Amy stared. Glared, really. Glowered, if one was being uncharitable. She knew the bitch glowering back at her in the mirror, after all, and she required a firm hand.
"I will not hotbox the hospital's bathroom," She repeated, trying to convince herself just as much as she was laying down the law. "No matter how much I want to. Furthermore, I will not burn down the hospital. While it would be immediately gratifying, it would hurt people. And only cause more work for me. It's a net loss, no matter how you look at it."
She blew out a heavy sigh, "Fuck… You're a bitch, you know that?"
Amy realized she was talking to herself. It wasn't particularly helpful, but it was better than suffering in complete silence. She did enough of that for the rest of the world. With herself, she could at least voice her darker urges, stressors, and fucking 'Done™' state of mind.
Was she depressed? Yeah, probably. Not in the same way Dad was, but Amy knew her mental baseline couldn't be healthy. Where Dad had pretty much given in to his depression, Amy favored the unofficial motto of 'repress, repress, and repress a little more'. She was kept moving and somewhat upright only by sheer inertia. There was always someone else who needed healing, always another cape fight, always something she did to draw Carol's ire, and, worst of all, there would always be another Endbringer attack in only a short three month's time.
The last wasn't particularly personal for Amy. Just the shit cherry on top of the shit sundae that was her shitty fucking life. Earth Bet couldn't have nice things. And since she lived here, Amy was naturally included in that shit sundae. Logically, she knew she was luckier than most. It certainly didn't fucking feel that way, though.
"Fucking powers, fucking healing, fucking Carol, fucking depression, fucking stupid sexy sisters…" Amy grumbled.
A part of her wanted to do nothing else for the rest of the day. Or perhaps to curl herself up in a blanket burrito with only her vibrators and the internet for company. She knew that wasn't feasible, though. So, in the end, she gathered up everything inside her and shoved it where the light didn't shine. Repression might not have been healthy, but it was damn effective. Enough so that Amy could force herself to suck it up and face the world yet again. Just like she always did.
She blew out a heavy sigh and spared the mirror one last glance. The expression that looked back at her gave Amy an odd sensation of camaraderie, a strange solidarity with herself. Mirror Amy would be facing the same challenges in whatever mirror realm lurked past the reflective glass. The thought made her lips twitch despite herself.
With a slight smile, she didn't look so bad, Amy thought. Her skin was clear, though not blemishfree thanks to the outbreak of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Dark circles never failed to shadow her eyes. Amy figured they gave her appearance a sense of character that made up for her lack of classical beauty. Dark curly hair fell in a mess around her face, always resisting any attempt to tame it.
Amy would never be Vicky (no one would…), but she didn't think she was 'ugly', per se. Just… plain. Something she'd been half-heartedly attempting to fix lately. If she couldn't be a perfect 10-out-of-10 Barbie doll, she could at least be unique. And if all her time on the internet amounted to anything, Amy knew there was no shortage of people simping for girls of a… darker persuasion.
A bit of makeup here and there could do wonders, even if it wasn't the kind of makeup Vicky favored (not that Vicky usually needed any makeup at all). Amy had taken to enhancing the dark shadows under her eyes instead of trying to hide them. Her sense of style had always been dark and drab, but these days, it tended to be so on purpose, with a bit of fashionable flair to boot. And she had many more piercings than Carol could've imagined, including a pair of… private ones that she couldn't reasonably show anyone else.
Much of her changing 'character' was made possible by Vicky. As airheaded as Amy's sister could be, she never hesitated to encourage her. Vicky was the one buying Amy's new clothes for her, ensuring that Carol wouldn't blow a gasket over something stupid. She was the one teaching Amy about makeup, no matter how out of her depth she was with the whole 'gothic' thing. Hell, she'd even gone so far as to learn how to pierce every body part Amy had expressed interest in. As shameful as it was, Amy didn't think she would ever stop treasuring the memory of her sister doing that pair of private piercings. She may or may not have set a new consecutive record afterward, leaving herself rubbed raw, disgusted with herself… and never more satisfied.
Fully embracing the Goth Side was slow going for Amy. In public, at least. As long as she was Panacea, she'd have a lot of attention on her. And most of the time, it seemed like Carol cared about PR above everything else. A drastic shift, especially from the black sheep of New Wave, would make her do a fucking flip. As much as Amy wanted to see that, it wasn't worth the trouble just yet.
So far, Amy had been able to get away with the little things. They were done mostly for herself (and Vicky) anyway. The piercings running up her ears could be hidden by her hair, and the private ones were easily hidden under a bra. The makeup was easy enough to dismiss — not like Carol looked closely enough at her to notice… Amy was keeping a tube of black lipstick tucked away for the perfect moment. She eagerly anticipated the day she could use it to give Carol heart palpitations.
Sooner or later, Goth Amy's time would come. Until then, though, she was just… Plain Panacea — always overshadowed by Gorgeous Glory Girl and utterly forgettable if not for her powers. Well… that wasn't completely true, Amy knew. She'd read the fics about her, after all, and a few of them even featured frequently in her… usual sessions. According to a not-insignificant side of the internet, Amy had Vicky beat in one department.
Amy knew better than anyone just how stupidly sexy Vicky was. She was classically gorgeous, with a body that inspired religion. But she wasn't particularly 'thicc' as the internet liked to say. She was perfectly petite, in Amy's opinion. But some people still favored Amy's body over Vicky. While lurking in parts of the internet that would usually be blocked by parental controls, Amy had come across more than one user describing her as 'thicker than a bowl of oatmeal'.
At first, Amy didn't believe it — couldn't believe it. Vicky was built like a model, slim and beautiful. Amy was plain. Bottom-heavy, even. Pear-shaped PAWG, they called her. Amy quickly learned it wasn't an insult.
Certain people loved her ass. Her whole body, really, but her ass was apparently Amy's best feature. That discovery was an almost holy revelation to Amy. Nothing said in those down-low forums was appropriate. Yet nothing bolstered Amy's confidence and self-esteem more. She was hooked. Hooked on people simping over her while she lurked among them.
She'd found the lewd depths of the internet, and honestly, they just might've saved her. It was such a refreshing break from her life's routine. Amy even found that a crush on her sister was small potatoes compared to some of the internet's depravity. Now, she could look at herself without cringing in self-loathing. Really, was it any wonder Amy had turned to gooning so quickly?
Amy turned, lifting her costume's robe and pulling down her pants slightly to bare her ass for herself in the mirror. She did, indeed, have a fat fucking ass. And Amy was learning to love it. She walked enough to keep herself riding what her internet simps declared to be the 'line of perfection' — fit enough to be shapely but still very, very soft and supple. It was expansive, a canvas of pale, somewhat freckled 'thiccness' coming off wide, sturdy birthing hips and a surprisingly slim waist that made Amy look like she had 'perfect handles'. She wouldn't be winning any swimsuit competitions — her tummy was still soft, just thankfully flat in its softness. But Amy was coming to realize that really she was sexy in her own way.
She gave herself a squeeze, practically relishing the supple, almost doughy flesh that couldn't be contained by one (or both) of her small hands. These days, her self-esteem had risen to the point that she couldn't believe she once thought herself flabby. She could actually imagine herself with someone else now, no longer feeling utterly unloveable. She could fantasize about larger masculine hands squeezing her bountiful cheeks in the same way she currently did (or all too familiar feminine ones…) without hating herself in the slightest. And it was all thanks to internet gooners and simps…
Amy couldn't help but chuckle to herself at the ridiculousness. Life was a strange and unpredictable thing. These days, she wouldn't have it any other way. She gave her best feature one last lift and jiggling drop before wrangling it back into her pants. But she didn't let her robe fall just yet. She really should've stopped, but she could never resist reliving a certain treasured memory when she checked herself out — something that was happening much, much more lately. Thus, she turned back to face the mirror, lifting her robe and taking her undershirt with it.
Amy's tits couldn't compare to her ass. Quite frankly, they weren't very big, barely enough to fill her hands. She felt that her areolas were a touch too wide as well, and she would've preferred pink over brown. But she did love one aspect of her breasts — two, really: the pair of barbells piercing through her nipples.
They were just incredible in Amy's mind. Absolutely perfect. They looked awesome, making her otherwise underwhelming titties really pop. They felt so, so fucking good too. Vicky had outdone herself. Playing with them was Amy's new favorite thing to do. And when she did, Amy could think back to the piercing process. God, Vicky's hands had been so soft, so gentle… Of course, Vicky — innocent, ditzy, loveable bimbo that she was — had only thought she was being a good sister. She had no idea that Amy was being a very bad sister in return.
Amy gently tweaked one of her barbells, trying to mimic the memory. She bit her lip as lighting shot through the sensitive nub of her nipple, but a soft moan still escaped. Fuck. Amy's nipples had never been especially sensitive before being pierced. But afterward, they took to feeling like exposed wires, and she couldn't get enough of the stimulation.
A tweak, a pinch, and something that could only be called a grope — Amy was already on the edge. She didn't attempt to push herself over it, though. She simply rode the sensation for a moment, edging properly. She felt the heat between her legs flare. It was a beautiful, thrumming burn. So, so much, and still never enough. God, she really was addicted…
The buzz of her phone in her pocket — very much not the buzz she wanted at the moment… — pulled Amy from her edging. That'd be Vicky, no doubt. Amy sighed. Damn cunny-blocking sisters… Still, Amy forced herself away from hedonism's embrace. She let her shirt fall into place again, thankful that she'd taken to foregoing a bra in her costume. The brush of loose fabric on her sensitive pierced nubs was already approaching Amy's limit. Any more, and she would've been a constant, drooling, cumming mess.
Taking a moment to make sure she was presentable, Amy answered the call buzzing away in her pocket, "Vicky? Yeah, yeah, I'm done. Usual spot?"
"You're not trying to be sneaky, right, Ames?" Vicky's utterly misplaced suspicion was audible through the phone.
Amy rolled her eyes, "No, sis, I'm not trying to sneak overtime. I did my shift. That'll have to be enough. Not like the hospital didn't manage perfectly well by themselves before I came around."
"Good, you're improving!" Vicky chimed happily. "I don't know what changed, but you were working yourself to death until, like, a month or two ago."
What, indeed, Amy couldn't help but smirk, "It was unsustainable. I mean, it still technically is, but yeah, I'm getting better about seeing that. I'll be right up, okay?"
She hung up without waiting for a response. Rude, but Vicky was used to what passed for Amy's manners. Not like they'd be seeing each other in less than a minute anyway. As it was, Amy was somewhat anxious to get out of the hospital before another code was called, and some presumptuous asshole decided they needed her over the miracles of modern medicine. Amy was firmly 'clocked out', thank you very much.
"Not that I've ever really 'clocked in'," Amy muttered to herself, making her way to the hospital's roof. "That would imply getting paid. Fucking Carol…"
Asking for money for the literal healing miracles she was performing? Don't be ridiculous! Think of the PR! It's the 'right thing' to do! How could you hold people's health hostage like that?! Amy had heard all of Carol's excuses. Not a single one impressed her. Even the doctors thought she should be getting paid. One of them told her that they were holding her backpay in trust until she was old enough to claim it. Because Amy knew that if she came home with a paystub, Carol would just outright steal it and tear it up before her eyes. It was bullshit, potentially even criminal, and Amy knew she couldn't do anything about it while she still lived under Carol's roof.
Technically, Carol couldn't force Amy to do anything. She was just lucky that Amy's conscience did the rest of the work for her. She healed as much as she did because if she didn't, people would stay hurt. People would die. Hell, the delicate cape situation in Brockton Bay might just fall apart entirely. That's what happened when the ABB's leader could heal himself, the Nazis had a healer of their own, the Merchants had enough drugs to keep going no matter their injuries, and the heroes were left out to dry in the rain. Amy often felt like she was the only thing holding the Protectorate together, and she wasn't even a member.
Her thoughts put her back into an unfortunately common mood. Any lingering dopamine from her short edge earlier had just about disappeared by the time she reached Vicky on the roof. Of course, upon seeing her, the happy chemical returned with a vengeance. If Amy's power worked on herself, she could just imagine the way her brain would've lit up like a Christmas tree.
The smile that graced her lips was small but genuine, "Let's get out of here, sis."
Vicky beamed, "Yeah, let's blow this popsicle stand!"
"Snrk~! You're such a dork."
"Am not!"
"Are too."
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yuh-huh."
"No, you!"
"Dork says what?"
"What? Ah, dangit! That's cheating, Ames! You know I can never resist a 'says what'!"
"All is fair in love and war, dork."
Vicky scooped Amy up and flew off as they went back and forth. As always, Amy pushed down the butterflies the action inspired in her stomach. At least it wasn't a princess carry this time. That position was simply way, way too unfair. There was no way she would've won their argument in that case. Even still, Vicky's securing arm around her waist always tested Amy's self-control.
Arguing over nonsense with Vicky helped. Amy was confident that she could keep herself from jumping her sister's bones. Getting to the privacy of her room jumped up her priority list, though. For… reasons… Edging reasons (and not for the first time, Amy realized that being in Vicky's presence felt almost worryingly like edging). Alas, the greatly anticipated goon sesh was not to be just yet.
Brockton Bay was never a peaceful city, not in its current state of being. It could be 3 AM or 3 PM, and there were equal odds that something was happening. The city didn't just 'never sleep'. It binged meth and stayed up for days at a time — an analogy that the Merchants would be all too fond of. Fortunately, the current chaos wasn't caused by them. Amy didn't particularly feel like purging drugs from systems at the moment.
Still, she sighed and brought what she saw to Vicky's attention, "Running battle, Vicky. 10 o'clock. Hookwolf vs. Lasers, from what I can see."
"Huh? Oh! We should help!" Vicky perked up at the prospect of a fight but hesitated. "Well… if you're up for healing, that is…?"
Vicky was one of the only people to actually ask instead of just assuming that Amy would heal. She wasn't perfect, tending to rely on Amy to clean up her overeager messes, but she at least tried. Amy smiled, "Go on. Fuck Nazis. I'll deal with the collateral."
"You're the best, Ames!"
Flying closer, they got a clearer picture of the situation at hand. Hookwolf was on a rampage, chasing after a squad of what seemed to be professional soldiers with tinkertech weapons. Amy didn't recognize them offhand, but who they were didn't particularly matter when Hookwolf was causing enough damage for both parties. All Amy and Vicky had to do was follow the destruction.
Vicky dropped Amy off so she could get into the thick of it. Amy did the same but in a very different way. Almost instantly, she allowed herself to fall into the usual routine. Ask permission. Assess the damage. Heal what she could without additional material and stabilize the patient. Remind them that she wasn't a complete substitute for a hospital visit. Yes, they still had to get themselves checked over the normal way. No, she wasn't taking questions right now. Next. And repeat.
As she healed, she watched the actual battle unfolding, silently rooting Vicky on in her quest to beat Nazi ass. Vicky came in hitting hard — as she always did — and the mercs used it as a chance to regroup. The bystander point of view also allowed Amy to see the moment a second third party (fourth party?) joined the fight. She recognized them immediately, having spent just yesterday focused on the man who casually strolled into the picture.
"Huh… I guess he really did come to Brockton Bay," Amy marveled.
The 'he' in question had taken Earth Bet (or at least PHO) by storm. 'Fae Mania' as the thread Amy spent yesterday in had called it. The Raven Prince seemed to defy just about any sense of normality. And considering capes already stretched those bounds, that was saying something.
In person, he was much more than Amy had been expecting. She'd seen pictures of the Fae cape. Vicky called him 'tall, dark, and drop-dead gorgeous'. Amy couldn't argue with that. He was objectively attractive in an ethereal, fairy-esque way. And he pulled off the gothic style better than any other guy Amy had seen. Yet pictures on the internet didn't do him justice. They failed to capture the aura about him that seemed to impose itself upon the world. They failed to capture the sparkles in his eyes and smirk. They failed to capture the goth gravitas of the man who claimed himself to be a Fae Prince.
And Amy felt his eyes on her. For some reason beyond her mortal comprehension, the Fae had taken an interest in her. It was a chilling, heavy, and contradictory feeling like snow down her spine while fire raced through her nerves. Amy couldn't convince herself it was completely natural, and she did her damnedest to never meet his eyes, making herself seem busy with healing and only watching him from the corner of her view.
She didn't know if she believed in magic beforehand. But seeing the Raven Prince in the flesh, feeling his attention and interest almost physically settle on her? Amy's mind was pretty much made up for her on the subject. There was nothing mundane about him. That thought was proven not a moment later.
Like his appearance, Raven Prince's powers were recorded by the internet. And likewise, again, they were entirely different when experienced firsthand. Amy could swear she felt his touch grip reality as he directed fortune and misfortune. It was either the Shaker power to end all Shaker powers or… genuine magic. Watching the ridiculous events play out, Amy felt herself leaning toward the latter.
Five bouncing grenades and a flying Nazi later, Amy found herself standing there, feeling almost numb. Luckily, there weren't any more bystanders that required her attention. Unluckily (maybe?), it allowed Raven Prince's attention to fall firmly on her without distraction. His eyes found hers, and Amy couldn't bring herself to look away. His voice came in a purr that did wonderfully wicked, wanton, and downright sinful things to Amy's poor, edged pussy.
"You~… Come here, delicious little snack~. I have… need of you~"
Amy didn't whimper, whine, or moan a mewling moan… but it was a damn-near thing. She froze under his gaze and declaration, wide-eyed and undergoing a whole new sexual awakening. Fuck, Amy didn't know how weak she was to being ordered around like that until she was… No small part of her wanted to rush to obey. The rest of her was stuck in gooning fantasyland with a tall, dark, and dominating goth prince.
If Vicky hadn't gotten her out of there in the very next moment, Amy would've… well, she didn't know what she would've done. Other than making a complete and utter fool of herself, of course, most likely through drooling, begging, and practically criminal thirsting. Hell, for the goth Fae prince, Amy could easily see herself barking if he asked her to… Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately…?), such depraved gooner acts didn't come to pass. Not then, at least. Amy didn't know how she would fare in a second meeting…
"Stranger danger, Ames!"
Still, Amy felt it only right to protest, "Dammit, Vicky, no! Hot goth dude trumps stranger danger every time! Take me back!"
"Stranger! Danger!"
As she struggled half-heartedly against her sister's 'rescue', that sinful Fae voice chased after them, "I'll find you again, Amelia Claire Lavere-Dallon~… My luck never fails. Until next time~…"
And Amy only just barely held herself back from edging furiously to that sensual promise then and there in Vicky's arms.
IIIII
"Oh Em Geez…" Vickoria Dallon gasped. "Amy! Ames! Are you seeing this?!"
Normally, a caustic and sarcastic comment would've been the first thing on Amy's tongue. But not this time. And Vicky honestly missed it for a moment. Then, that regret was flown right over, surpassed by the shock of the situation. She'd get more sarcastic Amy later. At the moment, there were unfortunately bigger things to worry about than her sister's loveable bitterness.
After fleeing tall, dark, and drop-dead gorgeous, Vicky thought that the situation had been resolved. Stranger danger, after all. She'd made the right choice by getting Amy out of dodge, no matter how much Amy protested or how oddly familiar Mr. Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous looked… Like, seriously, who did that?! Vicky didn't care how hot he was; he couldn't just call Amy a snack and try to steal her away!
Though… to be fair, he was really, really hot… And it was nice to finally have someone recognize how pretty and cool and awesome Amy was. Everyone else just took her for granted. She deserved to be appreciated and desired. But there was an order to these things! Mr. Stranger skipped, like, half a dozen steps!
And it seemed he wasn't done skipping steps. Of course, he also wasn't as much of a stranger as Vicky first thought… Amy enlightened her to that latter fact. But, like, how was she supposed to have recognized Raven Prince at just a glance?! She'd seen his picture, of course, but she'd been much more interested in his baby girl Eve at the time.
Regardless of who he was, he didn't need to go this far. Now, sitting in their living room, Vicky and Amy were crowded around Vicky's laptop. Amy's mouth had just about fallen open. She looked like she was trying to catch flies. At any other time, Vicky would've been giggling at her expense. But she was currently caught up in mixed feelings — equal parts furious, excited, indignant, and a touch of jealousy to round things off.
'Cause Raven Prince had taken things another step too far. He made his earlier declaration public. On PHO, of all places! Could… Could he even do that?! He'd come out swinging and taking no prisoners, quite literally declaring his intentions for Vicky's sister for the world to see. It was ridiculous! So uncool and so awesome at the same time! Half of Vicky wanted to rage and refuse for Amy's sake. The other half was barely holding back from squealing in delight on Amy's behalf.
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♦ Topic: A New Thread
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► General
RavenPrinceOfTheWinterCourt (Original Poster) (Verified Cape) (The Guild) (Verified Fae)
Posted On Sep 6th 2010:
Dear Panacea,
Amelia, o' Amelia Claire Lavere/Dallon~...
You and I, my dear, have much to talk about. Unfortunately, you left too quickly for such things, especially a private conversation. Worry not, for I will find you again. If necessary, I shall whisk you away so that things may play out as they should. Rest will not come to me until my quest is done. I concern myself with you and you alone. No others are necessary, nor shall I allow them to stand in my way. Quite frankly, I aim to steal you away for myself, if only shortly.
Prepare yourself, dear Amelia, for I am coming,
Edgar dè Brân, Raven Prince of the Fae
■
"Oh… my… fuck…" Amy exhaled heavily.
"Amy, you okay, sis?" Vicky asked, concerned. "You look more pale than usual. And you're fidgeting pretty bad, ya know? Huh? And what's that smell?"
"I'm fine-!" Amy said quickly, practically panting. "Just… uh, surprised…? Yeah, something like that…"
Vicky nodded, accepting Amy's insistence instantly. Of course, her sis was fine! She was strong as heck! This weird and weirdly romantic public declaration wouldn't get to her! So what if he practically declared them as starcrossed lovers who were fated to meet again?! So what if he cared about Amy and no one else?! So what if he was going to steal her away like a ravishing rogue?!
But no matter how strong Amy was, other people would make a big deal out of this, Vicky knew. It was really freaking public, and Amy was like 'famous' famous, ya know? The entire city — or at least everyone who mattered — would know about it by the end of the day. Already, Raven Prince's thread was at five pages of replies. And it wasn't slowing down. No one quite knew what to make of it, it seemed, but they were assuming the worst. That was just the way of things in Brockton Bay. And for some reason, Raven Prince hadn't stuck around to clear things up. And strangely, Dragon hadn't swooped in to reassure anyone either.
Eh, it was probably fine. What was the worst that could happen? They just had to stay away from Raven Prince until it all blew over and any misunderstanding was resolved. They'd have to be pretty dang unlucky to run into him without any effort on their part. It'd all work out in the end, Vicky nodded to herself.
"Amelia Claire Dallon! What. Did. You. Do?!"
Vicky winced. Uh oh. Mom was mad. That never ended well, especially not when it was directed at Amy. Vicky glanced at her sister. Amy looked as if she'd suddenly been dunked in a bucket of cold water. Vicky's heart hurt to see her like that, retreating into herself as Mom stomped into the room and glared at her.
"Mom! She didn't do anything!" Vicky leaped to Amy's defense.
Carol Dallon didn't even spare her a second glance. Her glare pierced Amy to the core and pinned her in place, "Why is some out-of-town cape claiming he's going to steal you away?! How could you let this happen?! Do you understand how this looks, how it reflects on New Wave?!"
"Not like I asked him to…" Amy muttered.
"Don't," Carol snapped. "Take that tone with me. This is already a shitshow! How the Hell did you manage it? Why the Hell does he know your full birth name? And where the Hell did he find the sheer audacity-?!"
Carol's phone rang, interrupting her rant. She cast her gaze upward for a moment as if praying for strength. To Vicky's relief, answering her phone at least distracted Mom from yelling at Amy for a little while.
"I don't see why you think I can answer those questions…" Amy grumbled.
"Zip it," Carol ordered, covering the phone with a hand. "You are so grounded until this disaster can be dealt with… Carol Dallon speaking."
She busied herself with the call, and Vicky busied herself worrying about Amy. On the outside, Amy just rolled her eyes, but Vicky could see the hurt and resentment she was hiding. It really was unfair. Total bull! Amy hadn't done anything wrong, but she was being basically imprisoned?! Vicky would've raged and shouted at Mom until her voice gave out.
Amy's reaction wasn't so dramatic, "Whatever."
Carol pointedly didn't pay her any attention as she stood and stormed off to her room. Vicky worried at her lip but didn't go after her sister immediately. She still wanted to give Mom a piece of her mind. As such, she caught half of the phone call and saw the utter disbelief spread across Carol's features.
"He… what…? … No, that's impossible. … Yes, impossible! There are no pandas in Brockton Bay! We don't even have a zoo! … I don't care that it happened, it's still impossible! And how the Hell did he manage to get himself mauled by a panda anyway?! Don't they only eat bamboo?! … Alan, you unlucky fucking bastard… Alright, fine, I'll be there in 15 minutes, but tell that idiot he owes me big time."
Vicky tried to speak up once Mom ended her call, bewildered by what she'd heard but still determined to defend Amy, "Mom, I-…"
Carol just cut her off and shut her down, "Victoria, I don't have time for any foolishness right now. I'm needed in the office. I'm putting you in charge while I'm out, okay? Keep Amy away from this out-of-towner."
"Mom-!"
Carol was already gone, moving quickly to get herself out the door to deal with work. How she could worry about lawyer stuff during a time like this, Vicky would never know. She was certainly left feeling disgruntled and unsatisfied, though. Dangit! Why was Mom… kind of, totally, such a bitch?
With a huff, she sat back down on the couch with her laptop. Her attention was naturally grabbed by Raven Prince's PHO thread as she did. She spent the next few minutes reading through the steadily growing replies. She could barely contain her giggles. Inter-dweebs were always amusing, and they seemed to be overreacting to the declaration just like Mom had. Only, ya know, much funnier than Mom could ever hope to be.
Seriously, people could be so silly. There was a whole range of reactions, really. Some people were even happy for Amy, congratulating her on gaining the attention of an up-and-coming Guild hero. Vicky saw some suggestions that there might be a place for her at the Guild itself, which was both worrying and great for Amy. Then there were the ones who seemed especially… passionate about the whole thing.
They… were probably just overreacting too, right…? Just in a very different way? They were implying some freaky, freaky things. A secret romance here, an elopement there, and a bunch of lewd fantasies everywhere in between. But there wasn't any basis for that lewdness, was there? Amy… Amy would never!
A phone call on the house line distracted Vicky from her lip-biting worries. Answering it quickly set her on a course up to Amy's room. A chance! A chance to get Amy out of the house! And if Mom complained that Amy was supposed to be grounded, Vicky had a PRT emergency to use as an excuse!
Approaching her door, Vicky heard frantic muttering that she could just barely make out from inside, "-upid -exy Goth bastard~! Yes, yes, right there~! Don't even give me a chance to refu-!"
"Ames! You're needed at PRT HQ!" Vicky shouted excitedly, barging into Amy's room.
"Ah~! F-Fuck~!" Amy groaned (moaned?) in reply.
The noise caused Vicky to pause and cock her head. Amy was in bed, all bundled up with blankets. Brooding and moping, no doubt. But there was a hint of that weird smell from earlier in the air. And every other second, an odd buzzing came from Amy's bundle of blankets. Was she getting, like, a dozen texts a second under there? Amy's face was flushed, and her hair was slightly mussed up, too. But Vicky couldn't see anything more, and she obviously didn't put the pieces available together.
"D-Dammit — nngh~! — Vicky! Learn to knock!" Amy panted.
"Huh? Why?" Vicky cocked her head to the other side before shaking her head. "Doesn't matter! We're busting you out of here, sis! C'mon, hurry! Before Mom gets back!"
It took some wrangling and more than a few protests, but Vicky eventually got Amy up, dressed, and moving. For some reason, the odd buzzing accompanied them as they left, though… Weird. But Vicky was too focused on busting Amy out of Mom's prison to think about it much more. Amy's still-blushing cheeks showed how thankful she was! Yeah, this was going to be a lucky, lucky day, without a doubt!
Through it all, Mark Dallon slept like a brick to the head, seized by the depression nap to end all depression naps and utterly oblivious to the chaos of his household…
IIIII
Within the PRT HQ, several high-ranking members of the ENE Protectorate and PRT gathered for a meeting that could've been an email, if not for the context around the situation. Deputy Director Renick and Miss Militia were the first to arrive, early by all measures. Dauntless and Velocity trickled in after them, both still early but not by much. They joined the meeting over comms, continuing their patrols in the meantime. Armsmaster and Director Piggot arrived exactly on time. Assault and Battery came in a minute late, but Piggot had already started the meeting by that point, well used to her capes' eccentricities.
"Alright, first off: where the Hell is Calvert?" Piggot asked, the question mostly directed at her Deputy Director.
Renick blinked, glancing at the empty chair that should've been filled, "I… don't actually know. He was the one to bring the subject of this meeting to my attention. Hold on a moment while I check… Ah, he seems to have left the building. I have an email here from him saying that he came down with some sort of migraine."
Unbeknownst to those there, Thomas Calvert — AKA the dual-timeline precog who moonlighted as the villain Coil — had experienced a vicious streak of bad luck. In a timeline that didn't actually exist, he'd tripped on his way to the meeting and just so happened to shank his superior Director Piggot right through the jugular with his pen. As much as he wished he could've taken pleasure in the act, it was very much not according to his plans, and therefore, that timeline had to be abandoned. Besides, Emily Piggot was a stubborn old bitch who managed to snap Calvert's neck most painfully before she could fully expire anyway.
Considering the snapped neck and stabbed jugular, Calvert felt it best to simply call it a day after dropping his failed timeline. He hadn't even needed to lie to do so since exercising his power had, in fact, given him the mother of all migraines. Or, more accurately, the father of all thinker headaches. Of course, Calvert had no way of knowing that doing so played into a very particular set of hands that already held all too much leverage over him.
Upon reaching his car in the PRT HQ assigned parking lot, Calvert found himself with a surprise passenger who wore a very fetching hat, "Hello, Thomas. Is your head feeling okay? I'm sure it must be just pounding right about now. Unfortunately, an ickle-bitty headache won't get you out of this meeting. You and I… we have some things to talk about. Namely, our experiment has been declared dead in the water, and as such, I'll be spending quite a bit of time here in the Bay, it seems. I do hope you'll be a most obliging host."
Faced with the bogeywoman out of his worst nightmares — which was saying something for a man like Coil — it was all he could do to squeak and nod frantically, "M-Meep!"
Back within the PRT HQ, Piggot simply waved dismissively, "We're likely better off without him, the bastard. Now, down to business. What's the deal with this Hookwolf fight, and why couldn't this have been an email?"
"Well, that's-…" Renick began.
"You tellin' me you haven't seen the PHO thread?" Assault asked, amusement clear in his voice.
"I like to think I have better things to do than lurk on that cesspool," Piggot drawled.
"Well, for once, 'lurking' would've given you important context," Assault chuckled.
"I do not understand," Armsmaster said, his tone as flat and to the point as ever. "Please share any information you have in the closest approximation of a formal report that you can manage."
"It has to do with Panacea," Miss Militia revealed, sighing. "That's why this meeting isn't just an email."
"Well, why didn't anyone come out and say so?!" Piggot snapped. "Enough killing time. Get to it. And for the love of everything good and holy, please tell me she isn't out of commission."
"Thankfully, no. But the situation is-…" Miss Militia trailed off.
"Strange?" Renick offered.
"Fucking awkward and nonsensical?" Assault joked.
"Something like that," Miss Militia sighed again. "Starting from the beginning, at approximately noon today, Hookwolf engaged with a squad of mercenaries. A running battle ensued, causing the usual amount of collateral. For Hookwolf, at least."
"I can see that," Armsmaster nodded, staring at something projected on the inside of his helmet. "Those mercenaries are worrisome. Coil? I wasn't aware he was so well-organized, funded, or equipped. Do we know what started the confrontation?"
"As far as I've found," Velocity spoke up, his voice coming over the speakers in the meeting room. "Nothing important. An Empire stash house was hit, but nothing was actually taken. Coil seems to have been just stirring up trouble for trouble's sake."
"Double check that," Piggot ordered. "But start looking farther afield. Poking Hookwolf would make for a good distraction for some other objective. Coil might've had his attention split from the start."
The irony of that surprisingly accurate statement was lost on everyone there, Velocity simply replying in the affirmative, "Got it, boss. I'll see what I can turn over here with boots on the ground."
"Back to the previous situation," Miss Militia said. "New Wave eventually joined the running battle. Just Glory Girl and Panacea, so nothing unusual there. Panacea began cleaning up the collateral damage while Glory Girl engaged Hookwolf. Then…"
"Then things got interesting," Assault interjected, earning himself an elbow from his wife Battery.
"Interesting how?" Piggot asked, glowering at the very idea.
"This may seem like a non sequitur, but bear with me a moment," Dauntless began. "What do you know about the recent Guild debut, Director?"
Piggot snorted, "You're right, that does sound like a non sequitur. I heard about that shitshow, of course. I'm pretty sure every Director was briefed on it by Narwhal and Dragon, considering the controversy. Faerie Maiden, I don't even know where to start…"
"It's an impressive coup on Dragon's part," Armsmaster stated, sounding almost proud of his friend. "I looked into the circumstances there. It falls into a gray area but is largely above board. And over everything else, I trust Dragon's judgment."
"Actually, it's the other new Guild member who's relevant to our current situation," Dauntless revealed. "Their publicity tour has reached Brockton Bay. This seems to be the final stop on their tour."
"Dragon is in Brockton Bay? She made good time. That is… pleasant," Armsmaster sounded more surprised than anything else.
"You knew this was coming," Piggot said, stating it as a fact rather than a question. "Armsmaster? What have I said about keeping me informed, especially about things that shift the balance of power in the city?"
"Ah…" Armsmaster paused. "Director, I have news. Dragon has informed me that she will be visiting the Bay in the coming days."
"Snrk~!" Assault stifled a laugh. "Bit late, but you've got the spirit, Armsy."
Piggot exhaled a controlled breath through her nose, "Now. If it's not Dragon or… Faerie Maiden… causing issues, it'd be 'Raven Prince', correct? The Myrddin-lite?"
"I do not believe them to be in the same category," Armsmaster shook his head. "Dragon gives his claims weight — outlandish as they may sound — and cites his status as a Case 66. I will need to confirm the claims for myself, of course, but I am excited to do-…"
"Not what I was asking," Piggot cut him off sharply. "What I need to know is what kind of trouble Raven Prince has stirred up in my city."
"That's where things get… strange," Miss Militia cautioned. "Hookwolf was defeated by Raven Prince and Glory Girl. According to witness reports, it was a sight to see. But afterward, Raven Prince turned his attention onto Panacea. Him doing so has caused… well, a measure of panic."
"He publicly declared he 'had need' of Panacea," Dauntless deadpanned.
"Then followed it up with a PHO post that said he was going to steal her away and claimed that nothing would stop him," Assault added with a smirk. "He was suitably cryptic about it and everything. Spooky~…"
Piggot's face screwed up as if she'd sucked a lemon, "Wonderful. The world's best healer has been declared a target by someone who's largely unknown. And we don't know his real intentions with her? Kidnapping? Coercion? Semi-hostile recruitment for the Guild? Anything?"
"Nope~!" Assault chimed cheerfully. "But he sounded determined. And you know how Carol Dallon is. We might very well see hero-on-hero fighting break out in the city before this is all resolved."
"Not to mention that it presents a decent opportunity for one of the gangs to steal the healer for themselves," Velocity said.
Piggot swore under her breath, "-Capes! Shit! I can already see Kaiser abducting Panacea 'for her protection', that Nazi snake!"
Miss Militia nodded along with the Director's assessment, "It's a very real possibility, Director."
"And unacceptable," Piggot firmly declared. "Raven Prince started all of this. If I have my way, he'll stop it too. How the Hell did Dragon allow this to happen?!"
"I shall ask," Armsmaster said. After only a few moments of silence, his uncomprehending blink became practically audible in his voice. "… What does L-O-L mean? It's the only thing she sent me in reply."
"Haha!" Assault burst out laughing. "Oh, we're 'fucked' fucked, aren't we?"
Piggot was not so easily deterred, "Renick, get Panacea here and under our protection. Best case, we mediate. Worst, we lock her up for her safety. Most likely, we just stick her with the Wards until we can work some shit out. I don't want her anywhere the gangs could get to her, and I don't trust New Wave to guard her by herself."
"Emergency plan F-P, got it," Renick nodded, already moving off to make the call.
"The rest of you, make yourselves useful," Piggot continued. "Ideally, I want eyes on all parties. I'm not stupid enough to count on that, though. Engage to distract if you have to. Keep the city busy enough that no one can focus on finding Panacea."
Her orders were quickly obeyed. None of her capes bothered waiting for an official dismissal. But, of course, as the PRT and Protectorate moved to go about their duties, fortune and misfortune struck from the ether.
Assault and Battery stopped by the PRT cafeteria for cups of coffee to go, only to find all of the coffee machines improbably broken. Disappointed, Assault settled for a mere donut. He choked on his first bite, and his wife had to perform the Heimlich Maneuver. They still managed to follow through with Piggot's orders, but unfortunately, they were too delayed from the start without even realizing it.
Armsmaster was distracted by Dragon's reply. Upon returning to his lab, he looked up the meaning of 'lol' and found himself dragged down a rabbit hole of internet vernacular and slang. He hyper-fixated most efficiently… and wasted precious hours in the process.
Miss Militia tasked herself with wrangling the Wards first and foremost. She found them in anarchy. Clockblocker had somehow managed to win the lottery and was understandably celebrating that improbable victory. Aegis was futilely trying to tell Clockblocker that it wasn't valid because he wasn't old enough to play or collect his winnings in the first place. Vista and Shadow Stalker were just about coming to blows with each other, arguing over whether Faerie Maiden was 'cool and deadly' or 'deadly and cool'. Gallant was busy texting someone — Glory Girl, in fact — and flinching every time he got a reply. It was not going well, and the on-and-off-again couple was destined to be 'off-again' in a few minutes. Kid Win was initially hard to find. Miss Militia eventually spotted him, having stuffed himself behind the couch with pillows on both sides of his head in a futile effort to get even a hint of peace, quiet, and sleep.
The Protectorate capes already in the city met similarly eventful fates. Velocity's boot laces spontaneously came untied. He was sent tumbling end over end at 60 miles per hour, miraculously managing to avoid permanent injury other than a wicked concussion that still put him out of commission for the time being. Meanwhile, Dauntless found himself dealing with an improbably extensive series of muggings. Immediately after dealing with one, another sprung up to steal his attention. In the end, he would set the ENE Protectorate record for arrests made in a single hour. But like everyone else, he never actually followed through on Piggot's orders to distract the gangs for Panacea's protection.
The only saving grace of the situation… was that the rest of the city seemed to be similarly afflicted with fortune and misfortune.
IIIII
Danny Hebert was shaping up to have a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. He was collecting superstitions and bad luck signs like they were going out of style. He'd never been a particularly superstitious man, but after a certain point, even an atheist would've had to wonder if he was cursed. Had he brought it on himself? Danny didn't have a clue. But he was certainly swimming in the signs.
He'd counted 13 different black cats that had crossed his path so far today. Add to that his mirror cracking for seemingly no reason that morning, and one could see where he was beginning to become concerned. But that truly was only the beginning.
Walking past an umbrella store (they still had those??), every single one on display spontaneously opened indoors. Distracted by that impossibility, Danny then walked under not one but three open ladders. He'd nearly been hit by an iron horseshoe from children playing an innocent game. It was getting to the point that Danny was doing his best to avoid stepping on cracks like he was eight years old all over again. At the very least, though, he'd managed to keep himself from picking up spare pennies that were sitting tails up. Of course, if he'd done so today, he would've been a whole buck richer from how many he'd found…
In all, the world seemed determined to give Danny Hebert as much bad luck as possible. He was left going about his usual business and waiting for the other shoe to drop. And drop, it did, when Danny took a late lunch. The Dockworkers Association kept his day busy as always (read: desperately treading water for himself and his people), but his bad luck bided its time until late that afternoon.
Danny's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day started, in truth, rather uneventfully. The bagged lunch he usually brought had been accidentally taken by one of his dockworkers. As such, he went out for food, finding himself at a little sandwich shop on the borders of the city's Docks and Downtown. There, his order was delayed longer than normal by small mistakes. When he finally exited the shop with food in hand, he heard a young woman's voice flying overhead.
"That-! That utter jerkwad! We are through! Done-zo! Kaput, ya hear?!"
"And I'm sure it'll stick this time. Unlike the past, what? Eight times?"
Looking upward, Danny easily recognized Glory Girl and her sister Panacea as they flew at a leisurely pace. Glory Girl seemed quite upset about something. A boy, if the context didn't fail Danny. He let a small smile cross his face. For all the power she wielded, it was impossible to forget that Glory Girl was very much still a teenage girl.
But, of course, Danny's luck was still doomed to misfortune. Before Glory Girl could fly out of sight, a great racket was kicked up from seemingly nowhere. The chopping whir of helicopter blades broke the peace of the street. A great junkyard beast — the sort of vehicle that could only belong to one person in Brockton Bay — appeared to drive Glory Girl out of the sky. She grounded herself with a squeak of surprise.
Stuck as a bystander, Danny swore to himself. Getting caught up in a cape fight was just about the last thing he wanted to do today. But it seemed the luck he'd collected had other plans. Glory Girl set her sister down right in front of Danny before turning her attention back skyward. She shot up at Squealer's junked-up helicopter… only for Danny to find that his day's bad luck seemed to be contagious.
Glory Girl — the paragon of teenage superheroism that she was… slammed into a wayward bird. It vanished in a puff of feathers, obliterated in an instant. The impact of her unfortunate collision brought Glory Girl up short. There was a moment of bewilderment — surrounded by raining feathers — before realization sunk in. Glory Girl recoiled. She panicked. Understandably, she freaked the fuck out.
"Wha-? Oh, God, ewwwwwww! Eww eww eww eww EWW~! Hold on, time out! Gimme a second to pull myself back together! … Unlike the poor pigeon…"
A moment later, Squealer's grating voice came shouting out of her helicopter, "HA! Serves ya right, ya bimbo bitch! Fuck all of that waitin' shit! Eat high-powered shrapnel, dumb slut! Served up at 4,000 bits per second! Bone apple tea!"
Squealer's helicopter was barely more than scrap, rebar, and shoddily effective welds. Danny could vaguely recognize that it was in the shape of a Little Bird, though. And it seemed to have the firepower to match, too. On either side of its cockpit, a paired collection of metal pipes that looked like they'd been smashed together began to spin up. In Danny's mind, there was no way they were proper miniguns. But he also didn't doubt that Squealer had managed to jury-rig something just as effective and functional.
"Oh. Ohhhhh shhiiiittt~!" Glory Girl shouted, realizing the trouble she was about to be in. She shot up and away, but Squealer tracked her fleeing path.
"Vicky!" Panacea panicked, and Danny couldn't blame her. He thought he was about to witness a cold-blooded murder, with no one present able to do anything to stop it.
But before Squealer could fire, impossible bad luck struck once again. It looked to be anything but accidental, but Danny didn't have a clue how that could be. He could only watch, his horror turning to relief as a flock of pigeons tried to get revenge for their earlier fallen comrade. Except… they were still pigeons. And they went after the wrong offending party, flying in bulk straight into the rotors of Squealer's scrap-copter.
The downpour of feathers was much worse the second time around. It was joined by well-blended pigeon viscera, smoke, fire, and a suddenly falling scrap-copter. Pigeon guts gunked up the blades, and Squealer's creation fell out of the sky like a brick. Danny felt his bones shake with the crash, but he couldn't bring himself to feel bad for the villain, especially not when she pulled herself from the wreckage, dazed and shaky.
"Ah… pigeon shit…"
Glory Girl floated back down until she was hovering ominously in front of Squealer, "Squealer. I'm gonna thump you now. I'mma thump ya good."
A man beside Danny clicked his tongue loudly, "How disgraceful."
Danny jumped slightly as he realized that the number of people on the street had dwindled down to only five at some point. Anyone with half a brain had gotten out of dodge early. It was only Danny's luck today that he hadn't seen the chance. As it was, he was left standing there with only one other immediate witness. He was a tall, well-built, and well-tattooed Asian man who Danny remembered seeing in the sandwich shop behind them. And apparently, he had balls of steel…
"Yeah?!" Squealer snapped back at the man. "I'd like to see you do better, jackass!"
"Very well," The man nodded, taking something out from the waistband of his pants and securing it over his face. "Such a poor showing does tend to make me… furious."
Danny recognized the 'something' instantly. A steel dragon mask. In that instant, Danny saw his death. Sure enough, the man's form began to shift and grow. Scales hardened across his tattooed arms and beneath his wifebeater. Claws sprouted from his fingertips. A rolling fire ignited from the mouth of his mask and spread down his body.
Lung. Fucking Lung. Today was beyond simply unlucky. It was the kind of cataclysmic misfortune that cautionary fairy tales were written about. Danny hadn't just been caught up in a cape fight. He'd been the only bystander next to fucking Lung. And now, they were all sure to die.
Danny found himself moving without realizing it. In his mind, he was still standing and gaping like a doomed idiot. In reality, he made a beeline for his car, having been lucky enough to find street parking right in front of the sandwich shop. The fire extinguisher he kept in his car — a real hefty one borrowed from the DWA — found its way into his hands.
His mind caught up to him a moment too late. When it did, he was already swinging, his muscles remembering hard-earned lessons from an eventful youth. From behind, he cracked Lung on the base of the skull with a 20lb steel canister. He hit hard, fast, and out of nowhere. Lung, the unstoppable rage dragon, crumpled like a sack of flour.
To his regret, Danny knew a broken neck when he saw one. But he didn't let Lung off with just a shattered skull and vertebrae. Immediately after the villain went down, he began to spray, using the fire extinguisher for its intended purpose. Foam poured out of the nozzle, every ounce of it aimed at Lung's head and face. Quickly, it did what it was supposed to, suppressing the flames and forming a seal to starve the fire of oxygen… and, conveniently, the man beneath the fire as well.
Danny stood over the foamed and crippled villain, panting as adrenaline coursed through his veins, "Ha… Holy shit."
"H-Holy shit…"
"Holy shit."
"Holy shit! Fuck yeah, old man!"
The others with Danny seemed to be of a similar mind to him. That is, nearly paralyzed by shock and awe other than Squealer's cheer. Had he… really done that…? The impossible? What people like Armsmaster had been trying to do for years now? There really were only two words to describe the situation.
"Holy shit."
Of course, the fact that he'd had to do so was worrying enough. And a moment later, the world proved that Danny's bad luck wasn't completely spent just yet. A slow clap began at the end of the street, drawing closer at a casual pace. Along with it, a dignified voice spewed pure bullshit.
"Good, good. It's always so pleasant to see a member of the superior race triumph over his lessers. Stick around, won't you, good man? I believe I'll wish to reward you after I conclude my business with the good ladies of New Wave."
Turning revealed a knight in seemingly shining armor. Danny knew well the rot and racism it concealed. Kaiser — because the day's bad luck just wouldn't quit — joined the proverbial party. Surprisingly, he was alone. But no less dangerous for that fact. And knowing the Nazi cape, his reinforcements were undoubtedly only minutes away. The silver lining of the situation was that Kaiser ignored him in favor of Panacea and Glory Girl, the villain's arrogance likely eliminating him as a threat despite just taking down Lung. It allowed Danny to slip back to his car again to make certain… preparations, this time much more conscious of what he was doing. Because having lived in Brockton Bay his whole life — first under Allfather and then under Kaiser — Danny could say one thing with utmost certainty: Fuck Nazis.
"What do you want, Kaiser," Panacea scowled.
In the background, Glory Girl and Squealer's eyes darted toward Danny and his subtle preparations. Glory Girl's eyes widened in surprise, and Squealer shot a hand over her mouth to keep her from saying anything. Even across the hero-villain divide, one thing was clear: Fuck Nazis.
"Just your protection, I assure you," Kaiser replied, playing at manners and nobility. "I've heard you're in grave danger, Panacea. It would be shameful if I let a meek and dutiful white woman be stolen by some monster."
"Oh, fuck you. You don't care about that shit," Panacea challenged. "You just want to take me for yourself."
"I would expect payment for my protection services," Kaiser nodded. "But I'd hardly compare myself to an insolent alien goblin feigning at superiority. Please, Panacea, let me safeguard you from the Fae-… Urgg-gg-gurk!"
That was as far as Kaiser got before Danny snuck up behind his second villain for the day and attached a pair of jumper cables to Kaiser's steel codpiece. The racist cape went utterly stiff. Smoke began to pour out of his armor. Danny smelled fried pork and burnt hair, but he didn't let himself feel sorry for even a moment. Fuck Nazis.
Panacea stuck up her middle finger at the still-convulsing villain, "That's for Fleur, shitstain. I hope you're shocked fucking sterile."
"A-And for the city of Brockton Bay in general," Danny added, adjusting his glasses.
The aftermath of Danny's double villain defeat was… decidedly anticlimactic. Danny, by and large, just wanted the day to be over. He'd had enough excitement for a lifetime and wanted to get out of dodge before the rest of the Empire's capes inevitably showed up. And it seemed that Panacea felt the same.
"Hey," She called out. "What's your name?"
"Danny," He offered her a shaky smile. "Danny Hebert."
Panacea nodded, turning her back to him, "… Thanks, Danny."
"Yeah!" Glory Girl chimed in, flying over with a massive grin on her face. "You're a legend! I'll make sure everyone hears about this!"
Danny winced, "Please don't."
"Wha-? Why not?!"
"Leave him alone, Vicky," Panacea cut in. "He's just a regular guy. Telling everyone will just put him in more danger. Let's just get out of here."
"What about the PRT-?!"
"Fuck the PRT and fuck their 'emergency'. I'm going home. Either fly me there, or I'll walk."
"Oh, fine… I guess this is all more trouble than it's worth anyway."
Panacea stepped into her sister's arms to fly away, leaving Danny with one last remark, "Seriously, Danny, thank you. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to get in touch with me again."
"Don't mention it!" Danny called and waved after her. "Like, really, uh… don't."
With that, Danny was left standing alone on the street with a probably catatonic Kaiser and a likely dead Lung. Well… mostly alone.
"Good shit, old man!" Squealer exclaimed, grinning as she came up to Danny. "Guess I owe you one too now, huh? Or maybe two… Any chance I can bum a ride?"
At that request, he simply sighed. Truly, there seemed to be no end in sight for Danny Hebert's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
IIIII
"Honestly, you're a godsend," Mark Dallon said, feeling genuinely alive for the first time in literal years.
Edgar chuckled, "Oh, I don't know about that, my new friend. You offered me refreshments as any good host should. I merely took a bit of your depression to brew myself a fine cup of tea with. I hardly think that makes me divinely ordained."
"To me, it does," Mark snorted with humor (Real humor!). "If you ever find yourself craving another cup of tea, I've got more than enough depression to spare. Feel free to help yourself."
Edgar's lips twitched into a genuine smile, "Yes, I noticed. And of such a delightful vintage, too! I may just take you up on that, friend."
"This… is acceptable," Dragon said, her suit nodding to herself. "Far be it from me to disapprove of eccentric but effective treatment methods for depression."
"May I try a sip, my Prince?" Ciara asked innocently.
"Yababa~babba~?" Eve babbled, striving for the same allowance that her [Big Sissy] did.
Impressively, Mark Dallon didn't even flinch at the uniqueness Edgar and his party brought with them. He wasn't overawed by Dragon, nor terrified of Ciara, nor delightfully confused by Eve. He simply didn't have the energy to spare those emotions, so caught up in depression as he was. Getting out of bed to answer the door in the first place had taxed him enough. Yet, he was still functionally polite, inviting Edgar and company inside and doing his best to play the competent host. He did, in fact, try, and sensing the extent of the man's depression, that effort impressed Edgar more than words could say.
Edgar had to say, he was having an absolutely wonderful time in Brockton Bay so far. There was such fun to be had here, both in the city and the people who called it home. Even now, Edgar's luck was reaching out and having a field day. He'd practically taken over the city's fortune and misfortune now. There was so much narrative weight to be found in the Bay that even the smallest tweak in the flow of luck toppled everything around it like dominos.
In the end, practically everything of note happening in the city led (in)directly back to Edgar and his mastery of synchronicity. Beautiful misunderstandings led to bountiful misfortunes. Delightful distractions led to wonderful windfalls. And so on and so on. The heroes of the city were being strung along, chasing after Edgar and his lovely target. The leading villains of the city 'conveniently' gathered themselves all in one place, practically volunteering themselves to be taken care of by a charmingly competent man. And after all was said and done, Edgar effortlessly arranged himself in the perfect position to make the most of the city's sudden fortune and misfortune.
[Feat: Chaos. Just… so much chaos in Brockton Bay. +300P, 700P total.]
Truthfully, it was as simple as driving to the Dallon residence and knocking on the front door. His delicious snack would be delivering herself right to him like a ready-made meal any moment now. In the meantime, Edgar could have a pleasant conversation and cup of tea with the girl's adopted father.
It was such a shame that his Fortuna couldn't join him, Edgar mused. She had… something else to take care of for the moment. His luck had set it in motion, of course, but Fortuna had taken it upon herself to visit an old associate. Or at least, that was as much as Edgar could gather. The associate in question did not seem to be having nearly as good a time of that visit as Fortuna was…
"You gotta admit, Ames. Mr. Danny was really freaking cool!"
"Oh, yeah. Badass as Hell. But we still can't go around bragging for him. Let the man have his peace. God knows he's earned it after today."
Voices drifted into the house from right outside. Moments later, they entered the house and could be heard making their way into the sitting room with the rest of them. Right before they turned the corner, Mark cleared his throat to get their attention.
"Vicky? Amy? We have visitors."
The way they froze upon finally coming into view was rather comical, Edgar thought. Especially the blonde one, her mouth dropping open as if to catch flies. The other — Edgar's snack, for he had laid a certain claim upon her already — simply stared. And stared. And stared some more.
Finally, she opened her mouth and pointed at him with an accusing finger, "Bullshit! All of that running around trying to avoid you, and you're just sitting on our couch waiting for us?!"
"Quite," Edgar smirked.
"You should expect nothing less from my Prince!" Ciara declared.
"You really shouldn't," Dragon added, audibly amused. "Hello again, Panacea, Glory Girl."
"Hi, Dragon," Both girls said in synch, the reply absent and automatic.
Neither girl seemed to quite know what to do. At least, they didn't until Glory Girl's eyes fell on Eve and lit up like a sunny day, "!!! She's even cuter in person!"
"How the Hell did you do that?" Ciara asked, bewildered enough to drop her usual persona. "You just made the sound of exclamation points with your mouth! What even-?!"
Mark chuckled, "Vicky tends to be kinda excitable."
Meanwhile, Edgar's lovely snack only had eyes for him, "… So what now? You have me in your grasp… Your dark, terrible, wicked grasp… What are you going to do now…? Steal me away? Take me and ravish me and never let me go?! Is that what this is?! I knew it! You're here to seduce me and add a healer to your lewd collection! You're a goth devil, perfectly tailored to my tastes and sent to tempt me from the path of heroism!!"
She began slowly, almost softly, and got progressively more worked up as she went. By the end, she was wide and wild-eyed. Her chest was heaving. A flush had spread across her whole face as a beautiful blushing background to her freckles. And Edgar was treated to the most delicious cocktail of emotions and self-enforced delusions.
In the stunned silence that followed, Edgar simply smirked, "Actually, your sire just sent me to check up on you. He didn't mention any of the other things, though I must say, I'm not entirely opposed~…"
[Quest complete: A Father's Request. +100P, 800P total.]
At that revelation, Amelia Claire Lavere/Dallon croaked, "My… what…?"