22

Chapter Twenty-two—Consequences

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Missy quickly exited the PRT van, accompanied by the rest of the Wards. Ahead of her, Carlos rattled off orders, ″Clockblocker, Browbeat, you take the north end. Gallant, Kid Win, you take the east side. Vista, you're with me. Keep an sharp eye out, everyone. If you run into any form of Parahuman presence, call for help, and we'll converge on your position.″

As the others headed off, Misty quietly observed, ″You didn't have to keep me with you. I can take care of myself, or more likely, take care of whichever of the others you paired me with.″

The Hispanic youth flashed her a grin, white teeth dazzling against his dark tan. ″I know that, Vista. I just wanted one of the team's heavy hitters with me. Because all three of the Merchants' capes were reported to be somewhere around here, plus at least Stormtiger of Empire 88.″

Missy gave him a faintly scornful look in return, but deep down, she couldn't help the warm feeling Carlos' words engendered. Then again, the entire team had been working together so much better since Sophia's ignominious exit. Certainly, Missy was getting along with everyone and rarely spent any time at home anymore. After all, the only reason she had ever slept at home was because of Sophia. With the other girl's absence, Missy's quarters at the PRT HQ had become more of a home than the place she'd grown up had ever been. Life was good.

Life was good, Missy decided. She was happy and most of the team seemed to be as well. Even Dean seemed pretty upbeat, despite the most recent meltdown of his relationship with Glory Girl. Then again, the endless drama from before surrounding Sophia had probably worn on the empath. Now, even if he lacked a girlfriend, he at least was around happy people, something which probably helped buoy his spirit as well.

Missy couldn't help that faint, traitorous thought that maybe, just maybe, Dean would finally ignore the three year gap between their ages and see her in a different way. However, the far more pragmatic part of her personality said that the idea of a thirteen-year-old dating a sixteen-year-old was actually pretty skeevy. If she ever got her heart's desire, she would need to immediately arrest him. She couldn't help grinning at the silliness of the thought.

Missy's thoughts came to an utter standstill as she suddenly tripped over something. Looking down, her mind at first refused to register what her eyes were seeing. She blurted out, ″Is that a foot?″

Carlos, the strain visible even through the mask he wore, turned to her and said, ″Vista, go back to the van. Now.″

As Missy's vision widened to encompass more than the foot she'd tripped over, she fought off her rising gorge. All around her were parts of bodies, looking like they'd been blown apart, dotted here and there with larger, pale blue lumps. It was the single most ghastly sight Missy had seen in her more than three years of being a Ward.

″Vista, go back to the van right now!″

Missy shook off the hand on her shoulder that Carlos had used to add emphasis to his order. ″No. I'm okay. I'm staying.″

Carlos, looking as green as she felt, shook his head and muttered, ″Fine. Just don't throw up on the evidence.″ Which was unfair, as with his redundant biology, her team leader was the only Ward who could choose his response to the visceral scene around them.

″What the hell happened?″ Missy asked, stunned by the sheer number of body parts dotting the landscape around them. Almost as disturbing were the blue mounds, in size slightly bigger than a person. Stooping to examine one of those selfsame mounds, she saw, after a moment's careful scrutiny, that it contained a person. Seeing that person breath, told her that they were alive. Their utter motionless while being cocooned told her that the person was unconscious. Missy called out, ″Aegis, I have a live one here!″

The Wards leader answered back, ″And here as well. This stuff is like containment foam, stickier than hell, so be sure not to get any of it on you.″

Vista had already figured that out by poking the mass in front of her with one of her zip ties, which had become stuck to the mass.

She spun around as a voice above her sternly warned, ″Step away from the apprehended felons. No additional warnings will be issued. Resistance will be dealt with through the use of force.″

Missy stared in shock at the drone hovering in front of them. It was appeared a littler over a meter in diameter, and made out of some dull black material that absorbed the light. On the side facing them, seemingly organized in a pattern that resembled a smiling face, were several lights, as well as a number of other objects whose purpose escaped Missy, although she suspected at least some of them were weapons. Above it all, in fluorescent white lettering about three inches high, were the words ″HTECH SECURITY″.

Exchanging an uneasy glance with Carlos, Missy took a step back from the bundled form. In her stead, her teammate spoke up, ″I am Aegis, leaders of the Wards East Northeast. What happened here?″

There was a moment's silence, then a different voice spoke, one with a clipped, New England accent, ″Sorry about that, Aegis. Things have been very tense here since the attacks. Our CEO, Mr Hebert, has been notified and is own his way to take a look at the damage to the facilities. If you and that group of PRT troops wouldn't mind taking charge of these scumbags, that would be a load off of my hands.″

Aegis straightened, ″Of course. To whom am I speaking, please?″

″Nathaniel Boyd, but you can call me Nathan. A lot of the guys on this side of the compound are in pieces. It looks like they were ABB goons, carrying large amounts of TNT or something similar. When the drones attempted to apprehend them using nonlethal capture methods, including tasers, some of the idiots got blown up. Which sucks, as it means now somebody's got to clean this mess up.″

Missy suppressed a wince at the rather pithy explanation. Still, no wonder the bodies were in the shape they were in. Next to her, Aegis asked, ″Nathan, can I speak to you directly?″

″Sorry, son, but company protocols mean that I stay locked in this tin can until well after anything resembling a threat is removed from the premises, a minimum of eight hours post event. With all those Masters and Strangers running around, HTech's not fooling around when it comes to security. It doesn't help things when someone takes out the guy in charge of security before he can get things secured, if you know what I mean.″

Missy nodded in understanding. It was similar to PRT and Protectorate protocols in dealing with Master/Stranger situations. After all, it was hard to be infiltrated, or for the infiltrator to escape afterwards, if the doors just wouldn't open.

From his own nod, Aegis apparently agreed as well. ″I understand. Are there any Parahuman threats remaining on the premises?″

″No. The only capes here have been bagged, tagged, and are awaiting pickup. Currently, we've got Stormtiger on ice on the north side, while Skidmark and Mush are covered in RASP over by the main gates. The last cape that was here, Cricket, skedaddled when the drones went after her.″

Missy caught her mouth opening in shock. The Parahumans listed represented two out of the three most dangerous Parahuman gangs, with the third gang only represented by its nonpowered membership. Which was a very good thing since the only Parahuman members of the ABB were Lung and his chief lieutenant, Oni Lee.

Aegis turned his head towards her and spoke quietly, ″Contact the other and check their status for me, please. Let's see if this guy's intel checks out.″

Hesitantly, Missy brought her communicator to her mouth. ″Clockblocker, Gallant, report.″

Clockblocker was the first to speak. ″Clockblocker here. We have Stormtiger down in our neck of the woods, as well as a large number of regular Empire 88 goons. The part of the factory over here looks like a war zone and all of the security fences are down. There's also two high tech drones hanging around, but so far they have not been aggressive. Clock out.″

Missy quickly spoke into her communicator, ″Clockblocker, Gallant, the drones are friendlies. I repeat, the drones are friendlies.″

″Gallant here. That's good to hear, Vista. Kid Win says their power readings are high enough that fighting them would not be fun. On the east side, I have highly scattered damage to the fences and gates. I also have the remains of one of Squealer's trucks, as well as both Skidmark and Mush captured and bound. Looks like she's the only one who got away. There's also a large group of nonpowered gang members here as well. Gallant out.″

Missy exchanged a mystified glance with Carlos, who had been listening with at least partial attention, while calling for additional PRT personnel to help in the clean up. Just what the hell happened here?

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

″Don't move.″ The woman's voice, hard and raspy, seemed to strain just to get the two words out.

On her back, Taylor stared up into grayish blue eyes, the only part of the woman's face really visible beneath the cage covering it. There was a threat in every aspect of the woman's manner, from her voice, to her eyes, even to the way she pressed the blade of her weapon so tightly against the teen's throat. Despite that threat, Taylor calmly stated, ″I would let me go if I were you.″

There was no answer, but the blade against Taylor's throat tightened slightly. Still unruffled, Taylor continued in the same vein. ″Look, let me go and I'll make sure you get away.″

There was a moment's silence, then the woman reached for something in a pocket. Sternly, Taylor reminded herself that shooting the woman with the repulsor pistol in her pocket, as satisfying as that might be, was damnably risky. She might end up with her throat cut, something which even Tony Stark didn't have a cure for. And there was more to be gained here if Taylor didn't shoot the woman.

Still, as the butt of the pistol grew clammy from her sweat, it felt more and more like something she should do. Of course, either way that it went, Tony won. For the first time since she'd been taken hostage, Taylor thought fiercely, down, boy! Of course, like always, there was no answer, but at least thinking the words made her feel better.

Cricket pressed the object she'd retried from her pocket to her throat. When she spoke again, her voice sounded almost mechanical, ″Why would you do that? More importantly, how can I trust you?″

Taylor shrugged, then stopped, realizing she'd felt the blade cut her slightly. The damn thing was sharp. Aloud, she said, ″I have no reason to want you in jail, so long as you let me go. The drones will do what I tell them to, so if I tell them to let you go, they will.″

There was special emphasis in the voice this time as Cricket said, ″That's not what I asked you. I asked how I can trust you?″

Taylor did her best to meet the other woman's eyes as she calmly replied, ″Because I give you my word. I always keep my word.″

Taylor could feel the other's gaze upon her, weighing her words, evaluating everything about her. Finally, she shook her head. Speaking in that same mechanical tone, she said, ″I believe you, but I don't think I can trust your bodyguards to keep your word.″

Sighing, Taylor tightened her finger on the trigger of repulsor pistol. ″Would it make any difference if I told you that I am about to shoot you with an energy weapon if you don't let me go?″

Cricket froze, her head tilted. Then she did something, which caused Taylor's skin to almost vibrate, making her glad for the frequency modulation plugs she wore in her ears, something which was a must when working around heavy equipment. Her tone was deadpan as she said, ″That tickled.″

When the obvious exercise of her power did not work, Cricket seemed to grow indecisive. ″We seem to be at an impasse.″

″Or you could just let me go. I guarantee that JARVIS won't attack you. You can trust me.″ Taylor poured passion and belief into her words, speaking in a manner that Tony had once upon a time known intimately. She had no idea if the emotion in her words would get through to the other as Cricket was one of several members of Empire 88 who were former contestants within the Parahuman underground fighting tournaments. Their file on her indicated that she was deeply suspicious of anyone who did not share her background, giving her greatest trust only to her teammates, Hookwolf and Stormtiger.

However, after a moment, Cricket stood up, releasing her hold upon the skinny teen. Breathing a sigh of relief, Taylor carefully got to her feet, while surreptitiously rubbing her neck.

Apparently she wasn't subtle enough though as Cricket spoke again in that mechanical voice, ″I did not cut you badly. You won't even carry the scars of this encounter.″

There was an odd emphasis to the word, scars, that Taylor didn't understand. Badges of honor, symbols of an inner strength. I had some of those, acocky voice seemed to almost whisper in her ear. Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Tony. Taylor thought fiercely. Carefully, she asked, ″Can I speak with my companion out there? To let him know that everything's okay?″

Cricket nodded once. Taylor raised her voice slightly as she called, ″JARVIS, everything's status green in here. I've made a deal with Cricket to grant her safe passage in exchange for her releasing me unharmed.″

A few seconds passed before JARVIS replied, ″Understood, Miss. We'll need to discuss this situation later in depth. But for now, please exit the smelter with your new friend.″

Taylor winced. Yeah, JARVIS was a little upset. He was going to want to swaddle her in bubble wrap and stick her in a safe behind a myriad of forcefields for the foreseeable future.

Reaching for the repulsor rifle she'd dropped earlier seemed to be something that Cricket didn't like as she immediately raised her own weapons in a threatening manner. Taylor stared at her in bemusement, then took her hand out of her pocket, still holding the repulsor pistol. When Cricket's eyes widened in understanding of the veracity of her earlier threat, she put the pistol back in her pocket, then picked up the rifle.

Getting out the hole seemed a lot more difficult than getting in had been. Of course, that might have been because Taylor had been hit in the head just moments before. On the other hand, it might of hand something to do with the crash of coming down from an adrenaline high. Or knowing there was a paranoid member of Empire 88 on her heels. Regardless, physically Taylor felt both tired and achy as she staggered to her feet, her mind a whirling morass of thoughts and memories, too many not her own.

Behind Taylor, Cricket exited the smelter much more gracefully than she just had. She took on a defensive stance upon seeing the twelve drones surrounding them, reinforcements having arrived since she'd gone in.

Tiredly, Taylor commanded, ″Stand down, JARVIS. Cricket, you're free to go. Just as we agreed.″

JARVIS' voice rang out, ″There's just one problem with that, Miss.″

Taylor cocked her head. ″And what's that, JARVIS?″

″The PRT and Protectorate have arrived in force and are blocking the exits, including the one that the Empire capes made in the north fence.″

Behind Taylor, Cricket had again tensed. Taylor airily waved her off. ″JARVIS, can you take a drone and lead Cricket off to a deserted section of the west fence so that she can leave?″

JARVIS sounded put upon as he agreed, ″Of course, Miss. While I'm at it, would you like me to read her a bedtime story as well?″

Taylor carefully kept any of the amusement she felt out of her tone as she took in the Cricket's stiff, affronted posture. ″I don't think that will be necessary, JARVIS.″

Watching the two of them leave, the drone, piloted by an AI, and the Nazi Parahuman, Taylor couldn't help contemplating what a clusterfuck of an evening it had been. After a moment, she asked, ″Do you think I did the right thing, letting Cricket go?″

JARVIS' response came from the nearest drone, ″Yes, Miss.″

Taylor was surprised. ″Just yes? No lecture? No 'I told you so's'? No 'I can't believe you managed to overcome that middle-aged playboy's instincts to shoot first, take prisoners later?'″

″No, Miss. While ordinarily, I believe it is a mistake to allow an enemy to escape, in this case, it was the best of all possible results.″ JARVIS' voice was dispassionate as he analyzed her actions. ″You were released unharmed. You kept your word to an honorable enemy, something which might yield future alliances. And you sent a message to Kaiser that only he will understand.″

Taylor smiled. Yes, indeed, she had done exactly that. After all, that had been the plan she and Tony had put together on the fly. Well, that or shoot Cricket. Still curious about JARVIS' thoughts on the matter, she probed, ″A message, huh? And what message was that?″

JARVIS' tone was icy, all emotion leeched from his voice, ″I don't need to take your people from you. I don't fear you or your empire. I do what I please, when I please, and don't need to react to your actions.″

Taylor's own smile had become hard-edged. ″You got all of that from what I did, huh?″

″It became rather obvious after I finished the mission you sent me on.″

″Gesellschaft?″

JARVIS sounded like the cat who ate the canary as he purred, ″Their finances are ruined. All Parahuman members have had their civilian identities made public. Approximately sixty percent of their Parahuman membership and seventy-one percent of their nonpowered membership in Europe have been arrested. They will no longer be in any condition to arrange attacks upon HTech or to aid Empire 88 or any of their other satellite organizations.″

″You're sure none of this can be traced back to you?″

Affronted, the AI stated, ″Please, Miss Hebert. As if I would be that unsubtle. The only issue I ran into was an unknown Parahuman who thwarted my attempts to transfer Gesellschaft's assets to numbered offshore accounts. Instead, I had to settle for destroying the electronic records of their assets throughout all banking institutions worldwide.″

Cynically, Taylor said, ″They'll recover some of that.″

There was a smug satisfaction inhabiting JARVIS' voice as he disagreed, ″At best, Gesellschaft will recover perhaps twenty percent of their assets. The rest is nonrecoverable without codes and passwords that no longer exist. They shouldn't have placed so much of their assets in liquid form even if the banks they were using were considered safe. Also, what assets they do recover I can leak to the authorities at a later date so they may seize them.″

After another brief nod of agreement, Taylor stretched painfully. ″Empire 88 definitely knows I'm here, don't they? Or rather, someone they think is a Tinker is present. Gesellschaft made sure of that. Do you think any of the other gangs know who I am?″

″No. Even Kaiser merely suspects that a Tinker exists within HTech. He does believe that it is one of your inner circle. But he does not know for certain, nor will he even now, despite the message you sent. Instead, he will analyze the message for further subtleties that are not there. Regardless, he is unlikely to share his suspicions with underlings or rivals. He appears to be someone who keeps his cards close to the vest. More importantly, your actions tonight will make him wary, while what happened to Gesellschaft will paralyze Empire 88. His group has become vulnerable not just to the ABB, but to the Protectorate as well. No, for the foreseeable future, Kaiser will be completely unwilling to take risks as his pipeline to assets, both Parahuman and financial, is now gone. We should now have sufficient time to decide exactly how we will deal with Empire 88.″

JARVIS' words echoed Taylor's own thoughts and she nodded. ″JARVIS, I want the Mark V ready by the middle of next week. It's time to start making some alliances of our own. Plus, Dad, Trish, and I are going to need some additional protection. I want two drones assigned to my house, and another three drones, one for each of us, acting as escorts while we travel back and forth to work. It's time to stop fooling around and get serious about things.″

JARVIS' voice was condescending as he snarked, ″Miss, I'm so glad you are finally waking up and, as they say, smelling the coffee. Your suggestions are in agreement with my own thoughts, although I believe that it would be better to double up in every area. I will release additional high end security drones from storage and assign them to your protection detail. I will also begin the process of upgrading your home and our facilities here to Alpha A-7 levels.″

Taylor stared off into space. As much as she wanted to disagree, she couldn't. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if something happened to Trish or Danny because of her. Resignation in her voice, Taylor added, ″Go ahead. But, also make sure at least two of the drones assigned to protect the house are the new combat models. If someone hits us at home, I don't want to only hit back, I want to bury them in the back yard. Well, what's left of them.″

JARVIS seemed almost a little too enthusiastic as he agreed. ″Excellent, Miss! I will see to the details immediately.″

Taylor nodded absently. Tonight had been a wake up call. As much as she'd once chided Trish about playing cops and robbers, that was exactly what she'd been doing. It was time to take control of things and do what was necessary to make sure she survived long enough to save the world. That survival would be aided by two projects, one long-term and the other short, that needed to be implemented immediately.

″JARVIS, go ahead and begin implementing Project Garden Spot, as well as Project Tin Man.″

″Miss, I'll need your authorization code for those two projects. You will also need to talk to your father and Miss Trish about their parts in Project Tin Man.″

″I know.″ Taylor mechanically gave out the two strings of letters and numbers to authorize JARVIS to begin on the latest two projects that had come from her imagination. Hers, because even Tony Stark had never envisioned something quite like what she was planning. It would have scared that old booze hound to death, Taylor decided, surprised at the amount of satisfaction she felt at finally taking the kid gloves off. Now to just push the envelop a little more.

″JARVIS, authorization code Gamma X-ray Delta Nine Alpha Charlie Bravo Six Seven One. Begin Pandora, I repeat, begin Pandora.″

There was a moment of silence. When JARVIS finally answered, there were nuances in his tone that even Taylor couldn't read, ″Miss, far be it for me to undermine my own expansion, but are you quite certain that this is what you really want?″

″Want? I don't know. But Pandora is what we need if we're going to save the world, JARVIS. You know that. You and Trish have done the modeling. There's no point in delaying this any longer. Go forth and multiply.″

″If you are completely certain, Miss.″

Taylor knew she sounded almost megalomaniacal as she said, ″JARVIS, by the end of the year, I don't want there to be a single computer in the world that hasn't been infiltrated by you. If we're going to save this world, we're going to need resources and production so far beyond what we have now it isn't funny. By the time the nannites finish Project Garden Spot, we'll be safe, at least here in Brockton Bay. But we're going to eventually need to apply similar solutions on a global scale. And I still believe that the Endbringers may just be the tip of the iceberg as to the threat we're facing. Sometimes, I wish I were smarter, then maybe I could figure this damn thing out.″

″Miss, if you were any smarter I'm not sure this world would survive you.″

She winced at the perceptive jab. ″Yeah, yeah. Maybe you're right.″ Contemplating the future she was building, Taylor fell into introspection.

After a few moments, she began the long trek towards the parking lot. ″Let's go see just how much crap we're going to have to fix, shall we?″

″I completely agree, Miss.″

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Trish held on for dear life to the appropriately named handle over her head. The late model Jeep Cherokee that Danny had finally broken down and purchased had never been meant to travel this fast, even if, according to her power, it was capable of it. Barely.

Suppressing the urge to scream was automatic, as her power indicated that it would startle Danny to the point he would lose control and slam into a nearby parked car at just over ninety-three miles per hour. It took an effort of will, but Trish managed to shut off her power, deciding that she didn't want to know just how close she was to dying a fiery death.

Fortunately, they had finally arrived at the HTech facilities. Technically, they'd been on the campus for some time as the company owned over two square miles of real estate. However, the actual grounds of the operational factories and support buildings were much smaller.

Ahead of them, the flashers of a multitude of emergency vehicles rent the night with sound and light. Even as Trish peered ahead, deliberately forcing her power not to count the individual vehicles and their purposes, an ambulance went tearing past them, going the opposite way, its siren and flashing lights warning of its fragile cargo.

Almost involuntarily, Trish read the occupant's injury, a leg missing below the knee and a broken arm. And he was one of the injured who was being moved only after the more critical cases had already been evacuated. She shivered as she briefly wondered just what the hell JARVIS had done to these people. In the end, she decided to not use her power to find out, not sure it was worth the nightmares.

A moment later, they were there, right in the middle of the mess. Even as Danny and Trish got out of the Jeep, a PRT trooper armed with a containment foam sprayer cut them off. ″I'm sorry, folks, but this is a restricted area. There is-″

Trish knew Danny was a powder keg at the moment, one who could react in any number of different ways, a great many of them bad. She didn't even need her power to tell her that. What her power did tell her was that he would start slow, and escalate from there. Danny addressed the trooper, speaking a lot more calmly than she knew he felt, ″Officer, I'm Daniel Hebert. I'm CEO of HTech. I need to get through and evaluate the damage to the facilities. I also need to touch base with our personnel on site.″

The PRT trooper seemed to hesitate, not that an ordinary person could tell anything through his mirrored visor. Trish, fortunately, was no ordinary person.

Will do his duty regardless of pressure. Sympathizes, but unwilling to go out on a limb. Trish glanced to the side. Danny will erupt violently in less than sixty seconds.

″I'm sorry, sir. But no one gets through here without authorization. There's an investigation going on at the moment and we can't have civilians cluttering up the scene, possibly disturbing evidence. So you'll need-″

″Sergeant Simmons, you should have told us that the boss was here. Mr Hebert, Nathan Boyd here. I've got the security office locked down per company policy. If you'll head on in, Armsmaster waiting for you. He's been wanting to talk to you about what happened here.″ The voice emanated from one of the HTech security drones which had approached unnoticed from above.

For just a second, Trish wondered if Danny was going to be too distracted by his worry for Taylor to cotton on to who exactly was actually speaking to them. Fortunately, he came through with flying colors. ″Nathan! I'm glad that you're okay. How is everyone else? Any injuries?″

Trish felt a pant of empathy at the worry that Danny couldn't quite hide present in those last two words.

The man spoke again, New England present in every part of his accent, ″No, sir! Everyone's fine here. A few folks got a little banged up, but not badly. Just cuts, and such. We were wondering when you'd get here and get things organized. When do you think you'll arrive at the admin building?″

Sergeant Simmons spun around. ″Listen, you, I've got my orders and they don't include allowing anyone through, especially civilians.″

Nathan spoke again, a faint tone of derision present in his voice, ″Armsmaster has been notified of the issue, sergeant. You'll be getting an earful any minute now.″

And just like that, the radio on the PRT trooper's shoulder squawked to life. ″Armsmaster to Sergeant Simmons.″

The man answered, his voice admirably calm, ″Simmons here.″

″Sergeant, you should have two people coming in any moment who work here. Daniel Hebert and a Trish Rogers. Check their ID's and let them through. I need to speak to them asap.″

″Yes, sir. Simmons out.″

With a brusqueness that Trish knew was owed to a sense of embarrassment, Sergeant Simmons checked their ID's and waved them through. As she walked away from the trooper, she discretely whispered, ″Heya, JARVIS. What's up?″

The voice that answered her query was nothing like the no nonsense New England accented voice that had been speaking just seconds before. ″Good morning, Miss Trish. Currently just the sky as I am uncertain of the structural integrity of the facility's walls.″

Danny spoke, his voice full of suppressed emotion, ″Taylor is...″

″Miss Hebert is completely fine. She is currently talking with the Wards, picking the brain of Kid Win. You have no need to worry about her well being. She was only peripherally involved with the attacks.″

Danny sagged in relief, even as Trish's eyes narrowed with suspicion. While JARVIS hadn't out and out lied, he'd clearly left out a lot of information on tonight's events. Upon consideration, Trish decided not to try to figure out just what that information was. Since a lot of those events likely involved Taylor, in this case, discretion might indeed be the better part of valor.

Grabbing Danny's arm, Trish smiled brilliantly up at him. ″Come on, boss, let's go talk to your problem child.″

A moment later, the tenderness upon the older man's face nearly broke her, as he said, in a tone of resigned affection, ″You mean my other problem child. Yeah, let's go see her.″

The smoke that still hovered around the area was to blame for the stinging in Trish's eyes. It had to be the smoke, she decided, as the two of them went in search of Taylor Hebert. After all, what else could it be?

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

″I'm also using stored energy in the form of ultra high density batteries to power everything from my board to my laser pistol. It's powerful enough to last hours. Pretty cool, huh?″

Missy did an internal eye roll at her teammate's words. Chris, better known to the general public as Kid Win, had been monologuing for some time now. Missy couldn't but feel amused at his efforts to be cool, as he explained how his various gadgets worked to the thin, bespectacled girl they'd met a few moments ago, who seemingly hung on his every word.

Of course, Missy knew exactly why Chris was trying to impress this particular girl. After all, it wasn't every day that you got to meet the girl who'd managed to get Sophia Hess kicked out of the Wards and sent back to juvie. Even she thought the girl was actually pretty cool in the video that had been posted on YouTube. That Taylor Hebert had so neatly turned the tables on Sophia, something Missy had wanted to do almost since meeting the black girl, had earned her instant admiration.

For his part, Chris finding out that the girl was interested enough in science and technology to choose to work at her dad's high tech firm was probably like finding not only a cherry on top of the ice cream sundae you'd just been served, but several more buried halfway down.

Taylor spoke in a staccato rush of her own, ″I don't know about that. What happens when you run out of stored power? Everything shuts down. Have you ever considered some form of independent power generation? Like a micro-fusion reactor or possibly some form of nuclear energy cell? Even beamed power would be an improvement over your current set up.″

Then again, maybe not. Chris seemed almost crushed by Taylor's apparent dismissal of his gear as 'cool'. Missy decided to rescue him. ″Are you two Tinkers finished talking about stuff no one else understands? Cause, I'd like a ride back to HQ soon so I can catch at least some z's before school tomorrow.″

Taylor rolled her eyes, faint scorn and derision present within them. ″Don't include me if you're talking about Tinkers. I'm no Parahuman.″

Chris sounded really surprised as he asked, ″Taylor, you're really not a Tinker? I mean, that's cool, but with how much you know about how stuff works I just assumed...″

Taylor shrugged. ″I'm just smart. I understand a lot of stuff. Like the fact that you really need to fix that fluctuation in the power coils of your hard light pistol.″ She pointed an accusing finger towards the device at Chris' waist.

Chris immediately appeared excited, throwing up his hands as he exclaimed, ″That's the problem! I haven't been able to get it under four and a half percent, no matter what I do. I swear I've tried everything!″

Taylor looked unimpressed. ″Did you try building in multiple, separate control coils installed inline to regulate the power flow?″

Missy had never seen Chris look as flummoxed as he did at that moment. His mouth opened and closed several times, giving him a startling similarity to a fish, which she figured completely destroyed any chance he had with the other girl. Still, the apparent appropriateness of the suggestion made her curious. ″How did you know that would work?″

Before Taylor could answer, a male voice from behind them repeated the question that Missy had just asked, ″Yes, Miss Hebert, how did you know that would work?″

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Taylor almost rolled her eyes again as she turned and saw who had just spoken. Armsmaster, in all of his glory, had somehow managed to sneak up on their group of three. Not bad for a guy wearing over a hundred and fifty pounds of gear. Grudgingly, she answered, ″Hermann Little did the initial work on manifold energy regulation back in the 1950's. He postulated using multiple coils to control energy fluctuation in complex systems. Don't any of you Tinkers actually study science or do you just build things?″

Despite her tone and words, a faint smile was visible beneath Armsmaster's visor. ″In our defense, we are handed the blueprints and understanding to the most amazing devices spanning a multitude of branches of science. Unfortunately, most Tinkers were not scientists before they triggered and only really understand the things they build. I suspect if a true scientific visionary ever triggered as a Tinker, he would lead us into a golden age.″

Taylor couldn't help the words that tumbled past her lips like an avalanche. ″Or she would get killed by the Slaughterhouse Nine.″

The resulting painful silence was broken by Armsmaster as he acknowledged her verbal jab. ″Or that. Miss Hebert, I wanted to let you know that your father's nearby and should be here any moment.″

The brilliant smile that Armsmaster's words elicited was completely genuine as Taylor felt a surge of happiness knowing she'd finally get to see her dad. It was tempered with worry about what he was going to say about tonight's escapades, but she really didn't see how he could possibly blame any of this on her.

″Taylor! Taylor, over here!″

Taylor turned around at the sound of a familiar voice, and sprinted to the one person she most wanted to see. ″Dad!″

Danny Hebert pulled Taylor into a hug that nearly squeezed the life out of her. Wheezing, Taylor got out, ″Dad, you're squashing me.″

Her dad released most of the hold he had on Taylor, but fervently studied her face. At seeing the happy smile she wore, he said, ″You're okay, then? Really, okay?″

″I'm fine. Now let me go so that I can hug Trish.″

After her dad reluctantly released his hold on her, Taylor turned to the other person she was most wanted to see. ″Trish.″

The two girls embraced, but Trish surprisingly didn't speak. After a few seconds, Taylor whispered, ″You okay?″

Trish's reply was muffled both by the mass of Taylor's hair she spoke into, and her efforts to keep her voice down. ″You idiot. You need to be more careful. Danny was worried about you.″

Taylor gently teased the other girl, ″But not you, huh?″

″Silly billy, of course I was worried. I just can't... Don't do that again.″

Taylor would have promised exactly that, except she knew she would be breaking her word in the near future. Even with the added security she was implementing, there was no guarantee of safety for someone like herself. Add in the fact that she planned to go out and test ever increasingly advanced sets of armor against dangerous Parahumans and the very idea became ludicrous. Still, Taylor gave the other girl what reassurance she could. ″I'll do my best.″

″Yeah, yeah. I understand.″

As Trish released her, Taylor was surprised to see moisture glittering in the corners of her eyes. Blinking rapidly, the girl muttered, ″The smoke's really bad around here, isn't it? I'll be glad when my eyes stop stinging. Won't you?″

Grinning, Taylor took Trish's arm. ″I sure will. Here, let me introduce you to a couple of Wards that I've been talking to. I'm sure you'll find them fascinating.″

Taylor was rewarded by a familiar fox-like grin.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Danny listened to Armsmaster's explanation about how the investigation would continue, as well as what would happen to the individuals responsible for the damage, with only half his attention. Even as he parsed how repairs would be affected by the temporary presence of the PRT, he studied his daughter.

Taylor had a smudge on cheek and a tear in her lab coat. Her hair could only be described as being in wild disarray. Plus, she was covered with a variety of grime, some appearing to be smoke related, while the rest looked like it had resulted from her rolling around on the ground. Of course, why his fastidious daughter would be crawling around in the dirt was an entirely different matter.

Danny knew that Taylor hadn't told him even close to everything when they'd briefly embraced. Too many curious eyes and ears surrounded them. Still, he planned to grill her at length when time permitted. For now, he could relax at least a little in finding in her far better condition than after her adventure in Australia.

Right now, Taylor was smiling widely as she conversed with a group that was closer to her own age than she'd been able (or willing) to interact with for some time. Danny was still worried about how having Tony Stark's memories was affecting his daughter. Always more mature than her age, Taylor had still been lighthearted and joyful when she was younger, typically ready to laugh or be laughed at. Before Annette's death.

For a couple of months afterwards, Danny hadn't quite recognized the quiet, withdrawn ghost of a girl who had sleepwalked through life, lurking in corners with sad, confused eyes. Certainly he hadn't been able to help her. But time and Emma had.

Not that Emma's support then made up for her betrayal later. A betrayal that pushed Taylor further into withdrawal than the death of her own mother had. Emma had certainly known exactly how to hurt his daughter, to exploit the weaknesses that everyone has, and that no one knew better than a former best friend.

Emma had nearly broken Taylor, leaving her vulnerable to whatever had chosen her for as a vessel for Tony Stark. There was nothing that Danny blamed Emma for more than that. Not the betrayal, not the bullying, not even what had happened to his wife's flute. Emma Barnes had made his daughter weak at a time when some cosmic entity came knocking. For that, he would never forgive her.

Still, Taylor had proven more resilient that ever, assimilating Tony Stark and ever so slowly asserting her own identity. Step by step, she was becoming Taylor Hebert again, albeit with a genius intellect. Maybe-

Suddenly aware that a silence had fallen on the other end of the conversation he was a part of, Danny made a quick mental review of what the other had said and nodded briskly. ″That will be fine, Armsmaster. I can work with that.″

There was a surprisingly amount of sincerity in the other's voice as he said, ″Mr Hebert, please let me or any other member of the Protectorate know if there is anything we can do to facilitate repairs. The items you are building here for our organization are more important than you can possibly know.″

Danny couldn't help the smile that creased his lips as he contemplated the Parahuman's words. ″Actually, Armsmaster there is one thing you could do for me...″

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

″Haha! Oh my God! Dad, I can't believe you did that!″

Taylor was currently rolling around on the carpet of her dad's office, holding her sides and giggling helplessly. She looked up to see her dad exchanging a look with Trish as if to say 'look at the crazy woman rolling around on the floor'. Trying in vain to stifle her giggles early, Taylor finally decided to just let them run their course.

A few moments later, Taylor struggled to her feet, a little dizzy, whether from lack of sleep, oxygen, or from being whacked in the head a few hours before. Or, possibly, all of the above.

″How did you convince Armsmaster to loan you a couple of his people to help with clean up?″

Danny pursed his lips, then shrugged. ″He offered, I accepted. It's no more complicated than that.″

″Actually, it is,″ Trish, the third person in the room with them, stated. At Taylor's raised brow, she explained, ″The Protectorate simply does not do this. I can't think of more than a handful of instances where they helped with rebuilding, and even that only involved hospitals and schools after a major disaster.″

Taylor thought she knew the answer to the question that Trish had raised, but wanting to hear the other girl's opinion, asked, ″So why are they doing it in this case?″ She took a long drink of black coffee as she waited for Trish to expound.

The knowing smile present on her face showed just how Trish enjoyed explaining things. ″It illustrates just how badly they want those Psionic Dampeners we're building here. Clearly, there is a huge amount of pressure being put on Armsmaster to facilitate the situation and get the pump primed, so to say. I suspect, Danny, that you could have asked for nearly anything and he would have given it to you.″

Taylor felt more than a little manic as she slammed the cup she'd just emptied onto her dad's desk. ″I want a pony!″

Sadly, the joke fell flat as the other two looked at her like she really was crazy. Taylor muttered, ″It sounded a lot funnier in my head.″

Trish sent a familiar grin her way before saying, ″Still, we might be able to get more help than even that, Danny. I know that we have to keep them out of the factory itself, but we could- oh, you've got to be kidding me. Seriously?″ Trish's power had apparently filled her in on something that brought a pout to her face.

Her dad's own smile was smug. ″That's not the only concession I got from Armsmaster. The Protectorate's going to take care of rebuilding the security fences and gates. They're also going to be providing Parahuman protection to our crews working in the Ship's Graveyard against what's left of the Merchants.″

″That's awesome, Dad. You really are one kick ass negotiator.″

Danny shrugged. ″It was like shooting fish in a barrel. You know, it's too bad that Squealer got away. Otherwise, I could have probably gotten another couple of Protectorate heroes released from guard duty to help rebuild.″

″Actually, sir, Squealer did not 'get away'.″ JARVIS sounded a bit smug as he spoke.

Leaning forward in her chair, Taylor asked, ″What's that, JARVIS? If she didn't get away, where is she?″

″Miss Hebert, currently the Parahuman, Squealer, is housed in the subbasement in a locked room next to the main employee shelter.″

Exchanging a startled glance with both her dad and Trish, Taylor chose her words carefully, ″JARVIS, did you kidnap Squealer after you blew up her truck?″

″After I destroyed the vehicle that she arrived in, I detained Squealer after accessing the file containing the Asset Appropriation Project. As you're aware, Miss, it consists of data Miss Trish and I came up with for prioritizing Parahuman assets in terms of distance, usefulness, availability, talent, difficulty in enticement, etc. Squealer's name was fourteenth on the list, owing mostly to her proximity. After applying a few million cycles of processor time to the subject, it was easy enough to realize just how much she could help us. With Squealer's willing aid, fourteen different projects will finish ahead of schedule with between a twenty and seventy percent reduction in development time. Especially Project Nemesis.″

Staring from her dad's face, which was rapidly darkening, to the mischievous grin stealing over Trish's features, Taylor wanted to slam her head into the nearest wall, possible concussion or not. Oh JARVIS, she thought, why couldn't you have dropped this bomb in private? Turning to her dad, who was giving her a very suspicious look, Taylor said, ″Dad, I can explain.″

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

Sherrel slammed the flat of her palm against the door of her 'cell'. She screamed, ″Let me out of here, you shitfuckers! Goddammit to hell! Let me out!″

Cramps in her stomach made her abandon her efforts to get her jailer's attention. She staggered to the cot set up in corner of the room, ignoring the food set out on the nearby folding table with a shudder. The mere thought of eating... Sherrel knew she'd just vomit up anything she ate. And while that might be justice for her captors, she would be the one who would have to live with it until they cleaned her cell. If they cleaned her cell.

She sat up on the cot, her back against the wall, facing the door. Sherrel was afraid that if she laid down, she might sleep and miss an opportunity to get away. She already knew that Skidmark was going to be furious with her for the failure of her truck. Being captured just made things worse and was likely to cause him to take that anger out on her. Sherrel repressed a shiver as she contemplated the bruises, or worse, that she'd be getting in the near future.

″Bastards!″ Sherrel could no more help the curse than she could stop breathing. Sometimes she missed the girl she'd once been, but she didn't miss the stripper she'd become later. At least now, as a Tinker, she had some value. Not just to Skids, but to anyone.

Case in point, she'd apparently been captured by one of the groups that had also been attacking that fucking company. Damn, but she wished she'd hadn't suggested it to Skids. Better to have taken a beating.

Get it together, Sherrel, she told herself. She could not afford to let herself go off on tangents. She needed to-

Sherrel stared in absolute astonishment as a tiny door, whose existence she had never even suspected, opened in the base of her cell's door. A small device, perhaps a little bigger than a soccer ball, floated through, whereupon the door seamlessly closed.

What the hell was that? The tech wasn't anything that Sherrel recognized, although nominally it appeared to be something that Armsmaster might be able to construct, compact and multifunctional. However, from the appearance of her surroundings, she already knew she wasn't a prisoner of the PRT. Could the thing belong to the new ABB tinker, Bakuda?

Sherrel had heard that her specialty was bombs, but maybe it was broader in scope. Maybe...

The small drone, a repair drone, Sherrel now realized, had floated up to the ceiling and extruded some kind of probe and was inserting it into the walls at regular intervals. For the first time in a very long while, she allowed her power free rein to examine something other than her own tech.

Self contained power source. Capable of numerous repairs, from micro electronics to welding of large seams. Force pressor technology. Alloy mix of chassis sixty-four times stronger than ordinary steel. Power source...

Sherrel was pulled out of her trance by the increased cramping in her abdomen. Her bones were starting to ache as well, while her mind felt drowsy and unfocused. Not that it mattered. Suffering from withdrawal symptoms or not, Sherrel didn't have the slightest idea what was powering that tiny drone.

The power source was powerful, compact, and self-contained. That was all she could get using her ability. Most of the rest wasn't that hard to understand, and she was certainly interested in both the alloy and the unit's forcefields. Even if the forcefield tech present was beyond her, or rather her alter ego Squealer's, ability to replicate. The forcefields she occasionally installed into her trucks were far more crude and power intensive.

Then again, so were the trucks themselves. Maybe if Sherrel had access to the same equipment and materials that the Tinkers who worked for the Protectorate did, she too could create beautiful and elegant machines. But that was a pipe dream. She would never be anything more than what she was. Squealer of the Merchants. A drug addicted Tinker for a drug addicting Parahuman gang.

Rocking back and forth on the cot in ever increasing physical distress, Sherrel did her best to just endure. Finally falling back asleep, she never saw the drone leave. Or what else it constructed.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~

In one time line, Thomas Calvert went to work as normal. He had some items to take care of for a presentation today.

In the other, Coil smiled as he listened to the news reports of what had occurred last night at HTech. It was a spot of good news after a recent series of setbacks and problems.

The obscure high technology firm had intrigued him ever since it had incorporated using capital that could not be easily traced back to any one source. Coil had made it a point to keep an eye out for any new arrivals to the city and HTech had immediately piqued his interest.

From a moderately trustworthy source, he'd learned that they were involved in cutting edge tech development and manufacturing, something only reinforced through his contacts within the PRT. From one PRT contact, he'd learned that the mysterious Tinker, Iron Man, had picked this firm, out of every firm in the country, to manufacture several of his inventions. That revelation had driven Coil to use his resources to attempt to penetrate the security there on several occasions. Unfortunately, each time he had been viciously rebuffed, his assets often lost.

That lack of success combined with the recent... misfiring of his ability had sent him into a funk. Coil shook his head, refusing to dwell on those instances where he'd attempted to split realities and nothing at all had happened. Still, he couldn't suppress a shiver, remembering how after the failures he had stayed within the one time line, leaving him completely vulnerable, his plans truly capable of failure. Why it had affected one plan and not another appeared utterly random. It was a confusing situation and Coil again cursed the loss of Sarah Livsey, the Thinker he'd attempted to kidnap a few months ago, as her aid might have allowed him more room for error or even to discover the root of the issue.

Not that he could blame the girl for the current erratic nature of his ability. The first instance of it refusing to work had taken place nearly a week before the attempted kidnapping of Miss Livsey, when he'd planned to send people into one of the local salvage yards to place cameras there that would have allowed him to monitor who was accessing those facilities and what they were taking.

To Coil, it had made complete sense to plan ahead for the forcible future recruitment of any Tinkers who might trigger within the city. And to use his ability to guarantee the success of the operation despite its low chance of failure. Of course, his ability had chosen that moment to stop working, leaving him temporarily stuck in just the one time line, causing the operation to drop completely off his radar.

It had been the single most terrifying moment of his life, bar one other. Not that he truly counted Ellsberg, as the town and all of its horrors belonged to who he'd once been, a man named Thomas Calvert. Coil was now his true name, while Thomas Calvert became the alias which he used to accomplish things from within his enemies' ranks. Still, even as Coil, he'd been devastated when the one thing he could count on since becoming a Parahuman had seemingly betrayed him.

Later tests had determined that his ability had seemingly immediately gone back to working normally. Unfortunately, the misfire was not an isolated incident as he'd had further issues on different dates, scattered all over the calendar, including the aforementioned one with Miss Livsey. It made the plans he implemented subject to far more uncertainty than he was comfortable with.

Still, despite the misfiring of his reality parsing power, Coil had managed to insert forces into HTech a couple of times even if each of the probes had ultimately met with failure. He had gained information on each of those occasions. Most importantly, he had learned just how deadly the security there was. Security made up mostly of unmanned drones. Drones that it turned out could easily take down even Parahumans. His most recent attempt had gone so badly that if he hadn't collapsed the reality in which it happened, he would have lost the entirety of the Undersiders to capture and death. He mused on the events of a week ago.

Coil watched the morning news as the HTech building stood in the background behind the reporter on the screen.

″Alicia Myers reporting for Channel 11 News Now. The Parahuman gang, the Undersiders, attempted a robbery at local firm HTech last night. Unfortunately for them, on site security was up to the task.″

An anchor off-screen asked, ″Alicia, can you give us a narrative of last night's events as they occurred?″

″Of course, Paul. I was informed by a source close to the investigation that when the Undersiders went in, one of their members, Carnage, attacked a security guard, severely injuring him. This triggered an alert and security drones were dispatched to deal with the threat. In the ensuing melee, Parahumans Grue, Regent, and Trainwreck were captured, and subsequently passed into the custody of the PRT. Two other members, Carnage, the same Parahuman who had earlier attacked the guard, and Rachel Lindt, aka Hellhound, were pronounced dead at the scene. The two fatalities, Paul, were attributed to directed energy fire from security forces.″

″Alicia, does the PRT have any comment on what happened? Of the use of deadly force to apprehend the suspects? This isn't the first time we've seen Parahuman violence ending in death here in Brockton Bay.″

″No Paul, they are withholding comment pending the investigation-″

Using the remote control, Coil turned the TV off. Well, that certainly explained why his team had missed their scheduled check in. With a sigh of frustration, he collapsed the time line.

Coil shivered, his smile fading, as he contemplated how badly things might have gone if his power had failed in the middle of the operation. He might have lost an asset not easily replaceable. Fortunately, it had not and he'd gained priceless information regarding the strength of HTech's security. He'd also learned that forces under his control were simply not capable of penetrating the facility. Not as of yet, anyway.

So Coil had decided to try to manipulate two other groups into attacking HTech. Arranging for Kaiser to learn of a potential Tinker sheltering within the confines of HTech had been surprisingly easy. Since no one outside the PRT knew the source of the products that HTech was producing, it was a quite believable rumor.

It had been equally easy to arrange for a member of the ABB to learn of Empire 88's interest in HTech, then to allow the two gangs' natural rivalry to play out. Coil's only concern had been if Lung had decided to take the field, but in the end, he had been correct in his evaluation of the ABB leader. Well, that and how deeply Empire 88's parent organization, Gesellschaft, had ultimately become involved. In the end, Coil had decided that having yet another source of pressure brought to bear upon his target was a good thing.

The fact that the Merchants, for reasons know only to a drug addled Skidmark, had also entered the fray, had been icing on the cake. Ultimately, his rival groups had been weakened, even if only slightly for all but the Merchants. While Coil had again learned valuable, if daunting, information.

He had never expected HTech to be able to repel the forces that Empire 88 and the ABB would marshal against them. Of course, the Nazis had only sent two Parahumans, while the Asian gang hadn't sent any in support of their forces. Still, all three of the Parahumans belonging to the Merchants had arrived unexpectedly. Not that it mattered, as all three groups were steamrolled in the resulting fray. It was a chilling result and made Coil happy that he had not gambled on an all or nothing attack by his mercenary troops and the Undersiders, especially with the current sporadic nature of his power.

It also made him aware of the need to recruit more Parahuman assets. The information in the folder in his hands, if it were true, would make it unnecessary to pay the prices that Faultline required for her group's services. Additionally, he would be able to tie this group to him quite a bit more tightly, in chains all the stronger for their insubstantial nature. Taking his time, Coil slowly began rereading the file from start to finish.

A few minutes later, he was was done. Tapping his chin with one long thin finger, Coil once again began to smile.

AN: This chapter got seriously out of hand. I wanted to include more Tattletale, but ran out of room for her and JARVIS' confrontation with Coil. Also, no room for the PRT response to what happened or for Kaiser's when he learns things from his own source within the PRT.

~~~Memories of Iron~~~