"Director Piggot wants to speak with you privately, Amy," Miss Militia tells me.
"Amy is still a minor and in every case of communication with government representatives or civil administration, the presence of guardians is required. I currently perform this function," Carol Dallon says dryly, dressed in her Brandish costume.
"This is quite... a delicate matter, ma'am," Miss Militia says. "It concerns certain aspects of treatment. You're expected in the conference room, Lady Photon and Laser Show are already waiting there."
"Sarah and Crystal are here? Amy, don't sign anything without my consent, alright?" Brandish leans over me - after all, Panacea isn't that tall, while Brandish is quite statuesque.
"Yes, ma'am. I won't sign anything," I nod.
"Especially advertising contracts or any contracts, for that matter. Agreements and obligations. Don't sign anything," she straightens up and glances at Miss Militia. "I hope you understand that her signature on a document would be invalid without a guardian's signature?"
"Of course we understand that, ma'am. Please," Miss Militia hands Carol, Mark, and Victoria over to some PRT trooper who escorts them to the conference room. I smirk to myself. Carol is more concerned about whether I might sign something - some contract for out-of-turn healing or medical equipment advertising... two conclusions immediately suggest themselves. First - Carol Dallon doesn't trust the PRT, doesn't trust them at all. That's understandable though, she's a lawyer, specifically a lawyer dealing with cape cases, so she's seen plenty of "system failures." And the second conclusion - she's not that worried about Amy. Generally, Amy is like an ugly duckling in the Dallon family, while Victoria is the shining pinnacle, object of worship and all that. Though if you look at power levels, Victoria can't hold a candle to Amy. If you removed Amy's restrictions, added a bit of imagination and left her alone for a couple of years - Amy could accomplish such things... right now my bugs are working, for example, on the "Magic Pot" project - a protein-organic mass that could process any garbage and organic waste into... meat. Yes, such a meat ball - you splash some slop on it, and it expands outward. You can cut off a piece anytime and put it in a pan... and by the way, you can eat it raw too. This "meat proteins, fats, carbohydrates and other things. No nerve fibers, no pain, no consciousness, just a protein ball that can be grown in any conditions. The hunger problem would be solved. And there's also the "Ganymede" project. Eternal youth or eternal life for each and everyone without exception. No, people will still die from diseases and injuries, nothing can be done about that, but they'll definitely stop dying from old age. The "Ganymede" virus is already being developed, humanity will get sick with it in a year or two, after testing, but it's almost ready. So compare solving the hunger problem, the gift of eternal youth, curing autoimmune diseases on a planetary scale with the ability to fly, wear a costume that emphasizes ass and breasts, plus strength whose best application Vicky sees as inflicting bodily harm on criminals on city streets. God, if Amy wanted to, she could stop all crimes in the world... though it wouldn't lead to anything good, but she could. She could.
So the status quo in the Dallon family is simply amazing and impossible, but it exists. Vicky is the bright star, Amy is the ugly duckling. Hence so many distortions in the latter. No, Vicky is traumatized too, but still less so. At least she communicates with people.
"Amy?" Miss Militia says. "This way." She opens the door to Piggot's office for me. I walk inside. Emily Piggot, director of the PRT branch in Brockton Bay, sits behind the desk and her face... she has a difficult face right now. Like she ate a lemon and chased it with red jalapeño pepper.
"Hello," I say and modestly lower my eyes, the way Amy would do.
"Hello Amy," the director says. "Or should I call you Administrator?"
"Well that's completely unfair," I say, stopping my "Amy" act. "Just completely. I thought I'd lead you around by the nose at least a little..."
"After Taylor first died during Leviathan's attack, and then her body disappeared from the morgue? After Megawatt and Barrier unexpectedly came back to life? After Amy Dallon collapsed the same second the bracelet registered Administrator's death?" the director raises an eyebrow. "All this could have been a chain of unrelated events, but nothing happens by chance around you. There are no coincidences around you. And the behavior... the smallest details give you away completely."
"Damn. Well, alright. Your analysts don't eat their bread for nothing after all," I say, crossing my legs. "So, what did you want to talk about? If anything, she attacked me first. And killed me. I didn't come within cannon shot of her. I won't let myself be arrested. I have plans."
"I have no desire to arrest you now," she replies. "I didn't call you here for that. The resurrection of Megawatt and Barrier... could Panacea always do that? Or is it a consequence of synergy between your powers and hers?"
"Synergy," I lie straight to her face. I don't want to throw Amy under the bus, even though right now I could rub Director Piggot's face in the dirt - look where all your policy of "villains should be feared" and "biotinkers are evil" has led. As a result, Panacea, who could count to ten, didn't even reach two. And how many people she could have literally saved! This just doesn't get through to the knights in shining armor of virtue. But... I don't want to. Rubbing Piggot's face in dirt isn't much of an achievement. And I don't want to spoil Panacea's bright legacy. Let them think she's a saint... and besides, at this moment in time, her legacy is my legacy. I'll deal with Panacea herself somehow... either me or Number Five. Now there's someone who's a surprisingly good psychoanalyst, though with a certain inclination toward "and now you're all my bitches," but nevertheless.
"Can you... do this with the others? With those who fell during the battle with Leviathan?" Piggot asks, and I see hope in her eyes. Hope and fear.
"I can. But not with everyone," I answer. "Megawatt and Barrier had an intact part of the brain with... certain changes."
"Gemma and Corona Pollentia. That's what it's called," Miss Militia says, and only now do I notice she's still in the room. I'm really tired after all, my perception is starting to fail, but... right now I absolutely cannot be tired and ineffective, these are important negotiations. I slap myself on the thigh and lean back as liquid Panacea spreads through my veins, granting me lightness, confidence in my abilities and energy to turn this world upside down - give me a fulcrum! With completely different eyes I look at the director, at Miss Militia, at the fact that the red light on the camera hanging in the corner under the ceiling is absent. The conversation isn't being recorded. Interesting.
"If the brains are mush - I can still raise the body," I say. "But what will happen to its head - no idea. I... Panacea doesn't touch the brain. Her ability doesn't extend to higher nervous activity." I lie straight to Director Piggot's face again. Why am I lying? Because the ability to influence the brain, and in such a way that a person doesn't notice it - that's already a real Heartbreaker, that's just such a huge red flag and stop signal. I don't think they'll try to arrest me now, but even if... I've taken precautions.
"And if... the body's user died long ago?" Piggot asks. "Could you do it then?"
"When I was in the morgue, I noticed that in some capes, despite death, areas of the Gemma and Corona Pollentia are still active. Well... that is, they don't generate heat, don't consume glucose, but are still active. Those I can raise."
"I see. Powers are complete bullshit. Nonsense. I'm amazed every time," Piggot shakes her head. "I have two requests for you. I understand the full gravity of the situation and... the peculiarity of your position, but I'm forced to ask you about something..."
"About what?" I raise an eyebrow.
"About keeping our conversation and your new ability secret. As well as all of this..." she waves her fingers in the air, clearly trying to find words, "unpleasant incident."
"Incident?" I ask, folding my arms across my chest.
"Yes. About your transfer into Panacea, about the resurrection of heroes, and in general - about Administrator's death. I've taken control of the information, if Administrator appears in public again in the near future, if even one video with her participation appears - we'll be able to hush this up. The last thing the PRT needs after what happened is a PR catastrophe. People are already in shock after what happened, hundreds of victims and thank God not thousands. But tens of thousands of people are either wounded or left without housing and access to clean fresh water and food. We're now forming special tent cities for those who suffered as a result of the city flooding or directly during Leviathan's attack. Of course people are upset, many have post-traumatic syndrome, stress and fear easily breed panic. Despite the fact that Administrator is not a hero, the last thing we need now are rumors about a new Butcher. Especially if the new Butcher becomes Panacea!"
"I can understand that," I nod. "Amy has always been this city's hope. Don't worry, as much as I can - this body will live its former life. After all, I didn't steal my own body from the refrigerator for nothing. By the way - I can complain about the storage conditions of my body there. They could have at least closed the eyes and tied up the jaw. And they didn't even wash it."
"Uh... the PRT isn't responsible for transportation and storage conditions of bodies. That's for local funeral service companies or municipal services," the director immediately deflects all accusations. "Due to the number of bodies, a decision was made to rent refrigerated chambers from the cold storage plant. Do you know how much ice cream melted?"
"The ice cream is a pity," I reply. "But next time I expect proper storage of my body. And no messing around with embalming fluid. And... what can you offer me?"
"Offer?" Director Piggot doesn't understand. Or pretends not to understand. Well, I'll have to explain.
"I went along with you, satisfied your request about maintaining incognito, as well as about resurrecting Administrator and I'm ready to turn a blind eye to the attempt on my... what the hell attempt! Panacea killed me!"
"The New Wave parahumans team is outside PRT jurisdiction!" Emily Piggot reminds me.
"Oh, how conveniently everything works out for you!" I raise my voice. "So no one will bear responsibility?"
"Amy Dallon sort of died? In the sense that she's under your direct control? As I understand it, you can create hell for her inside your head. And although the PRT in no way encourages such behavior and doesn't wish harm or painful sensations to Amy Dallon, I can't help but acknowledge that you're within your rights here," Emily sighs, leaning back in her chair. I look at her and think that Emily Piggot is now showing real miracles of equilibristics. Alley-oop! And now the PRT "doesn't encourage" but at the same time "acknowledges my right." How does this sound translated from bureaucratic to ordinary language? Why are you bothering us, Taylor, Amy killed herself on you, and she's also under your power, turn her inside out there if you want. As long as you do it quietly and nothing surfaces - go ahead. What claims do you have against us? The PRT has nothing to do with it.
"Okay," I agree. "I'll... deal with Amy myself." I add a bit of Number Five to my voice and see Miss Militia flinch and Director Piggot shrink slightly in her chair. Oh yes, hearing Number Five say "I'll deal with it myself" is like a snake hissing in your ear. But not just any snake. A snake that will enjoy every moment of this "dealing," a very, very smart and very dangerous snake...
"But about 'keeping it secret' and 'not tarnishing the hero's image' - that's your request. What, everything will be one-sided? Always like this? You're just hanging additional obligations on me?" I fold my arms across my chest. "Not to mention that I'll have to play Panacea here, and I have business to attend to."
"What? But I thought the opportunity to cooperate with the Protectorate and raise your reputation..."
"This doesn't raise Administrator's reputation at all. Except with certain individuals who will know about this. And there will be very few of them, as I understand."
"But these will be influential people," Piggot says. "So we'll know that we can cooperate with you and..."
"Director Piggot," I raise my hand, interrupting her. For a split second I hesitate - I really want to tell the director to go to hell. Along with all her "influential people" who have been chewing snot for the third decade. Who play "cops and robbers," catch cape criminals, and then release them. Who created a duplicate system called the PRT and now police officers in any state at the slightest hint of a cape immediately throw up their hands, turn around and say "this is PRT business, fuck off." The PRT itself catastrophically can't keep up with all incidents, doesn't conduct proper investigations, drops everything as soon as another Endbringer or whatever starts up. And I even understand why - Tattletale once mentioned that supposedly a cape villain alive and free is somehow needed by the PRT. Either for battles with Endbringers, or to inflate their budget for next year - I don't know. From my point of view, this is just ridiculous. Not that many villains sign up for Endbringer battles. Local ones - yes. But to come from everywhere like heroes - no.
"I need status. Legal status of a cape having the right to produce and subsequently sell their products," I say. "Please help me with this."
"But... what exactly are you planning to do?"
"Anything. It's too early to say yet. For now there's only this." I throw a green ball of biological first aid kit on the table. "Let them test it in laboratories, I'll send specifications to your email. However, I'm firmly determined to set up production of protein farms in the near future, as well as Eternal Youth pills. Cinnabar ones, of course. The price will be very low. Everyone will be able to afford youth, imagine how cool that is? I'm also thinking about producing additional arms - to grow from the back, maybe someone will prefer tentacles?"
"Taylor..." the director hides her face in her palms. "That's not how it's done. Any product must first pass certification, you must confirm your quality standard. It's a long and complex procedure. Tinkers who use their own products themselves, like Kid Win and Armsmaster - that's one thing. But to release something on the civilian market... that's completely different."
"Otherwise I'll have to distribute products under the table," I tell her. "So you'd better try."
"I'm not promising anything," the director sighs. "But since you agreed to your part of the deal, I'll do everything possible."
"Super!" I beam and jump to my feet. The biological first aid kit really is a great thing! I entered the office like I was about to die, barely dragging my feet, and now I'm energetic as a cat in heat.
"Deal!" I extend my hand to the director. Piggot hesitates but extends hers and...
"You know you never liked me, Emily?" I raise the corner of my mouth in a villainous smirk. "I've dreamed of doing this for so long!"
"What?!" She jerks her hand out of mine. "What did you do?!"
"I know you have a terrible phobia and would never ask yourself. I healed your kidneys. And not just kidneys. Your vision improved, right? Your legs don't shake anymore, your back straightened up, no more night pains, no more dialysis... your head became clear, right?"
"You! I didn't give permission for intervention!" Piggot straightens up. "Miss Militia! Arrest her!"
"Uh..." Miss Militia glances at me, clearly in no hurry to carry out the order. "Ma'am, she healed you!"
"I didn't want this! How dare you even..." Piggot searches the desk with her eyes, grabs a stapler from the desk and throws it at me. "You! This is a violation of the law!"
"But now you'll have much more energy to pursue me. Health is an important thing after all, ma'am," I catch the stapler in flight and carefully place it on the desk. "Don't mention it. Oh yes... I'm afraid you'll soon have no shortage of suitors..."
"Get out of my office, you brat!" I dodge a hole punch thrown at my head and emerge into the reception area. Miss Militia retreats after me.
"You'll have to forgive her, Taylor," she says. "She's actually grateful. Somewhere deep down..."
"Uh-huh. Somewhere very deep down," I nod.