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Taylor

"Well, this has been fun," I said, pretending to peer over Flechette's shoulder as she signed the photo. In actual fact, I had my hands behind my back, sliding my sleeve back to get access to the teleporter. Going by touch, I flipped the cover up and hit the button to recall the next coordinates programmed into the teleporter. Two more button presses set the timer, then I pressed the 'go' button. With that sorted out, I closed the cover and slid my sleeve back down. "But I really need to be getting back to Brockton Bay before someone like Bastard Son decides that the place is ripe for the picking."

Legend looked alarmed. "I know you've been destroying drug shipments belonging to the Elite as well as Gesellschaft, but do you have reliable intel that they're sending Bastard Son to take you out?" We both knew the Elite were making tentative moves toward the east coast, but they didn't have a definitive foothold yet. Brockton Bay, as it had been, would've offered a tempting target for them.

I grinned; he couldn't see my expression, but he could certainly infer it from the tone of my voice. "Not sending as such. Just failing to protest too hard when he goes of his own accord. A few of them were kind of subtly encouraging him, so I'm going to have to explain matters to them in good time. If they're lucky, I won't have to shout."

"I've heard of that asshole," Mouse Protector interjected. "If you want, I can come back to Brockton Bay for a while if you need backup. They say his group can be almost as bad as the Nine were."

"Only in intent, not capability." I knew there was little I could say to assuage their worries. In this particular circumstance, I figured doing was better than telling. "I appreciate the offer, but I'll have everything handled on that front by the time the fundraiser rolls around. See you then?"

"Totally," she agreed, grinning broadly, and offered her hand to shake.

I could tell she intended to mark my glove as a beacon for her teleport power, but only for if I ever needed help. It was sneaky and underhanded, but I couldn't really complain. I did sneaky and underhanded all the time, then disguised it with flashy and blatant. It was amazing what I could get away with when people thought they could see my every move.

I shook her hand, then leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "I know you mean well, so I won't store it at the bottom of my closet." Then I stepped back from her and turned my attention to Flechette. "Hey, thanks for the autograph. My friend will really appreciate it. She's kind of had a bad family situation, so this will cheer her right up." I tilted my head slightly. "And you know, if you ever want to talk to someone about anything, totally non-judging, I can be a real good listener. Just saying."

"Uh, thanks." She handed the photo to me, along with the marker I'd supplied for the occasion. "I might actually take you up on that sometime."

"Flechette …" Legend didn't say any more than that, but his tone was warning enough.

"Oh, relax." I tucked the photo away and spread my hands. "I promise, she'll be safe with me. Hell, if you let her come visit Brockton Bay, I'll even give her a tour of the city, including the places non-locals don't know about. And I totally won't try to recruit her for the dark side. Even though we have cookies."

"Director Wilkins would not approve of any such thing." He didn't sound as though he agreed with such a stance; rather, he was just saying it as a fact.

"Well, as I said earlier, Director Wilkins is butt-hurt over the fact that I caught her with her hand in the cookie jar and the Chief Director backed me up." I shrugged. "Anyway, what she doesn't know won't hurt her, right?"

Legend sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm pretty sure that's not the way it works."

"Does with me. Anyway, I'll see you guys around. Some sooner than others." I decided not to do finger-guns, because that might not go down well. Instead, I drew my shears and mimed snipping a doorway out of the air.

Right on time, the portal formed and I stepped into it with a little finger-wave. The last thing I saw of the heroes were their expressions: Legend resigned, Mouse Protector intrigued, Jouster discombobulated and Flechette thoughtful.

West Coast

The man known as Bastard Son sat and pondered his options. He knew full-well that even those who tacitly approved of his expedition to Brockton Bay didn't hold high hopes for his success, and in all honesty he didn't blame them. Among the other Elite he was known as a mad dog, using vicious and unfair means to achieve his aims, which was true to a point. However, none of this meant he was stupid.

A reputation for ferocity could carry a cape quite some distance, making potential opponents unwilling to engage them in battle. Simply showing up could win the fight without a punch being thrown. On top of that, actual capability helped as well; a cape known for potent abilities would naturally have fewer challengers. But the third leg of the tripod was the dual thrust of strategy and tactics, winning the fight before the opponent ever showed up.

Atropos was a formidable cape by any metric. Her record was flawless, killing the (almost) unkillable Oni Lee, then four other cape crime bosses over the course of five nights. She was clearly a combat Thinker of some note, as shown by her by-the-numbers takedowns of both the Nine and the Teeth (even Butcher, which had impressed him considerably). Her tactical acumen was damn near flawless, her capabilities impressive and her reputation fearsome.

It was no wonder that most of the villain capes who would otherwise be diving in for their slice of the Brockton Bay pie were sheering off. Equally unsurprising was the fact that even his colleagues in the Elite were a lot less sanguine about setting up shop there than in any other city they'd made moves on. Hero capes were one thing; they could be worked around. A villain cape who made it a point to violently (and publicly) murder intruding villains, so feared that even the PRT walked softly around her? Quite another story.

From everything he'd seen of her actions, she would not care about his reputation, so he wouldn't be able to scare her off that way. Her combat capabilities were formidable, but she was limited to human-level speed and strength, and thus far had only used non-Tinkertech weapons; the people he trained were at least as good as her, and they'd have the added advantage of numbers. She'd have to beat every one of them flawlessly, while all they had to do was get one lucky hit in on her. (Her newfound teleport capability would be an issue there, but they should be able to work around it.) And finally, while her tactics were a thing of beauty, he had yet to see her employ long-range strategy. Attacking the enemy's weaknesses before the battle even began.

One such obvious weakness was of course Atropos' family and friends. Menacing the loved ones of a troublesome cape was such a hackneyed plot that even the villains of the corniest superhero dramas didn't stoop so low, at most threatening to reveal their secret identity. That didn't make it invalid, so much as it ensured that anyone using this technique would be reviled in the cape community and beyond. He was fine with that; as far as he was concerned, having a name like 'Bastard Son' gave adequate warning of how far he was willing to go.

Of course, locating a family member or friend to place adequate pressure on was another matter altogether. Atropos' costume covered her up so thoroughly that even her skin colour was a matter of conjecture. From her voice and body type, she was a tall teenage girl or slender woman with curly black hair. Even that could be a ruse, but he didn't think so; the mention of the girl she had murdered in school for being a bully gave him the strong impression that she was school-age too, or knew someone who was.

Then there was the head (and only known member) of her fan club, PHO username GreatAndTerribleAisha. There couldn't be too many Aishas in Brockton Bay, especially of school age. He envisaged a Goth teen wearing black lipstick, at least one skull tattoo, and more piercings than were healthy. If not fitting that exact description, he was certain she would stand out in some way from the common crowd. Someone with such a pretentious username and actively being a fan of Atropos couldn't be normal. It just wouldn't happen.

The trouble was, in order to follow up any of these leads, he would have to either have someone on the ground in Brockton Bay, or get a Thinker or computer expert to go online. He didn't have any one of these at the moment, but that was just a matter of time. And while he was working on that, he did have one other leverage point he could make use of.

Atropos had consistently, ever since her debut, avoided targeting innocent bystanders. Her Combat Thinker ability, he figured, must have a hand in that, seeing how she'd spared the driver of the truck Accord had sent into Brockton Bay. This was probably why the PRT ENE had adopted their current attitude (even actively stated by Bagrat) of standing back and awarding points for style.

If she started killing innocents, the PRT would have no choice but to resume putting pressure on her, thus making it harder for her to come after any members of the Elite who happened to be in town. Alternatively, if letting these innocents live meant that drugs got into Brockton Bay, she would be stressed by her failure in that regard, especially after all the song and dance she'd made about her successes. A stressed enemy was an enemy who made mistakes, and he was entirely willing to capitalise on any and all mistakes made by his enemies.

A cruel smile twisted his lips. Time to see where your priorities really lie.

That was the beauty of the situation. Whichever way she jumped, he won.

Tenebrae

Brian parked the hire car and killed the engine. "Home sweet home. So to speak."

He was actually more appreciative of his current situation than his comment let on. As it was, he and Aisha (and Riley) had comfortable accommodations and access to a hire car, while his sister and 'cousin' were getting the educational assistance they needed; Riley was bright enough on her own merits, but her formal learning opportunities had been few and far between over the previous six years.

As the girls scrambled from the car and raced each other for the front door, Brian climbed out more sedately, grabbed the bag containing the trinkets they'd bought for each other (using his paycheck, he mused with a tolerant grumble) and locked the car. All in all, he knew, things could be a lot worse for him.

Given his specific circumstances, the PRT had gone with a 'carrot' rather than 'stick' approach. He had to wear an ankle monitor while out and about unsupervised (that is, not on duty) but Armsmaster had explained that this was more to satisfy the bureaucrats and ensure he wasn't using his powers out of costume than from any concern of him being a flight risk. His showing with Atropos had garnered him a quiet 'attaboy' from the higher-ups, so that was good too.

Ironically enough, the ankle monitor was actually Shadow Stalker's fault: posthumously, even. When it came out that Atropos had murdered her for being an unrepentant bully (a move that had left Brian with decidedly mixed feelings about Atropos once he was finally filled in), a quiet investigation into the school records had uncovered many reports of her being called to the principal's office for violence against her classmates. From the equally quiet explosion that had emanated from Director Piggot's office once the full extent of Stalker's perfidy had come to light, the PRT had been kept in the loop about exactly none of this.

The upshot of this, after some high-level talks among the PRT and other organisations, was that all such probationary Wards (including Brian, despite the fact that he had nothing to do with her actions) would be wearing the ankle-cuff for six months, which was the absolute minimum period before his situation could be reviewed. After that point, he'd been privately assured by the Deputy Director, they would expedite the removal of the cuff. He was personally philosophical about the whole thing; this way, he still got to take care of Aisha and Riley.

Carrying the bag, he strolled up to the now-open front door and stepped inside. Both girls already had their shoes off (he'd instituted that rule on the first day) and Riley was in the kitchen, rummaging in the fridge. Meanwhile, Aisha had flopped onto the sofa with her feet up on the coffee table, doing a damned good impression of a beached invertebrate. As he closed the door, the TV blared to life with some game show or other. Aisha liked to heckle the contestants, while Riley knew the oddest facts about medicine and biology.

Brian didn't like to think too hard about where she'd acquired them.

"Feet off the furniture," he said automatically, levering his own shoes off with his toes, then pulling his socks off and dropping them on top. "And turn that down a bit, please."

Aisha wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue at him, but the volume dropped away at the same time as her feet hit the floor. "I wasn't wearing shoes," she retorted half-heartedly.

"Which is good, but." He kept his tone mild; this was a time for informing, not yelling. "Our living situation here will never not be under intense scrutiny. There are absolutely people out there who would love to take you and Riley away from me if they could prove I wasn't a fit caregiver for you two. I've even heard that Youth Guard has been making noises about my 'criminal background'. The Deputy Director is on our side, and Ms Brown isn't about to make up any dirt about us, but she does have to hand in a report of her observations after each visit, and if you do it while she's here, that'll be one more piece of ammunition to use against us."

She blew a raspberry, but just a small one. "Okay, fiiine," she drawled, then her eyes lit on the bag he was carrying. "Oh, cool, you brought the stuff in. Gimme."

"Nope." Brian lowered himself into an armchair and let himself relax. "Not until you learn to say please. Ms Brown will be reporting on stuff like that, too."

Riley came back into the room, carrying three glasses of fruit punch. "He's got a point, Aish," she said earnestly. "Adults take notice when kids forget to be polite. And I don't know about you, but I like it here. It's nice."

"Whatever happened to sister solidarity?" Aisha's voice rose in faux indignation. "You're supposed to take my side, not his." All the same, she accepted the glass that Riley offered. "Ooh, thanks."

"I notice you use manners with Riley." Brian raised his eyebrows and gave her a dry look.

"Because she's my way cool cuz, an' you're … you."

"Manners are still manners." Atropos stepped out of the kitchen.

"Jesus Christ!" yelped Brian, barely managing to avoid spilling the glass he'd just accepted on himself. "How did you get in here?" Belatedly, he recalled the message Aisha had gotten while they were on the Boardwalk. For some reason, he'd thought she would be normal and knock on the door.

Riley was equally startled, but she only slopped a little on her hands. "It's you," she breathed. "Atropos." She seemed to shrink back away from the newcomer.

"That she is, cuz." Aisha put her drink on the coffee table and jumped up, showing far more energy than she'd exhibited since walking in the front door. "So, where you been? What you been up to? Kill anyone interesting?"

Atropos chuckled. "Nobody's dead. But Ravager wishes she was."

Brian knew that name. "She's the one who's always tangling with Mouse Protector, right?" He glanced at Riley and Aisha; both were nodding.

"Yeah, we all know who she is." Aisha frowned, then looked back at Atropos. "If you didn't gank her, what did you do to her?"

"One second." Atropos turned to Riley, her whole stance somehow becoming softer and gentler. "Relax. It's all fine. I'm not here to kill you."

"Oh." Riley seemed to let out a long-held breath, slumping slightly as she did so. "I just … I just thought that if you showed up, it was because Bonesaw was coming out again and I had to die."

Atropos shook her head. "No. You're good. I'm here to see my number one fan." Moving over to the sofa, she gave Aisha a hug. "Been at least pretending to behave for your brother?"

"Meh." Aisha returned the hug. "He's annoying and nit-picky and a doofus, but I've had worse people looking after me, so I guess I can live with it. Why do you smell like Italian food?"

Atropos chuckled. "Well, that's a story. So, a little while ago, Ravager offered to pay me a million dollars to murder Mouse Protector for her."

Brian blinked. "And … you didn't?" It seemed to be the way the story was going, but he'd seen how very good she was at killing. Still, taking money for assassinating someone didn't really seem to be her style.

"Of course she didn't," Aisha insisted. "My girl Atropos wouldn't do something like that! She'll murder the shit out of a bad guy, but not the good guys."

"Thank you, Aisha." Atropos gave her an appreciative nod. "I wasn't about to deprive the world of a positive benefit to society like Mouse Protector, so I decided to show Ravager the error of her ways. Without killing her, because Mouse Protector asked me not to." Producing her phone from her pocket with a flourish, she pulled up a video clip and held it so they could see.

Curious, Brian got up and crowded in with Riley and Aisha so he could see the screen. As the footage started, he could see Atropos confronting Ravager and three mooks; Atropos was holding a shotgun and Ravager was empty-handed, but he strongly suspected that hadn't always been the case.

"I've only got beef with your boss. You can stay and die, or you can fuck off right now," announced Atropos on the screen.

"Ooh, yeah," enthused Aisha. "You tell 'em!"

Brian ignored her, watching the screen. He seriously wanted to see this.

Taylor

"Atropos … what?" Legend sounded thoroughly confused, which still amused me. I ended the clip before it could loop back around to the beginning, and put my phone away.

Aisha and Riley were helpless with laughter on the sofa; Brian was holding it together, but just barely. "Holy shit!" cackled Aisha. "The googly eyes! I'll never not see her with 'em now!"

Riley gasped for breath. "The … nose …" she managed, tears streaming from her eyes. "And … the ravioli … oh God … can't breathe …"

I watched as Brian took a deep breath, trying to regain some level of control. But his mouth betrayed him, curling into a grin as he let out another bark of laughter. "I will never see ravioli the same way again," he declared once he had a grip on himself. "But the pacifier was the best bit by far."

"'Sit. Stay.' She'll never get respect again, as long as she lives," Aisha said, still giggling. "Hope Mouse Protector was happy." She looked at me hopefully. "Can we watch that again?"

"It'll be online by tonight," I assured her. "I'll link it to my PHO post. In the meantime, I did say I'd bring back souvenirs."

"Ooh." Aisha sat up, showing considerable interest. "What'd you get?"

From the appropriate pocket, I took out the two photos I'd gotten at the time. Both had been signed by Flechette and Mouse Protector. On the back of one, Flechette had written, 'Always stand up for what you know is right.' while on the other, Mouse Protector had put, 'Protect the ones who need protecting and you'll do okay.'

I handed Riley the one with Flechette's inscription and Aisha the one with Mouse Protector's. "Sorry," I said to Brian. "I would've gotten you one from Legend but he wouldn't stand still long enough."

"Eh," he said with a shrug. "That's okay. The Ravager takedown—"

"Ravioli," Aisha corrected him without looking up from her avid study of the photo. "Her name's Ravioli now."

"Okay, fair point." He chuckled. "The Ravioli takedown was definitely worth watching. How many people have seen it so far?"

"Not including you three?" I asked. "Nobody. Well, Ravioli herself and the person who filmed it, but that's it. You got the advance screening."

"Dang." Aisha looked up from the photo. "This is pretty cool. I love how you got Ravioli in the background."

"And Legend was there, and he just … let you leave?" Riley sounded confused. "I know you've stopped a lot of villains—"

"Killed," Aisha corrected her kindly. "Killed a lot of villains."

"Yes, thank you." Riley gave Aisha a mild jab in the ribs with her elbow, then looked back up at me. "But how did you persuade him to let you go?"

"Didn't have to." I grinned. "Since I told everyone I was going to be Ending the Endbringers, the Triumvirate have been going, 'Uh … what if she can?' and cutting me a lot of slack. Showing restraint from time to time, and not targeting innocents, also helps there."

"Can you?" Brian looked uncertain. "Kill an Endbringer, I mean?"

"Well, I said I'd End the illegal hard drug trade in the city, too," I noted. "Drug rehab clinics are in operation right now, with more opening tomorrow. You literally can't get drugs in this city right now for love nor money because what people haven't used, I've destroyed. And after the Gesellschaft bombed out with their night-time smuggling operation, there's very few with the will and the wherewithal to try."

"Yeah, Bri," jeered Aisha. "When my girl Atropos says she's gonna murder the shit out of something, it dies." She tilted her head slightly. "So, how you gonna do it?"

Brian face-palmed. "I just got it. 'Bombed out'. You blew up the damn boat. You're terrible."

I snickered at him. "Never said I wasn't. And as for how I'm gonna End the Endbringers … it'll be with the Power of Friendship!" I might've struck a dramatic pose then, with my shears held high, just for effect. I wasn't quite sure how my power allowed me to slot the capitals in there, but it did.

This time, Aisha and Riley both face-palmed, in unison. "That's gotta be the cheesiest thing I've ever heard in my life," groaned Aisha, "and I once binged the Lil' Mousey show." She glanced over at Riley. "And the worst thing is, you know she'll do it, just to make the joke work."

"Oh, I know she can do it if she says she can." Riley looked up at me, her tone showing deep respect. "Before Dragon handed me over to the PRT to bring me here, she let me watch the footage of you taking the Nine down. I watched it through more than once, just so I could see them all die. I wouldn't have thought it possible, but you made it possible."

"Well, I'll let you in on a secret." I perched on the arm of the sofa. "It wasn't just me. I did it with the help of some friends. Or frenemies. And if you're willing, you could maybe help me take down some more threats and menaces."

"Wait, wait." Brian made the 'time out' gesture. "Riley hasn't even debuted yet. Image is still working on her costume. You can't be expecting her to come out and do … I dunno, combat surgery on the bad guys?"

"Oh, no, no." I shook my head. "She doesn't have to come out. I was thinking she could make something for me right here. It won't even be lethal." I reached out and lightly booped Riley's nose with my fingertip. "And I promise to only use it on bad guys."

"Um … okay?" She seemed receptive, at least. "With everything you've done for me, it's the least I can do. What do you need?"

I smiled, and began to explain.

End of Part Thirty-Five