87

Chapter 87

A Darker Path

Part Eighty-Seven: Back in the Saddle Again

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

Sunday Afternoon

Cherie

"The problem with Ending Sleeper isn't the physical act of killing him," Taylor explained as she donned what Cherie privately thought of as her 'working clothes'. Costumes tended to be flashy and occasionally impractical; the Atropos outfit was dramatic without being flashy, and it was totally practical. "He can totally die, and Ending's given me four or five ways to make that happen."

Which was four or five more ways than Cherie had figured out so far. "Okay, so if you can gank his sorry ass, where's the problem?"

Taylor grinned as she knotted the tie with finger movements so rapid it put Cherie in mind of a stage magician practicing sleight of hand. "I bet you never would've thought of using that phrasing about him before you met me."

Cherie blinked. Taylor had been totally on point with that observation. "Haha, no, not a chance." Insofar as she'd ever even thought about Sleeper, she'd just been glad that he was all the way over in Russia. At the time, he'd belonged to the category of cape labelled 'nope'. As far as she was concerned, he still did.

"Didn't think so. But to answer your question, killing him's the easy part. The hard part is delivering the warning. Just like everyone else, he gets twenty-four hours. The trouble is, he's not on PHO, or any social media, or even anywhere he can get email or text messages. So I can't deliver a private warning, or even a public one, via the internet." With the tie done up and tucked into her vest, Taylor shrugged into the long-coat. "I'm going to have to do it the way process servers do it: from my hand to his. Though I'll forego the signed receipt, just this once."

"Wait, wait, hold on a second." Cherie stood up from where she'd been sitting on the bed and made a 'time-out' gesture with her hands. "Last I heard, Sleeper's an S-class threat. I don't even know what the fuck his powers are, except that people just don't go up against him. The Endbringers didn't get that level of respect, when they were still around. I guess what I'm asking is, why does he rate a warning?"

"Because that's how I've said I'm going to do it from now on, so that's how I do it." With the mask in her hand, Taylor gave Cherie a serious look. "People thought giving Ellisburg and Eagleton their warnings was a fool's errand. Nilbog didn't surrender, but we got two hundred plus loyal citizens out of Eagleton. Pastor surrendered after a warning, and the capes in Gary and Gallup walked out without a fight. If they can listen to reason, then so can Sleeper, so he gets a warning."

"Okay, so if you know four or five ways of killing him, why's just delivering the warning, even by hand, such a problem?" Cherie spread her hands. "I've seen you fight. Hell, the first time we met, you kicked the shit out of me. Nobody and nothing can lay a hand on you if you don't feel like it."

"It's a problem because his powerset is seriously bullshit." Pulling out her computer chair, Taylor sat down and grabbed a notepad. As Cherie raised a finger, she added, "And before you say what you're thinking: yes, this is from the point of view of being me."

Grumpy at having her line defused, Cherie sat back down. "Okay, what are his powers, and how are they so bullshit that they even give you problems?"

Taylor took up a pen and started writing, then turned her head to face Cherie while the pen kept moving across the page. "First off, they're wide-ranging. We're talking a radius of several miles. Second, they involve effects that alter the body directly, alter the laws of physics in ways that can be made permanent, or affect you through your mind. Specifically, if you happen to have powers that let you keep your body intact and ignore alterations of physics, his power gets in through your mind and negates your other protections so you're vulnerable to him anyway."

Thinking this over, Cherie frowned. "So, what's the point of having a power like that? You told me once that powers want conflict so they can process the data. If he's so powerful that everyone he faces either dies instantly or runs away, where's the conflict? Where's the data?"

Taylor finished writing and put the pen down. Turning the chair around, she leaned back in it and crossed one immaculately booted ankle over the other. "Ending says some powers are set up for others to bounce off. Ash Beast, Nilbog, Sleeper and so forth. They're not there to gather data, but to cause conflict wherever they go. Kind of like the Endbringers, but passive rather than active, and too much trouble to actually gang up on and kill." She grinned. "Usually, anyway."

"Well, yeah." Cherie grinned back. As Atropos, Taylor had been remarkably effective at dealing with previously insurmountable problems like Nilbog and the Endbringers. "So, you think he'll play ball, or are you going to have to kill him anyway?"

When Taylor wrinkled her nose, Cherie had her answer. "Ending isn't saying how it's gonna play out, one way or the other."

Cherie nodded to show she understood. "Okay. So, what kind of pun on 'sleep' were you thinking of using to End him if he doesn't stand down?"

"There's a lot of options to choose from," Taylor admitted. "Sleeper hold, overdosing on sleeping pills, beating him to death with a club marked SLEEP, and so on and so forth. But Ending and I have been working on another idea. It doesn't exactly involve a pun, but it's ironic as fuck anyway."

"Irony is better than puns, sure." Cherie sat forward expectantly. "Hit me."

Taylor's grin was so sharp-edged that the average ravenous school of piranha would've backed away nervously. "Well, I'm going to have to talk to Riley, but I'm fairly sure she'll be okay with it …"

Brockton Bay Betterment Committee Offices

Faultline

As the elevator doors opened, Melanie stepped out into the corridor and turned to the right. "Down this way. Chairman's office."

"Is it just me," asked Newter, "or does anyone else find it weird that we get to be interviewed by the head honcho of the whole show? I mean, wouldn't he be busy?"

Gregor shrugged massively. For the occasion, he was wearing an ironed shirt and a tie. "He doesn't seem to think he's too busy to talk to us."

"What do you know of him, Melanie?" asked Elle. "From what I recall, you had your finger on the pulse all the time."

"Hebert?" Melanie frowned. "He had serious influence in the Dockworkers, and they never had any corruption scandals that I heard of." That could just mean that he was gifted at concealing such misdeeds, she knew, but she strongly suspected Atropos wouldn't have permitted a grifter into the top spot of the committee tasked with disbursing her bounty funds.

They paused before the dread portal, then Melanie steeled herself and rapped on the door: one, two-three. It wasn't like her to be nervous about meeting a non-cape about a job, but this was a guy who almost certainly had Atropos' ear, and who routinely handled sums that made her Crew's takings at the top of their game look like chicken feed. She considered herself incorruptible; Hebert, from all indications, lived it.

"Come in," she heard from inside, and she opened the door. Within was a desk with four chairs set out before it: behind the desk, a mild-featured bespectacled man, tall and skinny, just rising to his feet. "Good afternoon," he said. "I'm Danny Hebert."

"Thank you for seeing us." Melanie entered the office, the others trooping after her. "I'm Melanie Fitts, but I assume you knew that already."

"I did, yes." He stepped around the desk and offered his hand. Interestingly enough, he was wearing a glove on that hand only. "Pleased to meet you. Feel free to sit."

"Thank you," she replied, shaking his hand then taking one of the two chairs in the middle. Elle shook his hand and sat next to her, then Gregor and Newter shook it as well, then sat flanking them. "If you don't mind me asking, you're surely a busy man. Why do we get your personal attention?"

"And what if we'd come to kill you instead of join up?" added Newter before she could stop him. "I mean, you just invited us into your office."

Melanie froze, mentally promising the worst punishment detail she could think of for Newter if he'd just queered the whole deal for them. The glare she gave him must have made some sort of impression, because he shrank back into his seat. When she looked back at Hebert, he was sitting down without even a flinch, for which she gave him major props.

"To answer Newter's question first: if you'd come to kill me, Atropos would be meeting you in this office, not me." He smiled thinly as he peeled the glove off with care. "She has a sixth sense about things like that. And as for your query, Ms Fitts, I've got more experience with capes than the vast majority of our personnel. You've got more to offer the Committee in terms of sheer capability, so I prefer to meet you personally and see where you'd fit in rather than rely on dry reports."

This cut a little too closely to things Melanie had heard from prior employers, and she felt duty-bound to speak up. "I trust you understand, Mr Hebert, that we are more than just our powers."

"Oh, I'm aware. You, for instance, have a stellar track record for taking people from disparate backgrounds and bringing out the best in them. As such, I'll be giving you a probationary period as a leading hand. If you prove yourself there, you'll be stepping up into the next available foreman slot. Newter, per Atropos' recommendation, I'd like you to work with the on-site medical teams if and when needed. The training you've already taken in advanced first aid would be useful if you accepted that position. Gregor, you'll be eligible for special safety officer pay if you want it: firefighting duties, wound mitigation and so forth."

Silence fell in the office, as he sat with his hands lightly clasped over a manila envelope. Melanie was more than a little stunned; she'd been fully expecting to be relegated to the position of grunt, where she'd have to fight and shove for what she wanted. To be recognised from the outset for what she could do, and be given the chance to show it, was far more than she'd dared hope for.

"And what about me?" asked Elle. "I mean, I know I'm not a cape anymore, but I guess I can still drive a machine or something."

"You could," Hebert agreed. "However, I've been informed by Atropos that your powers have left you with a particular aptitude toward visualising things in three dimensions. If you're interested, we can second you to the reconstruction division, while paying for you to attend a college course for urban planning."

"Wait—paying for?" blurted Newter. "You'd pay for her college course?" To his credit, he sounded incredulous, not jealous.

"Well, yes." Hebert opened the manila envelope. "There are funds in the budget for educational purposes such as this. The last thing we want to do is pay you, then take your money away from you again so that you're struggling to make ends meet while trying to become more effective in your job. That's self-defeating. And talking about money …" Tilting the envelope, he allowed four smaller envelopes to fall out onto the desk. "These would be yours."

Melanie saw the faces and names printed on the smaller envelopes as Hebert stood up and leaned forward to pass them over to her. She accepted them, and passed them out, then opened hers to find a card with her name embossed on it. "Hold on a second. Are these …" She'd heard about the stimulus cards from the contacts she still maintained in Brockton Bay. What she hadn't expected was to have one handed to her.

"Yes, they are. You'll be prompted for a PIN on the first use. Your pay will go into the account as well. And yes, your associates are in the system as of today."

Gregor shook his head in apparent disbelief. "You are banking a lot on us accepting your terms. Is all this contingent on us working for you?"

"Only the college course," Hebert said imperturbably. "The stimulus cards are yours no matter what. If you have any queries or second-guesses about working for the Committee, I'm here to address them."

Newter looked at Melanie and Gregor and Elle, then huffed a sigh. "Okay, I'll say it. Me and Gregor are kinda funny-looking. How are people going to take that?"

"Hmm." Hebert frowned theatrically. "You raise a good point. Let me get a second opinion." He pressed a button on his intercom. "Winston, can you come to my office, please? I'd like to ask you something."

"Yes, Mr Hebert."

Melanie had no idea what was going on at that point, save for a vague suspicion that Hebert was pulling some kind of stunt. What it was, she couldn't imagine, but he seemed content to simply sit there at his desk until Winston arrived. With glances to either side, she communicated to her Crew that it would be best to wait and see what was going on.

Moments later, the office door opened. Melanie half-turned her head to glance at the newcomer, then did a double-take that nearly sprained her neck when a gleaming metal humanoid figure entered the room and moved past them to stand beside the desk.

It had two legs, two arms, and something that passed for a head, on which groups of red and green LEDs seemed to indicate its left and right eyes. In no other way did it look remotely human. There was also a nametag, apparently magnetically attached to the front of its torso, which read, 'Hi, I'm W1NST0N. How can I help you today?'

"Everyone, this is Winston," Hebert said breezily. "Winston, these are our newest potential recruits. Can you see any problem with them working for us?"

"Hmmm." The robot calling itself W1nst0n tilted its head, its LED-eyes altering their pattern of illumination so that they seemed to narrow thoughtfully. Its voice was metallic, though there were still tonal variations. "The orange guy might need protection for his tail, and we might not have many high-vis vests in the big guy's size. Need to check on that one. Can't see any other problems."

"Thank you, Winston. That's all I needed."

"Not a problem, boss." The metallic humanoid nodded to Melanie and the others. "Welcome to the Committee. Best damn job I ever had." Then it turned and exited the office, as smoothly as it had come.

Melanie blinked as the door clicked shut behind it. "That … that was an Eagleton. I'd heard about them, but …" But being in the same room as one was far different to just seeing pictures.

Hebert nodded, as though he'd read her thoughts clear out of her head. "We already have a significant cape contingent, as well as Winston and the other Eagletons. Nobody is going to treat you differently just because you have a different skin colour or body plan. That shit, excuse my French, left town with the Empire Eighty-Eight. On the jobsite, you'll be just another Committee worker."

That was as good an answer as Melanie figured they'd get. "I see. So, what are the working conditions like? Sick leave, time off, et cetera?"

Hebert smiled. "I thought you'd never ask." Opening a desk drawer, he pulled out four forms. "Read them over. I believe you will find the working conditions to be adequate."

As she accepted them and handed them out, Melanie belatedly recalled that Hebert had also been the union rep for the Dockworkers' Association.

'Adequate', she suspected, would be an understatement.

Sleeper

I rest.

It is easy to rest. Rest is sleep. Sleep is stillness. Stillness is no noise.

No noise is best. Except own noise. Sometimes I speak, just to hear own voice.

No other voices. They do not exist. Just own voice.

Bubble is not trap. Bubble is restful. Sometimes head hurts and bright light stings eyes. No bright lights in bubble. I tell myself bubble is whole world. There is nothing outside bubble. Just me, inside.

Sometimes I remember why head hurts, and sometimes I do not. Fragments in brain, play tunes like dead fingers on broken piano.

Rest is broken by noise from outside-that-should-not-be. Before I shut noise away, voices that do not exist say two words.

I try to rest. Brain twitches. I forget disturbance, words.

I sleep.

I drift. I have forgotten noise. I have forgotten that there were words. It never happened. How could it? The entire world is here inside bubble with me. There is nothing outside but ghosts.

A long dream later, I wake. I want to hear voice, so I find book. I have read it, but dead fingers have played over the memory of the story, so I begin reading out loud to myself.

Halfway through the book, my brain twitches. Vision doubles, I see fragments of the ghost world outside. Pain spikes head like just before I got powers, when I was shot.

Outside of head is healed. Inside will never be.

I remember words. Two words. I say words in my voice, so they will become my words. "Simurgh. Dead."

Simurgh. Dead.

I know Simurgh.

I know dead.

Simurgh was in world I knew before powers, before bubble. Powerful, dangerous.

Many times, Simurgh attack, kill. Others, in time before bubble, attack Simurgh. Always lives.

Now dead.

Simurgh dead.

I think on that until brain twitches and I forget.

I read book, speaking words carefully. Story is good. It speaks of world that is not. Many strange words about many strange things.

I have almost finished book when brain twitches again. Words come back to me. Simurgh dead.

I know bubble is prison, is trap. I know is because I kill, like Simurgh.

In the ghost world outside bubble, Simurgh is dead.

Simurgh was killed.

Are others dead? Endbringers dead?

Are ghost worlders killing things like Simurgh?

Like me?

Am I next?

I wake up, more than before. I have been good. I have not burst bubble.

I remember, shot in head, falling. Bullet fragments in brain. Lying on icy pavement. Thoughts leaking from hole in head. Powers coming in to plug gap.

Will ghost worlders come, to shoot me in head? Make me dead?

I do not want that.

Power does twisty thing to space, but cannot hide me. Still in bubble. Still in prison. Still in trap.

Far away, I hear/smell/see it. Powers tell me. Hole. Escape from ghost world. Another world, all mine.

Must leave bubble. Must go into ghost world.

I do not want to.

I want to rest.

To sleep.

But I cannot.

So I flex powers, just a little. Push against bubble. Stretch against trap.

Alarms loud, noisy, make head hurt.

I stretch powers more, shut off alarms.

Bubble breaks.

I am no longer only thing in world.

Bigger world now, and I am very small in it.

I become power and move toward hole.

Very far away. Cannot move fast. Still better than walking.

Moving this way tires me.

Will need rest.

Bright light of outside hurts eyes.

Noises hurt head.

Must go on.

Not safe.

Nowhere is safe until I reach hole.

I go on.

Aisha

"Hey, bro?"

"Yeah, Aish?"

"This math thing, how's it go again?"

"Let me have a look." Brian left the saucepan he'd been stirring and came into the dining area where Aisha was working out some problems from her math book. When he saw what she was doing, he frowned slightly. "I thought you had your homework done."

"I did. I do. I'm just looking ahead a bit, to make sure I know the new stuff before they show us how to do it." The way she saw it, getting a leg-up on the opposition was always a good idea.

"Huh." He patted her on the shoulder. "That's really forward-thinking of you. I'm proud of you."

"Yeah, well, now I actually know how to do this shit, might as well get good at it." She tried not to show the warmth she felt in her chest at his praise. He and Riley were the only close family she had—she just couldn't connect with her dad, and Celia wasn't even remotely her mother—and getting his approval like that meant more to her than she'd expected it would. "So, how's this bit work? How do they get that answer?"

"One sec. Hey, Riley?"

"Yeah?" called their youngest sibling from the bedroom.

"If you're not busy, could you check the saucepan and give it a stir, please?"

"I'll be right there." And she would be. Riley was dependable like that.

"Okay," Brian said. "Let's see what we've got here." He focused on the book, then nodded and tapped the page with his finger. "See that? That number carries there, then adds to that."

That little click behind her eyes when the light came on and she understood something for the first time would never get old for her. "Right, so if I do this …" She scribbled some numbers, then ran it through the process he'd described. "It should come out like this?"

"Yup, that looks about right." He squeezed her shoulder. "You're getting good at this."

"Damn right I am." She felt that glow of pride again. This was something she could get used to.

In the kitchen, Riley's phone chirped. A moment later, she leaned around the dividing pillar. "Uh, Brian, when you've got a moment?"

"Aisha?" he asked.

"Go. I got this." Aisha reapplied herself to the problem. Okay, so if I take that, and do this, it should turn out like … hah! Gotcha, you slippery little bastard!

"So, what's up?" she heard Brian asking.

"Atropos just texted me," Riley replied, and with that Aisha decided she had better things to think about than math.

"Ookay." Brian didn't sound totally enthusiastic, but he was only a little bit wary. "What did she want?"

"To talk to me about making a new thing for her."

Brian sighed, then nodded. "Alright, let her know it's fine. Let's see what she wants."

Aisha figured that she knew Atropos better than most, so the very moment Brian said that, she started looking around. The smoky doorway appeared right on cue and Atropos stepped out of it, just out of Brian's line of sight. As Aisha's grin broadened, Atropos lifted one finger in front of where her lips would be. She hadn't needed to; there was no way Aisha was going to miss this.

Waiting until Brian turned his head slightly, Atropos stepped up behind him. "Hi."

"Jeez!" yelped Brian, jumping about three feet sideways. "Do you have to do that?"

Atropos gestured to where Aisha was in danger of falling off her chair, and Riley was suffering a fit of the giggles. "According to them, yes." Then she cleared her throat. "Thanks for saying yes. I do appreciate it."

By the time Atropos and Riley came back into the living room, Aisha had more or less recovered from her laughter. She got up and went over to give Atropos a hug, which was returned with interest. "Hey," she said. "Good to see you again."

"Great to see you too." Atropos let her go and ruffled her hair. "I hope you've been behaving?"

"Well, mostly." Aisha didn't want to get a rep for being a goody two-shoes, after all.

The front door clicked open, and Riley looked around. "Theo's home!" By the time the door opened all the way, Riley had made it across the living room to give him a hug.

"Oof," he said, good-naturedly. "Hi, Riley." Then he looked up and clearly saw Atropos for the first time. "Oh, um, were you waiting for me?"

"No, just here to see Riley, but how are you doing anyway?"

Theo chuckled. "Pretty good, actually. It's amazing how useful some weapons can be on a demolition site. They really put me through my paces, though. I hurt in places I didn't know I could hurt." Despite his worn-down appearance, he seemed fairly upbeat.

"Good to hear," she said warmly. "So, Riley. Got another favour to ask."

Riley nodded. "Totally."

"Ah … you haven't even heard it yet." Atropos patted the air between them. "You might not want to, and that'll be fine if you don't."

"Fair enough. Tell me what it is."

So Atropos started talking.

End of Part Eighty-Seven