by wildbow
There was something of a stunned silence. I glanced at Bitch and Alec, and gathered from their expressions that they had already heard this. In contrast to the situation we’d had with the bank robbery, though, they didn’t look all that keen.
Brian started chuckling. After a bit, his chuckle became an all-out laugh.
I didn’t wait for him to finish before I said my piece, “Are you insane? You want us to, what, crash a party, fuck with the people there and then scram before we get ourselves arrested by the—” I struggled to find the words, “By half the fucking heroes in Brockton Bay?!”
“Basically.” Lisa said, raising her hands as if to get me to calm down, “Though it’s probably more like a third of the city’s heroes.”
“Right,” I said. “No offense, Lisa, I’m fond of you and everything, but you kind of underestimated the number of heroes that would show up to the bank robbery, too. Don’t forget that a bunch of heroes came from out of town to help with the ABB situation, and they might stick around for the after-party.”
“True,” she admitted. “But still—”
“And the plan is to piss them off?” I asked, incredulous, “Not just them, either, but that party’s probably going to be attended by the mayor, the DA, the police chief… You’re aware that if we tried this and any of us got caught, it would pretty much be a first class trip to the Birdcage?”
“Sorry, Lise, this is a no,” Brian told her, still looking amused, “I’m perfectly cool with letting all the other groups go at it for a bit. We did our part, and we’ve got nothing to lose in kicking back for a little while.”
“Yeah. I don’t get the point,” Bitch said, scratching the top of Brutus’s head.
“You won’t find anyone more willing to get a little crazy than me,” Alec told Lisa, “But I’m with Bitch. It’s a whole lot of risk, a whole lot of trouble. For what? Tweaking the good guys’ noses?”
“The boss is willing to pay,” Lisa said. “With other considerations.”
“Considerations?” I asked.
“You have to understand,” Lisa sighed, “I don’t disagree with what you guys are saying, but what I can tell you is that this is a test. The boss wants to see if we can pull this off, and if we can, we’re that much more valuable to him. A lot more valuable.”
“Or maybe the test is whether we’re smart enough to turn down a doomed mission,” Brian pointed out.
“Maybe,” Lisa conceded. “I don’t think so, but I won’t deny that it’s possible.”
Brian asked her, “Can we turn this down? I mean, he’s never forced us to take a job.”
“We could,” she didn’t look happy.
He frowned, “I think it’s four votes against, at the very least. I’m assuming you’re going to vote for this plan, Lise?”
“Yeah,” she replied.
“Well, unless we’ve switched from a majority vote system, I guess you can tell the boss ‘thank you, but no’,” he said. When she didn’t reply, he turned to me, “Want to see about putting that kitchen table and bedside table together? I can treat you to a late lunch, if—”
“Two hundred and fifty!” Lisa interrupted him.
He gave her a look, “Two hundred and fifty…”
“Thousand,” she finished for him, dropping her arms to her side, almost defeated. “Each. Damn it. I wanted to get you guys on board before I wowed you with the amount. Sounds desperate when I say it like this, but I can’t let you walk away without letting you know what we’d be turning down.”
The sum gave us pause.
“Just to be clear… One million, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, divided five ways,” Alec said. “For this?”
“Like I said,” Lisa smiled a little, “Biggest job yet.”
“If the boss offered us a quarter million dollars each to walk up to those guys and turn ourselves in, it wouldn’t be that different a scenario,” I pointed out.
“Sure it would,” Lisa retorted. “We actually have a chance at getting through this, free and clear.”
“A very, very small chance,” I pointed out.
“A chance,” she said. “But if we do this? If we prove to the boss that we’re worth his while? We move up. We get more money, we get more equipment, information, we get a voice as far as shaping his long term plans, all of which may translate to more respect in the cape community.”
“A voice?” I asked, “What do you mean?”
“Meeting with him, discussing what we do next, and why.”
My mind started racing with the implications of this.
“I’m changing my vote,” Alec said. “This much money, it sort of solves the problem I had with the job, which was that it was sort of pointless. A quarter million dollars is pretty pointy.”
“Two for, three against,” Lisa said. “Bitch?”
Bitch scowled, “Let me think.”
This was a chance to meet our employer, in the not too distant future. Question was—did I want to take it? I’d been procrastinating, avoiding the issue, trying not to think too much about my game plan, about turning these guys in when I had the last bit of information I needed about how they ran things, about where the money came from. Now I had to make a call.
All along, I’d been telling myself that I’d turn them in. Give the information to the Protectorate. But my heart wasn’t really in it. It would mean turning on friends. While I didn’t dislike Alec or even Bitch, my thoughts were on Lisa and Brian. I mean, well, Lisa was my first real friend since Emma. As for Brian, I liked him, respected him. I hated the idea of doing to them what Emma had done to me. Betraying friends.
I’d given up the idea of gaining respect or prestige for turning them in. I mean, I’d committed a felony, taken hostages, attacked other heroes, nearly killed a man, then carved that same person’s eyes out a couple of weeks afterward.
And I could live with that part, with not getting credit or accolades or whatever. I could see myself flying under the radar for a while. Perhaps playing the role of a vigilante avoiding the attention of both hero and villain, if I was really itching to get out in costume. Or see if maybe, just maybe, I could try for the same deal that Shadow Stalker got, become a probationary member of the Wards. I’d initially veered away from the Wards out of concern that it would be too similar to high school… but I’d changed in the past few weeks. Stood up to Emma twice. Three times, if you counted the meeting. I had a little more backbone than I’d had a month ago. I could picture myself laboring alongside a group of junior superheroes that resented me as a kind of penance for my villainous actions, and that was a pretty big change from before I’d even gone out in costume, when the very idea of joining them was hard to process.
The problem was, going down that road was a mess of maybes and possiblies, each step a mess of potential disasters. What if I got arrested rather than offered probationary membership in the Wards? What if the Undersiders escaped arrest and came after me? Or my dad?
It came down to the people that were in the room with me. It wasn’t just that I would be betraying them like Emma did to me. Was I brave enough to go through what I had with Emma, with having people I liked and looked up to becoming my worst enemies?
And if I didn’t choose, didn’t decide… Well, if I put it off any longer, the only difference from staying for good by choice would be a fair sized measure of self delusion on my part. The time I’d spent with Brian made that clear enough.
“I think… I might change my vote,” I voiced the thought aloud as I formed it.
There were looks of surprise from everyone present, excepting the dogs. Lisa, especially, rocked back a little in reaction to my statement.
It took all I had to keep my facade intact. At the end of the day, what scared me more than losing friends and having them hate me, more than having them come after me or my dad, was the idea that I would hate myself. That I would hate myself one, five, ten or twenty years down the line, for betraying my principles and for making a bad call with wide re
aching implications. Hate myself for taking a road that might lead me going to jail with no chance of getting bailed out by Armsmaster, or going down a path that led to me hurting someone innocent as badly as I’d hurt Lung and Bakuda.
Sticking with the Undersiders was a short term gain, sure, but long term? I had to stick with my original plan, and try to convince myself I was doing it for the greater good.
Alec raised his eyebrows. “Really.”
“What?” I asked.
“You’re the last person I would have expected to change your vote, dork,” he said. “You’re careful, and this is the least careful job we’ve had yet.”
“Changing my vote is provisional on whether we can come up with a plan that has a decent chance of us escaping with our skin intact,” I clarified.
“Still, you’re usually Brian’s shadow, echoing him,” Alec said.
“Thanks, Alec,” Brian frowned. Brian turned to me, his eyebrows knitting together in concern, “You sure?”
“Not totally,” I admitted. “And I’m sorry, for not backing you up.”
“You’re a member of the team, you’re allowed your own voice.”
“What changed your mind?” The question came from Lisa.
I had to avoid tripping any alarms with her. The safest way to go about it would be to stick with the truth, or something very close to it.
“It bugs me that I don’t know who our employer is. There’s some real ugly possibilities, and I’d rather know sooner than later, if they were the case.” There, truth enough.
“I admit,” Brian conceded. “I am curious. It’s… I don’t think I’m curious enough to want to take this job.”
“If the scrawny kid is gonna do this, I’m not backing down,” Bitch said. “I’ll change my vote too.”
“Kid?” I asked her, “Scrawny, sure, but I’m probably a year younger than you, at most.”
Lisa stopped us, leaning to one side to put herself between Bitch and I. “We have to stay on topic, since there’s only a few hours to plan and get ready. We have four votes for, one against. Looks like this is gonna happen.”
Brian sighed.
“Sorry,” I murmured my second apology.
He put his hand on my shoulder, “It’s okay.”
I noticed he didn’t move his hand off my shoulder right away.
Distracting myself, I asked Lisa, “So how do we pull this off?”
She began outlining a plan.
Tangle 6.5
My legs hugged the sides of Judas’s body. I could feel his breathing beneath me, the expansion of his body as his lungs filled, then emptied. He huffed out a breath, and it steamed in the cool night air.
He stepped forward, just a little, and I got a glimpse of the world below us. Thirty two stories down, the cars on the street were visible only by the yellow and red points of their headlights and taillights. I felt Tattletale clutch me tighter, from where she sat behind me. Judas’s front paw rested on the stone railing of the rooftop, clutched it hard enough that the points of his nails bit into the concrete.
Getting up here had been easy enough—Tattletale had cracked the employee access door and we’d taken the supply elevator to the roof. Had someone been alerted to our presence? Spotted us on camera? Hard to say. But time was short, and we’d already wasted enough time waiting for the dogs to finish growing. The moment Bitch deemed them set, we would move out.
This plan had been terrifying when we’d just been talking about it. Actually being on the verge of doing it? Ten times worse.
Still time to think of a reason to back out.
Bitch’s whistle, one of those ones that make you wince when you hear them a hundred feet away, cut through the faint, ambient hum of the city below us.
Last chance, Taylor.
A second later, Brutus, with Bitch and Grue astride his back, stepped over the edge of the roof. Judas shifted forward under me, then followed.
Falling from a height like that, you don’t get to scream. The wind takes your voice from you. If you happen to have something to hold onto, you cling to that for dear life and you pray, even if you aren’t a praying type. My hands clutched hooks of bone on either side of Judas’s neck hard enough that I thought I might break either the bone or my hands.
Three stories down from the roof, there was a patio. As Bitch whistled and pointed from her position below us, Judas kicked against the wall just behind us, pushing out and away from the building. My heart rose into my throat and stuck there as I saw the edge of the patio below us, surely out of reach. Had he pushed too early? The next chance we’d have to touch a surface would be when we spattered violently against the road.
His instincts seemed to be better than mine. His front claws reached down and gripped the patio’s edge. Every muscle in my body tensed in my effort to not be thrown off him as we stopped, even with his powerful body absorbing the worst of the fall. He gripped the ledge, then pushed against it while leveraging his back legs into place. With every muscle in his body, it seemed, he leaped. Not down, this time, but out.
Time seemed to stand still as we left the building behind. The only thing below us was the street, twenty-nine stories below. The wind blew through my hair with a painful bite of cold. We’d crossed the event horizon, it was do or die from here on out. That made it eerily easy to cast aside all doubts and hesitation and steel myself for what came next.
The Forsberg Gallery was twenty six stories tall and was one of the more recognizable buildings you could find downtown. If I remembered right, it had been designed by architecture students at the university, a few years ago. I wasn’t really a fan of the design, which resembled the late stages of a game of Jenga, with each section formed in tempered glass with steel bars and girders providing the base skeleton. The entire thing was illuminated by lights that changed according to the time of the evening.
In the blue-gray of the evening, the tower was pink and orange, echoing the sunset that had finished just an hour ago. As the leap carried us over it, a pink tinted spotlight consumed my vision.
My lenses absorbed the worst of the glare, and a second later, I was able to make out what was happening again. Brutus, a matter of feet in front of us, slammed into the glass of the roof, sending cracks spiderwebbing across it. Grue virtually bounced from where he sat on Brutus’s back, losing his seat, hit the glass of the roof with his shoulder, and began to slide. There was barely any traction to be had, not even on the steel girder that separated the massive panes of glass, and the only thing at the end of that slide would be a very long fall.
He reached out and grabbed ahold of the end of Brutus’s tail, pulling himself to a standing position at the same moment that Judas, Tattletale and I crashed into the pane of glass to their right.
The damage Brutus had done on impact was enough to ensure that we could break through rather than simply breaking the window. There was a moment where you could hear the sound of straining metal, followed by the sound of a lot of shattering glass.
Together we all dropped into the center of the Forsberg Gallery’s top floor, joined by a downpour of glass shards. Grue landed on his feet and stumbled back as Brutus landed just in front of him. All around us, there were people in fancy dress and uniforms. Suits, dresses… costumes. People ran screaming and running for cover. Heroes stepped forward, some trying to grasp the situation in the midst of the chaos, others putting themselves between us and the civilians.
A matter of heartbeats after we touched ground, Regent and Angelica plunged into the room, landing just behind us. Regent lost his seat as Angelica landed, but managed to roll as he hit the ground, bringing himself to a crouch as he stopped. He almost managed to make it look intentional. Angelica stepped up to Bitch’s side, wearing the same harness we’d fitted her with at the bank robbery, but with two large cardboard boxes strapped to her sides, rather than bags.
I felt weirdly calm as my eyes swept over the room. The Protectorate was gathered around the stage at the back of the room. Armsmas
ter, Miss Militia, Assault, Battery, Velocity and Triumph. Dauntless was MIA.
Not far away was the ‘kids’ table with some of the heroes of the hour. Clockblocker, Vista, Gallant and Shadow Stalker, interrupted from their mingling with the rich kids, teen actors and the sons and daughters of the local who’s who. The platinum blonde in the white evening gown that was giving me the evil eye? That would be Glory Girl, out of costume.
Standing guard by the front of the room, raising their weapons in our direction, was an on-duty PRT squad. Their very recognizable uniforms were chain mesh augmented with kevlar, topped with faceless helmets. The only means you had to identify them with were the badge numbers printed across their vests in bold white numbers. Four of the five had what looked like flamethrowers. They weren’t firing yet—they couldn’t. They were packing the best in nonlethal weaponry, but there were elderly people and children in the crowd, and according to Tattletale, that meant they were prohibited from opening fire on us for the moment.
The civilians… men and women in their finest clothes and jewelry. A combination of the richest and most powerful people in the city, their guests and those willing to pay the exorbitant prices for the tickets. The tickets started at two hundred and thirty dollars and had climbed steeply as they’d been bought up. We’d initially considered attending as guests, for one plan of attack, before we decided that it was too dangerous to risk having our secret identities caught on camera, or to have something go wrong as we attempted to smuggle our equipment, costumes and dogs inside. Once we’d decided that much, we’d stopped checking the cost of tickets, which had gotten as high as four hundred dollars a person. The guests could use thirty dollars of the ticket price to bid on an auction, but it was still pretty exorbitant.
I recognized the mayor—the first time I’d seen him in person. There was a guy who might have been a lesser known actor—I thought I recognized him, too. The rest were just people, maybe a bit better looking than the norm, a bit better dressed.