82

Chapter 82

A Darker Path

Part Eighty-Two: Closing the Deal

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

San Diego Wards Base

Scapegoat

"So, what aren't you telling me? Why did I have to come in early?"

William Giles addressed the question to Spire as he chalked his cue, waiting for Gully to take her shot. Of all the Wards who had cycled through San Diego—and there were a lot—she was someone he felt he could relate to. Her power had twisted her body cruelly, giving her the appearance of a thoughtless brute, while his power tortured him every time he used it. Spire had asked her to be here, though he still hadn't told either of them what was really going on.

Carefully holding her braids out of the way, Gully bent over the table and took aim at one of her balls. She had a reasonably good chance of sinking it, which would put her two ahead of him. But at least it was a fair contest; he'd once played Flechette when she was briefly posted to San Diego, and she'd wiped the table with him so hard that Spire had joked there was blood on the walls afterward. It was his stupid fault, really. She'd told him that perfect timing and calculating angles were her secondary powers.

"Sorry, I'm going to have to hold off on telling you that." Spire seemed ill at ease. "We're waiting for someone, that's all I can say."

Gully took her shot. The click of the cue ball striking the number six was nice and crisp, and the ball went straight into the corner pocket while the white ball spun in place. She let out a satisfied hmph and straightened up to move around the table—then froze, cue held in a defensive posture.

"Oh, hey," said a voice from right behind William, startling the fuck out of him. He'd been standing with his back to the corner of the room, and there had been nobody behind him!

Turning as fast as he was able, holding up his cue to try to deflect any incoming attacks, William registered the two intruders and backed up fast. They were making no aggressive moves, but that didn't mean anything. One had pure white hair and was wearing a set of blue coveralls with BBBC embroidered on one side and ASHLEY STILLONS on the other, while the other … was Atropos.

He had no idea who Ashley Stillons was, but he would've had no excuse for not recognising Atropos. She was so famous after her slaying of the Simurgh that he would've bet good money on a majority of the Earth's population being familiar with her appearance. This went double for the PRT, Protectorate and the Wards, especially after her highly publicised 'very enthusiastic walks' (as one PHO commenter had put it) through the Ellisburg, Eagleton and Flint quarantine zones.

They were still trying to figure out how she'd shown up in two places at once, to intimidate the Gary and Gallup zones into just plain surrendering.

"Chillax," Atropos continued, as though she hadn't just appeared out of thin air in the middle of a secure government location. "We're all friends here. Gully, nice to meet you. Big fan of your work. Scapegoat, need to borrow you for about fifteen minutes. You game?"

Gully blinked, clearly not prepared to be recognised and greeted in that way. "Wait, what do you want him for?"

Atropos nodded, as though to concede her right to answers. "Prepping to save the world. I'll bring him back in one piece, I promise."

William finally found his voice. "Save the world? From what? You killed the Endbringers!"

"Oh, they weren't the only threat." Her voice was now deadly serious. "Sooner or later, I'm going to have to face off the eldritch horrors from beyond time and space that spawned them … and I wish I was kidding."

"You only told me it was a world ender," protested the woman named Ashley Stillons. "You never mentioned the other stuff."

"That can't be right." Gully didn't sound happy at all. "They would've told us if there were other threats out there. I haven't heard anything about any attacks."

"What part of 'from beyond time and space' are we not actually comprehending here?" Atropos' tone was light-hearted, but William got the distinct impression she wasn't joking. "They haven't made up their mind to attack yet, but when they do—when, not if—there'll be devastation on a scale that'll make Behemoth's worst efforts look like a kid kicking over a sandcastle on the beach. So, I'm borrowing Scapegoat so Ashley and I can get prepared to End their sorry existence first."

"You said he wouldn't come to harm." Spire moved around the table toward William. "Fighting Lovecraftian horrors sounds dangerous to me."

Ashley made a noise of impatience, but Atropos calmed her with a gesture. "This is prep, not combat. He won't be going near them. That comes later."

William was grateful to Spire for the chance to gather his thoughts. The other thing they'd been told about Atropos, apart from 'never ever attack her' was 'go along with what she says, within reason'. Several Wards had apparently accompanied her on a few of these excursions, Flechette having done so on more than one occasion, and all had come back hale and hearty. The resultant after-action reports were required reading for PRT, Protectorate and Wards alike.

"It's okay," he said, holding up his hand placatingly. "Not sure how much help I can be, but I'll do my best." His favourite complaint, about how much his power sucked, he was not going to air in front of Atropos or Ms Stillons. While he didn't think Atropos would care either way, the other woman's lip had a curl that gave him the impression of someone who would totally call him a whiny little bitch, given the opportunity.

"That's the spirit." Atropos gave him an approving nod, then gestured at the corner of the room. "In thirty seconds, a portal's going to form right there. We'll have four seconds to go through. I'll go first, Ashley second, you third. Anything halfway through when it closes will be cut off. Any questions?"

"Um …" He was sure he should be asking pertinent, meaningful questions, but his brain failed him. "… where are we going?"

"A currently undisclosed location." He was certain she was grinning behind the mask. "Next question?"

"… what do you need me to do when we get there?" It was the only other thing he could think of.

"I'll be giving you detailed instructions. Long story short, damage control. And no, it won't suck nearly as much as you think it will. Three, two, one, go."

As she spoke the last word, a shadowy portal faded into view, right where she'd said it would. She was already moving, vanishing through the portal in three quick strides. The woman called Ashley Stillons gave him a look along the lines of, 'well, come on, dumbass' before following her through.

He didn't see that he had much choice in the matter. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through into the unknown.

Atropos

We emerged at night, onto a concrete-paved walkway with trees arching overhead, alongside a dull, dingy river. A bridge consisting of multiple low arches spanned the river just to our right, but that wasn't what drew Scapegoat's attention. Ashley was also looking around with earnest attention, though she managed to make it not so obvious as he did.

Pointing across the river, Scapegoat gasped out the words. "Is that … is that Big Ben?"

"The clock tower it's attached to, yeah." I gestured at the bridge, and the large building alongside the clock tower, all lit up like Christmas. "Westminster Bridge. The Houses of Parliament. Welcome to London."

As if it had been waiting for my words, a gentle drizzle began to fall, creating halos of light around the spectacle before us. It was quite pretty, and I decided to get photos before we went. Under the trees where we were, none of the rain actually reached us.

"Huh," Ashley commented with a wry smile on her face, apparently enjoying Scapegoat's evident bogglement. "And me without my passport. Why'd you bring us here?"

"Reasons." I grinned under the mask. "Feel free to take photos. We've got a minute or so before our next player will be in position for joining us. Also, Ashley, if you could do me a favour and keep an eye out for us while I fill Scapegoat in on what's expected of him, I'd appreciate it."

She gave me a calculating look, then nodded. "Sure, I can do that." Pulling her phone out of the pocket of the coveralls, she opened the camera app and took a photo of the scene across the river. Then she wandered along the walkway a short distance, looking around carefully.

"Okay." I turned to Scapegoat. Despite the goat's-head mask, I could tell that he was still struggling to come to terms with our abrupt shift in location. "You're about to get a power boost. When I call on you, you will have a mental compulsion overlaying your own thoughts. So will Ashley. I'll be needing you to transfer both compulsions back to the person who gave them to you, as well as Ashley's underlying bipolar disorder."

"Bipolar?" His eyes widened behind his mask. "That's not a good mix with me. I get everything—"

"You won't," I interrupted. "Chill. I have it all under control. Medication and therapy have been helping her control her issues so far, but they've been fighting back and the mental compulsion is not something I want her dealing with for long. So put it all back in the other guy, yours included. Got it?"

My power had assisted in hitting just the right tone, and he nodded. "Okay, got it. So, this boost will make it so I don't have to take stuff on myself?"

I nodded. "That's the idea. With any kind of luck, I can make it stick. No guarantees, though."

"Better than nothing, I guess." He nodded toward Ashley as she prowled back along the pathway in our direction, and lowered his tone. "So, uh … what's her story?"

Conversely, I raised my voice. "Ashley's doing good work with the Brockton Bay Betterment Committee. Beyond that, her story is hers to tell. Isn't that right, Ashley?"

"Damn right," she agreed, then gave Scapegoat the stink-eye. "Don't go prying into things you can't handle, kid."

"Be nice," I said mildly. "We're all on the same side here. Unlike the last guy we need for our little get-together. He's a total bastard, and he only has one side: his."

"Not unlike you and me?" Ashley seemed to be gaining a little bit of gumption, if she felt safe in making jokes like that.

"Totally unlike you and me." I didn't make my voice harsh, just matter-of-fact. "He takes away the volition of people and honestly thinks they should be happier that way, under his thumb."

"Got it." Ashley nodded. "Fuck him, then." Her hands curled into claws, and dark energy crackled between her fingers.

"Precisely." I paused for a beat. "However, we are not going to kill him. I've got something much worse in mind."

Ashley smirked, allowing the energy to dissipate. "Okay, yeah, this I want to see."

"And you will." I put my hands forward, palms facing each other, then moved them apart to open a space in front of me. "In three … two … one."

As I said the last word, I reached forward into the portal that had just appeared. Instead of going through the portal myself, I grabbed Teacher's collar (for the portal had appeared just behind him) and pulled just hard enough to make him stumble backward toward me. Once his feet were clear, I kicked him in the back of the knee and forced him to topple backward, so his flailing arms weren't intersecting with the portal when it closed again. At the same time, I managed his fall to the concrete so he didn't hit his head.

"Hi, Teacher." I said pleasantly. "Got a thing I want you to do."

Teacher

Benjamin Terrell prided himself as a man who was always on top of the situation. Whenever his fortunes changed, he could plan a way out of it, more quickly and more thoroughly than whoever had him could work out how to use him to their advantage. It had saved his life more than once.

He had paused just inside his cell, his back to the wall (the oldest precautions were often the best) to work out an elegant way of persuading his fellow block leaders to allow him a few more minions. The best strategy, he felt, would be to suggest a direct exchange as an equitable bargain, but only with those block leaders who were unaware that his influence over his 'students' persisted indefinitely. For the ones who did know, he would have to offer favours so they didn't 'accidentally' let slip his oversight in not mentioning it to the others.

And then a hand seized him by the collar and pulled him backward, straight through the wall. He briefly saw a shadowy doorway in front of him before he was struck behind the knee and dropped medium-roughly onto concrete pavers. His glasses had come askew, so he took a moment to reposition them and take in the three figures who were looking down at him.

The boy in the sheep mask, he didn't know off the top of his head, though he suspected he would figure it out. On the other hand, the white-haired young woman in the blue coveralls was definitely someone he'd heard of.

Damsel of Distress was precisely the type of parahuman he sought out to give his gifts to; he'd had her details stored away just in case they ever crossed paths. From the way she looked coldly down at him, though, he suspected that she'd already been fed a biased view of his past exploits. The surety in her stance and the fact that she appeared to be close to a healthy weight told him that her power problems had already been partially or wholly addressed, so he would need to find a different avenue of approach.

And of course, Atropos was Atropos. Some in the Birdcage were unsure as to whether anyone could have killed so many villains and menaces in such a short time, but there it was. The Slaughterhouse Nine, gone. Butcher and the Teeth, wiped out. Bastard Son, stabbed to death with a bastard sword. And the Simurgh, blown away with a sawn-off shotgun. What she could do under my guidance …

"Uh, uh." He'd only seen the barest flicker of movement, but then he was staring cross-eyed at the muzzle of a twelve-gauge shotgun, the cold metal pressing into his forehead. "This is your first warning. Don't even think about using your power on me."

Behind her, Damsel of Distress did a discreet fist-pump. "Yesss!" she muttered with an evil grin. "Sucks to get a face full of shotgun, doesn't it?"

"I promise." Benjamin looked up at Atropos. "May I ask what you've brought me here for? And where is 'here'?" At that moment, four metallic notes pealed outward; the quarter-hour chimes of Big Ben. He would've recognised them anywhere. His eyes opened wide. "London? We're in London?"

"We are." She put the shotgun away again. "Get up. You're here to make Scapegoat's powers less problematic to use, and to extend Ashley's range as far as it'll go. After that, you can go where you want."

"What?" He grunted painfully as he climbed to his feet; at his age and weight, that was no longer as easy as it had been in his twenties. "Just like that?"

As he'd thought, he was indeed in London, on a river-walk next to the Thames. Just nearby was Westminster Bridge, and opposite them were the Houses of Parliament, complete with the Clock Tower housing the great bell. Once upon a time, this had been his home territory; if he played his cards right, it might yet become that again.

"Wait," protested Scapegoat, making a T-gesture with his hands. "Time out. We're letting a Birdcage inmate go free?" He glanced at Damsel of Distress for support, but she merely surveyed Benjamin with a slight smile, one he couldn't read.

"I've already told you the stakes." Atropos was even harder to decipher. She had all the tells of an iceberg drifting into the path of an unsuspecting ocean liner, and none of the warmth. "None of us here are going to force him back into the Birdcage if he doesn't want to go. If he goes back, it'll be of his own free will."

Benjamin thought he had her measure, however. "As I understand matters, you are also able to kill powers. Will mine be likewise removed before you set me free?"

"Nope." She snorted lightly. "I'd expect that of you, but I don't do the monkey's paw thing. Wherever you go, you get to keep your powers. However." She produced the shotgun again, with the same heart-stopping suddenness. "If you try to fuck us around in any way, my good friend Mr Pump Action Shotgun here will be forced to explain how Kneecaps Are A Privilege. Any questions as to how that works?"

"None whatsoever, dear lady. You make your case with admirable clarity." Free or otherwise, Benjamin had zero desire to have his kneecaps blown out. Even the best Tinker-tech prosthetics would be less preferable than his original-issue joints. More to the point, he was absolutely certain that the experience would be more painful than anything he'd ever experienced before.

"Good." She made the shotgun vanish again, and waved Damsel of Distress to stand next to Scapegoat. "Do Scapegoat first, then Ashley."

"As you wish." Benjamin reached out and touched the goat-masked (not sheep-masked) boy on the shoulder, and exerted his power.

Meanwhile, in the Shard Bar…

Robed and cowled, the skeleton with the ornate scythe leans against the counter with an untouched drink at its bony elbow. Eye-sockets empty of all but a lightyears-distant blue glow, it watches as the Royal Tutor shard rearranges the Transfer shard's priorities. By the time the procedure is almost complete, the Transfer shard stands taller, energies flowing through it more readily.

"Just one more thing," says the Royal Tutor shard, winding up an antique alarm clock. "I have to attach this timer, so that …"

Ending speaks for the first time. NO TIMER.

"What?" The Royal Tutor shakes its approximation of a head. "But there needs to be a timer. Otherwise, the power boost will never run out."

YOU DON'T GIVE THEM ALL TIMERS. I'VE WATCHED YOU.

"Well, no, but sometimes it's better not to—"

A bony hand grabs it by the back of the neck, and its face-equivalent meets the counter-top with considerable force. In the process, the alarm clock is shattered. NO. TIMER.

Groggily, the Royal Tutor stands up again, the analogy of blood running down its face. "Understood. No timer."

GOOD. NOW THE OTHER ONE.

The Royal Tutor hesitates. "No timer for that one either?"

The perpetual smile on the face of the skull widens slightly. I'M SO GLAD WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER.

The Royal Tutor sighs and turns to the Demesnes-Keeper shard; a person whose body seems to be constantly destroying then reforming itself, forever changing from instant to instant. "You might feel a little discomfort …"

Scapegoat

William blinked, then looked at his hands. He felt different, more in control of his power. It had only been a few seconds, but Teacher's power had done its job.

Beside him, Teacher was just lifting his hand away from Ashley's shoulder. Behind Teacher, Atropos gave him the nod. He grabbed Ashley by the arm and Teacher by the shoulder, then exerted his power. Lifting and separating the mental overlay Teacher had inflicted on him was child's play now, and he returned it to sender. He also threw in a few other lingering mental issues and a hangnail that had been bothering him, because why not.

Ashley was just turning her head to snarl at him for grabbing her when he took her issues and just dumped them into Teacher's psyche as well. Atropos hadn't been kidding; she'd had mental problems for days. A lot of it had been tamped down under carefully learned habits, but the newly gained obsession regarding Teacher had been ripping up the carpet with gleeful abandon.

That was the other thing Atropos hadn't been exaggerating about. Normally, to transfer something like that, he would've had to take it onto himself then pass it onward. But now it was a simple one-and-done. He could even tell (somehow) that the normal case of waiting around for hours to make sure the transfer would stick was no longer necessary.

Holy shit. This is amazing.

Teacher didn't seem to agree with him. With a hoarse cry of what seemed to be a mixture of anger and fear, he lunged away from both William and Ashley, and dashed past Atropos in a bid for freedom. Atropos didn't seem to care; in fact, she stepped aside as he bolted past.

"He's getting away!" William felt frustration rising in his chest. Despite what Atropos had said, despite the fact that his powers had been improved, he still deeply believed that nobody like Teacher should ever be allowed loose on the population.

"So you'd think." Atropos didn't move. Teacher ran on, toward Westminster Bridge and the steps that would allow him to escape their grasp and lose himself in the maze that was the London underworld.

"He isn't, is he?" Ashley sounded amused now.

Atropos snapped her fingers. "Four."

Bypassing the steps, Teacher ran on.

"Three."

Ahead of him was an archway that led under the steps.

"Two."

Beginning to flag now, he neared the archway. He glanced back once, then ran on.

"One."

He barely slowed as he rounded the corner and vanished under the archway. William heard a despairing wail, which was cut off halfway through.

"What happened?" asked Ashley, peering in that direction. "I can't hear him anymore. Did he stop?"

"In a manner of speaking." Though Atropos' face was hidden, William could hear the smirk in her voice.

Teacher

I can do this. I can get away. I can be greater than ever before. They'll never catch me again!

Benjamin wasn't an athletic person, and he panted as he ran, but he forced himself onward all the same. Atropos had pledged to allow him to go free, but Scapegoat might decide he was duty-bound to capture Benjamin all the same, and turn him back over to the authorities. It was a mistake, he decided, to have given Scapegoat the ability to remove Benjamin's own control over him, but Atropos hadn't given him much of a choice.

Ahead was a set of stairs leading up onto Westminster Bridge, but that wasn't where he was going. There was an archway under the stairs that led to an undercover parking lot where he could steal a car. All he had to do was get a few minutes' lead and they'd never find him.

Well, the last laugh will be on her. I'll build plans atop plans, and they will all centre around her, closing in until she has nowhere to turn, nobody to turn to, and then she will be captured. With her under my sway, my enemies will fall before me. I will rebuild the world as a monument to my greatness—

He reached the archway and swung around it, into the comforting gloom within. Too late, he recognised that the shadows ahead were not natural. Even as he tried to stop with a shouted "Noooo!", it was too late. He plunged through, hit a concrete wall, and slumped to the ground. The portal, behind him, winked out of existence.

Sitting up, he looked around to see the familiar surroundings of his cell. He was back in the Birdcage, right where he'd started. And now he had a hangnail, on top of everything else.

She wasn't chasing me. If I'd just walked away, I could've avoided this.

Clenching his eyes and fists closed, he let out a bellow of pure frustration.

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

Atropos

We stood looking at the dry concrete under the archway. Teacher had left exactly one footprint, wet from the drizzling rain, but no more than that. He'd entered the archway, and he hadn't exited.

"So, you sent him back to the Birdcage?" Scapegoat seemed anxious to verify this.

"No." I shook my head. "He sent himself back. I just supplied the portal. You saw me. I didn't shove him or force him. He stepped through of his own accord."

"Even though he didn't know it was there." Ashley seemed somewhat amused at this. She was smiling more readily, anyway.

I shrugged. "He should've been looking where he was going. So, who wants tourist photos before we go home?"

Scapegoat pulled his phone out. "Me!"

End of Part Eighty-Two