Chapter 13
I, Panacea
Part Thirteen: Out of the Frying Pan
Constructed of raw concrete and steel girders, there was nothing in the base to mute the sound of the phone. Its ringtone echoed harshly from overhead, from the nearby wall. Wrists still bound to the armrests, its very recently dead owner lolled in his chair. Tattletale held the phone like a poisonous snake; she obviously didn't want to answer it again.
Fuck. This has the potential to go very bad, very fast.
What do we do?
Amy felt herself fall to her knees beside the woman Michael had referred to as 'Contessa'. Heal her all the way. Wake her up. She'll grasp what's going on. She'll know how to fix it.
What if her idea of 'fix it' is to shut us all up?
Tattletale held the phone in front of Coil's head once more. She pressed the Answer button, and gestured to Grue. He stepped forward and spoke gruffly. "What?"
She can't be sure that'll work, not with me in your head. Whatever solution she comes up with cannot involve me. And by extension, you.
A tinny voice came over the phone; Amy couldn't hear what was being said.
What if she just decides to kill you? And by extension, me?
She's used to depending on her power. You saw how we took her down before. The only way she can beat us is if you're controlling your body.
Internally, she grimaced. This does not make me any happier, at all.
Sorry, but emergency situation. Soon as we're done here, I'm out of the driver's seat.
"Why are you bothering me with this?" growled Grue. "You have protocols. Use them."
It can't come soon enough for me.
Me neither. Trust me on this.
A pair of booted feet came to rest beside Amy; involuntarily, she glanced up. Alexandria was looking down at her. She pointed at Contessa, and her lips formed words. Heal. Her.
Please, do this, and I'll do my best to make sure that you don't have to heal anyone for as long as possible.
Give me control back.
He didn't hesitate; she felt control flowing back to her. Taking a deep breath, she laid her hands on Contessa's wrists. The damage had been closed off, the blood loss curtailed. Now she completed her repairs on the internal organs, scavenged more blood from waste products, and stimulated the nervous system to wake her up.
Contessa came awake in a blur of motion. Amy was spun around; in another instant, her hands were trapped behind her, an arm about her throat. There was no skin touching hers, only cloth. She tried to gasp, could barely get any air; the arm around her throat contracted warningly. She looked toward Grue and Lisa, but the blonde was whispering to her teammate, and not really paying attention.
Can't … breathe …
Anything you try to do, she'll counter instantly. It's what she does.
And you're the idiot who wanted me to heal her.
She's still necessary. We just have to get her on side.
Her vision was darkening; Alexandria was standing between her and the other members of the Undersiders. She tried to struggle, but it was as he said; no matter what she tried, the woman behind her was stronger and could anticipate her every action.
What do I do?
Let me back in control.
I don't want to be your helpless puppet! Her internal voice was a scream of rage.
Okay then, bash the back of your head into her nose.
Won't she anticipate that?
Would you have done it normally?
No.
Well then.
She didn't waste another second; her lungs were labouring for breath as it was. Swinging her head forward, she lashed backward, and felt it strike something that crunched. The grip came free, just for a moment, and Amy gulped oxygen. She yanked her arm clear, grabbed for a wrist, and was countered once more.
God dammit.
She's anticipating you again.
What do I do?
Kick off, fall over backward on her.
That's going to hurt.
She certainly won't expect you to do it.
Gritting her teeth, Amy shoved off from the floor. Taken off balance, Contessa couldn't hold them both upright, and they both fell backward to the grating. Once more, she felt the iron grip loosen, then begin to tighten once more.
Elbow her in the guts!
She rammed her elbow into Contessa's stomach, pulled away from the clutching grip, and rolled free. Standing, panting, pushing her hair back from her eyes, she glared at the dark-haired woman. Her shoulder hurt where it had been wrenched in the fall, but she didn't care.
"Stand down, Contessa." Alexandria's voice was calm. "The situation has changed."
Contessa, also getting to her feet, wiped blood from her nose, and stared steadily at Amy. "She's an anomaly," she replied, in a matter-of-fact tone. "She disrupts my power."
"Not her," Alexandria explained. "Something within her."
Hey, I resemble that remark.
Amy rubbed her throat; it was still sore from where Contessa had been compressing it. Michael hadn't taken control again, for which she was grateful. "He's a person," she reminded the two women. "He's helped me. Saved me. Shown me things. And he wants to save the world. He says you can help him."
Of the two, Alexandria seemed most taken aback. "He says we can help him?"
Tell them that I'd really rather they didn't get in the way.
Amy took a deep breath. Her heart still pounded in her ears, but it was starting to ease up. "It'll be a lot easier, he says, if you don't get in the way." Could you even do it, if they did get in the way?
Extremely doubtful. But I want them wondering exactly what I can do.
Won't they just read me?
Not if they're trying to read me, instead. She caught the flash of an internal grin.
Okay then. Okay then. She fought to catch her breath, to string two thoughts together. Why didn't Alexandria help her?
Not sure. Ask her.
Drawing herself up, Amy faced Alexandria. "Why didn't you help her?"
A cool gaze surveyed her from behind the steel mask of Alexandria's helmet. "What makes you think I wanted her to win?"
"Okay, if you didn't want her to win, why did you let that fight happen?"
"I was curious," replied the older hero. "I've never actually seen her lose a fight. But you weren't beating her as easily as you could have. He was advising you rather than controlling you, wasn't he?"
Amy nodded jerkily, then she glared at Contessa. "If you ever try that again, I'll tell him to beat you to a pulp. Got me?"
Contessa's eyes widened slightly. "I understand," she replied. "You healed me. Saved my life. Thank you."
Amy was still panting. "Thank him," she replied shortly. "He was extremely insistent."
"Amy!" It was Tattletale, holding up the phone.
"What?"
"It was one of Coil's men in an offsite location. They got a distress call that one of the guys here sent out. He asked Grue for a code. I think I got it right, but I'm not sure that he bought it. What's likely to happen?"
Shit.
What?
Worst case, self destruct. Coil had a habit of leaving behind fuck-you things like that. Which reminds me. We're gonna need a DNA sample.
What? Why?
Because we might need him back at some point.
I don't know what you think I can do, but -
"Amy?" Tattletale was still waiting.
"Uh, maybe set off the base self-destruct?"
Contessa's eyes focused. "Doorway," she muttered. A portal opened in midair, and she stepped through. It closed behind her.
What the fuck?
It's how she gets around. As for Coil, I know you can't clone him, but that's not to say that nobody else can.
Wait, I want to talk about what she just did.
She had someone open a portal for her. Like I said, it's how she and Alexandria and the rest of that organisation get around. One step transportation.
That must be useful. Where did she go?
Probably to make sure that nobody sets off the base self-destruct.
Why didn't Alexandria go with her?
You did see her fight, yeah? With anyone but me or a very few others involved, she's like that all the time.
Ah.
She became aware that Alexandria was watching her closely.
"What?" she asked defensively.
"You're having some sort of discussion in there, aren't you?"
"I … am, yeah." She nodded at Coil's body. "Can you put that on ice for me?"
"Why? Can you bring him back?"
"No." She tapped the side of her head. "But he thinks we can do something similar."
"Hm. Interesting. Yes, we can preserve the body. Who shot him?"
"I didn't see." The evasion came easily to her.
"Did anyone say who did it?"
"I'd rather not say."
"Why was he shot?"
Because he was a manipulative arsehole who would have been as safe to handle as a bucket of warm 'foof'.
Warm what?
F-O-O-F. Look it up sometime. She's waiting for an answer.
"Uh, because he was planning to assassinate some of us. And family."
"And you know this how?"
"I told them," Dinah's voice sounded at her shoulder. "I saw the percentages. Coil would have been too hard to control. People would have died."
Alexandria's lip twisted. "Still, murder is very … final."
Tell that to his victims.
Amy's chin came up. "He says Coil had lots of victims. They would have found murder very final, as well."
"He was potentially very useful. Killing him was a bad idea."
In the short run, he's a hindrance. In the long run, I have an idea how to get him back before the fight against Zion.
I've been wanting to ask you about that. Scion's the bad guy in all this? I always thought he was a hero.
He's doing it out of boredom. When he decides to break things, he won't do it small.
Oh, crap. Okay. "Michael says he knows how to get him back before we have to fight Zion."
Alexandria's gaze, even from behind the steel mask, was almost laser-like in its intensity. "You know about that as well?"
How are we going to fight him? It's impossible.
Oh, it's possible. Just very, very hard.
"I, uh, just found out," Amy stammered. "But yes, I do now."
Tell her I know how.
How do you know how?
Because I've seen it done. But don't tell her that bit.
"Uh, he also says he knows how to beat him. Zion."
"And you believe this." Alexandria's gaze was unwavering.
"He says it. I believe it."
"You're relaying his words. I'd like to speak to him myself."
You don't have to if you don't want to.
"I, uh, I'd prefer to stay in control, and pass on what he says."
"Why?"
"Because he's been in my head for less than a day, and I'm already sick of being used as someone else's hand puppet!" Amy burst out. "Unless we absolutely have to do it differently, I'm going to keep control of my body. Okay?"
Alexandria gave her a long, cool appraisal. " … very well," she agreed. "I can work with this."
Wow, holy crap. You just faced up to Alexandria.
God, don't remind me.
Uh, hand puppet?
That's what it feels like from time to time.
Sorry.
Well, you're giving me control now, so I'm good. For the moment. But I hope that you end up in your own body at some point.
Why?
So I can smack the crap out of you for each time you've just taken over, without asking first.
… that's fair. I think she's waiting for an answer.
Okay. Amy re-ran the conversation in her head.
"Uh, good. So, uh what else did you want to know?"
"Many things," the older hero noted. "But some are much more important than others. May I ask as to who has control over who controls your body?"
Go ahead and tell her.
"Uh, he does. But he's letting me be in control for the moment. I … he had to grab control a few times, and I'm not pleased with him. So he's backing off."
"You're being very matter-of-fact about this. I don't know that I would be so laissez-faire about someone controlling my body like that. Especially when I had no say in the matter."
That's because she's a control freak. You're not.
Amy cleared her throat. "I, uh, spent a good part of my life being told what to do. He's uh, helping me. Telling me stuff. Letting me sort things out in my head. Explaining things to me. Giving me advice. And when I ask him to, he backs off. I don't like being controlled, but I can see that it's been necessary. At least some of the time."
"And his ultimate aim is to save the world, help defeat Scion."
The change in direction caught Amy off-guard, and she floundered a little. "Uh, yes. That's what he says. That's what I believe."
"And after that? Does he spend the rest of your life in your head?"
No. Hopefully I get to go home after this.
"He says he wants to go home after that. He's very definite about it."
"Where is he from?"
That's a good question. Where are you from?
It would take far too long to explain right now. For now, you can call me a 'BRB'.
BRB?
Benevolent Random Being. It's a kind of shorthand term.
Oh. Right. You're going to have to explain that one, too, sometime.
One of these days, sure.
I'll hold you to that. Aloud, she went on. "He finds it hard to explain. But he means well. I'm pretty sure about that."
"That's good, because I'm very interested in learning how we are to defeat Scion."
One step at a time. First, let's deal with the problem in front of us. Noelle.
Oh, the Case 53?
Yeah, her.
"Uh, first, he wants to deal with Noelle."
"And how does he intend to do that?"
Amy listened to Michael's explanation. "Okay," she began after he had finished, "if I get this right, Cauldron sells powers to people with enough money. But there's also usually favours involved. Because not many people have enough money for the powers they want. So there's a repo clause. Sorry, that's how he put it. If they try to renege, you remove their powers. You have a cape who does that for you."
Alexandria's lips thinned. "I do not appreciate having Cauldron's secrets broadcast to the world."
On Michael's urging, Amy turned to the others. "Guys, are you going to tell anyone about this?"
Rachel, involved in checking Brutus over for lingering damage, shook her head. Vicky, eyes wide, also shook her head. Each of the others signalled negation as well.
Amy turned back to Alexandria. "He says you're going to have to shut down operations anyway. And no more … abduction of people from other worlds?" She stared at the Protectorate hero. "You do that? That's horrible!"
Alexandria gritted her teeth. "I would advise you not telling any more. My colleagues may decide to take unilateral action."
"In which case you get nothing," Amy retorted. "He said to tell you that. We'll keep your dirty secrets, so long as you dismantle what you're doing. And you get information regarding Endbringers first." She paused, listening to Michael. "Saturday. I – we – whatever, I'll be in touch."
"That's two days away," Alexandria snapped. "Unacceptable."
"You've been flailing around trying to get a handle on the problem for the last twenty-some years," Amy replied, repeating Michael's words with relish. "You can stand to wait another two days." She paused again. "Also, I want Doorway privileges."
"Out of the question!"
Amy folded her arms and waited.
Alexandria clenched her fists so tightly that skin squeaked on skin. Then she breathed deeply, inhaling slowly, exhaling smoothly. Once more centred, she gave Amy a level stare. "Why do you need this?"
Amy spread her hands. "Because he wants it. Now, are we getting access to the power remover cape?" She paused. "Did you really call him the Removalist?"
"It wasn't my decision," Alexandria replied. "Very well. This Case 53 is as dangerous as you say? How did that happen?"
Amy listened for a moment. "Well, apparently, the power formula was shared between Noelle and one of her friends."
Some of Alexandria's face was hidden by the mask, but her look of disquiet told Amy how bad that must really be. "Idiots," she muttered. "How did that happen?"
"Simurgh," Amy repeated. "Madison. They found some formulas in a lab that was broken open. Took them. Some of them were injured, so they drank them to heal up." She shrugged. "Gamers."
"I remember that attack," Alexandria noted. "They were there?"
"They were," agreed Amy. "The Simurgh set it up so that they'd do exactly what they did. Pieces put in motion. Only now I'm here to change how they move on the board."
"Are you sure she isn't predicting you?" Alexandria looked at her closely.
Amy didn't copy Michael's chuckle, but she smiled. "Certain of it. He says that she can predict me but not him." She raised her chin. "Do I get Doorway privileges?"
"You can earn them," Alexandria told her shortly. "Once I know how to kill the Endbringers."
"Fine," Amy replied. "Now, the Removalist?"
"One moment." Alexandria began moving off down the catwalk.
There was a loud metallic crash. Everyone turned to look down at the door that hid the Case 53. It was still vibrating, and concrete dust was settling around it.
"Make that a short moment," Amy advised her.
Noelle was hungry. Hunger gnawed at her very being. She needed to eat, to support this gross body that had been inflicted upon her. If it didn't eat, regularly, it got restless, and did things outside of her control. Like eating things anyway. Or people. All those people in New York, and the other places. She hadn't meant for that to happen. Her body had decided that it needed to eat, and so it had eaten.
She hated feeling helpless like that, a prisoner in her own body. It reminded her of the dark days, before she met Krouse and fell in love with him, when she had the eating disorder. Convinced she was fat, she would starve herself for days to become slim, become pretty, become a better person. But there was no end goal there; every time she looked in the mirror, every bump and lump on her body – even her ribs and pelvis – constituted excess weight to be shed.
She had to keep going, to stay the course. Even when hunger pangs wracked her in the middle of the night, she couldn't bring herself to eat, because eating led to being overweight, and she wanted to be slim. Even when she did eat, she would sneak off to the bathroom as soon as possible, and bring it all up again. Food was bad.
It had taken an intervention by her parents to break her out of the destructive cycle. Her father had taken a leave of absence from work, and they had sat over her for days, making sure that she ate, preventing her from throwing up again, getting nutrition into her. She had hated them, raged against the tyranny, but she had had no choice in the matter. Gradually, she had gotten better, felt her mind clearing. And one day, she had woken up, eaten breakfast, and had felt no impulse to dash to the bathroom to get rid of it.
This wasn't to say that she was cured, of course. The feelings came back every now and again, but now that she had learned to recognise them, she was able to fight them, with or without the assistance of her parents. It had been a long, hard road, but she was making progress.
And then she had gotten into gaming, had started with the group. It had provided an interest for her, and she had met Krouse. Initially unimpressed by him, she had tolerated his advances, while rising to her own position of leader of the team. He had been an outsider with talent, while Cody, already on the team, was skilled but not advancing very fast. Cody was also interested in her, and she liked him, but the spark just wasn't there.
When she finally admitted to herself that Krouse was more than just a friend, it was like turning a corner. He liked her for herself, for her body as well as her mind. He made it clear that he found her attractive, and this put the finishing touches on her recovery; she would never starve herself again, just to try to look pretty. Krouse's compliments made sure of that.
And now … now she couldn't starve herself. Her other half, the part of her body that had a mind of its own, would seek food, whether it be garbage, animals, or even people, if she went too long without eating. The dark irony was all too clear to her; here she was, stuck in a wholly new version of a destructive eating disorder. One that she couldn't break out of. There was no fixing this.
I wish I could die. But she couldn't. She'd had tried. It had rarely turned out well. And now, she was stuck in this claustrophobic vault, who knew how far underground, while Krouse lived elsewhere with the rest of the Travellers, and visited far too rarely. Coil brought in so-called experts, who treated her with wholly understandable wariness, but never returned with anything other than bad news and shaken heads. The crime boss tried to keep her optimistic, but her level of hope dwindled each day.
At least he feeds me. Whole pigs, fresh from what she assumed to be a slaughterhouse, would normally have made her feel squeamish. Now, her lower body took them and consumed them with almost terrifying greed. But the amount he was feeding her wasn't enough, not any more. She was still hungry after a meal, still empty inside. He wasn't cutting her rations, so her body was needing more. How much more is enough? She feared that the question had no answer.
Her lower body moved again, restlessly. She tried to still it, to calm it. It kept moving, rammed against the steel door that protected the rest of the base from her. The door rang like a bell, but held. She suspected that if she truly wanted to get through it, she could. Little could stop her if she really wanted to leave.
"Noelle."
It was an unfamiliar voice on the intercom. She leaned down toward the pickup. "Who – who's there? Where's Coil?"
"Noelle, my name's Amy Dallon. You may have heard of me as Panacea."
She recognised the picture on the screen now; it did look like the healer known as Panacea. Noelle had only seen glimpses of her on TV; up close, or as close as the intercom screen would show her, she looked … ordinary. Messy brown hair, a smudge of something on her nose. Her white robes were absent; she wore dark clothing.
"Panacea? Did – did Coil bring you in, to help me?" She felt a huge surge of hope. Panacea could heal anything. She'd even heard that the New Wave member could cure old age, although she tended to discount that particular idea. But wounds, amputations, even cancer; the teenage girl on the other side of the door had dealt with them all. Surely she can fix what's wrong with me.
"Uh, no, sorry. Not quite. I'm told that your power would trump mine, so things would get really nasty if I tried. But there's something else we're going to do. Something that's absolutely guaranteed to get you out of that vault, and back with Krouse."
"Absolutely guaranteed? What are you going to do?"
"Me, personally? I'm going to save your life after he finishes taking your powers away."
"Who what now? Take my powers away? Who's going to do that?"
"Just get to the back of the vault and close your eyes and cover your ears, okay?"
"Why do I have to close my eyes?" Noelle was starting to get a little edgy. This didn't sound right.
"So you don't attack anyone. Please?"
"How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"Noelle, please." There was a pause. "Before this all happened, Cody was pissed because you were dropping him from the team in favour of Francis. Cody was accusing you of doing it because he's your boyfriend."
Noelle's eyes went wide. "How do you even know this?"
"I know a great many things, Noelle. Do as I say, please?"
"Okay. I'll do it." She left the intercom, backed away from it until she reached the far end of the hated vault. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, and then called out, "Okay!"
Distantly, she heard the vault door locks disengaging. Clamping her hands over her ears, she concentrated on keeping her eyes shut, even the ones decorating her lower body. That body wanted to move, to see what was invading her space, but she kept a careful grip on it.
There may have been a voice, but she didn't hear what the words were. And then something happened. It was the weirdest sensation, washing through her whole body. Her strength ebbed, and she felt numbness, creeping in from her extremities. At the same time, the impulses of her lower body began to fade and die.
And that was when the pain hit her. Pain worse than anything she had ever felt before. Pain worse than when she had been injured in the toppled building. Her legs, the monstrous legs that now supported her bloated, grotesque body, gave way, and she felt herself slumping to the floor.
She took her hands from her ears, opened her eyes. Panacea stood there, alone. But she could not even begin to wonder how the girl had done this, what she'd done to her. The pain ravaging her body, tearing at the internal organs that she had not needed to use for so long, precluded all else.
"Help me!" she screamed. "Help me! It hurts!"
And then the vault door opened once more, and a second figure entered. Similarly dark-clad, the newcomer picked up Panacea and flew her up to where Noelle's torso was situated atop the mass of dying flesh that had once been her lower body. Cool fingers traced her brow, and the pain went away.
The world went away.
"Is she going to be all right?"
Amy ignored the question; she concentrated on working on Noelle. Lying on the concrete floor beside what had once been the mass of what Michael called Echidna, the girl's lower torso and legs were only vaguely roughed out. Amy's concentration was mainly on keeping her alive. Her heart and lungs were in poor shape, and her digestive system had almost totally shut down; it was obvious that the lower body had done all the eating and breathing for her once it had started to warp out of control.
Finally, she had the girl's breathing and heart rate to a point where she liked them; she started sculpting the rest of her body out of the mass of flesh that was currently standing in for her legs.
Digestive system, bladder … check. Reproductive system … check. Vagina, anus, urethra … check. She paused. Do you have any idea how tall she was?
No answer.
Hey!
What? I was, you know, carefully not paying attention.
How tall was she?
Buggered if I know. Make her, say, as tall as you are.
What if she's a different height than that?
I sincerely doubt that she will complain.
Okay, good point.
Oh, wow.
What? I thought you weren't paying attention.
You know, you could make her into a mermaid right now.
Not funny.
Yeah, but the look on her face.
Okay, a little bit funny, but I'm not going there. Now go back to not paying attention.
Going.
Taking a deep breath, she kept on going. The legs separated, bones forming, then muscles over the top. Fat deposits, then skin. The feet were a little difficult to get exact – when she grew someone's limb back, she usually had the other one to use as a template. "Vicky."
"Uh, what?" Vicky looked up from where she'd been watching the process with an expression of horrified fascination.
"Give me your hand."
"What? Why?"
"I need to copy your feet."
Vicky blinked. "Oh. Okay." She extended her hand, and Amy took it. Immediately, the knowledge of her body flooded into Amy's mind. She zeroed in on the feet, and began reworking Noelle's feet to match. With Vicky's anatomy as a template, she went back and checked on her other work, fixing a few minor errors, then checked all the way through. Everything looked good.
"Okay," she decided, standing up and stretching mightily. "Let's see how she goes. Vicky, you got the pants?"
"I did indeed," Vicky replied, pulling the garment in question from her shoulder. Amy didn't ask where she'd gotten a pair in Noelle's size; she simply presumed that there was a relatively slim guard on the base, now missing pants. Not my problem.
Together, they managed to work the pants on to Noelle's legs.
"This is harder than it looks," grunted Vicky, rolling Noelle's limp body on to her side so that Amy could pull the pants all the way up. "I can bench a cement mixer, and I have trouble putting pants on an unconscious person. How weird is that?"
"'Dead weight' isn't just a phrase," Amy informed her, fastening the waistband. "It's the difference between carrying a hundred pound iron weight, and a hundred pound flexible sack of water."
She reached out and placed her hand on Noelle's forehead; a minor exertion of her power, and Noelle's eyes opened. She gasped.
"What – what's going on?" she asked. "I can't move."
"I turned off the neural impulses that let you move on your own, so you wouldn't twitch while I was fixing you," Amy told her. "I'm turning them back on now."
Slowly, she reinstated Noelle's voluntary movements, and at her request, the girl lifted her right and left arms. And then, hesitantly, she began to move her legs; a little at first, and then with more and more confidence.
"Why is it so hard to move them properly?" she asked, as Amy and Vicky helped her to her feet.
"Because you didn't have legs," Amy explained. "I made these ones for you. All the nerves are connected up, and the muscles are in the right place. You've just got to learn how to use them again."
"Oh. Okay." Noelle tried to stand properly, and tottered. "Wow. I think I'll be a while."
"You'll get there," Amy advised her.
Vicky pushed open the vault door, and they exited, with Noelle supported between them. Amy handed off the girl to Vicky, and approached Alexandria, who was waiting with the Undersiders outside the vault.
"Well done," the older hero told her. "She's healthy?"
"Probably do with a few good meals," Amy replied. "But healthy enough. You remember the list of people I gave you?"
"I do," agreed Alexandria, with the slightest flaring of her nostrils.
"There's an American citizen in China. His name's Cody. He was inducted into the Yàngbǎn. He also harbours a hatred of Accord. We want Accord alive."
"If he's in the Yàngbǎn, he's not coming here any time soon," Alexandria noted.
"Endbringer battle," Amy pointed out.
"He'd be so stupid?"
"He would."
"Do you want him rescued or eliminated?"
"Rescued is better. He could be helpful against Zion."
"And so could Accord," agreed Alexandria.
"Once you pull him from China, he becomes much less of a threat."
"How does that work?"
Amy paused as Michael explained. "Okay, he apparently … there's a cape who can spread powers among the whole squad, and another who can amplify them. If he defects during the fight, he'll have all their powers for a while, even after he leaves the squad. And he'll use this to kill Accord. And Trickster and Noelle too, if he gets the chance."
"I'll see what I can do."
You mean, see what Contessa can do.
Shush.
"Oh, and one more thing."
Alexandria's lips tightened. "I'm getting a little unhappy with your demands."
"Okay, fine. Later, then."
At Michael's urging, she turned away from Alexandria.
What are we doing?
She doesn't show a damn thing that she doesn't want anyone to see. She's putting on a bluff of anger to get us to apologise, to back down.
She is?
She's really good at playing the political game. Keep walking.
Amy kept walking. She was almost up to Tattletale when Alexandria called out from behind her. "Wait!"
Slowly, she stopped and turned. "Yes?"
"What is it that you want?"
Amy spoke slowly, pausing between sentences to let Michael catch up. "The ABB, in custody. You already have Lung. Bakuda is gearing up for a terror strike on the city. Oni Lee will be helping. It's all aimed toward busting Lung from where he's being held. She's also got the wherewithal to build a bomb that could EMP about a fifth of the United States. And probably some of Canada as well. Once Lung gets out, he'll tell her to build it. So you might want to look into that as well."
"Do you need them alive?" Alexandria's lip curled.
She hesitated. "Bakuda, yes. Oni Lee, he really doesn't care."
"Good. Doorway to Bakuda."
The doorway opened, and she stepped through; it closed behind her.
Did you just sentence Oni Lee to death?
He's a murderous bastard. Do you really have a problem with this?
I … need to think about this for a bit.
Trust me, there are those who improve the world, those who make no difference, and those who are better off not being part of it. Oni Lee fits the third category.
Yes, but … I still don't even like the idea of kill orders. I've spent far too much of my time helping heal people.
Sorry, but I can't take the chance that he won't try to screw up saving the world. Because some people are dicks that way.
You're kidding, right?
I wish I was.
So what do we do now?
Go home, I guess.
What about Noelle? And Dinah?
Oh, right. Um. Okay then. Let's get Dinah back to her parents. You've got her cleaned up?
Amy knew he wasn't referring to the precog's outer appearance. Yes. A few cravings, maybe, but they'll pass in a day or two. She paused. And Noelle?
We should get her back to the Travellers, but I have no idea where they are.
Why don't we ask Tattletale?
A moment of silence. Okay, new rule? You're the brains of this operation.
She felt herself smiling; it wasn't his influence, but a genuine impulse. Thanks.
At this time of night, the street was deserted. Lonely streetlights left pools of illumination on the pavement. The Undersiders stood together, the oversized dogs behind Bitch, their breath steaming gently in the cool night air.
"I really appreciate this," Amy told Tattletale. She looked at Skitter. "Thanks for putting your weight behind this, too."
The bug controller was quiet. Finally, she muttered, "I can't believe I … "
Amy put her arms around Skitter and hugged her. "Trust me, the man was a danger to you. I'm told that if things went as normal, he would try to kill you at least once, and put your father in danger as well. That's even without assassination attempts."
"Still doesn't make me feel much better."
"Well, any time you want to talk about it, I'm here, okay?"
"Hey, hey, me too," Tattletale reminded them.
"You're not much help," Skitter told her with a burst of her old spirit. "You wanted to shoot him too."
"I'm glad I didn't know he was dead," Noelle remarked. "I might have gotten angry then."
"Yes," agreed Amy. "You would have. It wouldn't have been pretty."
"How do you know?" asked Noelle, frowning.
Tattletale chuckled. "It's a thing she does." She turned her head. "I think this might be yours."
The station wagon slowed as it neared them, then pulled to a halt some ten yards away. Both front doors opened, and costumed figures stepped out. One was just placing a top hat on his head, and the other wore a square mask.
"Okay, you've got us here," called the one in the top hat. "State your business."
In answer, Noelle tottered out from the group. She was still having trouble walking, but she was doing her best. "Krouse!" she called. "It's me! I'm healed! I'm better!"
The top-hatted figure stared, then started running. The two came together in a hug that was more of a controlled collision than anything else. At first they just held one another, and then they kissed, fiercely and passionately. Amy turned away, uncomfortable.
Yeah, it's kinda like that, isn't it?
I have no idea what you mean.
Sure you don't. Might want to blow your nose.
Pulling out a handkerchief, Amy did so. Doesn't mean anything. I probably picked up a cold tonight. It's not exactly warm out.
Pull the other one. I know about your immune system. The cold virus is your bitch.
Oh, shush.
There was a tap on her shoulder; she turned. Trickster, the man in the top hat, stood with one arm supporting Noelle. His face was hidden behind a mask; hers had tears running down it.
"Thanks," he told her hoarsely. "You've – we owe you. Big time."
Amy smiled. "It's nothing. I prefer Noelle like this to what she was before." She paused. "I, uh, didn't have anything to compare her to, uh, down there, so I basically winged it."
They looked at each other, then Noelle giggled nervously. "Well, we've got time to work it out now. Again."
Trickster nodded. "We do." He held out his hand; Amy clasped it. "We'll see you around."
"See you then." Amy watched them walk back toward the car.
Uh, didn't you -
Shut up! I'm not going to tell him that I modeled some parts on my sister when I had to guess!
Shutting up now.
Thank you.
"We can take it from here, guys."
Grue nodded at her. "Okay then. It's been a night, all right."
Amy nodded to him, then turned to Tattletale and Skitter. "Thanks again. I appreciate it."
"Hey, don't I get thanks too?" asked Regent. "I turned up too!"
"Reluctantly, yes, but you turned up," Amy agreed. "So thanks. And Bitch?"
The auburn-haired girl looked up. "What?"
"Thanks for letting me ride your dogs."
Bitch looked away with a grunt.
Pretty sure that meant 'you're welcome'.
Probably.
She stood back with Vicky and Dinah as the Undersiders mounted their dogs. Tattletale leaned down from Brutus. "Sure we can't keep the base?"
Amy shook her head. "Already made the call to the PRT. Be happy you got the hard drive."
The blonde wrinkled her nose. "You're no fun."
"I'm here to save the world, not have fun."
"Whatever." Tattletale rolled her eyes. "See you around. Let me know if you want any more supervillains taken down."
"Well, Skidmark's been causing problems recently … "
"Never mind, I retract the offer."
Briefly, they shared a chuckle, and then Bitch clicked her tongue. The dogs started moving, loping off down the road at a remarkable turn of pace. Amy turned to Dinah. "So, ready to go inside now?"
"You sure my parents will want me?" The tone tore at her heart.
They will. I guarantee it.
"I know they will." Taking the younger girl by the hand, she led her to what looked like a recently-repaired front door, and knocked, using the heavy iron knocker.
There was no answer, so she knocked again.
"Maybe they're not home," quavered Dinah.
"Of course they are," Amy assured her. This time, for variety, she pressed the doorbell.
Eventually, footsteps could be heard approaching the door, and then there was a fumbling at the lock. The door opened on what looked like a heavy chain, and a suspicious voice called out through the crack. "Who's there?"
"Daddy?" asked Dinah.
A moment of frozen silence passed.
" … Dinah?"
"Daddy, it's me. I'm all right. The superheroes have brought me back."
"If this is some sort of trick, by god, I'll … " With a click, the porch light came on. Dinah stood full in the brightness.
The door closed, and then opened once more, devoid of the chain. A man in his late thirties, or early forties, looked out at us. "My god, Dinah, it's you," he gasped.
"Who is it?" Amy heard from back in the house.
"Anna!" he called. "Come quick! Dinah's back!"
"Dinah?" Hurrying footsteps culminated in a nightgown-clad woman, who engulfed Dinah in a hug; her father hugged them both. Amy smiled at the reunion, then tilted her head, signalling Vicky that they should go.
However, they only made it a little way down the path before Dinah's father came out to them; her mother was leading her inside, telling her that she'd make her favourite cocoa drink …
"Who are you?" he asked. "What happened to her? Who kidnapped her?"
Amy blinked. "I'm Panacea," she told him. "This is Glory Girl."
"You're not in costume," he pointed out, his voice just a little suspicious.
"We had to go undercover," Vicky put in, apparently enjoying herself immensely.
" … right," he replied. "So … what happened to her?" Behind his voice was the dread that every father feels about something happening to his daughter.
"She was not molested, or physically mistreated," Amy told him firmly. "The man who took her was seeking to use her powers for himself, so he was in the process of addicting her to several powerful drugs. I cleaned those out of her system. She may feel odd cravings over the next few days, but that will pass, and there should be no strongly adverse symptoms. It should be all over by Monday."
" … powers?" he asked. "So she does have powers?"
Amy nodded. "Yes. She's a powerful precog. Her headaches come on when she tries to get images of the future, lies about her predictions, or tries to get too many predictions in a day. Tell her to stick to percentages only. Also, try to avoid asking her questions about the future. Her power cannot help but answer them, and this may strain her."
He blinked, but nodded. "Okay. Percentages, no images. Don't lie about it. Certain number a day. Got it."
Amy smiled. "You have a strong girl there, Mr Alcott. Take care of her."
"I will. Thank you both for bringing her back." He reached out and shook her hand, then Vicky's.
"Trust me," Amy told him. "It was our genuine pleasure."
Turning, he went back to the porch; Dinah came out, mug of cocoa in hand, and waved goodbye. "Thank you both," she called.
Amy waved back, then turned to Vicky. "Can we go home now?" she asked. "I am so dead on my feet."
"Thought you'd never ask," Vicky replied with a grin. "Though I have to say, it's been an interesting night."
She scooped Amy into her arms, and they lifted off into the night air.
"That's funny," Vicky noted as they coasted in toward their neighbourhood. "One of those houses is all lit up."
"Uh, Vicky, I think that's our house." Amy began to get a bad feeling.
"Holy shit, I think you're right."
"What do we do?"
"I think we should land and bluff it out."
"That's what you always do."
"And it works for me, so why change a winning formula?"
Amy sighed. "Okay then, let's do it your way."
This might be a mistake.
Can you think of an alternative?
Remember when I suggested you move out?
I can't do that, not to Vicky.
So yeah, land and face the music, I guess.
As they came in for a landing, it became obvious that the Dallon household had a visitor. The identity of said visitor was equally obvious; no-one else in Brockton Bay rode a motorcycle quite like the one that was parked in front of the house.
"Armsmaster's here." Amy's voice was hushed.
"Want to see if we can't sneak in through the upstairs windows, and maybe pretend to have been in bed all this time?"
Amy shook her head. "They'll have checked." She pulled out her phone and turned it on; Vicky did the same. Each device chimed multiple times as missed calls popped up. All in the last half hour. "Oh yeah. We are so busted."
"Busss-ted," Vicky echoed her.
As they advanced toward the front door, it opened. Armsmaster stood there.
"I thought it was you," he observed, stepping forward. "Why aren't you in costume?"
"Uh, we've been out and about, enjoying the night air?" ventured Vicky. "Why, is that a crime?"
Armsmaster's lips thinned. "No, but aiding and abetting in a crime is. And so is being an accessory to murder."
Oh shit.
Oh shit indeed.
End of Part Thirteen