30
Chapter 29
The school was canceled. Not really, of course, but they closed the building for two days and are conducting "investigative measures" there about the incident with the Butcher and all this hype. It's even good, because I don't want to go anywhere. Lately I've been catching myself thinking that I'm a stay–at-home mom. Because I already have a whole underground city under my house, though not on a human scale, but still. Established production of new modifications of Japanese hornets, delivery ants and ant queens with neurotoxin. Experiments with dimensions. Experiments with the nervous system – I chose those who respond at a greater distance, I came to the conclusion that the structure of the nervous system matters in a binary sense, but not the fading of the signal at a distance. Simply put, if an animal has ganglia instead of brains, then it comes under my direct control within the range of my power. But if he has something more complicated than a nerve node or, conversely, more primitive, then – alas. It's a bummer. What does this tell us? About two things, and the first of them is that the limitation on the radius of influence of my power is clearly artificial. It's just like they put a compass on my head and described a circle – that's how it works from now to now, but no more.
Why do I think that? Yes, because natural constraints don't work that way. For example, a radio – it has no such restrictions on the radius, there are restrictions on the strength of the signal. Sitting in a Faraday cage, even if it's two meters away, you won't catch a signal. And in the open area – much further away. Cutting off the signal at a certain distance indicates the artificiality of this restriction. Or that, for example, this signal does not see any obstacles in the natural world. Alternatively, it passes through another dimension. Nonsense? And the abilities themselves are not nonsense? But if the signal of my ability to control insects does not see restrictions and obstacles, if there is no signal attenuation along the "edges" of the radius (and there is none), then this very radius is artificially set. This is an external hardware limitation.
And the second idea, which is clearly lying on the surface, is the idea of artificially limiting the possibilities of influencing my ability. The difference between a highly developed insect and the most primitive reptile is not so great as between the same insect and, say, a bacterium. Moreover, what are the ganglia, which are the decision-making centres in insects? These are essentially nerve nodes. Okay, but I can control millions of ganglia at the same time, hundreds of millions, maybe even billions! And this is much more than the nerve nodes in the brain of the same lizard or pigeon. So, in theory, with such capabilities, I could control people. Just imagine his brain is not a single whole, but a collection of nerve nodes, as if instead of one person I have a million cockroaches. So... my cockroaches urgently open an article on the Internet, and I read it with it eyes. The number of neurons in a cockroach is one million, the number of neurons in a frog is sixteen million. Yes, there is a significant difference, but that's all. One frog – sixteen cockroaches? Pfft... it's not even funny, I would take thousands of frogs with me. The Frog Princess Taylor. What about the human brain? Eighty-six billion! Holy shit. That's... so eighty-six million cockroaches are equivalent to one person? It's crazy, but even so, I could control people! Because I'm pretty sure I can control hundreds of millions of insects. But... it doesn't work. Wait, though. Have I tried it? We should try it. To put an experiment on Tattletale, she's very smart, so let her work it out.
Managing people... hmm. There is a cape here called the Heartbreaker. As for me, this Heartbreaker has a primitive face. If he can order a person to do anything, then settling in the wilderness with a harem of beauties is a particularly sophisticated way to bury talent in the ground. Oh, if only I had such a talent... I would unite the people of the Earth! I would lead them into a bright future! I would eliminate all the Endbringers and make world peace, universal love and progress, and of course the secret police, propaganda, the settlement of mankind on distant planets, the first meeting with an alien mind and its conquest in the name of the Great Taylor, the Empress of Earth and the New Goddess of Mankind... no, I don't need such joy. They say power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. I would have turned around.…
So maybe it's a good thing that such a power appeared in a person without special ambitions. Of course, from the point of view of the layman, this is terrible, violence against people, especially young and beautiful girls, but for society and the state as a whole, the Heartbreaker is safe. He sits in the wilderness and gathers women. If he was a danger, a vacuum bomb would have been dropped on his entire estate long ago. Or a gas leak was caused. And so, he sits there and fucks girls. It is a tragedy for a particular girl and her parents. And for the PRT and the government, it is an acceptable price to pay for peace of mind. Hmm. Where does he live there? In Canada? I can also go there on vacation, it's not far...
- Hey! Bespectacled slut! Your charging cable is loose on your tablet! – the Original Butcher appeared on the periphery of my consciousness. His real name is Nicholas. Nicholas Thornby. And you will laugh, his first profession was a butcher. Or rather, a habitual resident. The man who separated the veins and films from the actual meat. He worked on the assembly line at a large factory in Monterey.
- Everything is fine with the cable there. - I answered automatically: - there's a contact going off, fix it and that's it.
- How can I fix it? I can only control one cockroach at a time! And even then, I have to think every time where to put your foot. - The Butcher grumbled: - I'm not a schizophrenic like you.
- It's very strange to hear that from you. – I'm sending a couple of ants to establish contact with the tablet in the basement: - and you have two more hours of online work. Then – in the order of the queue. The next Alice, then - ...
- What the hell am I supposed to share?
- Because I only have three tablets in the basement so far, - I explained patiently.: - I'll go and buy new ones and …
- So, go!
- I don't want to go out. – I confessed. The house is cozy, the house is warm, the Internet is at home and my fortress is right under the house, tens of thousands of my "Medici" and "Stingers", I feel more confident at home. And lately I haven't been out of the house, so some shit starts. Then Lung, then the Butcher, then Bakuda. I'm going out now and I'll come across Slaughterhouse Nine around the corner. Or the Endbringer. Do I need it? Gentlemen and ladies Butchers will suffer. I have a day off. And Taylor's day off means that I'm lying in bed with a blanket over my head and curled up in a ball. I'd like to get a cat... or have a chat with my girlfriend. Except Taylor doesn't have any girlfriends. There was one…
- Send your minions.
- What kind of minions?
- This... blonde who likes to be smart. Or a bomber. Any of your sluts. There are fourteen of us here, and there are only two tablets. – said the Butcher: - if you want your brains not to float, go to the store.
- Would it be suspicious if I bought a dozen tablets at once? – I frankly don't want to leave the house. And obey the Butcher too. Maybe this is it, the influence of the Butcher, first buy him tablets and provide Internet access, and then I'll go out laughing uncontrollably and nail with a machine gun in all directions. And I'm tired. I want to curl up in a ball and cry. From the injustice of the world and the cruelty of the people around – no one understands the feelings of a lonely Butcher Fifteen. But I have a soul. Was. Probably.
- Taylor! - the Butcher raised his voice: - I'm talking to you seriously! Don't twist my balls! We have a deal!
- Oh, don't star me here. In general, you only observe the letter of the contract, but you didn't care about the contract itself. You don't call a "bespectacled whore", but you remembered so many synonyms for the word "whore", just like a professor of philology and linguistics. There's a slut, and a slut, and a shabold…
- A courtesan, a prostitute, a jerk, a slut, a slut, a skin, a chick, a professional... - the Butcher continued the list with undisguised pleasure: - I am a person with a broad outlook.
- That's it. In general, when I have the strength to go outside and talk to people, that's how I'll go. And I will not bother my henchmen, because they are also stressed right now.
- What kind of stress do they have ... - the Butcher muttered thoughtfully: - two jerks.
- Well... - at this moment, a familiar beacon floated into my field of attention. What does she want here? Have you recovered from the blow to your knee yet? Sophia, her mother, Hess, the elusive avenger and part-time Shadow Stalker, the thunderstorm and terror of all juvenile delinquents in Brockton Bay, what the hell do you want near my house?
She is sitting in the attic of the house opposite and watching my house through a small ventilation window, the inhabitants of the attic, several flies, a fat spider and moths – are feeling her presence, but they cannot give a full picture. I'm sending a couple dozen Medici there, they fly slower than the Stingers, but it doesn't make such a noise. And tit can move "on their feet" further and faster. Ants, after all.
I wondered, how I didn't feel her presence until this moment, her beacon seemed to appear in the field of my ability. She was supposed to come in, but it was like she turned on a beacon and here she is. Hmm. She probably overcame this path being in her ghostly form. I clucked my tongue in frustration. Here is another vulnerability of my beacons, relying on them I can miss something important. For example, a crossbow arrow in the back. It won't kill me, after all, I'm no longer a weak girl from the back, now I'm Butcher XV, damn it. But that doesn't mean I'm invulnerable. Danny is all the more vulnerable, so one crossbow bolt will definitely make him sick. Or rather, a bolt. Yes, the crossbow does not have an arrow, but a bolt.
The Medici reached the attic of the house opposite and enter through ventilation and cracked between the roof and the wall of the house. Finally, a full-fledged picture appeared. Sofia Hess is sitting by the window, clutching a crossbow in her hand, wearing her old suit, which she wore before she became an Intern. Yeah, so this is a personal vendetta, not a coordinated action by the PRT. It's already easier. And what should I do with it? The easiest way out is to bite her in an open area of skin, between the mask and the jumpsuit and wait until she stops showing signs of life. Then send a lot of insects to the attic and order them to get rid of the body. A few hours of hard work and Sofia Hess, aka Shadow Stalker, will cease to pose a threat. At the same time ceasing to exist. The only thing is that I will have to personally get rid of the crossbow and other equipment, here ants the size of a dog would be useful ... but in general, a normal plan. Once there was no Sofia. I don't know anything, I went out for a walk and disappeared. Do you know how many people disappear in our country every year? About fifteen thousand, one more, one less…
I sighed. Yes, it would be the right decision from a practical point of view. However, Sofia Hess deserves good pills, not a painful death. To be honest, both Lung and the Butcher didn't deserve one either, but I acted out of fear there, out of fear for my life. And I'm not afraid of Sofia in any form, either as a schoolgirl-athlete-hooligan, or as her alter ego, a Shadow Stalker. So, it's time to learn how to use your strength in a dosed manner, fortunately you have already had experience with Glory Girl. And no matter who, Glory is head and shoulders above the Shadow Stalker in terms of fighting qualities and abilities, and her character is better.
I got up and pulled on my new hoodie. In fact, at the same time I'll take a walk, get some air, and go shopping. Need to go to Tattletale, check in, so as not to get up twice…
I'm going downstairs. It's a day off and Danny is sitting at the table reading a newspaper over a cold lasagna. He raised his head.
"Where are you going, Taylor?" - there's a worried note in his voice. Well, of course, last time his Owl came back looking like the devils had been fighting under the bridge all night, no wonder. The conclusion he made turned my brain upside down. He decided that his daughter was gay. That's how?! Well, yes, I don't wear dresses, I don't use makeup and all that, but to go like that, daughter, I understand everything, it happens, it's the norm... my eye twitched already. I thought that Danny realised that his Owl was a cape and connected the new cape, the murder of Lung, the murder of the Butcher, the changed behaviour… but it was easier for him to attribute everything to a difficult age and the search for sexual identification. By the way, it is quite understandable behaviour, people always choose the simplest and most convenient option for them. And which is easier and more convenient to believe – that your daughter has become a cape and a cold–blooded killer of almost forty people out of two very strong capes, or that she is a lesbian? I see, right? I had to put a lot of effort into proving that I'm not gay and that I'm not interested in girls at all. So are the guys. And here I didn't lie a word, lately I haven't had any thoughts about sex, I don't even masturbate. Yes, I know everyone masturbates, but I don't. And not because I became a nun abruptly, no. Try to do this when you have fourteen personalities in your head who are happy to savor the whole process, giving out obscene comments... I personally can't do it. So, no sex, Taylor, unless you don't mind doing it in the square in front of a crowd of critics and connoisseurs. And, yes, if this audience was friendly, but no. These are Butchers. Even if you don't care about their opinion, their comments make you feel like doing something more erotic than taking a shower – it immediately disappears.
"I'm... just going for a walk." – I came up with it right off the bat. What else can I say? I don't need to go to school today, I can't say "I'm going to my girlfriend" after yesterday.
- Taylor, I have nothing against the fact that you have a girlfriend. - Danny folded the newspaper and leaned forward: - and I understand that you are in a hurry to meet her. It's good that there's... friendship between you.
- Dad! – I rolled my eyes: - please! We're just friends with Lisa.
- So, I would like to meet this, Lisa. Since you're just friends and there's nothing like that between you, it won't be difficult, will it? – Danny's cornering me.
— Okay. I'll bring her to visit. - I answered to get rid of it. I have other tasks ahead of me now. I need to educate a Shaodow Stalker, bring Bakuda to a normal fight, I already owe Tattletale, and she should meet me... there is no rest for sinners.
- That's great. I'll make pasta the way you like it. - Danny nodded: - just all the food is in the house. Bring her by five o'clock, not too late.
- Today?!
"You're going to meet her anyway." - Danny pointed out.
- Uh... - I wondered. Of course, you can excuse yourself, say that she is busy and all that, but again it will arouse suspicion. Lisa in her civilian guise is quite a decent girl, and who knows who, but she can play the role of this very "decent girl", girlfriend and senior companion for the wayward Taylor – maybe five plus. The main thing is that her tongue does not give her away, she likes to walk on the edge. Well... she owes me, and I don't have much respect for Unwritten Rules. Getting to know Lisa will calm my father down, he will stop hovering over me with a helicopter, and I will still shock him with the news that I am a cape, he needs to be lowered into this water gradually, like a fish in an aquarium.
- OK. - I agreed: - at five, so at five. That's it, I'm off!
- Be careful there, Owl.
- I promise. – I put on my hoodie and go outside. Good hunting, Shadow Stalker, good hunting.
Interlude
Amy had never worked so feverishly and with such dedication in her life. She was sitting at her desk, in front of her, in a container filled with minced meat and cabbage leaves – lay the very worm that the Butcher had inserted into Victoria's body. But now the Butcher herself would not have recognized him. He was much bigger, almost as thick as a finger, and strange structures grew out of his body, most like antennas.
- Amy! – a knock on the door made her put the container in a drawer: - it's time for you to go to the hospital! Can I drop you off?
- yes! I'm coming now! – she answered. Well, there would have been no happiness, but misfortune helped, Vicky was forbidden to leave the house. Only on business. Therefore, for her, even taking Amy to the hospital was an opportunity to fly out of the cage and fly over the city, and on the way – maybe even fly somewhere, exchange a few phrases with Dan, or sit in a cafe for a minute or two. So now Vicky saw it not as a routine or a boring duty, but as entertainment.
Amy left the room, throwing a Panacea cape over her shoulders. She looked at Victoria. God, she's beautiful, she thought. Just a girl, just standing in front of her, slightly tilting her head to one side and looking at her questioningly and every curve of her body, every pore of her skin, her slight smile, her eyes open to the world ... this is perfection in its extreme expression. Amy knows Victoria's body in a way that no one in the world knows, she knows it to the smallest cell and she is the only one who can say that she likes everything about her. Dan is just an admirer, he does not see beyond the skin, beyond the epithelium, he likes the appearance, but he is unable to appreciate the quality and beauty of blood vessels, the proportionality and harmony of the liver and kidneys, the perfect bend of the spinal column ... no one can. Just her. Therefore, she will find this Butcher and kill her. Or rather, it won't quite kill you. Rather, she will punish her. Because no one dares to spoil Vicky's body. And the Butcher will regret her decision to abuse Vicky with her worm ten thousand times.
Amy is a weak girl, but a Panacea... oh, a Panacea can make a Butcher live. But she couldn't move. Couldn't even blink an eye. And feel everything. Hear everything. Understand everything. And then she will live, but at the same time she will die. She will cease to exist as a Butcher. There will only be a weak-willed vegetable in a hospital bed, drooling and unable to control his own bladder. All she needed to do was just touch her skin. To do this, need to determine her identity. And for this, it strengthens the worm-beacon. She will be able to identify who exactly abused Vicky and will destroy her. No, it's not like that – to punish. Everyone can feel pain, even insects and protozoa. But to suffer... only highly developed species can suffer. The butcher will suffer.
- I'm ready. – Panacea said: - today I will be free early, my school project is not finished.
— great. I'll wait and pick you up. - Victoria beamed and Amy involuntarily smiled back. A little bit, with the corners of her lips.
Chapter 30
Interlude
Emily Piggott waited until the last of the Protectorate's heroes had left the room, closing the door of the briefing room behind her. She rubbed her temples tiredly with her fingertips. Her hands were shaking weakly, her mouth was dry, and everything around her was starting to annoy her. There are sure signs that she needed to undergo hemodialysis. Again. She closed her eyes. Lying down for two hours while machines pumped and purified your blood without moving... this procedure was not soothing. Although she even managed to take a nap last time. Probably old age.
- The director? – Deputy Renick. - The real briefing is about to begin. Emily didn't like parahumans. They were unbearable as specialists, as subordinates, as soldiers. The UPC is essentially an armed force, there should have been army discipline, order. But the parahumans in America were something like movie and television stars, dressed in themed costumes, cared more about image than business. What kind of soldier would want to put on tights?
- You know, Renick, sometimes I begin to regret that we don't have Yangban. In China, everything is simple – either you are a cog in a fighting machine, or you are not. No one has ever seen Yangban's parahumans in colorful costumes. They're just effective and that's it. They are given an order; they go and do it. As it should be. Emily sighed, "What about us?" The clown Sanctuary.
"It just so happens, ma'am," - Renick shrugged, "even the Triumvirate has to follow these rules. The Thinkers from the Think Tank believe that this helps the capes of the Protectorate to unleash their abilities.
- I have a problem, Renick. - Piggot said, not listening to him. She closed her eyes and sighed once more, - "We all have problems."
Renick walked around the table, pulled out a chair and sat down on it, crossing his legs and leaning back. Emily opened her eyes and squinted at him. Costa-Brown's office at headquarters, as usual, transferred all the problems from a sore head to a healthy one. But they don't understand even a hundredth part of what is happening here in New York. Just "follow the instructions" and that's it. And when the shit hits the fan, mind you – not if, but when –that's when she, Emily Piggott, director of the Northeast branch of PRT in Brockton Bay, will be responsible for cleaning the room. This city is the end of a career, the highest concentration of parahumans, with eighty percent being villains. And instead of sending additional forces here, or asking Alexandria to visit for a week, the headquarters simply turns a blind eye to what is happening. And do not think that she is a naive girl, she perfectly understands the fragile balance of forces, checks and balances in the city ... territories and spheres of influence. One visit to Alexandria or Eidolon will not solve anything, even if you transplant all the villains' parahumans. The holy place is never empty, tomorrow other gangs will appear.
The city itself is a rotten, poisoned, dying beast on the coast, poisoning everything around with its miasma. She genuinely hates this city and its inhabitants, the parahumans, the villains who haunt her, the heroes who can't do anything as ordered, but instead play their games, sticking out their own ego and... damn, she definitely needs hemodialysis. When the world around her turns slightly yellowish, when she begins to shake, and her fingertips dance a jig, and most importantly, when she begins to hate everyone around her, then it's time for her to purify her blood.
"Are you sure of your decision, ma'am? – asked Renick, - "this is a violation of Unwritten Rules."
- Really? - Emily tilted her head, looking at him: "Renick, we are not parahumans, we are a government organization. When have we observed something unwritten and not binding?"
- I understand. – the deputy director dropped his "ma'am": - I'm not talking about that. If the Butcher finds out that we don't follow the Unwritten Rules, we may have problems. Any other cape is fine. But the Butcher... even if she dies, the information will remain with her. In this case, the headquarters will just hang all the dogs on you.
- They'll do it anyway. Piggot replied, - "And what am I supposed to do? I have Butcher XV in my arms, who turns out to be the daughter of the head of the dock workers union, who was brought to the trigger by our Ward! Any of these facts is enough to bury us all here. But fucking Sofia... and I can't let her go to school. There has never been a precedent before that a Butcher is a schoolgirl. I can't let her go to school, imagine the hype when it all comes out. I'm going to be eaten with shit, and that's if none of the kids get hurt. And if, God forbid, the Butcher at school goes off the rails, then I'd rather put a bullet in my own head than go through an official investigation. I can't bring this information to the Wards, but I can't hide it either–otherwise Sofia will be in serious danger. And to be honest, I would even give her to the Butcher to be torn to pieces, let him hound her with his wasps and ants or turn her inside out, but you can't undo what you've done.
- The recruitment instructions won't work here. - Renick nodded. Emily chuckled in response. Yes, the standard instructions for recruiting parahumans won't work here. At least because they are not dealing with a newly minted parahuman, who, despite his terrifying abilities, is still a schoolgirl at heart. They're dealing with Butcher number XV. How much time do they have before the Butcher's consciousness wins over Taylor Hebert's consciousness and digests it, triumphant once again? A week? Two? So far, this Hebert shows an extreme tendency to escalate violence exponentially and at the same time tries to adhere to some rules. Despite the deaths around, she still does not kill civilians right and left, destroys only parahumans or outright bandits with weapons in their hands. Emily has seen this, the girl is an obvious vigilante, she has a heightened sense of justice derived from teenage comics. Black and white perception of the world.
- Have you read Dr. Yamada's analysis of the available materials? – she asked Renick: - the girl has a mixed and exaggerated sense of justice. She believes that she is driven by revenge and a desire to get even with society. And with specific people.
- I understand. - Renick said, - "We really can't let her go to school. But to direct Miss Militia…"
- Hannah inspires people's trust. She is intelligent and empathetic, and has a true moral compass. She is our best choice. - Piggot answered, getting up from his chair and going to the window. She looked down at the city. As soon as Poison Ivy became Butcher XV, they took all measures to identify the host. The first two weeks since the relocation are the most important. In the first two weeks, the host can resist the Butcher, as it has happened before with three heroes. One of them even came to the PRT on his own and allowed himself to be studied – until he finally went off the rails and trashed the laboratory. But the data remained. Regarding the Butcher, the PRT had a secret instruction based on the fact that the remnants of the carrier's personality can resist the effects of the ability to suppress and drive crazy. The hero, who sacrificed himself by providing himself for experiments, said that this does not happen immediately. First, the voices in the head. Always. I'm with you around the clock. They don't let you sleep; they don't let you think, they don't let you concentrate. There is no way to be alone, in silence. And then the voices merge into one incessant hum and... then he became a Butcher. Another one. But he had left behind knowledge, and that knowledge was now worth its weight in gold.
The remnants of the personality of the former carrier do not dissolve completely. When the wearer focuses on his own identity, he manages to last longer. PRT developed drugs that help clear the mind, focus on what is happening, and they were called "liquid sleep". Sleep deprivation, silence deprivation – there is such a torture that inevitably drives you crazy... nevertheless, scientists and Thinkers from the Think Tank give some probability that the carrier will be able to resist the influence of the Butcher on the mind in two cases – either genius or schizophrenia.
- If what the Thinkers from the Think Tank have established is true, then we have hope to reach the girl during this week. Establish contact and invite you to cooperate. New drugs and remedies to help increase self-control, hypnosis, a para-man from Monterey, whose ability to inspire and strengthen a person's volitional impulses... yes, we have Gallant and Glory in Brockton Bay… so there is hope. We just need to establish contact with this Hebert. And if we have to bow our heads to her for this, we will do so. If she were just a new parahuman, I would bring down the wrath of God and the Armmaster on her. But she is Butcher XV and we still have the opportunity to take control of his destructive abilities, and therefore Miss Militia. - Emily said, putting her hands behind her back, "If we can get her under control, the headquarters will lick our heels for joy. So, we have hope."
- That's why you identified Hebert's civilian identity in front of the Heroes and did not give the same information to the Wards. - Renick nodded, - "I understand. But... these are Heroes. Leakage is inevitable."
- yes. These are the Heroes. - Emily frowned: "Someone will definitely mess it up. He'll say something. But this information will soon be available to everyone anyway. Elite and Uber already know – they covered the Butcher's face in their videos. And this new girl... she's not hiding much. Dr. Yamada said that this Hebert is cynical and suggests that Unwritten Rules are not respected by the government and the PRT anyway, and identifying her as a Butcher gives her some immunity. Note that, being Poison Ivy, she did not allow herself to do this."
- Smart girl. - Renick said, "That's right."
- And now let's imagine a smart and cynical person who was bullied by our Sofia along with two girlfriends at school for six months. One of them has a lawyer dad, by the way. The incident with the locker remained unnoticed, the school administration paid only medical bills. Do you think an intelligent and cynical person would not have drawn the necessary conclusions? I believe that when Ms. Hebert received her abilities, the first thing she found out was that our Sofia was actually a Shadow Stalker. Do you remember the incident a week ago when Sofia allegedly fell and hit her knee? When did you have to call for a Panacea?
- Do you think?
- yes. Miss Hebert paid Hess back in hard cash. Because on the same day, the second girl who bullied her got a broken bridge of her nose. She elbowed her right in the face. I believe that along with other abilities, Miss Hebert also received some kind of combat foresight or the ability to control her body. If you extrapolate events chronologically, then everything looks quite logical. Note that the outbreak of violence by the previously quiet and downtrodden girl occurs the day after Lung was discovered... after she killed Lung. Just imagine, Renick, you are a parahuman who has just tested his powers, who defeated and destroyed one of the most powerful capes of the Northeast Coast, Lung himself! And then you go back to school, where they keep bullying you. But you already know about your powers… So, Miss Hebert snapped. She hit Emma Barnes right in the classroom and walked out of school. Sophia Hess ran after her, and returned dirty and lame, with a broken knee. She said she tripped.
- To be fair, I note that no one believed her. – said Renick: - but I didn't pay much attention either.
- Because there was only one injury. It really looked like an accident. If there had been a fight, there would have been other bruises, injuries, but here only the knee. Now I understand that Miss Hebert was playing with her. Have you seen the video of her battle with Glory? She moved like a professional. If she wanted to beat up Hess, she would have done it. I think she still values her ordinary life.
- I know Daniel Hebert a little. I saw him a couple of times at the mayor's office, we crossed paths on issues of shelters at the docks. He seemed to me quite an adequate and pleasant person. The usual one. But with a rod inside. I don't think he knows yet that his daughter is a Butcher XV. If he had known, he would have... I don't know. Brought her to us, I suppose?
- Do you think he would have betrayed his own daughter? - Piggot raised an eyebrow and Renick shook his head.
- no. Not to give it away, but rather in search of help. After all, Taylor is his daughter, and the Butcher captures her mind and her body. He wouldn't sit idly by. I don't know what happened there during the locker incident, he was probably too busy with his daughter's health. However, after the incident with the fight at school, when Miss Hebert was being questioned at the police station, he hired McCallister. The same McCallister.
- Does the union leader have enough money to hire Henry McCallister? - Piggot chuckled, - "should I ask the smart guys from the tax office to keep an eye on his income?"
- McCallister assured me that he took up the probono case, for free, in the name of the public good. The usual practice is that ten percent of cases a year are conducted on such grounds. But it's still suspicious.
- So, he appreciates his daughter, his daughter probably loves him back, that's the connection, the rope for which we can bring Miss Hebert to the PRT. And put her on the couch in the laboratory. Let the Thinkers and scientists, along with doctors and parahumans, try to prevent her transformation into a Butcher. Although in my opinion, Miss Hebert was scary without the Butcher, and with his abilities... if I had my way, I would have issued a Kill Order for her long ago. - Emily turned and looked at Renick. He just shrugged his shoulders, not considering it necessary to enter into a discussion. This is an old and painful topic, Director Piggott sent reports to headquarters almost every month with an urgent demand to issue a Kill Order for Lung. And a couple of other people from Brockton Bay. She was rejected every time. Each time her blood pressure jumped, and she went under the hemodialysis equipment a day ahead of schedule. No one will issue such an Order for the Butcher.
- But in such circumstances, Miss Militia would be the best option. She will be able to establish first contact with her father, she is very good at charming men. And then we'll step in. I've put Sofia Hess under house arrest, and she and her friends will act as assets for the deal. By demonstrating that we admit our mistakes and demonstratively punishing these three, as well as the school principal and Sofia's curator on our part, we will extend a hand of friendship. I doubt it will work, but... it's worth a try.
- That's what I thought. - Renick chuckled, "you're still predictable, ma'am. You will never believe in good will on the part of parahumans, especially villains. But if you don't believe that Ms. Hebert can handle her inner Butcher, then what is all this for? An attempt to ingratiate yourself, advances in the form of punishing your own people, a willingness to bow down, negotiations through Miss Militia? If you do not believe in the possibility of overcoming the Butcher inside the head of the host, if you think that we will still get the same Butcher as a result?"
- Miracles happen, Renick, - Piggot replied, turning away from him, - "even someone like me can still believe in miracles, can't I?" Is the dialysis equipment ready?"
- Everything is ready, ma'am. – Renick answered: - go down to the minus second floor.
- OK. - Emily Piggott nodded and went out the door. Deputy Director Renick looked after her.
- I'm sorry, Madam Director, but I know for a fact that you don't believe in miracles. – He said softly. He knows what Emily Piggott's plan really is. To lure the Butcher into the PRT building under the guise of help and healing from the voices in his head, and then... just today a secret guest arrived. Cape. A girl named Sleepy Lily. Keeping a Butcher in a medically induced coma is risky, the dosage needs to be carefully calculated, and God forbid Miss Hebert wakes up for even a second, or if the dose is exceeded, she will leave forever. Cape Sleepy Lily is also known for its ability to immerse anyone into a deep and healthy sleep, slowing down other processes in the body. A person can lie in this state for years. Deputy Director Renick knew Emily Piggott all too well. She never lets things take their course, does not rely on chance. And she doesn't believe in miracles.