulled a pair of blades and backed up to a booth, daring the Irish to come closer. He was too busy spitting slurs and jabbing his knives threateningly to notice the woman slowly rising up from underneath the table. I stalked over to join the Irish fighters keeping a circle around him, adding some choice words to theirs to draw his attention. I even held up the brass knuckles and made a horrible gesture with them.

"Come on, girl, come on," Dirty Rotter urged as the dark haired woman silently grasped an empty whiskey bottle by the neck.

"Hey fuckstick! Asshole with a concussion says what?" I jeered.

"What?" said the fuckstick, right as the woman swung the bottle down on his head. It shattered magnificently, drawing blood at once. He fell to his knees, screaming in pain.

I took one step forward and punched him in the hinge of the jaw. There was a muffled click as it dislocated, and he collapsed onto his side, squealing through his lips, knives discarded.

I grabbed them off the floor and nodded to the woman. "Nice swing."

She just dropped the remains of the bottle on the table and huddled back into the booth.

I sighed and glanced around the room. There was a table with a knife sticking out of it, broken glasses here and there, spilled drinks on the floor, and a lot of bruised and battered Irishmen standing victorious over their enemies. I spotted Billy sporting a nasty cut on his cheek and a massive grin on his mouth.

That left all the Empire goons down for the count- until I saw the spokesman dragging himself to his feet, using the brass rail on the bar as a handhold.

"I must commend his spirit," Vladimir admitted. "If not his intelligence."

"Fucking shitwads," he growled, red in the face, a magnificent bruise already swelling on his cheekbone. "We offered you… friendship… and you fucking spat in our faces." He managed to get his feet under him, though he still had a hand on the bar. "You're gonna get fucked up now," he slurred. "Nobody fucks with us. We're the motherfucking Empire Eighty Eight."

Down the far end of the bar, I noticed Barry coming out of a back door with a baseball bat in hand. Possibly there would be two taps on the head tonight.

Liam spat on the floor as his friends and family formed up around him. "That's some big talk coming from a thin streak of piss like yourself. What do you think's going to happen, eh? It's just you now."

The spokesman snarled at Liam, then suddenly threw himself bodily onto the bar. I thought for a second he was trying to climb over it to escape and failing badly, but he came back a second later with a clinking of glass, beer bottle in hand. He stumbled forward slightly, raising it over his head.

"Oh, I see," Bearskin said, following the man's hand down to the brass rail along the bar. "What're we thinking, will he break it?"

Butcher shrugged with the nasty grin of someone watching an enemy make a huge mistake. "I reckon he's got decent odds."

"Hey," I said to the spokesman, "don't do that. Just take your guys and go, don't make it worse-"

"Shut the fuck up!" the spokesman screeched hysterically, bringing the bottle down on the rail.

The bottle shattered in a spray of beer froth and fragments of glass.

There was a breathless moment, when the spokesman stared dumbly at his hand, with all those shards of green glass sticking out of his palm, blood and beer dripping to the floor. I could see the look on his face change from concussed fury to agonising pain as a thin, animal noise hissed through his teeth.

I pushed through the crowd, away from him, looking for- there, the belt one of the goons had been using as a weapon. I tossed the knives aside to snatch it up, shoving my way back through to him. He was too busy whimpering to protest as I stepped in close and wrapped the belt around his wrist, threading it through the buckle and cinching it tight.

"Somebody call an ambulance," I said. "And help me get him on the ground."

Billy hustled over to help me guide the spokesman to the floor, reaching for the hand-

"Don't touch it," I snapped. "He's got a handful of broken glass. Prop his feet up and call an ambulance, but don't touch the hand and don't touch the tourniquet."

I was aware of the crowd staring at me as I shouted orders. "Heard about something like this once," I explained half-truthfully. I remembered it pretty clearly, because it was Stoneknapper who'd done it down in Boston in 2000.

"Turns out it's a lot harder to break a beer bottle than you'd think, and it goes wrong pretty easy. Some guy grabbed a bottle, didn't know how to break it, ended up with a handful of shards, and the other guy reached down and squeezed."

There was a collective groan and hiss from the crowd.

Barry leaned over the bar, corded phone in hand. "Just called 911. I'll get the police in here."

"Hang on, Barry," Liam said, waving a hand. "Just get the ambulance. Chances are these shits've got friends in the police."

"City like this, chances are some of them are police," Anchorage snorted.

"Yeah, good point," Barry conceded. He disappeared back behind the bar.

"This was stupid," Flinch muttered.

"In what way?" I asked distractedly, checking the spokesman's pulse and breathing.

"The Empire, doing this. They've basically made it so they can't recruit any Irish people at all thanks to this."

"That might just be this guy being stupid," Tock Tick said, indicating the idiot in question who was still moaning piteously.

Muramasa snorted. "I will not credit his intelligence, but perhaps the Empire is attempting to extend its reach. With Coil now removed, they have only the heroes and the," he grimaced, "Asian Bad Boys to contend with. They will seek to recruit or remove every other force."

The thought of that was sickening. I'd hoped for at least a little reprieve from taking Coil off the board, but apparently there really was no rest for the wicked.

I straightened up while Billy wedged the spokesman's feet onto the crossbar of a chair. Liam was close by, blowing his nose into a handkerchief.

"That's a damn decent thing you did just now," he said, glancing at the red stain on the handkerchief. "I'd have just let the bastard bleed."

I shrugged uncomfortably. The morality of the action hadn't really occurred in the moment. Mostly I'd considered how Kaiser would have got a lot of useful propaganda and ordered this place burned to the ground if one of his men had lost a hand to it.

"I think I've had enough for tonight," I said, stepping around Liam. "I'm just going to get my coat."

Liam looked me up and down thoughtfully, then nodded. "Don't be a stranger, Rose Kelly."

"Well, that was fun," Quarrel declared as I slipped my coat on again and went out through the door, breath fogging in the cold March air.

"Mmm," Tactical agreed. "The fight could have gone on longer, but it was a good evening all round."

"Oh my god, will you stop?" I demanded, striding along the sidewalk in the direction of my house.

Firecracker cackled. "Not a chance! And the best part is, you'll have to keep doing it! If the Nazis are on the move, you're going to have to crack some skulls, which means we get action!"

I snarled to myself as I stalked back home, good mood now fouled. "I'll fight them because it's needed. I'm not going to go around starting bar fights just so you can get your jollies."

"You say that," Firecracker said smugly, "but you didn't even notice you took the knuckles with you."

I came to a halt on the sidewalk, pulling my right hand out of my coat pocket. Sure enough, the knuckleduster was still in my grip. Worse, Stoneknapper's fizz was still tingling in my hand.

Without noticing, I'd altered the brass knuckles, tightening them up to fit my hand perfectly.

I yanked them off and stuffed them into my pocket, then stuffed Firecracker into the dark as she laughed.

I made the rest of the journey home in silence.