“I agree,” Accord said. His interest was clearly piqued. Parian could see the way the eyebrows of his mask had raised a fraction.
“But I like it,” Tattletale said. “And if your concern is about instability within this city, I can read your work, see the solutions you propose and consider implementing them. We would give you a hand in shaping policy beyond this group.”
“You’d agree to a contract where you implement a set number of my plans?”
“Hellll no,” Tattletale said.
Parian felt her heart skip a beat. She could see Accord bristle, and his Ambassadors had tensed, as if expecting an order to attack at any second.
“But,” Tattletale said, “I can consider them. And that might be the best offer you’d ever get. You know your ideas are good ones. You know there are ideas that would be worth implementing. If I agreed to read through them, bring the better points up for discussion within the group, across our entire alliance, and I’m hoping we recruit more than just you… well, there’s a chance they’d see the light of day.”
Accord frowned. “You’re not promising anything concrete.”
“No. I am sticking to the deal we arranged. This is a bonus. It doesn’t have to be big. It’s fucking generous as it stands.”
“Please be more civil,” Accord said. “I’d rather you didn’t swear.”
“And I’d rather you didn’t storm in here and act like you were personally offended by our particular way of doing things,” Tattletale said. “I’ve offered you a fucking nice deal. Are you fucking interested?”
“Tattletale,” Grue said. “Enough. I think he gets the point.”
“You’re in charge, then, Grue?” Accord asked.
There was a pause. “Yes. But I’m standing by what Tattletale said.”
“I’ll have to content myself with that, and I’ll give my answer to you, as one team leader to another. I hope to continue working with the Undersiders, and I very much hope that things don’t degenerate any further, as they have with the situation at the PRT offices right now.”
“There’ll be enemies,” Grue said.
“Yes. But there won’t be further disturbances? Nothing further that makes national news about your group?”
National, Parian thought, stunned. We’re national news.
She couldn’t help but think of her family, of her friends and neighbors. Her sole remaining family member, her friend from the Fashion program. The people who’d come to her territory for protection that she’d ultimately failed to provide.
She felt a sick feeling in her gut at the thought. They’d been surgically altered, and, according to the most recent emails, they were getting surgery to slowly regain their old faces. Were they watching the news right now, thinking of her?
“I’m on the same page as Tattletale,” Grue said. “That’s our business, not yours.”
“I see. Well, I can hope.”
Accord extended a hand.
Parian felt her pulse quicken. A trap? A sneak attack?
Grue took the hand and shook it. Parian could feel the blood pumping in her ears as she watched Accord and the Ambassadors for any sign of betrayal.
Nothing. Accord lowered his hand, then extended it again, in Tattletale’s direction.
She stood, then staggered.
Trap, Parian thought.
Except it was only Tattletale’s mental fatigue. The villainess, with her mercenary’s help, made her way to the foot of the stairs. She leaned on the man as she crossed the room to Accord.
“Injury?” he asked. “I’m thinking a concussion.”
“Migraines. I overused my power.”
“Ah,” Accord said. He extended his hand a fraction further, and Tattletale shook it. “I… suppose I can sympathize with that.”
“I bet.”
“I appreciate your willingness to meet, in light of your condition,” he said. “That said, it would be best if we did not interact further. I’d rather not terminate our alliance by being forced to murder you. It wouldn’t be polite to say how many times I came close, just tonight.”
“I think we’re on the same page there,” Tattletale said. “I don’t want you to kill me either. Just know that if you tried, succeed or fail, I have a lot of questions about your involvement with Cauldron that could start circulating specific channels.”
“Ah, you’re proposing mutually assured destruction?”
“Is there any other way we’re going to manage this long-term?”
“No. No, I suppose not,” Accord said.
“Great,” Tattletale said. She managed a feeble smile.
“Then I wish you a good day,” Accord said. He managed to make it sound like fuck you, the way people in the Victorian era might have.
That done, Accord turned to leave, marching out of the doors with his cadre of Ambassadors.
When he was out of sight, Tattletale sagged. Her mercenary had to catch her to keep her from falling to the ground.
“Okay,” Grue said. “What was that?”
“Me doing the best I could,” Tattletale said. “And speak quieter, please. My head’s throbbing… I feel like someone’s hitting my eyeballs with hammers.”
In a marginally quieter voice, Grue said, “You provoked him.”
“I dealt with him the only way I could. Working with old info. Don’t even have my power, only what I got on our earlier meetings. Shit, I haven’t even read that booklet Skitter gave me.”
“Well,” Regent said. “This is fantastic. Skitter really screwed the pooch here.”
Bitch tensed at the idiom.
“We don’t know what she did,” Grue said. “Or what she’s doing.”
There was a pause.
Parian had felt lost, in well over her head, since she’d set foot in here. These guys were a group, an organization, they had their way of doing things, their rhythm. It was so hard to jump in, to say anything.
But now, maybe, she felt like she had a role. A reason to be here.
“I… I think I understand what she’s doing,” Parian said.
All eyes fell on her. Even Bitch’s gaze, intimidating and angry.
“Generally,” Parian said. “Um. I get what she’s…”
“Spit it out,” Imp said.
“She’s a lot like me,” Parian said. “She wants to protect people. She’s willing to make sacrifices for the people she cares about.”
“I’ve discussed that with her,” Grue said.
“Terribly unhealthy,” Regent commented. “Worse than smoking, even.”
“So maybe this is a way to do that,” Parian said. “A way to protect all of us. She gives Director Tagg exactly what he wants. Gets him to back down. And this is how. She uses herself as a bargaining chip.”
“I don’t fucking care about Tagg,” Bitch growled. “I’d rather have Skitter than have him gone.”
“It’s more than that!” Parian raised her voice, hurrying to speak before she could get lost in the jumble, unable to cut in and find a voice in their dynamic. She had objectivity they didn’t. The ability to see the big picture. “I… I think she’s decided on a way to help all of us. With more things than just Tagg. And maybe… maybe she helps herself, too.”
“Herself?” Regent asked.
“I’m just… I know what it’s like, to be on a single track, to feel compelled to keep going forward. It isn’t easy, to disappoint the people you care about, but sometimes it comes down to doing that… or doing what they want and being unhappy.”
“Unhappy,” Grue said.
“Was there ever a time when she was with us, where she really seemed happy? Content?”
“I know my brother’s made her happy,” Imp said. “Ick.”
Regent sniggered.
“I didn’t,” Grue said, his voice quiet. “Make her happy.”
“I don’t know anything more than you guys do,” Parian said, “But…Maybe she needs to make peace with her guilt and whatever, go to jail, and try to make amends wi
th her dad? If that’s part of it, can we really say no?”
“What if it isn’t part of it?” Tattletale asked. “What if leaving us is the last thing she wants, but she’s doing it anyways?”
“Are you saying that’s the case?” Grue asked.
“No. My power’s out of commission. I can’t say anything for sure,” Tattletale said. “Except we respect Taylor-”
“We’ve been through hell with Taylor,” Grue cut in.
“And we trust her,” Tattletale said, glancing at Bitch.
So she picked up on that too, Parian thought.
“…So let’s trust that she has an idea what she’s doing,” Tattletale finished.
Bitch moved, stepping forward, her boots making a heavy noise on the floor as she advanced. She struck out, kicking.
The widescreen television with its tripod mount came crashing down, shattering.
Nobody spoke in the aftermath of that small gesture of pain and frustration.
They looked amongst one another, searching each other for some validation, for a response.
It was Bitch who broke the spell. “If the PRT fucks her…”
“We destroy them,” Grue finished. Bitch nodded.
The most sensible member in the group in agreement with the most violent, Parian thought.
“All we can do is wait,” Tattletale said.
“How long?”
The question had come from Bitch. She was tense, rigid, her jaw set, eyes narrowed.
“Nightfall,” Tattletale said. “We wait until the sun sets. That’s the only instruction Skitter gave me.”
“What are we waiting for?” Grue asked. “A signal?”
“If we don’t get a signal,” Tattletale said, “We act.”
■
Parian’s thoughts were buzzing with possibilities, more details, more responsibilities. Taking on more territory, giving up some to Grue.
Still struggling to find a way to be relevant.
She reached her atelier and dismounted from the six-legged horse, stepping down to the floor of the alley. It had been a little more stable than a four-legged unicorn. She’d have to refine the idea, find a balance. Specific forms for specific tasks.
She was behind. Behind in her territory, behind in applying her powers to combat situations, in being able to understand and interact with people like Accord.
And until she figured those things out, she couldn’t truly be a part of the Undersiders. And if she wasn’t a real member of the group, she couldn’t change anything where it really mattered.
The unicorn came apart into scraps of cloth. The individual scraps rolled up, were neatly tied by braids of thread. She lifted the largest bundle and made her way around the corner to her front door.
Ten and a half hours before sunset. That was the deadline. Skitter’s deadline, and the point that would determine whether this became an all-out war against the PRT or something entirely different.
Parian stopped in her tracks. Lily leaned beside the front door, in full costume as Flechette. The stainless steel shoulder-rest of her arbalest sat on the ground, and she used a single fingertip to keep the weapon upright, unloaded and pointed at the sky.
With a flick of a finger, Lily made the thing spin, stopped it, spun it the other way around.
“You know where I live,” Parian said.
“The PRT knows where you live,” Lily said. “It’s on record. But we’re not supposed to act like we know. I thought you’d forgive me that, given our history.”
“Is there news? About Skitter?”
Lily shook her head. “They asked me to go out and make a phone call, outside of Skitter’s range. But they didn’t seem to know how far that was, so I…”
“Made your way to the far end of the city,” Parian said.
“Yeah,” Lily said, just under her breath, looking down at her weapon. Again, she spun it.
“You didn’t even know I’d be here.”
“You weren’t. I just got an angry call from Miss Militia,” Lily said. “Been out here for a bit.”
“For…”
“Thirty minutes.”
“Ah.”
Parian put the bundle of cloth down, resting the end on the ground. After a moment’s thought, she leaned it against the wall by her front door. By Lily.
She felt so conspicuous. She knew Lily hated the black costume, with the black hair, the black dress.
Lily, who’d been maybe the only person to give her support without being asked. Lily, who was… chivalrous. Gallant. Stubborn. So very stubborn.
“Did you come here for a reason?” Parian asked, in the same second Lily asked, “Where were you?”
“You first,” Lily said, after the momentary confusion.
“Why did you come here?”
“Don’t know,” Lily said.
“That’s a hell of a reason to wait thirty minutes.”
Lily glanced left, then right, as if looking for bystanders.
“This area isn’t occupied,” Parian said. “My atelier is the only one on the block that you can live in. The rest are sealed up.”
“Atelier?”
“Workshop. Studio. Only fancier.”
“Ah,” Lily said. Then, as if she remembered why she’d been looking for bystanders, she let herself slide down until she was sitting with her back to the wall.
“That’s it for answers?” Parian asked. “Don’t know?”
“No.”
“Just talk me through what’s going through your head. Doesn’t have to be relevant. Don’t have to censor your thoughts.”
“Definitely have to censor my thoughts,” Lily said. She glanced up at Parian.
She felt her heart rate pick up with that, oddly enough, just like it had with Bitch.
Except Lily wasn’t dangerous, was she?
“God, I hate this city,” Lily said.
“It’s… a hard city to like,” Parian said. “But it’s not a city that lets you throw it away. It’s tenacious, both in the big picture, and in how it attaches itself to you.”
“Yeah,” Lily murmured. “Before I came here, everything was on track. I could see my future ahead of me, straight as an arrow. Career path, eventual Flechette action figures. Every single one of my teachers and superiors seemed to know I had potential. One of the only people who could hurt an Endbringer…”
Lily raised her unloaded arbalest, aimed it, “Pow. Critical damage every time, and I don’t miss.”
“I remember what you said when you talked to Skitter and Miss Militia. You don’t feel so confident, now.”
“I’ve been trying to think of where I might be comfortable. Where I could find what I’ve lost. During the whole post-Leviathan thing, I was always most comfortable here.”
“Here?” Parian looked over at her Atelier, an unassuming, simple building.
“With you.”
“Ah.”
“And… fuck me, because I’m not acting confident. I told myself I’d act confident, but… I’m blowing this.”
“Don’t stress so much about acting,” Parian said.
She reached up and detached her mask from the metal frame that held it over her face, then pulled the wig off as well. She let them fall to the ground.
A pure white mask, in contrast to her own Arab ethnicity. She’d meant to make a point of it, to challenge people to wonder more about what was behind the masks, about their assumptions about heroes and villains. That had fallen apart when Leviathan and the Slaughterhouse Nine had derailed her plan to unmask herself and start a career as a fashion designer.
More than the fashion designer part, it was the sudden recollection of what the Slaughterhouse Nine had done that took the wind from her sails.
She tipped over the roll of cloth and then seated herself on it, facing Lily.
Belatedly, she said, “We act too much. Hide behind masks way too often.”
Lily looked around to double-check, then removed her visor.
“I don’t
think I can do this,” Lily said.
“Do what?”
“I don’t know. But whatever it is, I can’t do it.”
“I know the feeling,” Parian replied.
“Where were you?”
“You don’t get to ask that,” Parian said, quiet. “Just like you don’t get to act like you own me, to say that my costume is anything but my choice.”
“You remember that,” Lily said, looking down at the ground.
“Hard to forget.”
“Skitter asked me what I wanted,” Lily said. “I gave her my answer.”
“You wanted me.”
Lily nodded.
“I’ve already had someone try to claim me, you know,” Parian said. “They thought that I was something that was owed to them, because of what they’d done. That being nice meant I was obligated to accept a date. And that line of thinking goes one step further. They think flowers and a few dates mean I’m obligated to come over to his apartment to spend the night.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” Flechette said.
Parian didn’t answer.
“I mean, it’s not… my motives aren’t…”
“Carnal?”
“Sketchy,” Flechette supplied.
“That doesn’t make it any better.”
“No,” Lily agreed. “Fuck. I was hoping this would go better.”
“And… I’m not so sure your motives were pure. I’ve seen you sneak glances. For someone who has a superpower that gives her enhanced timing, I’d think you’d be better at it.”
Lily turned red, very deliberately not looking at Sabah.
“Once bitten, twice shy,” Sabah said, almost to herself. “I’ve been bitten once.”
“Is that a no?”
“To? You haven’t asked me anything.”
Lily shifted her grip on her arbalest, then set it on the ground, spun it on the end again, as though it were an oversized top.
“Skitter asked me for what I want. What do you want?”
“Direction. No, not even that. It’s almost like I don’t care as much about what I do, as me feeling like I want to do something well, but I can’t.”
The Japanese-American girl frowned. “And this is what you want to do?”
“Yes,” Sabah answered.
“Why?”
“Because it’s the only way to get the rest of the money that my people need.”
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