by wildbow
Then he shifted gravity’s direction again. An attack, such as it was. The snow and cars fell in my direction. Were flung, for lack of a better term. I flew for cover, ungainly as I raised the insulated box as a shield, snow and ice slamming into the buildings around me, pinging off of the metal. I managed to duck out of sight. The cars, for their part, were only thrown into the street a block away.
It wasn’t an attack he’d aimed, but a scattershot approach, meant to scare, to allow the possibility that he’d get lucky.
And it had given them the chance to try and slip away. A few minutes, while I recouped and tried to get my sights on them in the midst of the stirring snow and limited visibility.
“Okay,” Revel said. “Only because we can’t move the Protectorate heroes there fast enough. You are not to engage.”
“Roger,” I reported, my relief mixed with a frustration that the go-ahead had come so late.
Their attempt to occupy me and break away might have worked, if it weren’t for Golem and Tecton. The villains had come to a complete stop as they reached the barrier. A row of asphalt and concrete hands, the gaps filled by Tecton’s power. The wall was as tall as the buildings on either side of it, spanning the breadth of the street.
Topsy began to use his power, moving snow at the far left of the wall, no doubt intending to scale the structure, move over the wall. Watch stopped him.
They turned to run instead, moving parallel with the wall.
Watch, I guessed, had seen Tecton, Golem, and the two PRT trucks on the other side of the wall, ready to spray the villains with containment foam.
By the time Topsy and his crew reached the next street over, the PRT van had pulled to a stop. Golem was outside the vehicle, creating another barrier. The implication was clear. Every escape route would be cut off.
This was a battle of attrition, a patient fight, with civilians kept out of reach. We’d let them get tired, frustrated, cold, and we’d break their spirits.
The goal here wasn’t just to win. It was to win so irrevocably that we took the fight out of them altogether, left them without any hope that they could win the next time.
Topsy hit Golem and the truck with flipped gravity. Both moved, but neither lifted off the ground. Even before he started raising the wall, Golem would have used his power to hold his feet against the ground, to grab the truck’s axle. Tecton would be waiting inside, ready to leap out and break the hands if necessary.
The villains could have continued. In their shoes, I might have. It made sense, to force Tecton and Golem to stop and start until an opening presented itself.
Except they were cold, tired, and being countered at every turn was starting to take a psychological toll.
They might have split up, scattered, but they didn’t. Again, they suspected a counterplan. Which we did have. Golem and Tecton could have tripped up the most problematic combatants while the rest of us picked off the weakest members one by one. I didn’t have bugs, but I could fly, and I had coiled lassos of silk cord that I could use in a pinch, along with a taser that I could use if I wanted to end things sooner than later. A good attack from above, I could manage. If they went inside, I could unload the bugs I had in my insulated box.
They had a different plan in mind. They reversed direction and headed straight for a restaurant with a sign showing a gold dragon against a red background.
“Grace,” I said. “Wei shu wu? Does typing it into the computer turn up anything?”
“A cover business for a group with affiliations to the Folk,” Revel volunteered.
“We safe to harass them, or—”
“No. They have people with powers, and that’s beyond the scope of this manhunt.”
“Can you find the number at the building? A restaurant, Wei shu wu.”
“Weaver,” Revel said, her tone a warning.
“Please,” I said, as the villains disappeared inside.
Revel only sighed.
A moment later, the phone rang, and I could hear a voice.
“Wei shu wu dining. Would you like delivery? We can also arrange reservations if needed.”
“We would, if it’s no trouble,” I said, hoping I was connected. “Eight criminals just entered your restaurant on Addison. They’re cold, bedraggled, a little desperate. It’s an ugly situation, and I’m sorry for the trouble that’s found its way to your doorstep.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
Playing dumb?
“It was trouble they started,” I said. “They crossed lines, and now that we’re coming after them, they’ve come running to your place for shelter.”
“We can hardly offer anyone shelter.”
“I know,” I said. “But call your boss, if you need to. Let them know that the heroes aren’t going to start a fight, but the villains inside the building need to leave and get taken into custody. If this goes any further, we’re not going to press you, but it’s going to draw attention. People will wonder why the bad guys are hiding there.”
“Weaver,” it was a man’s voice this time, over the comms. “You don’t have the authority to make promises or offers.”
“We can’t make them leave,” the man from the restaurant said, his voice a whisper. “We don’t have ability to make threats.”
Because you’re hapless restaurant owners or because your gang doesn’t have the clout there to go head to head with Topsy?
“Don’t hang up the phone,” I said. “Use your cell phones, talk to anyone you can think of that might help. Bosses, franchise owners, whoever. Fill them in. Let them know that the guests in your store include men called Topsy and Watch. If they ask who I am, you tell them I’m a superhero called Weaver.”
“From the video?”
“From the video,” I said.
His tone changed, as if he’d shifted mental gears, at that. He sounded vaguely plaintive. “You’re talking as if my boss is an important man, but—”
“You’re just a restaurant employee,” I said. “I understand. Call whoever. We’ll figure this out together.”
There was a muffled sound, as if he was covering the phone’s mouthpiece with his hand.
“You’re talking as if you’re on the same side,” the man said. The Director, I was pretty sure.
“Weaver,” Revel chimed in, sounding annoyed.
“Mute me so he doesn’t hear?” I asked.
“Already done,” Revel said. “This isn’t the way we should do this.”
I bit my lip. I wanted to retort, to argue, but I knew there were too many listening ears.
This is exactly what we should be doing.
“They’re people,” I said. “They’re bad guys, maybe, but they’re all people. Topsy and Watch and Mockshow want the same things we do, to be safe, warm, dry and well rested, and we’re taking that away from them. And the people who work with this restaurant? They don’t want to deal with people like Topsy and Watch. All we have to do to resolve this is make it easier to deal with us than to deal with the other villains.”
“We shouldn’t be dealing with them, period,” the Director said.
“We—” I started to reply, then I stopped.
Topsy, Watch and Mockshow had stepped from the building.
“They just decided to leave,” the restaurant employee said. His voice shook a little.
I could see the body language of the three villains and their henchmen. Topsy kicked the window at the outside of the restaurant, and a crack appeared in it. He shouted something I couldn’t make out from my vantage point.
I’m sure they did, I thought. But I only said. “Thank you for cooperating.”
“Thank you for talking me through this,” the man said.
With that, he hung up.
Something had gone on that I hadn’t overheard. An exchange of words, a message from the Folk?
It didn’t matter right now. I watched as the villains made their way down the street, then broke into a store to find shelter from the cold.
&nb
sp; It was over. I could read it in their body language. As much as the Director had wanted to wear me down, to have me sit in the cold with nothing to occupy myself with but the five minute check-ins, we’d achieved the same thing against the villains, and we’d been successful in doing it. This was only residual stubbornness.
My arms were stiff with the weight of my bug box. I was glad to set down on the roof and deploy the bugs, flooding the building and driving the villains out into the elements. They had winter clothing they’d stolen, but it wasn’t enough to restore the warmth they’d already lost.
By the time they found more shelter, Annex and Cuff had met up with a PRT van and been delivered to the scene. Annex approached from behind, slithering close, and then used his power to open up a closed storefront, allowing cold to pour into the building’s interior.
This time, when the villains emerged, they did so with arms raised in surrender.
“We did it,” I muttered.
“Be wary of Watch,” Revel said. “Containment foam him first, then move him to a truck. Good job, Wards.”
* * *
I watched Mockshow on the monitors. She was young. Well, young was relative. She was fourteen or so, and now that she had her costume with her, she wore a hard mask sporting a stylized smiley-face, a headband with screws sticking out like antennae. She’d lost the outdoor clothing and had donned her mask, as if it were a shield between her and us.
I glanced over at our superiors. Revel was in a discussion with the Director, the Mayor and the police chief.
Mockshow’s eyes widened as she saw the bugs filtering into the interrogation room. The tables and chairs had been removed to deny her anything solid enough to use her power on, so she had nothing to hide behind as they began forming into a mass.
“Aw hell no,” she said, as she backed into a corner. “No, no, no, no…”
They gathered into a rough humanoid shape. My shape. A swarm-clone.
“No!” she shouted, as if her refusal to accept it could banish the thing from existence.
“Let’s chat,” I communicated through the swarm. “Off the record.”
“Screw you! Driving me out into the cold, fucking with us without a fair fight? Go die in a fire!”
“I’ve been in a lot of fights,” I commented, “Rare to have one that’s actually fair. Most are pretty brutally one sided.”
“Do you not hear me? Screw yourself!”
The swarm advanced a little, and she shrunk back.
“Paradigm is changing, Mockshow. I want to make that clear, so you know what people are talking about when they offer you deals. People aren’t going to be inclined to play nice.”
“Nice?”
“The three strike rule, cowboys and indians, counting coup…”
“You’re cracked. The fuck are you talking about?”
“It doesn’t matter. Things are shifting. People are relaxing when they shouldn’t be, because Behemoth died, and—”
“Pat yourself on the back more, why don’t you? I saw that video.”
Everyone did, I thought.
I couldn’t let her get me off topic. “I’m going to tell you what I would’ve wanted to hear if I found myself in your shoes, at this point in time.”
“Oh, so generous.”
“There’s two groups of people. There’s the people who’re preparing for the end of the world, who are on pins and needles waiting to see just what hits us next, how the dynamic’s going to change. I’m in that group, understand? In my book, in our book, anyone who isn’t keeping the peace and isn’t helping doesn’t deserve any mercy. They’re detriments. You’re dangerously close to falling into that category.”
“Whatever.”
“And the other group? They’re the people who’ve finally found a glimmer of hope, and they’re relaxing, thinking maybe we can take out the remaining Endbringers, maybe the world can go back to normal.”
She snorted.
“Yeah. Exactly,” I said. I glanced at the others. The Director wasn’t participating in the conversation anymore. He was staring at a monitor, but his reaction didn’t suggest he was watching me interact with Mock.
Either way, I had to wrap it up. “But those guys? They aren’t on your side either. Once upon a time, they’d be the same people who’d push for people like you to go free. Because maybe you’d help somewhere down the road. Now? They have no reason to give you that slack. You’ve got no help here, and I think you’ll be surprised at how hard they come after you.”
“I didn’t do shit. I’ve barely had my powers a month.”
“You signed up with Topsy. With Watch. This is as much about them as it is about you. Making Topsy uncomfortable, denying him a resource they’d just acquired. Stripping away his conveniences, leaving him wondering if you’ll plea out.”
“Fuck that. I’m good. Not saying a word.”
“Probably,” I said. “But take it from someone who’s been there. You don’t want to go down this road. The heroes will come after you hard, the villains will never trust you. Honestly? I don’t care if you stay a villain or become a hero. But it’s not worth it to be a villain and stick with guys like Topsy. The gains aren’t worth what it costs you.”
“I turn traitor and walk away, I’m fucked.”
“Join the Wards,” I suggested.
I experienced a momentary flashback to my first night out in costume, talking to Armsmaster.
Holy shit, have I become him? Pursuing my agenda, offering the options I know she won’t take, steering her towards my self-serving goal?
It chilled me, bothered me far, far more than Mockshow’s snort of derision.
“Or go be a scumbag, but be a scumbag who helps save the world,” I said.
She rolled her eyes.
“Us or them, Mockshow,” I told her. “Saving the world or getting in the way. If you’re helping, we pull our punches, the charges don’t stick, whatever. You get in the way, well, every night can be like tonight was.”
She scowled.
“That’s all.”
“Fucking rich. You’re just pushing me to go join your old team.”
“I’m suggesting that you consider your options. Pay fucking attention to where you’re going. I wish I had. That’s all. If you want to contact me, that door will be left open. I’ll pull strings to make sure of it.”
“I gotcha,” she said. Her shoulders slumped a little, as if in defeat. She glanced up at me, and I could see a glimmer of vulnerability in her expression. “Weaver?”
“What?”
“Can I ask you something personal?”
“Yes. Of course.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. She stuck her hands in her pockets, then glanced at the windows, which were partially obscured with half-closed blinds.
Finally, she spoke. “Would you please, please go fuck yourself? Upside-down and backwards?”
I sighed, dissipating the swarm.
I felt my hair stand on end as the Director approached. I’d always felt a little caught off guard by him. He looked more like a classic politician than the generals and soldiers I was used to associating with the PRT, with dimples, styled sandy hair and a tidy suit. His demeanor, body language, everything, it was warm. That warmth didn’t reach his eyes. Not when he’d looked at me. Especially not right now.
He’d seen the swarm-clone in the interrogation room. I knew it.
For long seconds, we stared at each other. I’d thought he would say something, but he didn’t.
“Thanks,” I said. “For playing ball.”
“I didn’t.”
“You could have made that harder.”
“Making it harder would have done more harm than good,” he said. “I’ve still got two teams to run, a specialized police force to organize.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Mockshow. Was she receptive?”
I shook my head, but I said, “Maybe. Maybe something will sink in.”
“Teenagers have
a way of being bullheaded,” the Director said. “Villains too. Teenaged villains? Well.”
His eyes didn’t move one iota away from me as he said it. It left no question about how he’d compartmentalized me in his head.
“I suppose you’re right,” I said.
“Having Topsy off the streets is going to be a feather in a few caps, I think,” he said. “It’s messy to credit you.”
“I really don’t care,” I said. “I just want to make some steps forward in this mess. Prepare for the worst.”
He studied me in a very slow, careful way, as though taking everything in. Assessing the target.
“I could raise an issue with you being in that interrogation room.”
“Maybe,” I said. “It’d look obvious, that you were coming after me. I didn’t say anything really problematic. But it’s an option.”
“You withheld details.”
“It’s kind of crazy out there, in the midst of a fight. You lose track of stuff.”
“I know,” he said. “I used to be a soldier.”
That caught me off guard. He didn’t look like he’d ever been in a fight, let alone a war. He was so young, too.
“You haven’t been a cape for long,” he said.
“A year.”
“A year. But you’ve been through a lot. I’d hope you were better about minding those details.”
A slap in the face, not calling me out on the fib, but turning it against me.
He seemed content with that for the moment. He didn’t press the offensive. I didn’t either.
“We both got what we wanted tonight,” I said. “It’s a win, isn’t it?”
He didn’t reply, glancing at the Mayor. The man seemed happy as he talked to Revel and the police chief. Not giddy, but happy.
“Is this going to let up?” I asked. “Or are we going to be fighting each other constantly?”
The Director glanced at me. “You want this to stop?”
“It’s a waste of energy. There can’t be compromise?”
He didn’t even have to think about it. He shook his head, briefly pursing his lips. “No compromise.”
I clenched my fist. Damn him.
“A balance,” he said. “Maybe a balance.”