33

Chapter 33

A Darker Path

Part Thirty-Three: Lights … Camera …

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

Diamond Dreams Jewelry Shop, 3:55 PM EDT

Atropos

With fifteen seconds to go, I took my secondary phone out of my pocket, feeling the weight of everything else I had stored in my long-coat—big pockets were an absolute godsend in my newfound line of work—and tapped in two quick text messages. I knew the first would cause Mouse Protector to raise an eyebrow, but she'd do it. The second was for later.

The messages sent, I put the phone away and made sure the things I'd need first were ready to hand. They were, of course, but there was no harm in checking. This was going to be my first time making a deliberate point of not killing a hostile cape, and I wanted to utterly destroy her credibility while simultaneously producing a highly entertaining interlude for everyone else.

Of course, lacking any more convenient time to do it, I'd had to go 'shopping' just after midnight, once I'd put up the PHO post.

Wacky Dom's Novelties & Knick-Knacks, Hillside Mall

Dominic Little

"Hey, boss? I think we've been burgled."

The simple statement by Gina, Dominic's most reliable shop assistant, got his attention and hung onto it. Ceasing his perusal of the monthly sales, he stood up from the comfortable stool behind the counter and peered down toward the back of the shop. Gina stood there, leaning out through the usually-locked door that led to their stock room.

"Are you sure?" he asked, because nobody in their right mind wanted a statement like that to be true. "Because when I unlocked this morning, the locks were intact and the alarm was still active."

"Sure I'm sure." She jerked a thumb back into the stock room. "I was checking stock just yesterday, and unless you sold off some Krazy Glue, that oversized novelty eight-ball that you were keeping back here, some body paint, an oversized clown nose, a bag of those cape-themed marbles, one of the novelty pacifiers, and a bunch of googly eyes when I wasn't looking … yeah, we've been robbed."

"Jesus damn motherfucking shit." Dominic was originally from Eastern Europe and while he'd learned English at a relatively young age, his swearing game still had some gaps in it. "Watch the front of the shop. I need to check the security tapes."

"Sure thing, boss." Gina left the door to swing shut and took his place behind the counter. "Think it was a cape?"

"Which cape?" he asked over his shoulder. "Atropos chased them all out of town, remember?"

The door had clicked shut by the time he got to it, but he simply tapped in the code to enter. Stepping through, he bypassed the stock room door—he believed Gina's word on what was missing—and instead took the door to the left, into the tiny office.

Insurance premiums for his shop were reduced somewhat for being a part of the mall, and he'd reduced them further by installing cameras around the shop, covering the entrance, the till and the rear shop door. Moreover, there was a motion sensor alarm within the shop, which could only be shut down by entering the correct code into a keypad hidden behind the counter.

Setting the camera feed to step forward at intervals of one minute—it would take a crafty thief indeed to be in and out within that time—he settled down to watch the screen. Each image flickered up for half a second before moving on; plenty of time to click the mouse and stop it if he saw something interesting.

With Gina's help, he'd locked up the shop and gone home at five the previous evening. From five until six, nothing happened. From six until seven, the same. Seven to eight, eight to nine, then nine to ten, likewise. Although he could name every item on every shelf in view, he was getting tired of nothing changing. But he kept watching.

The stretch from ten until midnight passed by in one minute, still with nothing to see. But then, just after midnight, there was a flicker on the screen, of something that should not have been there. Hastily, he clicked the mouse. There was a blurred figure caught by the camera in the act of opening the rear shop door. He ran the action back one minute, then started it rolling in real time.

With only three cameras in the shop, dead spots were inevitable but he'd made sure they were far from any entrances. From one such dead spot, unseen until now by any camera, emerged a dark-clad figure. Pausing, it looked directly toward the camera and waved.

Dominic felt a chill rolling down his back. He knew that costume. He'd essentially asked the question: if Atropos had chased all the villains out of Brockton Bay, which cape could have robbed his shop?

And now he knew the answer: Atropos herself.

As he watched, she moved toward the counter and vaulted over it with an acrobatic fluidity that only the most athletic capes could match. Leaning down to where the keypad was, she typed in a code … and the blinking light visible on the siren fixed to the ceiling went out. Where she had learned the code, he had no idea; it was written down nowhere and existed in just his and Gina's heads.

Letting herself back out of the space behind the counter, Atropos went straight to the door at the rear of the store and tapped in the code there flawlessly as well. Despite his having paid top money for the cameras, the motion detector and the code-locked door, she'd waltzed through his security as though it didn't exist. And that didn't even take into account the way she'd walked out of a dead spot, as though entering via a doorway.

Although he knew the facts of the situation now, he kept watching, just to see how bad it got. A few moments later, she emerged again, carefully closing the door behind her. In her hand, she held one of the store's own bags, stuffed full of items. From Gina's description, he was gloomily certain that he knew exactly what was in there.

As he watched, she let herself back in behind the counter, no doubt to re-enable the alarm system. She hadn't had to, but its status of being off when he arrived would've clued him in that there'd been a late-night visitor much earlier than now. But first … she tipped over the stool he'd been sitting on for most of the day? Sporting a wide round base and a foot-rest, it was quite comfortable. But what did she want with it?

A moment later, he saw. Taking what were undoubtedly banknotes from her pocket, she held them up for a moment, placed them on the floor, then put the stool back on top. Then she leaned down and re-enabled the alarm. Ducking out from behind the counter, she strode rapidly toward the dead spot, vanishing off the cameras. Nothing else happened, although he watched the footage at four times speed for the next minute.

Shutting down the screen, he got up from the chair and left the office, his mind whirling with the possibilities. Did she just … pay for my merchandise? What thief does that?

Admittedly, the loss of stock wouldn't have eaten at him so much as the violation of his workplace. A villain demonstrating that they could walk in at any time and just take what they wanted would have left him agitated and restless. But instead, he was simply puzzled.

Stepping out into the shop, he closed the door behind him and went not toward the counter, but to the dead spot Atropos had vanished into. As he expected, there was nothing of note to see; no disturbed ceiling tiles overhead, no echo when he stamped on the firm concrete flooring beneath the carpet. It looked just like any other spot in the store … except that the cameras did not see it.

Gina was watching him as he came back to the counter. "So, did the cameras catch who did it?"

"Yes," he said absently. "They did. Could you please get off the stool for a moment?"

"Sure." She stood up and moved away a couple of steps, clearly expecting him to claim the seat. "Are we going to be calling the cops, or mall management? Was it a cape? Which one?"

"We are not." He tilted the stool over, then leaned down and felt under it with his free hand. His fingers brushed across crinkling paper and he grasped it, then placed the stool upright once more. "Because it is Atropos who took it … and paid for it."

Before her wondering eyes—and his expression wasn't far behind—he spread out four twenties on the counter; enough to pay for the missing merchandise, with change left over.

"I was reading on PHO today that she can maybe teleport now," Gina ventured, after a good thirty seconds' worth of staring at the cash. "So that's probably how she got in and out." Her voice sounded strange, as though she didn't quite believe what she was saying.

"She could have teleported into the stock room and simply taken all the things, and we would not have been the wiser." Dominic looked at the money again. "But she did it this way, so she could pay."

"We wouldn't have known, sure, but people would've suspected." Gina sounded sure of herself. "Word would've gotten out. Atropos is very conscious of her brand, of her image. So, she paid."

Dominic scratched the back of his head, then picked up the money and placed it firmly in the till. Swiftly, he entered the values of the missing items and registered it as a sale, paid for with cash. Almost ceremoniously, he took out the correct amount of change and dropped it into the charity jar. "There. A sale, all above board and correct."

Gina chuckled, though she sounded a little shaken still. "Best customer we never had."

"I agree." He placed both hands on the countertop and took a deep breath. "You know, I think we will shut early today. I will still pay you the full wage, but we will both go home and relax. Spend time with our families. I think we have earned it."

"Yeah." Gina nodded. "I think you're right." She raised her eyebrows. "Are we going to tell anyone about this?"

He shrugged. "Who would believe us?"

Manhattan

Mouse Protector

Diane frowned as her phone pinged with a text message. When she pulled the handset out to check the number, it wasn't one she recognised. However, the message itself grabbed her attention.

Hi there. In town, about to mess up Ravager's day. Want to swing by Diamond Dreams, in midtown? Flechette and Jouster are patrolling 3 blocks west of you; if you could grab them on the way, that'd be great – Atropos

"Oh, hell yes," she muttered. She'd only ever seen dead people as a result of Atropos' work; how the infamous killer went about murdering someone's credibility was something she really wanted to see.

Pulling a small collapsible Frisbee out of a pouch—this one had Legend's likeness dyed into the cloth—she tagged it then sent it flying off toward the afternoon sun. How Atropos knew where the two patrolling Wards were, she wasn't even going to speculate.

Teleporting to where the tagged Frisbee had landed, she picked it up then jogged to the edge of the roof and surveyed the street below. With a good throw and asphalt-warmed air under it, one of her little discs could go forever along one of these concrete canyons; Diane considered herself better than average at the art. Pulling back her arm, she flicked hard. The Frisbee zipped out over the street, flying straight and true.

She smiled. People thought that only being able to teleport to a tagged item was a limitation to her power, but she knew differently. It was all about playing to her strengths.

Brockton Bay City Council Chambers

Committee for the Betterment of Brockton Bay (CB3)

Danny sat forward in his chair. "With the minutes read, the meeting will now commence. Before we take reports on the implementation of the drug rehabilitation clinics around the city, I would like to make an announcement."

He paused for a moment, meeting the eyes of each of the other members of the Committee. They were drawn from all walks of life; some from the Mayor's office, others from the business world, and yet others (like him) from more blue-collar pursuits. He knew all of them, if not personally then by reputation. They were universally noted as being successful in their chosen endeavours, for a varying degree of 'successful'. Two of them, Janice Templeton and Paul King, flinched ever so slightly when he looked at them, and he ticked a couple of boxes in his head. Thought so.

"This is a serious endeavour we are embarking on here," he said. "The lives of more than a few of our citizens—and I mean that literally, not figuratively—depend on us turning this city around and steering it away from the rocks. There are people out there whose lives are spiralling downhill due to drug addiction, depression, or simply having fallen through the cracks of society. With poor nutrition and no access to adequate healthcare, they will get sick. Some will die in entirely preventable ways, unless we here in this room do our jobs right. Fortunately, we have a plan to do just that." One forefinger tapped the thick book that lay in front of him. He'd read it through, absorbing the concepts within, and the elegance astounded him.

King raised a finger and cleared his throat. "It's too grandiose, too optimistic. We need to dial it back to what we're capable of doing, here." There were a few murmurs of agreement from around the room, most audible from Janice Templeton.

Danny's eyes narrowed a little. "It's only impossible if we all decide it's impossible, and stop trying. I read PHO, as do some of you. Janice, Paul, don't think I didn't notice you trying to introduce ways to skirt around the acquisition guidelines during yesterday's meeting, ostensibly in the name of making things easier. I couldn't prove you were thinking about ways to divert funds, and I still can't. However, Atropos seems to think you were, and she is now paying attention."

As he'd expected, dropping the name directly into the discussion had the effect of a large rock falling into a small pool. Now, everyone was listening, very carefully, to his words.

"A-Atropos?" croaked Farley Rogers, the Mayor's representative. "Is-is she coming here?" He stared around at the door, then at every corner of the room.

"Not that I know of." Danny spoke calmly and smoothly. "However, she did speak to me this morning, on this very topic." She'd merely wished him good luck with the Committee, but they didn't need to know that particular detail. Reaching into his pocket, he took out his cell-phone, and laid it on the table. "If anyone wishes to continue being obstructive, I can call her, and you can explain why. Any takers?"

Nobody said a word. In fact, everyone (especially King and Templeton) appeared to be trying to give the impression that they didn't even know what obstruction was. All eyes were on the phone, like a bunch of chickens hypnotised by a snake.

"Well, then," Danny said, taking up the phone and dropping it back into his pocket. "Let's move along, then. The drug rehab clinics? Rogers, you were in charge of that, right?"

"Oh, ah, yes." Jolted into action, Farley nodded almost convulsively. "We have a dozen in place right now, with another fourteen to open tomorrow. The initial ones should have opened their doors in the last fifteen minutes."

Paul King cleared his throat again. "I hope you won't accuse me of being obstructionist for pointing out that this is not a wise move. Drug addicts are not known for their self-control. They're likely to mob the clinics and steal the drugs on the premises for their own use." He sat back, looking smug.

"That's a possibility," Danny allowed. "Farley, find out if that's happening." There was a branch in the plan that covered this specific scenario; all he needed was correct information about the situation.

"Okay, I'm on it." Farley fumbled out his phone, checked a sheet of paper, and started dialling.

Danny looked around at the rest of the table. "While he's getting that update for us, how are we doing on the leadup to the stimulus rollout?"

"I still don't see why we can't just hand out checks," grumbled Janice Templeton, having apparently grown a backbone since the phone went away. "It's a tried-and-true system."

"And altogether too vulnerable to abuse." Danny shook his head. "We're doing it this way."

"But giving everyone a debit card is just an unnecessary expense," she argued. "Do you know how much money we could save?"

And there's your angle. "The cost of setting up the cards is negligible, and has already been factored into the ongoing plan." Danny tapped the book. "It's a done deal. We're not changing it at this stage." Turning away from her and firmly shutting down the confrontation, he addressed another member of the Committee. "Cynthia, where are we with locating all the recipients?"

Cynthia Horton gave Janice Templeton a scathing look, then addressed Danny. "Ninety-five percent done, closing on ninety-six. I figure we'll have them all nailed down by Friday afternoon."

"Good." Danny looked over at Farley. "How are the clinics faring?"

"Quite well, actually." Farley offered a tentative smile. "All the medical techs manning them report that the patients are well-behaved and polite … well, as polite as addicts can get when they're looking for their next fix. Nobody's even tried to cause trouble."

"Oh, come on!" scoffed Paul King. "Nobody? That's bullshit! Check again!"

"He already checked once." Danny's voice was mild, but there was steel underneath. "I'm not going to let you waste this Committee's time on your little power plays. Now, moving along. The next part of the plan calls for infrastructure renewal …"

Cherish

Well, now. Someone's trying to play it sneaky.

Leaning back in her bus seat, Cherie grinned as she looked out the window. For all anyone knew, the grin was just because she was going home after a strenuous day of having facts crammed into her head, but this was not precisely the case. She was in fact listening in on the music generated by every single person in Brockton Bay.

More to the point, she was focusing on three groups of men, which had each congregated near one of the clinics in the less-affluent areas of Brockton Bay. Interestingly enough, these men did not radiate the desperation and need of a drug addict. Instead, their emotional songs made it plain that they were entirely clear-headed, and were intending to do violence in the name of greed; or to put it another way, they'd been paid to cause trouble.

Just for a moment, Cherie wondered if these were the people Taylor had meant her to be looking out for, then she nodded to herself. Of course they are. She doesn't miss a damn trick. I should know.

Reaching out, she delved into the emotional makeups of each of the potential troublemakers and found what she was looking for: the very real and thoroughly rational fear of Atropos. What with Taylor's extremely public debut, followed by the ever gorier executions of the cape gang leaders on each successive night, there wasn't a man on any of the teams who hadn't heard of her, or didn't fear her. Cherie took that fear and blew it out for them, forcibly reminding them that they were doing something she would almost certainly disapprove of.

And when Atropos disapproved of someone, their lifespan was generally measurable in hours at best.

As it turned out, she didn't even have to maintain the push; once reminded, they stoked the fires themselves. Everybody had either seen one of Atropos' victims, or knew someone who had. This was no shadowy legend, lurking in the dark and spreading rumours. Atropos was absolutely, unequivocally real … and she would come for them.

It was like she'd dropped an ink bomb in a pail of milk, as the darkness spread and consumed the light. Their collective sense of purpose dulled, began to question itself, then died altogether. The flame of their intent guttered then went out in one and then another. She could not discern words via her power, but her best bet at the emotion they were feeling would have expressed itself as, "Fuck it, I'm not being paid enough for this shit."

By contrast, the drug addicts themselves were on the whole well-behaved. Only a few started acting up, but they weren't being paid to do it, so a little emotional adjustment calmed them right down again.

As the bus trundled onward, Cherie wondered what Taylor was up to in New York.

Oh, well. She'll tell me when she gets home.

In the meantime, being the good guy felt surprisingly … good.

Boardwalk

Aisha

"Thith ith tho good!"

Aisha had to laugh at the image Riley presented. As Brian was off duty, he'd declared a family outing to the Boardwalk, where he'd bought cotton candy for both Aisha and Riley. Aisha was used to the stuff, though she still enjoyed it. Riley, on the other hand, had her face more or less buried in the colourful, wispy confectionary.

"Wow," she said, sneaking her phone out for a picture of her 'cousin', because blackmail was always fun. "You've, like, never had any, ever?"

"Family situation, remember?" That was Brian, pointing out what Aisha had temporarily forgotten. Those three innocuous words highlighted the fact that Riley's childhood from six to twelve had been ripped away from her, and she was only now being given the opportunity to catch up on being a kid.

Which she was, in spades. With Aisha's enthusiastic encouragement, she was indulging in pillow-fights, back-talking Brian (but politely, because there were some habits Aisha didn't feel like breaking) and apparently geeking out over cotton candy.

"I've seen it but never had the chance to eat any," Riley clarified once she came up for air. "Good girls don't eat sweets before supper, you see."

"Wow, damn." Brian ruffled her hair. "Well, you go ahead and enjoy. This afternoon's about having fun, not sticking to rules."

"If you're not too careful with that, you'll be sticking to everything else," Aisha jibed with a giggle. Just then, her phone beeped to indicate an incoming text message. "Whoop, gotta check this."

With the phone already in her hand, she checked the screen. Her eyebrows hitched up and she barely managed to hold back a squee as she saw the caller ID: Her Dark Ladyship of Booyah. Then she looked at the message itself.

Hi to my biggest fan. Imma drop by for a visit this afternoon. No need to rush home; I'll get there ten minutes after you walk in the front door. You go ahead and let Riley enjoy the Boardwalk. Also, got a souvenir for you.

- A

PS: No, really, enjoy the Boardwalk.

Her initial impulse was to tell Brian to drop everything, they had to get home. But looking at the postscript, she took a breath. She knew enough about Atropos to be aware that whenever they got home, she would show up ten minutes after. And they were here to let Riley enjoy herself as a kid for maybe the first time in forever.

K, she texted back, then pocketed her phone.

"What was that about?" Brian was looking at her with the big-brother you're up to something vibe.

"Nothing," she said, then saw from his expression that line would never fly. "Okay, fine. My favourite cape ever will be dropping in once we get home. She said not to worry about hurrying."

He raised an eyebrow. "Favourite cape ever? You know …" He gestured at himself. I'm a cape, too.

"I know what I said." Crossing her eyes at her brother, she stuck her tongue out at him, then went to Riley's rescue. "C'mon, Ri. Let's go get this stuff out of your hair. And ears. Wow, when you eat this stuff, you don't do it by halves."

"But it's so good," protested Riley, but she didn't resist as Aisha grabbed her hand.

Towing Riley toward the nearest public restrooms, Aisha grinned. "Not arguing."

[A/N: too much content crept in, so I'm splitting this chapter into two, and posting the next one soon. Enjoy.]

End of Part Thirty-Three