Kamil Armstrong had been having something of a difficult past month, although that wasn't exactly unusual. The Butcher's death, and the lack of a new Butcher returning to the Teeth afterwards, had resulted in an unpleasant power vacuum, the fallout of which had consumed most of the Protectorate and PRT's resources for the past month. The good news was that they'd avoided a second round of the Boston Games and the Teeth were, effectively, defanged and defunct. They still had a minor presence, but without their immortal boogieman many of their capes had either been killed or fled the gang and, often, the city itself.
Accord had been quick to seize more power over the criminal elements in the city, although he was far from the only one to do so. A group called the Travelers had used the chaos to set up shop somewhere around Castle Island, Blasto and Poison Apple had been seen outside their normal radius and apparently picked up a third member named Dryad with some kind of plant manipulation powers, and several minor villains from nearby had tried to set up shop, although none of them were successful.
The latter number included both Damsel of Distress, who had come back for a second go at starting a gang, as well as a villain from New Jersey who went by Ravager. Fortunately, those two problems seemed to have solved each other, since the two of them had clashed several times before they both stopped showing up at all—he suspected that they'd ended up killing each other, given how lethal both of their powers were, but all he cared about right now was that they weren't making trouble in his city.
Things had only just started to settle down, but he'd finally felt like things were in control enough to dial Protectorate and PRT patrols back to normal operating hours, rather than the overtime they'd all been pulling trying to keep the powderkeg from going off. Which, of course, was just when Kamil's secretary told him that he and Bastion, the leader of the Boston Protectorate, had a video call scheduled in the afternoon with Armsmaster and Director Piggot from Brockton Bay, as well as Legend and Director Wilkins from New York. That wasn't particularly unusual, on the surface—between Boston, New York, and Brockton Bay, that represented the leaders of the PRT and the Protectorate for the three largest districts on the northern East coast, and they were geographically close enough for issues in one district to easily cross over to another.
What was less usual was for Director Piggot to call the meeting, since the woman was usually too busy dealing with problems at home for her to spend much time concerned with the other districts. Privately, Kamil found himself agreeing with many of her gripes, but like so many things, it was outside his ability to actually redress those issues.
Bastion was already in the conference room when Kamil arrived. He was standing rigidly, a tall and broad man, and the plated armor shaped to imitate a stone wall bulking out his form even further. The cape gave Kamil a tense nod as he came in. "What do you think Brockton wants now?"
"Probably the same thing they always want," Kamil replied, sighing as he slipped into the chair at the head of the table. "More people, more heroes, and fewer problems."
"Don't we all," Bastion grumbled. The man was a competent leader, but there was a persistent rage to him that Kamil worried would get him in trouble one day. He'd done what he could to temper it, but at the end of the day he only had so much power over the actual members of the Protectorate. "I don't know how she expects to take without giving anything back."
Kamil winced. "I don't think she has much to give back," he said. "Have you ever compared villain and hero numbers between our cities? Brockton has around the same number of villains to deal with as we do, but because PRT and Protectorate resources tend to be allocated per capita we end up with almost twice the number of heroes and three times the PRT staff than Brockton Bay."
Bastion frowned. "It can't be that bad, can it? I mean, they've got that independent hero group too, right? Neo Wave or something like that?"
The director shook his head. "New Wave, and that's complicated. From what I understand, they barely patrol, since they all have their own jobs and lives. Helpful in emergencies, but not much outside of that."
"Damn," Bastion said, furrowing his eyes. "If it's that bad, how the hell has that place not already gone HOSV yet?"
Kamil took a deep sip of his coffee, closing his eyes to savor the flavor. One of the perks of making director was that he could send somebody to get him real coffee, not just the burnt stuff from the canteen. "Three reasons, from what I can tell. First, Armsmaster is a terrifyingly efficient and versatile cape, which lets him act with the effectiveness as three or four capes on his own. Second, for all that New Wave isn't as directly active, the presence of Panacea means that injuries which would be crippling for other departments can often be walked off. Third, Piggot is stubborn enough to draw water from a stone, and for all that she hates it she's quite good at playing the game of capes."
"That sounds unsustainable," Bastion said, after a moment. He sounded more subdued than Kamil had often heard the man.
"It is," he replied. "Any peace that's so reliant on three overworked people is tenuous at best. And Emily knows it too, which is why she's been so desperate for help for years. And I'm sure that with Panacea off on her good will tour for the past couple of weeks, she's been feeling the pressure even more than usual."
"Are we going to help them, then?" the cape asked, crossing his arms.
Kamil gave him a thin smile. "I'll do what I can. My hands are tied on many resources, and we both know that Boston is still in a fairly precarious state. Still, things have been settling down recently, so maybe we'll have some more leeway."
There was a beeping sound, a click as the door locked and a small bronze ball covered in strange markings in the center of the table whirred to life. It looked like it belonged on the set of a fantasy movie, but it was just an anti-eavesdropping device made by a Tinker in Philadelphia who had leaned into the 'magical artificer' theme. A few moments later, the opposite wall of the room was covered by a crisp projection of a screen, projecting the figures of Legend and Director Wilkins across one half of the screen. Wilkins was a small woman in stature, although people underestimated her at their own peril. She was a little rigid in her worldview, in his opinion, but she was extremely competent and effective, and reportedly well enough liked in her own department. Legend was Legend, of course, the same face that adorned thousands of advertisements and lunch boxes and posters, but he always looked a little more human in these meetings.
Kamil had barely finished greeting his New York counterpart when Piggot appeared on the other half of the screen, Armsmaster standing rigidly in his power armor to her side. "Good, everyone's on." The next couple minutes were spent in obligatory pleasantries and procedures, but he could see that it was taking a toll on Piggot. Eventually, it got around to Piggot herself.
"I've been better, but that has to do with why I called this meeting. I've got good news, complicated news, and very bad news. What do you want to hear first?"
"Is anything urgent?" Legend asked, at once.
The ENE Director made a pained expression, but she shook her head. "Not exactly, no."
"Let's hear the good news first, then," he said, with a faint smile.
The woman scoffed. "Sure. Alright, good news is we've got a new Ward, Bumble."
Legend nodded—he'd always been good about keeping track of that kind of thing. "She's going the humor route, correct? I remember a memo about contracting Mouse Protector for her training."
"She is, yeah." A few taps and Piggot pulled up a picture of a young woman in a cute and dorky bee inspired outfit. "So the good news is, she's got the potential to solve quite a few problems for us."
At that, Legend's brow furrowed. "Director Piggot, I feel I need to stress that the purpose of the Wards program is not to resolve issues that should be taken care of by either adult heroes or the PRT."
Emily just shook her head. "That's not what I'm saying, but just let me get through the rest of this and it'll make sense."
"Go on, Emily," Kamil said, crossing his arms. She shot him a glare, but he could see the barest hint of a smirk on her face. It was rare for her to show it, but he knew that she could be a bit of a drama queen when the mood struck—usually when it paired with some schadenfreude against someone that had routinely denied her more support. He'd done his best to stay out of that category, but it wasn't always avoidable.
"So, complicated news. Armstrong, I understand you've been pulling your hair out over there looking for the new Butcher, so I'm glad to inform you that I've found her."
Kamil froze, staring at the screen. Yes, he'd been desperately searching for the Butcher, as his several rather hefty bills from WEDGD could attest. It had seemed far too good for the monster to just disappear, and given that it wasn't uncommon for the new Butcher to try and make a mark with a particularly large and abhorrent act of senseless violence, he'd been quite concerned about what XV's debut would entail. After the Teeth had started to disband, he'd only grown more concerned—how much more violent would the new Butcher be, if they also had to restore their gang and the seat of their power?
After he got his voice back, panicked questions just poured out: "Are they in Brockton? How many are dead? How did you discover them?"
Emily's smile this time held no humor. "Well, that's the funny thing. She just walked in, told us, and said she wanted to join the Wards."
Armstrong blanched, looking back at the picture on the screen. "No…" he said, too quiet for the mic to even pick it up. Bastion, standing next to him, looked confused as he looked between Armstrong and the screen, and then he froze as he made the connection as well.
"This isn't the place for jokes, Director Piggot," Director Wilkins said, heat in her voice.
"And I'm not a woman who often makes them," Emily shot back, somewhat snidely. "Apparently, that's more Butcher XV's expertise."
"To be clear," Legend said, the authority in his voice cutting over everything else. "Director Piggot, you're claiming that the identity of Butcher XV is your new Ward, Bumble."
"That is correct," the woman said, with a solemn nod.
Somewhat predictably, Director Wilkins did not take that particularly well. "What the hell kind of madhouse are you running down there? If you have the Butcher in hand, why haven't you just birdcaged them already?"
"Three reasons," Piggot said, and her voice was steel. "First, as you ought to know, sending the Butcher to the Birdcage is an atrocious idea. Second, because Butcher XV has not, to my knowledge, committed any crimes, despite having motive and method to do so. And third, because I do not wish to make an enemy of a teenager who is likely the fourth most powerful cape in the country."
"How could she become the Butcher if she didn't commit murder?" Wilkins said, clearly latching onto the one piece of that she could actually try to debunk.
"She made a rather compelling case for self-defense," Piggot said, her tone rather dry. "It's hard to argue that fighting back against a parahuman deliberately set on murdering you and your father can be anything else."
Legend's gaze was considering. "You believe she's sane, then," he said.
"As much as any person with that kind of power can be," Director Piggot said. If Legend picked up on the implied slight, he didn't respond to it.
"And you really think she's that strong?" he asked, which—yeah, that was fair.
Piggot shrugged. "It's hard to say, but she very well might be. Bumble has access to fifteen different powers, each of them strong enough in their own way to kill the previous Butcher gestalt. The only thing that kept the Butcher weak and, to some extent, manageable in the past was that their madness left them too inhibited to properly utilize their abilities. Bumble has no such issues. Power testing is still ongoing, but preliminary ratings give her at least a 5 or higher in nine categories—ten if you include a 'blaster' rating for how Quarrel's power synergizes with a minigun. She's only missing Stranger and Breaker to complete the set."
That shouldn't have been news to Kamil—he'd seen threat reports for the Butcher before, of course—but it had always been taken with a grain of salt, to some extent. Yes, the Butcher was dangerous and unpredictable, but they were also inherently stupid and inefficient by the nature of their madness. Without that? Yeah, he could see how they would start to edge up into Triumvirate territory.
Then something upsetting occurred to Kamil. "That's not the bad news, is it? That's just the complicated news."
And at that, Piggot's expression turned fully into a grimace. "Yeah, it is. The bad news is that our newest probationary Ward caused Bumble's trigger."
The call exploded into noise as everyone besides Piggot and Armsmaster all began speaking at once.
~*~
Angela stepped out of her beater of a car, slamming the door shut behind her because it wouldn't lock otherwise. It was a clunker, with enough accumulated mechanical issues that fixing them all would cost several times more than the car itself was worth, but she'd gotten it for a steal when her cousin had gone off to college out of state, and it more or less ran, so that was all that mattered.
The Boardwalk always inspired an interesting mix of emotions. On one hand, it was also one of the safest places in the Bay, so long as you looked enough like a paying customer, due to the private security force known as the Enforcers and the relative proximity of the Protectorate Headquarters. Living in Brockton Bay, there was something of a constant tension that she could never quite escape, the creeping worry that at any time a fight between capes or the gangs might break out, but on the Boardwalk that feeling was… well, not exactly gone, but certainly lessened. On the flip side, that safety also came with a correspondingly high price tag on everything from clothing to sandwiches. It also catered primarily to tourists over people actually from the Bay, which made her want to dislike it on principle.
Still, even if she didn't exactly have the budget to shop here regularly—she wasn't Vicky, with her endless money dispenser of a boyfriend—it was still fun to walk around, maybe buy an overpriced espresso, and do a little window shopping. The bell gave a cheery chime as Angela entered The Daily Grind, one of several independent coffee shops that lined the Boardwalk's length. It had an interior designed to look a little like a rustic wood cabin, and soft indie folk was being pumped through the speakers. A cursory glance around the place saw no fewer than eight people in their late teens to mid twenties with laptops open in front of them. She also saw a tall girl with a wide mouth quirked up into a little smile looking at her, and Angela gave Taylor a little wave even as she was walking up to the counter to place an order.
Five dollars and eighty five cents poorer, and one salted caramel latte with a leaf pattern in the milk richer, Angela sat down across from Taylor. "Hey there," she said, smiling at the other girl. "Fancy seeing you at a place like this."
Taylor gave her a smile. "Oh yes, imagine running into you at the place we agreed to meet," she said in a dry voice. "Is Vicky with you?"
"No, but that's not surprising. She's chronically late, so she'll probably be here in fifteen or so. Anyway, how's your day been?" Angla took a sip of her latte. It was, unfortunately, absolutely delicious, which still didn't justify the price tag but made it harder to be upset about it.
"It's been alright," Taylor replied, shrugging. "I've got a half-shift at work on Saturdays, which was kind of interesting."
"Oh yeah, you mentioned that you're doing your vocay with a marketing team, right?" Angela asked, nodding along. "What company is that? I don't remember if you said, before."
Taylor gave her a wry grin. "I didn't. Don't go spreading this around, but I'm interning for the Public Relations division of the PRT."
She almost dropped her latte. "No way! Wait, is it like, a secret? Are you not supposed to be telling me?"
The other girl shook her head. "No, it's not a secret exactly. I mean, there are parts of the job that are covered by an NDA, but that's different. I just didn't want to add fuel to the rumors that I'm a Ward."
Angela rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah. Don't worry about it, that happens whenever anyone transfers in. Never mind that not every Ward goes to Arcadia, or that transfers happen all the time for all kinds of reasons. Nobody really takes that kind of thing seriously. If you believe the rumors, then like an eighth of the school is Clockblocker, and every girl who's transferred in since last October is secretly Shadow Stalker, or Vista, or Bumble."
Taylor laughed, and it was deeper and richer than Angela had expected. Her heart skipped a little, and she thought about how nice it would be to hear that laugh again. "So which one would I be, then?" she said, teasingly.
"Hmm," Angela said, tapping her chin dramatically. "Well, I think you're a little too tall to be Vista," she started with.
"Ah, but what if I'm just shrinking space to look shorter?" Taylor said, raising an eyebrow.
"That's not how her power works," Angela said, with a laugh. "Plus, it's pretty well known that Vista hates looking like a kid. I mean, she doesn't say it in so many words, but there are enough 'Vista scowling when someone calls her cute' compilations on YouTube to make that pretty clear."
"It's the perfect disguise," Taylor said, nodding sagely.
"Oh my god," Angela said, laughing. "Okay, so not Vista. I don't think you really fit Bumble, no offense—I mean, you're funny, but it's all dry wit and sarcasm, not like… slapstick and stuff. Plus, you feel kind of… I dunno, too dangerous to be her?"
"Too dangerous?" Taylor asked, her brow furrowing.
She couldn't help the blush that formed on her cheeks. "Not in a bad way! But, like, I've known a few people who do martial arts. You've got that kind of energy. Intense, you know?"
"Oh, that makes sense," the other girl said, nodding. "Yeah, I do some MMA and kickboxing."
"That tracks," Angela said. "Anyway, I think that really just leaves Shadow Stalker left."
A strange smile flickered across Taylor's face. "I'll take that as a compliment." A small silence fell over them, not an uncomfortable one, just a natural lull in the conversation. Angela sipped on her latte, and once more was irrationally angry that it wasn't worse, because she really wanted to be pissed about how much it cost.
"What about me?" Angela said, after a moment.
Taylor looked at her, blinking a few times. She could be a bit spacey, but Angela had learned that was more because Taylor seemed to get distracted by the wandering of her own thoughts than anything else. That wasn't even a bad thing, since it often led to pretty interesting conversations. "Hmm?" Taylor asked.
"Which Ward would I be?"
Taylor smiled. "Oh, that's obvious. You're clearly Gallant, with a voice changer to protect your secret identity."
"Shut the fuck up," Angela said, but she was laughing. Her phone went off with a 'ding', and she pulled it out to read the text message. "It's from Vicky. Apologizing for running late, blah blah blah, wants to meet in 30 by that stained glass shop on the corner of Willow. God, you'd think being able to fly would make her more on time, not less. " she said, even as she was quickly typing a message back. "Apparently she's bringing Dean with her. That cool with you?"
There was a strange expression on Taylor's face, but it cleared up a moment later. "Oh, if Dean doesn't mind, then it's fine with me."
"If he's got a problem with it, then fuck him," Angela said. She'd noticed that Dean had some kind of issue with Taylor, although he was polite enough to not say anything. "He's the one tagging along, so he can suck it up and deal with it."
"Thanks, Angela," Taylor said, with a soft and strangely vulnerable smile. Angela felt her mouth go dry and she took a sip of coffee to cover for it. Taylor wasn't perhaps conventionally attractive, but she had a hell of a sleeper build, and sometimes she would move in just the right way and she would just be so… striking. That was the only word that she could really find for it. It was terrible for Angela's heart, but like a bee drawn to a flower, she couldn't quite bring herself to pull away.
They headed out of the coffee shop, walking side by side. Taylor had an easy gait that projected confidence, and Angela did her best to match it. She was acutely aware of Taylor's hand, swinging just a few inches away from her own, and how easy it would be to reach out and interlace their fingers. She didn't, of course, for a hundred different reasons, but the thought wouldn't leave her mind.
They took their time walking the length of the Boardwalk, doing some casual window shopping. Taylor had gotten excited at a candle shop called Scents and Sensibility, and she'd made Angela smell several different overpriced candles that all smelled vaguely floral. Honestly, Angela didn't think she herself really got much out of it, but it was cool to see Taylor talking about all the different nuances between the candles. They also had an obligatory stop at the small used bookstore, which toed the line between grungy and fashionably weathered, and Angela ended up getting a weathered scifi paperback called Babel-17 that was printed in the 60s, although it was one that Taylor apparently swore by.
There were a few street performers out and about, drawing small crowds around them. A woman with a saxophone was crooning a jazz rendition of a Bad Canary song, a man in a sparkly waistcoat was putting on some kind of contortion and juggling performance, and they even saw Parian, doing a puppet show for a crowd of young kids, parents, and interested tourists in front of Stitch & Thyme, a boutique clothing store that sold distressed jeans and shirts which each probably cost more than Angela's entire monthly paycheck. There was a sign next to her that said the store even had several outfits that had been assembled by Parian herself, with a promise for a custom power-aided fitting, and honestly Angela didn't even want to think about how much those would be going for, especially with how cape crazy some tourists could get.
She had to admit, it was pretty cool to see Parian's power in person. Sure, she'd gotten pretty used to seeing Vicky float around whenever she could get away with it, but seeing Parian take purple patterned fabric and telekinetically fold it into a life-size cat plushie in under a minute was something else entirely. It felt more real, somehow, if also more alien. The performance was pretty mesmerizing, too, for all that it was clearly aimed at a younger demographic. It took her a few minutes to figure out that Parian was acting out scenes from Alice in Wonderland, with herself acting as the titular Alice and the plushies standing in for all the other characters. It was strangely effective, especially since the fabric nature of her creations lent itself well to the Wonderland aesthetic. The Cheshire cat was particularly neat, since Parian accomplished the disappearing and reappearing aspect of the character by literally deconstructing and reconstructing the plush in front of their eyes.
About the time Parian got to the Mad Hatter's tea party (the Mad Hatter being represented by a floating hat and levitating suit jacket with nothing inside), Angela looked over at Taylor to make sure the other girl hadn't gotten bored. To her surprise, she saw that Taylor was watching Parian with an expression that seemed a little longing and a little pained. Her mouth was moving a little bit, as though she was whispering something under her breath, but no words came out.
Angela bumped her, gently. "You alright?" she asked, quietly.
Taylor blinked a few times as she came back to herself. "Oh, yeah," she said. "I just—it's really nice to see a parahuman power used for something like this. I feel like we often look at capes and just see heroes and villains and all this fighting. It's easy to forget how much potential powers have for truly unique expressions of art."
"Nerd," Angela said, affection ruining any effect her teasing might have had. "But, yeah. I get where you're coming from. This is really, really cool."
"It really is," Taylor said, nodding. "Actually, I might need to speak to my boss about this kind of thing. It would probably be a good look for the Wards."
"Oh shit, I can't believe I forgot where you were working," Angela said.
Taylor just winked and tapped her lips with one finger. "One sec," she said, pulling out a small 3-inch notebook from the back pocket of her jeans and dashing something down with a pen. Then she was slipping away through the crowd to the small hat box that Parian was apparently using for donations. Angela watched as she dropped a ten dollar bill into the box, along with a folded slip of paper she'd torn from the notebook. Parian had the mouse doll nod in thanks, although she didn't interrupt the performance.
"Alright, let's go and meet Vicky," Taylor said, rejoining her, and somewhat reluctantly they left Parian's show and walked toward the end of the Boardwalk. The conversation seemed to just flow easily between them, from a discussion on writing implements used during the Victorian era, to opinions on NEPEA-5 and the role of parahumans in small and large businesses, to a playful debate over whether condiments on a burger should go above or below the patty (and she didn't care how striking and clever Taylor was, putting ketchup on the bottom bun was a sin). It wasn't just that Angela liked what she'd seen of Taylor, but also that Angela found she liked who she was when she was around Taylor. It put a warmth on her cheeks and in her chest, and sent moths fluttering around her stomach.
They met up with Vicky and Dean outside of Jellyfish Glassworks, which she had to admit was probably the most visually striking shop on the whole Boardwalk, with all the hanging stained glass windchimes of different marine animals that were suspended in front of the shop. Vicky noticed them first, turning and waving them over, while Dean's head snapped toward them and then flinched as soon as he saw Taylor. Angela felt her mood sour a little—honestly, what was that boy's problem?—but he did his best to mask his reaction, so she wasn't going to call attention to it.
"Hey, guys! Sorry I'm late, there was a car accident on Wentworth while I was flying over, so I had to stop and help out," Vicky said, her cheerful tone a little at odds with her excuse.
Angela noticed Taylor flinch when Vicky mentioned a car accident. "Was everyone alright?" Taylor asked, her tone a little tense.
Vicky didn't seem to notice. "Oh yeah, everyone was fine. Well, the guy in the rear car broke his collarbone, and the side of the car was pretty crumpled so I had to tear it open, but I got him to the EMTs and they made sure he was stable. There were no head injuries or anything like that, thank goodness."
"Thank goodness," Taylor repeated, and Angela saw some of the tension leave the girl. Right, she'd mentioned on the first day of class that she'd lost her mom in a car accident, hadn't she? It was probably bringing back memories she didn't want to think about. Then Taylor's confidence was back, like it had never even wavered. "Panacea's still out of town, right?"
"Oh, yeah, she is," Vicky replied, rolling her eyes. "The Protectorate's got her on this whole goodwill tour, going all around the country and healing a bunch of heroes that have long term injuries. She acts like she's pissed off about the whole thing, but I'm pretty sure she's just happy to have an excuse to take two weeks off school and eat at a bunch of fancy restaurants on the Protectorate's dime. Plus, y'know, the donations she's getting from the Protectorate are gonna fund New Wave for like, the next year."
"Nice," Taylor said. "How much does she get, from that?"
Vicky shifted, looking a little awkward. "Well, technically—nothing? But like, that's because it's illegal for parahumans to charge for healthcare services, cause that's a direct violation of NEPEA-5. But New Wave is a non-profit organization, so we can kind of get around that restriction if people donate to it instead. That money's got to be earmarked specifically for New Wave heroic activities, though."
"Huh," Angela said, because she hadn't talked much about this with Vicky before. "That seems… I get why they'd write the laws like that, but that seems like it would suck for Amy. What about merchandise?"
"That's different, legally," Vicky said, shrugging. "Selling merch that contains the likeness of a cape is specifically excluded from NEPEA-5, probably because that's how the heroes make a lot of their money, so that's just regular taxable income. I don't really know all the nitty gritty, though. Mom's the lawyer of the family, she's the one who takes care of all that."
"A lot of the business protectionism clauses of NEPEA-5 were written to exclude heroes," Dean offered. Angela figured that the Stansfields probably knew quite a bit about legal loopholes. "It was written when the Elite were trying to buy up and consolidate their control over a sizable number of the Fortune 500 companies at the time. It was meant to protect American industry and big businesses, but it also ended up making it substantially harder for any cape to go into business with their powers."
"That's not an accident," Taylor said, her tone casual but certain. "The PRT had their fingers all over that bill, and there's pretty strong evidence that they changed it to try and make joining the heroes seem more appealing. Of course, if it also drove more capes into villainy, that just helped consolidate their power and worldview."
"That's a conspiracy theory," Dean said, quickly.
"Sure it is," Taylor said, meeting Dean's gaze. Her tone conveying that she very much disagreed. Dean looked away first. Instead of arguing, Taylor turned toward Victoria. "Does Amy usually sit with you guys at lunch?"
"Oh right, she actually left for the tour right before you joined Arcadia," Vicky said. There was a flicker that crossed over Taylor's face, but it was gone the next moment. "Yeah, Amy usually sits with us—actually, I think you'll get along with her really well. She can be kind of a grump at first, but you don't seem like the kind of person who'd let that scare you off."
"I look forward to meeting her," Taylor replied. "I've got some experience dealing with grumpy people, to be honest." Dean let out a sudden sound halfway between a choke and a cough, but he waved off any assistance.
Any further conversation was interrupted by a small growl coming from Vicky's stomach. The girl flushed, then said, "Sorry, can we talk about this over lunch? I kind of skipped breakfast this morning, and flying around burns more calories than you'd think."
"Sure it does, Vicky," Angela teased, rolling her eyes and ignoring Vicky's indignant squawk.
"There's a pretty good okonomiyaki place a few blocks away," Taylor said, with a half shrug.
Dean furrowed his brow. "Okonomiati?"
"Okonomiyaki," Taylor corrected. "It's like… a savory cabbage and pork pancake? That doesn't do it justice, though. Trust me, it's really good."
"I'm down!" Vicky said, bouncing on the balls of her feet—although when Vicky bounced, she actually floated a few inches up off the ground before falling back down.
"That sounds great," Dean said, with a practiced smile on his face. The worst part of Dean was that he actually was genuine most of the time, but he was so good at putting on that smile that you could never exactly tell.
"Angela?" Taylor asked. "Does that sound good to you, or do you want something else?"
"Oh, yeah. Sure," Angela said, shrugging. It was hard for Angela to ignore the little voice in her head that said they were going here because of her—because it was an Asian restaurant, and she was Asian, so of course she'd know what it was and want to go there. Never mind that she'd never had 'okonomiyaki' or that it sounded Japanese when her own parents had immigrated from Chengdu, China before she was born. It was an old fear, born from old pain and careless assumptions, and she wanted Taylor to be better but it was hard to just dismiss the possibility out of hand.
They walked a few blocks over, following Taylor's lead. The restaurant they ended up at didn't look like much from the outside, just a plain wooden building with a sign written in Japanese. She recognized a few of the characters, like the one for 'big' and 'taste,' since there was an overlap between hanzi and kanji, but if Taylor was expecting her to act as any kind of translator she'd be out of luck.
"Welcome to Osaka no Aji," the hostess greeted them as they walked in. Her English was heavily accented—not uncommon in Brockton Bay, since it had been one of the main American cities to take in refugees from Japan after Leviathan sank Kyushu, and the subsequent earthquakes and tidal waves had devastated much of the rest of the country.
Taylor smiled and bowed back. "Ohayō! Yonin desu, onegaishimasu."
"Douzo kochira e," the woman said, smiling in return, and gesturing for them to follow her. The restaurant was mostly empty, although there were a couple older men sitting at one of the tables with a beer and a large sauce-covered dish with some kind of shaved flakes on top. They were sat a few tables away, and the woman began to place menus in front of them—in English, thankfully.
"Sumimasen. Nihongo menyū onegaishimasu," Taylor said to the woman.
"Hai, shōshō omachi kudasai," the woman said. "Nihongo jōzu! Doko de manabimashita ka?"
Taylor laughed a little, ducking her head. "Īe, madamada desu. Zenzen jōzu janai yo. Eto… tomodachi kara mananda."
"Sugoi desu ne," the waitress said, smiling at her. "Ima nihongo menyū o motte kimasu."
"Arigatou," Taylor replied, smiling back. Then she seemed to notice Angela and the others staring at her, and she hunched her shoulders a bit. "What?" she asked.
"You didn't say you knew Japanese!" Angela said, giving her a playful punch in the shoulder.
"I didn't?" Taylor asked, her head tilting to the side. "Oh yeah. I guess it just never came up?"
"That's so cool!" Vicky said. "Where did you learn?"
"Someone I used to know," Taylor replied. "She grew up in Takatsuki, in Osaka, but she moved here after, well. You know."
"Do you still keep in touch?" Angela asked, trying not to feel a small flare of jealousy that really had no place in this conversation.
Taylor winced. "Oh, um. She passed away recently, in Boston. We had something of a quarrel before she died, and I've always regretted it." She looked down at the table, playing with her fingers. Dean looked pale—did he have a similar experience with a relative?
Ordering went smoothly enough, especially with Taylor there to help translate questions and advise them on menu items. It was, as always, kind of hot to see Taylor acting with such casual competence. It had become very clear that she'd brought them here because she had a real passion for the food, and when their meals came out—Angela had ended up getting the same thing Taylor got, 'modern style' which apparently meant there were noodles sandwiched between the pork and cabbage, and it was honestly absolutely delicious.
She was having a hard time not falling for Taylor Hebert, and the girl really wasn't making it easy on her. Worse, from the looks that Vicky and Dean were giving her, she wasn't being nearly as subtle about it as she hoped. And yet, somehow, Angela really couldn't bring herself to regret a thing.
Taylor worked in her lab, waiting for the notification that the new Wards had arrived. Any member of the Protectorate with any rating in Tinker was automatically given a lab space and a small budget for materials, which could be increased substantially based on the practicality and utility of their creations. Since Taylor had both Basilisk's poison-based tinker power, as well as her own minor tinker rating for being able to mass produce spidersilk, she'd also been given her own lab. Most of the equipment she needed was relatively standard glassware and chemicals, the same as any other chemistry lab, and a host of terrariums for her insects and spiders. The rest of the equipment were a little more specialized: a crucible, sheets of glass that she could use Mason's power to shape into more specialized glassware, an actual beehive in one corner and a small garden of lethal flowers next to it, since poison-infused honey was a particularly potent ingredient for many of Basilisk's poisons.
Of course, since it wasn't public knowledge that Bumble had a poison power, they'd had to come up with a way to justify purchases. At the same time, there were a number of Butcher powers that had been categorically struck off from being used by Bumble, foremost of which was Basilisk's poison-based tinkertech, as well as Absinthe's fear aura, Frenzy's rage aura, and the first Butcher's pain blast. At the same time, one of the most clear cut results from parahuman research was that powers needed to be used. And so, Malady was born: a 'shadow' member of the Protectorate, which was a term given to certain tinkers and thinkers that supported a given Protectorate and PRT operation without often going into the field directly. The expense for the laboratory had ended up under Malady's sign-up bonus—and, conveniently enough, Malady happened to use insects frequently in 'her' work, which gave Bumble a very good reason to be seen frequently in the lab.
They could have just had the space look like a normal chemistry laboratory, but Taylor had talked it over with Image and they'd agreed to fork over a little more money to stylize it to fit the Malady persona. The acid resistant table had been given a finish to look like rough wood, several of the more exotic pieces of glassware were hanging on the walls as decoration, and she'd been happy to use the powers of Sepsis and Mason to create an artificial layer of rust or tarnishing over most of the metal tools, albeit one that was carefully designed not to inhibit their function. The end result looked like a cross between an alchemist's workshop, a witch's hut, and a mad scientist's laboratory. Taylor loved it, and plenty of the Butchers enjoyed the look too.
Naturally, Malady needed a different costume, for the few times she would appear in public. They hadn't quite settled on a final design, but she'd been going back and forth with image on the design and it seemed like the 'plague doctor chic' aesthetic had been firmly locked in. She was currently wearing the most recent design, black robes with silver chains and belts strewn around in a manner that toed the line between chaotic and organized, while also leaving plenty of belt loops for a variety of vials with different poisons and materials, and of course a classic plague mask that would make her look a bit like a crow. Honestly, Taylor loved it. She enjoyed being Bumble, and she enjoyed the misdirection she was pulling off, but she still had all the parts of the chorus that loved the brutal apocalyptic aesthetic that the Teeth had embraced, and while Malady wasn't quite there she would have still fit in just fine.
Taylor hummed to herself as she worked, considering the changes that had come in the past week. Sophia was in the doghouse, that was for sure. A cursory investigation into the girl's digital communications had been enough to corroborate most of Taylor's own accusations, although they didn't have enough evidence to conclusively put the locker incident itself on the probationary Ward. From her bugs' senses, Taylor had been able to eavesdrop and pick up that there was also some evidence that Sophia had been going out on unauthorized patrols, although they didn't have enough to really pin her to the wall over that either. That didn't really matter, though—there was more than enough smoke for the Director to conclude that there was indeed fire, and Piggot had been quick to arrange a transfer for the Ward to the New York division, unofficially for Ellisburg guard duty.
The important thing, in Taylor's mind, was that Sophia was finally facing some form of punishment, and that she would no longer be in the Bay. Of course, Taylor also hoped that she got the help that she needed, despite what the Butchers in her head might want, but that was outside of her control. She'd done what she could, and she refused to spend any more time agonizing over the fate of Sophia Hess.
Taylor poured seven milligrams of an off-white powder—snake egg shells, dried and crushed—into a beaker, and then added twenty-three milliliters of a solution of manchineel sap dissolved into hydrofluoric acid. By all accounts, the interaction should have just created a useless mess, but Basilisk's power meant that the resulting solution was a pale purple fluid that contained the blistering effect of the Manchineel sap, the delayed activation and deep tissue penetration of hydrofluoric acid, and the penetrative power of a snake bite. This was a poison meant to be used on Brutes and Changers—she was specifically thinking of Hookwolf or Lung, since it would be able to slip through metal and scales and leave lingering damage behind, not activating until well after Bumble was clear from the scene. Not very nice, admittedly, but they weren't particularly nice people.
Carefully, she started to stir the solution with a polished stick made of chokecherry wood, making sure to move at a steady pace of 34 rpm. The other good news about Sophia being moved away was that they were getting a couple new Ward transfers on a temporary basis as a result. Weld was coming from Boston, a Ward and Case 53 whose body was made almost entirely out of metal. He was capable of absorbing any metal that touched his body, as well as reshaping his body itself into weapons, shields, walls, and anything else he needed.
We fought Weld a few times, Novocain mused. His power seems simple at first, but it's got good utility, and it's pretty hard to hurt him at all.
He wasn't affected by Mason or Mimic, he's immune to most of my poisons, and shrugged off Frenzy's aura like it was nothing, Basilisk mused. The only things that actually worked was Wendigo's power, for some reason.
Beneficial Manton Limit Duality, Howitzer chimed in. Pretty rare, and usually only seen in changer forms or certain lucky Case 53s. It's when they count as in-organic for organic based powers, and organic for inorganic ones. The opposite is Adverse Manton Limit Duality, where you're both organic and inorganic for the purposes of powers, which is actually far rarer.
Taylor absently nodded, reaching for three of the dried atropa bella-donna berries from one of the glass jars on her workstation. She dropped them into a mortar and began to grind them down with the pestle. Due to his BMLD, Weld could no sell most of their abilities: Butcher's pain blast, Devein's bloodsight, Absinthe's hallucinations, Frenzy's rage blast, and most of Basilisk's poisons were completely ineffective against the Ward, and on top of that his Brute rating let him tank most of the Butchers' direct attacks, and his ability to reform his body by absorbing metal let him recover from Sepsis' decay. That wasn't to say she couldn't hurt or kill him, if she really tried to, but that was true of pretty much every cape that she could think of.
Oh sure, and what would you do against someone like Alexandria? Mason said, a little scornfully.
Taylor's brow furrowed. Quietly, she said, "I mean, she still needs to breathe, right? Between my bugs and Basilisk's power, I'm sure we could figure something out. And that's not even getting into what we could do if I ate someone with an All-or-Nothing kind of power beforehand." She liked speaking out loud to the other Butchers, when she was alone—it helped it feel a little less like she was just another voice in her head.
Holy shit, Sepsis whispered, sounding awed.
Taylor, do you seriously have plans to kill every cape you know about? Novocain asked, sounding somewhat taken aback. I mean, now that I'm looking for it, I can see that you do, but damn, girl.
Taylor felt her brow furrow. "Of course. I mean, knowing someone's weakness is just as important when it comes to protecting them as it is when you want to murder them. Didn't you guys do the same thing?"
I did the same thing, before I inherited, Howitzer said, and she sounded approving. It's just common sense.
Fuck, if you'd gone villain you would have been terrifying, Sepsis said, her voice a little wistful. It would have been glorious.
And you don't feel like that goes against your whole 'heroic intentions' bullshit? Butcher asked, incredulous.
"I don't want to die young, and I'm not the kind of person who enjoys crazy parties and drugs and stuff like that, so the Teeth were out." Taylor said, feeling herself get a little annoyed. She'd thought they'd already been over this. "The Wards were the next best option, and it helped that it pissed you guys off. That doesn't make me naive, though. I know what the world's like, and I'm more than prepared to kill again if I need to."
The berries had been reduced to a fine powder, and she took a tiny handful of it and placed it on her tongue. It tingled, a little, but between Basilisk's dramatically improved poison resistance and Cordycep's own power, regular poisons were pretty much useless against Taylor. She made a face. The dried berries had lost some potency in their preservation, which meant she had to add a fourth berry if she didn't want her resulting poison to be suboptimal. She ground that one up quickly too, then stirred the powder into the poison.
Huh, Cordyceps said. I mean I knew that, but… I guess it's easy to forget, with all that was going on. You play the perfect little Ward so well it's easy to forget you're still a Butcher.
Taylor felt her lips quirk. "That's kind of the point," she said, shaking her head.
The second transfer was from New York, a cape named Flechette who was apparently something of a rising star amongst the Wards. She was being transferred to Brockton Bay ostensibly so she could scout out different Protectorate headquarters for when she graduated from the Wards. Taylor's bugs, however, had picked up rumors of a long-standing conflict between her and a villain named March that apparently was related to the move as well. Taylor didn't know much more about the young woman, although she seemed to be an actual grab bag with a primary striker power that allowed her to imbue objects with some kind of 'physics defying' ability, along with some minor thinker powers for aim and timing, which lent her the ability to dodge bullets and snatch arrows out of the air. It seemed pretty powerful, and also a pretty potent anti-brute ability—one that would almost certainly be effective against, say, a cape with six different brute powers and a previous proclivity for firing parahumanly accurate arrows.
The poison had turned a deep purple color, shot through with streaks of solid silver in a manner that felt quite wrong for a liquid with such low viscosity, but that was powers for you. It was just about complete—it would need to rest for a few hours so that some of the contaminants could precipitate out, but that could happen off the heat. She carefully transferred the solution from the beaker to a smaller glass vial, making sure to get every last drop transferred over, even using Mason's power to morph the glass and push the poison out.
There was a knock at the door to her lab, a quick shave and a haircut pattern. "One moment!" Taylor called out. She smiled to herself, pushing a cork in the top of the glass vial and sealing it with wax from one of the candles. For whatever reason, Basilisk's power often responded better to less technically sophisticated methods of preparation and storage. She didn't know why, and the power testers weren't able to come up with a consistent explanation besides 'powers are bullshit,' but it was another reason to stick more heavily to the Malady theme.
The knock came again as Taylor pulled the heavy gloves and apron off her body, dropping them in a basket in the corner. Her bugs had already picked up on the person outside, the figure easily recognizable as Kid Win through the laser pistols strapped to his side. A look with her bloodsight through the wall confirmed it, letting her see the web of his corona pollentia that clearly lined up with a Tinker.
With a twist of Howitzer's power, Taylor teleported out of her lab and next to Kid Win, with only a small wash of heat and a faint 'pop' sound to mark the teleport—she was getting better about controlling the explosive aspect of the power all the time. "Are you looking for someone?" she asked, casually.
Kid Win jumped a little at her voice, whirling around. "Holy shit!" he cried out, his blaster practically leaping into his hands and rising up before he recognized her. "Don't do that!"
She snickered. "But you guys fall for it every time! Honestly, you should be thanking me—I'm training you in case we ever run into an enemy teleporter."
He gave her a deadpan expression. "I doubt that'll help much against Oni Lee."
"That's a defeatist attitude," Taylor replied, with a half shrug. "If you fail to prepare, you prepare to fail."
"Is that also why you turned the pillow right next to Clockblocker into an animated bug monstrosity, right when he was leaning back on it?"
Taylor let out a snort at the memory. "Nah, that was just because it was funny. Well, and payback for him trying to get me with the old 'handshake freeze' routine." That had been Mimic's idea—he had used to love playing pranks with his power, although the results had tended to be quite a bit more bloody and lethal.
You can't tell me the Snapping Sneakers incident wasn't hilarious, the cape in question said, pushing forward a memory of him animating the shoes of a group of Empire members, back in the 90s when Sepsis had still been the Butcher. His power had apparently taken the 'tongue' of the sneakers rather literally, turning the interior into a mouth with sharp teeth that quickly began chewing on their wearer's feet. Taylor could admit that it was pretty funny, although she also knew she was far, far more desensitized to the horrors of violence and gore than most people.
Kid Win smiled, despite himself. "I really didn't know his voice could get that high," he said.
"I know, right? I honestly think he's got a promising career in opera, if the whole superhero thing doesn't work out," Taylor said.
"Is that the final costume?" he asked, looking over her robes and mask. "Kind of spooky, not gonna lie."
She smoothed them down almost reflexively. "Close to it, at least. I'm guessing you came to get me because the transfers have arrived?"
"That's the size of it, yeah," he said, with a little shrug. "Well, that, and I kind of wanted to talk with you."
They started to walk toward the Wards' quarters. "What about?" she said, casually.
Oh my god if he confesses to her I'm going to lose it, Cordyceps said, her voice more than a little gleeful.
That's not happening, Absinthe said, dryly. He's better at hiding it, but the boy is still scared shitless of her.
Some people are into that, Wendigo said, with the mental equivalent of a wide toothy grin.
"I've been thinking about the Circus fight," he said, after a moment. "When she shot that wall of fire and you jumped in front of me."
"What about it?"
He bit his lip for a moment, as though he was nervous to ask. "Just. It was pretty heroic, you know? And I couldn't get it out of my head. And then I realized that the only reason it stood out so much was because I wasn't expecting you to be heroic. The whole fight, I kind of kept expecting you to murder Circus, or go on a rampage, or something."
That got the Butcher's hackles up, and she had to shove several down that were calling for Kid Win's blood for the disrespect. The irony, apparently, was entirely lost on the chorus. She just stayed quiet, letting him get to his point.
He didn't quite meet her eyes. "And I realized, y'know, I wouldn't think that way about Aegis or Vista, or even Shadow Stalker. I was acting like you were a villain before I gave you a chance to show you weren't."
Taylor couldn't help the small quirk of her lips, hidden behind her plague doctor mask. "It's fine, Chris. Really. I get it."
"It's not though," he said, shaking his head virulently. "You're trying to be a hero, and I know that must have been a hard decision, harder than it was for any of the rest of us, and nobody's giving you a chance."
"I think you need to give yourself more credit," Taylor replied. "I spent most of the past few years around people who made it very clear that I wasn't wanted, and I know what it feels like. That's never how it felt with the other Wards. And besides, trust is something that you earn, and my situation means it will just take longer. That's fine, Chris. And if I've earned some from you, well, I'll just do my best to repay it."
They reached the Wards quarters, checking in with two retinal scans. No alarms went off, since they were alone and both keyed into the system, so they both stepped inside. The rest of the Wards were already there, and Vista even gave Taylor a little wave as they entered, and Taylor waved back. It wasn't where she wanted to be, but it was a start.
~*~
Lily felt the familiar sensation of Strider's teleportation, like she'd taken a step and missed a stair. She didn't quite fall over, but it was disorientating, and even with her power assisted balance she took a moment to recover. She'd been teleported a few times before, but it never really got easier as far as she was concerned.
Two heroes were standing outside of the helicopter landing pad that Strider liked to use, a man with rust red body armor of the same color and a visor over his eyes, and a woman in a skintight dark gray costume with deep blue lines like a circuit tracing the surface and a matching helmet. Lily recognized them from the briefing she'd received back in New York—Assault and Battery, members of the local Protectorate team. Assault stepped forward, a wide smile visible underneath his helmet.
"Hey there! You must be Flechette and Weld, right? Because otherwise I'm pretty sure I'm at the wrong helipad," he said, his tone jovial.
"That's us, sir," Weld said, from her right. He looked at first glance like nothing more than a buff teenage guy, except for the fact that his entire body was made of a silvery metal. He'd warned her to keep her arbalest away from him, since he absorbed any metal he touched unconsciously, and she'd promptly switched it to the left side of her body. Still, he seemed like a nice guy, even if she'd only known him for the few minutes between the time when he teleported in to New York with Strider and the second teleport to Brockton Bay.
Battery spoke up next. "I'm sorry that Armsmaster wasn't able to meet you, but he's currently on patrol so you'll have to make do with us. I'm Battery, and the lout who thinks he's funny is Assault."
"I don't think I'm funny," Assault said, putting his hands on his hips dramatically. "I know that I'm hilarious."
"Keep telling yourself that," Battery replied, in a dry tone. "Anyway, we're here to give you both a tour of the facilities, and then we'll get to introducing you to your new team."
"Sounds good, ma'am," Lily said, walking forward and falling into step beside Weld.
The tour was pretty standard, all things considered. It was clear that Assault considered himself something of a comedian, and equally clear that Battery was happy to serve as the straight man for his jokes. The research she'd been able to do on the Brockton Bay team suggested that the two of them might be married or at least a couple, and seeing them interact in person made her understand that perspective. Otherwise, the facilities were pretty much like every other PRT building that she'd been in: floors of cubicles for the analysts and bureaucrats, a wing for PR complete with a basic set for photography, the armory for the PRT troopers and a massive on-base gym that could be used by any employee, although there was apparently a more limited but far more private gym for the Wards' exclusive use.
All of those were things that Lily was expecting, since it seemed like PRT offices tended to follow relatively standard structures. She noticed that Brockton did look less state of the art than the New York branch, though. Computers were a few years older, the paint was faded in places, and there was far less obvious tinkertech. There was also a general attitude that felt more stressed than she was used to, but that made sense as well given the amount of villains that Brockton had. Still, it beat the time she'd spent two months in Virginia, where she wasn't sure that they'd updated their offices since the turn of the century.
And then, it was time for the part of the tour that Lily had honestly been dreading: meeting her new team. She was honestly more than a little scared about this new assignment. Sure, it got her away from March—at least temporarily—but Director Wilkins had read her in on the situation in the Bay. The fact that one of the Wards was the newest Butcher, and nobody seemed to be particularly concerned about that, meant that she was walking into meeting her new team feeling less like a kid on their first day of school and more like a soldier marching onto the battlefield.
Their biometric signatures were already in the system, but since they weren't flagged as knowing the civilian identities of the other Wards, the mask warning still rang out. Thirty seconds later, the lock disengaged and the door swung open, revealing a familiar room that looked more like an apartment than anything. There were several couches, a TV with a VCR and a selection of gaming devices hooked up to it, and a small kitchenette unit. On one side of the room was the console, composed of a futuristic looking desk with a keyboard and several more buttons, switches, and sliders built into it, with six monitors suspended on the wall above it. Nothing really stood out, to her—Wards quarters were pretty much the same across the country, in her experience, with minor differences to suit the spaces. Doors to the side would lead to a hallway with personal rooms, the private gym, and a larger padded room that would serve as a training/sparring facility, although she didn't know which doors led where yet.
Lily's eyes flicked over the Wards inside, looking for the Butcher—for Bumble. There was a guy in power armor she recognized as Gallant, and another in a red and gold body armor that she was pretty sure was Kid Win. Then there was the boy in a white suit covered with clocks, which could only be the unfortunately named Clockblocker, and a larger guy in a tight red bodysuit that she recognized as Aegis, the current leader of the Wards. The only girl she could immediately see was Vista—Lily hadn't even needed to look her up, because Vista was one of the most popular Wards in the country, with merch even in the New York City PRT gift shop. The last figure was tall, wearing black robes that fully obscured their figure, and a hooded mask with a stretched beak. Taken together, the whole outfit made them look like some great bird. When she couldn't spot the signature black and yellow color scheme of Bumble's outfit, or the goofy dangling antenna, it was like a weight had come off Lily's shoulders.
She'd almost expected Assault or Battery to introduce them, but the two older heroes hadn't even come with them into the room. It made some sense, she supposed, that they let the Wards introduce themselves without explicit oversight. In her experience, Protectorate heroes tended to be fairly hands off when it came to Wards social dynamics, unless they were needed
"Hey there," Lily said, waving to the group. "I'm Flechette. Just transferred here from New York. I'm a striker/blaster, but my power's pretty weird."
"I'm Weld," the man said, from next to them. "I was in Boston, before now. I've got a decent brute rating, so I mainly serve as a tank, but I've got a passive changer power that absorbs metal. It's kind of a pain, but it can be really useful for disabling guns and knives."
"It's great to have you here," the large guy said, stepping forward and giving Weld a firm handshake. "I'm Aegis, the current leader of the ENE Wards. Let me know if you have any questions or complaints, and I'll be sure to address them."
Lily took his hand next. It was firm but not overly strong, like he didn't feel he had anything to prove, which she privately filed away as a good sign. Aegis continued, saying, "I've got some basic flight and some automatic biokinesis that lets me fake a brute rating, but it'll be nice to have a proper brute on the team. And another blaster is always helpful—ranged support keeps everyone safer." He smiled at her, and she felt relieved. Aegis seemed like a good guy, someone who focused on complimenting their abilities rather than seeing them as interlopers.
There was a round of introductions, then. Most of their powers matched up with what she'd read online, although she'd been a little surprised that Gallant was just an emotional thinker/blaster, and not actually a tinker at all. Well, she was pretty sure that he'd be accurately counted as a human master, but the PRT tried to avoid using that label for their Wards or heroes, in her experience, and it was marginal enough that she understood why he said that.
Then they got to the black clad Ward. Lily had noticed that the others in the room, especially Aegis, Clockblocker, and Gallant, were giving them a decent berth. The unknown cape had been watching Weld, their expression entirely obscured behind what Lily could now recognize as a plague doctor's mask, and they didn't introduce themselves until Vista warped space and gave them a sharp poke in the side.
"Oh, right," the birdlike cape said, whipping her head back around to face Lily. And it was a she, as near as Lily could tell—her voice a little muffled but distinctly feminine. "Uh, I think we've settled on Malady for this identity, and we're going with a poison based Tinker/Shaker for powers." Then she was reaching up and pulling off her mask, revealing a girl with a wide mouth and long luxurious hair. She had what really should be rather plain features, except that somehow the way she held herself meant they came off as striking instead. She was a couple years too young for Lily's taste, and not her type besides, but that didn't mean Lily couldn't appreciate beauty when she saw it. The girl was still speaking, she realized belatedly. "Outside of costume, you can just call me Taylor, though."
And then it really hit her that this girl had just unmasked almost immediately upon meeting her new teammates. It was a level of trust that staggered Lily, although she wasn't quite willing to return it yet. "That sounds like a difficult power," she said, instead.
"I guess," Taylor shrugged. "I mean, that's why I created Malady, though, she's not really going to be patrolling as much. My more serious poisons are only really for high powered brutes or A-class threats and higher, and I probably won't see combat as Malady except in those situations. Otherwise, I'm mainly hoping to support the Protectorate with paralytics and sedatives, things like that."
Lily nodded, although she understood some of the other's hesitation, now. "You have full control over your shaker power, though, right?"
The girl nodded. "Oh, for sure. It's not actually a poison effect, it just looks like that. I can create fields of pain and pain negation, as well as rot through anything that gets close to me. But I've got a tight grip on all of that, trust me."
Something about that description seemed suspicious in Lily's mind, but she also knew that nobody could control what powers they got stuck with. "Hey, all powers can be dangerous," she said, placing a friendly hand on the girl's shoulder. "My power can be insanely lethal, if I'm not careful with it. What matters is how you use it."
"Thanks," Malady—Taylor, really—told her, with a wry smile. "That's what I've been trying to tell myself, too."
Aegis clapped his hands, drawing attention. "Right, well, now that introductions are out of the way, we've got some pizza and soft drinks here for a bit of a welcome party." His voice was cheery, although his expression looking a little strained. Was he prejudiced against Malady? Maybe there was a history there that she didn't know, but that didn't seem entirely in character with how accepting he'd been before. Still, she resolved not to judge either of them too badly until she learned more details. That was a lesson she'd learned the hard way.
The welcome party was a nice affair, as far as those things went. Kid Win had put on some music, largely pop with some hip-hop and rock mixed in, but it was played at a volume that wasn't too loud. At first, there was the standard awkwardness of teenagers trying to get through icebreakers and small talk, but it wasn't long before conversation began to flow more naturally. For some reason, Lily found herself talking with Malady the most out of any of the Wards. Some of that was because Weld had been drawn into a Mario Kart game with Clockblocker, Aegis, and Kid Win, while Vista and Gallant talked about some reality decorating show they both watched. It was kind of obvious that Vista had a puppy crush on the boy, but the preteen also seemed mature enough to not let that get in the way of being friends and teammates.
Taylor turned out to be a pretty good conversationalist. She'd clearly lived in New York for a while at one point, too, and they spent some time talking about the city: their favorite delis, the best play they'd seen off Broadway, and griping about the L train. The conversation continued from there, though, drifting into places they'd like to visit, where Lily wanted to work after she graduated to the Protectorate, and what she might want to do if she wasn't a hero (a thought that had, admittedly, been weighing heavily on her mind as of late). For whatever reason, Taylor was just an easy person to talk to, and Lily would have been more than happy to be on this team if it wasn't for the one thing that hadn't been addressed yet.
About an hour into the welcoming party, Lily felt like she couldn't really ignore the elephant in the room anymore (or that wasn't really in the room, as the case might be)."Can I ask you something a bit awkward?" Lily said, lowering her voice.
Taylor's brow furrowed. "I can't promise I'll answer, but you can certainly ask," she said, a little cautiously.
Lily had been trying to figure out the best way to phrase this, but eventually she realized that she just had to bite the bullet. "Before I left New York, I was debriefed on the state of Brockton Bay," she began. "And, as part of that, I heard that one of the Wards, Bumble, was the new Butcher. I guess I just wanted to ask you what it's like, working with her. And if I should be worried, I guess."
The other girl froze, and for a moment Lily wondered if she'd hit a sensitive subject, and then she dropped her face into her hands and groaned. "Oh my god, I'm such an idiot," she murmured, voice muffled by her hands. "They're never going to let me live this down."
"Hey, it's fine," Lily said, trying to reassure her new teammate and potential friend. "I don't blame you for not warning us, or anything. I don't know if you're allowed to talk about it or something."
"No, that's not it," Taylor said, finally lifting her head. "I mean, I assumed that you guys would be briefed anyway. I just… kind of forgot that I was in this costume, at the moment."
Now it was Lily's turn to furrow her brow. "What do you mean?"
Taylor took a deep breath. "Malady is an identity I created, with the help of the PRT, so that I could use some of the less palatable parts of my power without linking it back to my public facing identity, and I realized that I completely forgot to introduce myself with my usual cape name. God, it makes so much sense why you've been weirdly approachable so far."
There was a fuzzy picture forming in Lily's mind, putting together the way that Taylor kept talking about 'creating' Malady and some of the powers that Malady had, and she was pretty sure she didn't like it. She was also pretty sure she didn't like just how self-deprecating Taylor sounded, there. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"I mean, I am Malady, but I'm also Bumble," the girl said. "That's my main identity, and the one that I use on patrols. So, uh, I'm not sure how well I can actually answer your questions."
Lily froze. That fuzzy picture cleared up, all the puzzle pieces slotting into place, and making an image that made both too much sense and no sense at all. Taylor had been nice and welcoming, and had asked her about her experience as a Ward. Taylor had insightful comments on Flechette's power and the research around grab bag capes. Taylor was the latest in a line of mass murdering insane maniacs, who had built a reputation for wanton violence and cruelty that was second only to the Nine. Something about this did not compute.
"You really don't seem insane," Lily said, once she'd found her nerve (and her voice). She felt strangely calm, for some reason. She should probably be feeling her fight or flight instincts surging to life, being this close to the Butcher, but she just… didn't.
"I mean, technically I've got voices in my head," the other girl said, with a smirk that was half obnoxious and half just sad. "I think that makes me some kind of schizophrenic, at least. But, uh. To answer what you're actually asking, we think that it's because I have a master power over arthropods, and it comes with power-assisted multitasking. It means I can't really get distracted by the voices or memories in the way the other Butchers did, plus I can kind of push the more annoying ones into my swarm, for lack of a better word."
"Huh," Lily said, because what else do you say to that? "I guess none of the other Butchers were masters, then?"
"Well, technically, Frenzy—uh, that'd be Butcher IX—had a Master's in Art History," Taylor said, with a little grin. "But no, not in the power sense. The closest they had was Mimic, Butcher V, but he couldn't directly control his minions so he was really a shaker."
"Huh. So Malady…"
"Yeah," Taylor replied, nodding. "Malady's there so I can use some of the less palatable Butcher powers, the ones that we couldn't work into the Bumble identity. I'm sure you know how it feels when you don't use your powers for a while. Unfortunately, I have that, times fifteen."
And yeah, Lily did know. She'd been terrified of her striker power when she'd first discovered it, afraid of just how lethal it could be to decouple anything she touched from reality, and she had tried to not use it at first. After only a couple weeks of suppressing that aspect of her power, she'd been left jittery and irritable, and it only got worse until she gave in and finally used her power on a pinecone, which she ended up tossing straight through a tree. "I'm so sorry," she said, because she couldn't imagine how rough that would be.
"Thanks," Taylor said, with a wry grin. "But it's honestly fine, more or less. I'm actually doing way better now than I was before I inherited."
"I imagine that's not the usual way that goes," Lily said, dryly.
Taylor laughed at that, a full head-thrown-back guffaw that drew some attention from the other Wards. "No, it really isn't. You've got a talent for understatement, Flechette."
And it was so stupid, but it wasn't like Lily had anyone else to protect, so she said, "You can call me Lily, at least in private."
Taylor froze, staring at her in shock. Then she was blinking rapidly, and Lily could swear she saw a few tears form in the other girl's eyes before they were wiped away. "Ah, thanks," she said, her voice just a tad shaky. "I look forward to working with you, Lily."
"And I look forward to working with you too, Taylor." And yeah, there was no justification for telling the Butcher her civilian name, but looking at how touched Taylor seemed, she couldn't really bring herself to regret it. Somehow, she thought that this whole Brockton Bay transfer might actually work, despite everything. Then she looked over at Weld and winced, realizing she'd need to break the news to him that he'd been in the same room as the Butcher for the past hour and hadn't noticed. Ah well, she'd let him finish this race—he was winning, at the moment, and on Rainbow Road that was no mean feat.
a/n: aaahhh this chapter really got away from me. It took forever to write and ended up way longer than I expected, but oh well. I actually have the chapter after this one entirely written at this point, it just needs an editing pass, so it probably won't be too long before it comes out. And yes I wrote the chapters at the same time, don't ask me why---my writing process is inscrutable and unknowable, even (or especially) to me. Anyway, we get the introduction of Malady and the new transfers. Surely having Flechette in Brockton Bay this early isn't going to have any severe ramifications for the canon plotline.
edit: whoops forgot that Oni Lee existed. Fixed it.