“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” I requested lamely.

  “Bring her back,” Taylor answered in a shaking voice. “I know you can resurrect people. You did it when you fixed that Case 53. So, bring my mother back… please.” She finished in a whisper, desperation leaking through.

  Rather than answer her right away, however, I shot a glare at the blonde standing by the stained wall, arms crossed and looking smug. Christ, Lisa! I know that she was annoyed, but to go this far?

  “Really?” I hissed at her, to which she only raised an eyebrow.

  “You really think this hasn’t occurred to her?” she shot back. “Better to get this out of the way now, rather than let it fester. I am not risking another blowup, not with you two.”

  I could only grimace in response, knowing she was right. This is exactly the kind of thing I wanted to avoid when using White-Silver. From the start, it was only ever intended to heal. The only one I ever even thought to bring back if they died was Taylor, herself.

  Turning back to the girl in question, I sighed in defeat upon seeing her hopeful gaze. Making it worse was Danny Hebert, now wearing an almost fraugh yearning.

  “Taylor, I can’t bring her back.” The blunt statement made her recoil, as if I had punched her in the face.

  “What?” she asked in a faint voice, before rallying with a vengeance. “Why not?! You did it with those people! Lisa said that the monstrous cape ate them months ago, but you saved them. Why can’t you do the same with my mother?!”

  “Because I never intended to resurrect them!” I bit out with equal frustration, shooting to my feet. “That was an accident, pure and simple. I meant to fix Echidna, to – to, I don’t know, make it so that she’s not a blob of rotting meat anymore. I thought that – it was supposed to fix her, just her! Then, once that happened, we could save the capes she ate last night. I didn’t even know it was possible to bring people back who were supposed to be dead a long time ago.”

  “So, you’re a useless fuckup, like always!” Taylor accused, making me stagger.

  “That’s enough!” Danny cut in, grabbing his daughter by the shoulder. “Taylor, that’s going too far,” he admonished gently.

  “But, Dad, he –”

  “I know, kiddo, but you have to stop before you say something you’ll truly regret,” he explained, making the eponymous Queen of Escalation drop her head like a scolded child. Danny embraced her tightly, making crooning noises at the blubbering girl.

  For my part, I felt so numb after Taylor’s accusation that I didn’t even notice Lisa’s approach until she placed a hand on my arm. Looking up, there was sympathy in those bottle-green eyes.

  “You understand, right?” She asked plaintively.

  And, oh, did that question come with a lot of subtext. Taylor missing her mother and Danny, his wife. Lisa’s regret regarding her brother. The possible misconceptions that people might form regarding my ability to resurrect the dead.

  It all needed to be laid out now, before things went out of control. Again.

  “I do,” I answered.

  We were quiet for a moment, allowing the father and daughter to recollect themselves. Once they did, Danny looked at me with red-rimmed eyes.

  “Can you at least explain why you can’t bring her back?” he asked, almost begging in how he spoke.

  “Because, even though I now realize that my power comes with a lot of nuance that I wasn’t aware of, there are still rules that it follows.” I was explaining this to the Heberts and Lisa, as much as to myself. “My guess is that Echidna only assimilated the people she ate. So, they weren’t truly dead, or at least, not completely.”

  I outlined my thoughts on the matter, adding that this was just my theory, and I couldn’t prove anything unless similar circumstances arose. More importantly, I made sure to stress that there could be unforeseen consequences, even if I did succeed in reviving someone. We simply didn’t know.

  “So, you can’t resurrect my Mom because…” Taylor started, but trailed off as her face crumpled in renewed heartbreak.

  “Because she actually died and has been for years,” Danny finished for her, taking his daughter into his arms, once more.

  God freakin’ damn it! I wanted to curse out White-Silver for putting me in this predicament, but I knew that it would be unfair. The Dragoon Spirit only did as I asked. It wasn’t at fault for the unintentional resurrections. So, I’m stuck blaming the circumstances.

  Looking at the grieving pair, I couldn’t help but put myself in their shoes. Despair wasn’t a stranger to me, either. In my case, I shut the world out and kept on keeping on, convinced that if I pretended the pain didn’t exist, then it wouldn’t. This continued being the case until right before coming here.

  There was nothing I could do for my past self. I couldn’t give them what they really wanted, either. But maybe there was a way for me to give them closure?

  Shirley? I reached out. Is it possible? Can it be done?

  A series of images flashed through my head. Impressions of both actions and emotions that were required for what I was planning to do.

  Are you sure it will work?

  The warmth of kindness, compassion, and understanding flooded my chest before quietly disappearing.

  “I –” Oof, that’s a big lump that needs swallowing. My initial attempt did get Taylor, Danny, and Lisa’s attention, though. "If you can talk to her one last time, even if I can't bring her back to life, would you take it?" I asked with trepidation.

  The shock that went through all three was almost a physical thing. Lisa recovered first.

  "How – how would that work?" she asked.

  "Everyone who has ever lived leaves an impression – an echo – that lingers even after they pass on," I explained. "It's not really them. Rather, an amalgamation of the mark they left on the world. The traces are especially potent on those whose lives they've affected the most. In this case," I gesture to Taylor and Danny, "it's your memories. Your love for her, the pain of her loss, the ache she left behind. I can use those to help you talk to her one last time."

  This was a big gamble on my part. Objectively speaking, if they accept, they'll be speaking to Annette's ghost. Not Annette herself.

  It's not something that everyone would be comfortable with.

  "So… what? We'd be talking to her spirit? A poltergeist?" Danny asked, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

  Taylor, on the other hand?

  "Do it."

  She really is impulsive, isn't she?

  "Are you sure, Taylor?" I asked carefully. "Shouldn't you take time to consider this? Maybe talk to your Dad about it?"

  At my prompting, she looked pitifully at her father. "Dad, please…"

  In response, Danny just sighed, looked at me, then nodded.

  "All right," I assented before closing my eyes.

  Take it away, Shirley.

  After a brief pause, I felt the foreign memories and personality suffuse my entire being. White-Silver responded to a call that didn't come from me. Then, a collection of light that looked suspiciously like fireflies started coalescing in the space between us.

  When enough of the tiny, luminous spots gathered, they started shining brightly. The illumination built up until even I had to squint or risk blindness.

  Once the light dimmed, I blinked and saw a glowing, translucent figure floating midair.

  "Oh, Danny," an echoing voice spoke, almost coming from every direction at once. "My Little Owl, I'm so sorry I'm not here anymore."

  "Mom…!" The heartache in the small voice of Taylor Hebert was too much for me to bear.

  Grabbing Lisa, I pulled us away from the pseudo-reunion, heading straight for the exit. It wasn't until we were outside, after I let go of my White-Silver form, that I noticed two things.

  First, I was holding her hand. Second, silent tears were spilling from her eyes, making them look almost painfully beautiful.

  God damn it!

  It’s really her.

  She was just as Taylor remembered from the last time they parted. A seemingly normal day that should have ended just like any other.

  Tall and willowy, kind eyes radiating love regarded Taylor exactly as in her fondest memories. Memories that she had long feared were buried under a mountain of pain and misery.

  Most noteworthy was the hair. Long, dark, and curly. Just like hers.

  How she longed to just rush into her arms, like she did when she was younger. When the world was simpler, and sadness was a vaguely distant concept.

  “Mom,” she choked out.

  In response, the ghostly apparition reached over to stroke misty fingers over her cheeks. The touch wasn’t physical, much to Taylor’s dissapointment. But the warmth and comfort she felt are quite real.

  “How I wish I could hold you, Taylor.” Even with the strange, resonant timbre, the voice she’d been yearning to hear for years still came through. “But even in this limited form, I’ll still count my blessings. There is so much I want to say to you, Little Owl!”

  Taylor’s heart was so full of conflicting emotions, it felt like it would burst. Joy at seeing and hearing her mother. Rage at being denied her return. Gratitude that she was given a chance so many had never gotten.

  “I love you, Taylor,” Annette Hebert proclaimed profusely. “I have said those words every day since you were born, but I never want you to forget. Every moment I held you in my arms was a gift, Little Owl. The greatest gift I could have ever asked for, and I’m beyond proud of you.”

  “Mom I – I’m sorry!” the girl cried out. “I tried! It was so hard and I was so lonely. I couldn’t – I wasn’t strong enough. Even Emma – the world stopped making sense. Nobody would listen, and home – home wasn’t home anymore. I failed – I’m a failure!”

  “Hush, now, sweetheart!” her mother gently admonished. “You are not a failure. Don’t you ever say that about yourself. You’ve been through so much, but you’re still standing. Anyone else would have given in had they been in your place, but you didn’t. Whatever faults that boy has, he wasn’t lying about you.”

  That brought Taylor up short. Boy?

  “You mean, Alfred?” she asked.

  “Yes, Alfred.” Annette’s smile a glittery, mirthful sight. “He is utterly devoted to you, Little Owl. Regardless of his many, many mistakes, he is probably the only person in the world other than your father who would never betray you.”

  Taylor was stunned. Why would her mother say such a thing?

  “Speaking of which,” the humor on the ghostly face was replaced with disappointment. “Danny.”

  Hearing her dad’s name jolted Taylor out of her thoughts, having nearly forgotten about him. He stood behind his daughter, almost hovering, but not quite.

  “Annette,” he said almost meekly. “I…”

  He closed his mouth, lips pressing into lines. He tried opening them again, but nothing came out. Eventually, a spectral sigh escaped Annette.

  “Oh, Danny, you hopeless dork. Come here.”

  Never had Taylor seen her dad look so despondent as he came closer. Much like she did with her, glowing hands caressed his cheeks.

  “I should be angry with you,” her mother said. “You left our daughter alone to fend for herself, Danny. I can’t find the words to express just how much that hurt me.”

  A lance of pain went through Taylor’s chest, and as much as it shamed her admit, seeing her father shrink into himself at her mother’s words gave her a smidgen of satisfaction.

  “I know,” he acknowledged in a pained voice. “I know I neglected her, Anne. I’ve tried, but I’m just so lost without you.”

  Once again, Taylor felt hollow. She understood how her dad felt. She simply couldn’t stop wishing that they could have coped together.

  “You sweet, loveable fool,” she shook her head, though the smile did return. “Fortunately, you still have time to fix this. I know it will be hard, but I also know your strength, Danny. Your broken, not dead. Promise me you’ll put yourself back together, for Taylor’s sake.”

  “I will,” he agreed readily. “I promise. She’ll never be alone ever again.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “We can’t change the past,” her mother sighed, “and my time here is extremely limited.”

  Taylor’s heart started thumping in alarm. “What?”

  A sad smile graced Annette’s lips. “Me being here is already a miracle, Little Owl. There’s no power in the world that could make my return permanent.”

  Taylor wanted to scream, then. She wanted to act like a child, throwing a tantrum. It’s not enough. Her time with with her mom wasn’t nearly enough!

  “Listen, Taylor, please,” she said, “while I can still speak.” It took everything in her, but the girl eventually relented, unwilling to miss the last words her mother will ever say. “Never doubt that you two are loved,” she declared, her voice ringing with strength and conviction. “I might be gone, but the fact that I’m here, no matter how temporary the arrangement might be, is proof of that. Danny, I know the man I married is still in there. I need you to find him again, all right?”

  Her dad grimaced. “I’ll try, Anne. I don’t know if I can do that, but I’ll try.”

  “You can do it, I know you can,” her mother encouraged, before turning to Taylor. “Little Owl, there is strength in resilience. You’ve proven that a thousand times over. Give yourself a little more credit, okay?”

  Taylor could only nod, unable to speak without risking the overflowing emotions building inside her.

  “One last thing before I go,” Annette said, her form was already flickering and her voice sounded further away. “Alfred is a broken soul, Taylor.” This caused the girl’s eyes to widen in shock. “To the rest of the world, he might appear redoubtable, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. The woman allowing us to speak like this didn’t tell me much. Only that he will need more guidance, support, and understanding than even he is aware of.”

  So many questions were swirling in Taylor’s mind. What woman? How was Alfred broken? But, her mother’s pearly form was getting less solid by the second.

  “Be there for him, Taylor, and you won’t find a more loyal partner. Do you understand?”

  What else could she say?

  “I understand, mom.”

  A smile of satisfaction was the last clear feature that Taylor could see.

  “I love you both, so much! Goodbye Danny, Little Owl…”

  “I love you, Mom!” Taylor yelled, pouring every drop of adoration she felt for the woman who meant the world to her, barely noticing Danny as she drew into an embrace.

  “Goodbye, Anne. I love you, too,” he said in a quiet voice, full of both grief and affection. “I won’t let you down. Not again.”

  In a few moments, the last echo of Annette Hebert faded from the world, leaving behind two souls who, for the first time in three years, finally felt the chains of anguish loosen.

  Sitting in one of the PRT’s larger briefing rooms, Miss Militia could only dourly stare at the documents they were given. All of the local Protectorate heroes were in attendance. Each one looking much healthier than they were a few days ago, thanks to Panacea’s voluntary ministrations.

  Whatever positive spin could be attributed to the occasion, however, is vastly overshadowed by the subject of the meeting. A subject that reminded Miss Militia of her recent blunder.

  Like all of her colleagues, she was briefed of the PRT’s play when they requested Seraph’s account, right after the Echidna incident was resolved. Not only did she overstep, her mistake could have also potentially damaged their chances of actually bringing the cape onside.

  Taking in a deep breath through her nose, she scanned the room. The local PRT’s top officers were in their seats. Only Armsmaster remained missing, along with the Director. Strangely enough, however, a third chair was empty near the head of the large table.

  “Who else is coming, do you know?" Velocity asked beside her.

  “No,” she shook her head. “It can’t be Legend, he went back to New York.”

  “Another PRT Director, maybe?” Bastion suggested, who sat on the other side of the Mover. “Armstrong’s close enough.”

  “Why would Boston’s PRT Director come here?” Assault cut in. He sat to the Shaker’s left, making the conversation almost a game of telephone in mintiature.

  “Which Director wouldn’t want to come here?” Bastion retorted. “You gotta admit, Brockton’s pretty hot, right now.”

  The statement set off a lively discussion, which drew in other Protectorate heroes and PRT officers. Miss Militia was tempted to quell the unprofessional behavior, but that would have been the height of hypocrisy, given her recent overreach.

  Fortunately, the increasingly loud debate was interrupted when the door finally opened. In came her team leader, followed by Director Piggot, and last was…

  “Oh no,” Velocity whispered.

  “Good morning, everyone,” came the Director’s clipped greeting as the newcomers took their seat. She sounded raspy to a concerning degree, indicating a worrying lack of rest. “Apologies for calling you all here again, but there’s been an important develop. But first, for those who don’t him, this is the PRT’s Head of Image, Glenn Chambers.”

  “Good morning everyone,” the oddly dressed man greeted them with a pleasant smile. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

  “He’s here because we are dealing with a crisis of international proportions,” Piggot explained. “You already know some of what’s going on, given the preliminary reports you were asked to submit.” Miss Militia could almost hear the word ‘inadequate’ inserted somewhere in that statement. “For some context as to what we’re dealing with, there has been significant increase in the amount of attention directed at our area of jurisdiction. As some of you might have guessed, it’s largely to do with Seraph. Please open your files to page seven.”

  The page contained a detailed list of the cape’s exploits in his short career. All of which Miss Militia had already known.

  “Nothing in there should be a surprise to you,” the Director went on. “However, the events from the other night, the second of May, have shone the information contained in those documents in a new light.”

  That’s an understatement, Miss Militia thought bitterly.

  Complete resurrection was one of those powers that only ever existed in PHO rumor boards. It was supposed to have been impossible. Yet, Seraph had proven that not only could it be done, it could be done at scale.

  As someone who Triggered with only the power to kill at a young age, it unbalanced the typically composed Blaster enough to cause her outburst.

  “Let’s bring up several points worth noting,” Piggot instructed. “On page 12, you’ll find a diagram that was recovered from the site where Shadow Stalker fell when she attempted to apprehend Seraph.”

  Flipping to the indicated page, Miss Militia found what she expected: a photo of a half-sheet of scorched notebook paper. Eight circles, each perfectly round, ringed a small star. Every circle carried a neat, block-printed label: Red-Eyed, Blue-Sea, Jade, Golden, Violet, White-Silver, Darkness, Divine.

  “I don’t need to reiterate how these details are connected to Seraph’s transformations. We already covered that topic in previous meetings. However, note that during the May second incident, and Glory Girl’s recovery two days prior to that, Seraph was using a form with coloration corresponding to White-Silver. Which suggests what, Armsmaster?”

  “This suggests that, aside from the expected elemental connections attributed to each color, there are forms that come with more esoteric capabilities,” the Tinker said on cue. “At the Tiamat incident, and then afterwards, the Echidna incident, Seraph showcased powers with substantial Shaker effects. This suggests that the names represent far more than just using the elements the colors embody.”

  “Meaning what?” Assault asked with an unusually serious voice.

  “As an example, Red-Eyed could be matched to Seraph’s red form, where he used flames,” Armsmaster explained. “However, we have since matched Darkness and White-Silver to their corresponding forms. One covered an entire area of several miles in total darkness, before then wiping out several hundred minions of considerable size. The other healed a parahuman afflicted with a monstrous body, and then brought her victims back from the dead.”

  “Not to mention removing her power,” Bastion added.

  “Yes,” the Tinker conceded. “It also rendered Noelle Meinhardt a normal human, once more.”

  This was yet another source of mystery regarding the young Parahuman as those consumed by Echidna retained their abilities. The Travelers surrendered themselves to PRT custody, but Purity was released due to the truce, which was still in effect by that point.

  The villain certainly had no trouble flying away under her own power.

  “Uh…,” Triumph started, with his hand up.

  “You can just ask, Triumph,” the Director said dryly. “This isn’t school.”

  “Right, sorry,” the most recent Protectorate hero stammered. “So, does this mean that Darkness and White-Silver are different from the rest?”

  “It means that we may be wrong in our initial conclusions about all of them,” Armsmaster answered. “Seraph’s powers do work on a theme, but not in any manner typical with Parahumans. None of them appear to be Manton-limited, yet Seraph appears largely immune to his own forms and attacks. Trumps with healing powers are not unheard of. Eidolon has displayed similar feats in the past. Yet, Seraph seems constrained in his transformations.”

  “You mean how every form has wings and his armor looks like they were grown instead of made?” Dauntless asked.

  “Exactly!” Glenn Chambers exclaimed, drawing everyone’s attention. “The young man’s powers essentially come with their own branding. Easily identifiable, remarkably distinct, and most importantly, undeniably consistent. That’s why we absolutely must convince him to either join the Protectorate, or work more closely with us.”

  By the end of his declaration, the man was positively vibrating with excitement.

  “I suppose this is a good time to discuss the reason for this meeting. Thank you, Armsmaster,” Director Piggot said, to which the Tinker nodded. “Pressure to have some control over Seraph is mounting. The Chief-Director is now receiving calls, not just from the President, but also leaders from other countries to make this happen.”

  She paused, sweeping everyone in attendance with a severe look.

  “As a result, our budget has been increased to the point that we might as well not have a limit,” she continued, and it spoke to the competence of those in the room that no one looked remotely happy. “Additional Protectorate and PRT personnel are also en route. Fortunately, we just about managed to prevent the government from also mobilizing the Marines, Army, Navy, and Air Force. The only armed forces in play are the National Guard.”

  This is bad. This is really bad.

  “You can imagine why this is a big problem for us,” she regarded everyone with a raised eyebrow.

  “Now, Emily,” Chambers jumped in. “It’s not quite that bad.”

  In response, the Director gave him a look of contempt. “Not that bad? Since when has consigning my city to becoming the site of a major shitstorm been anything but an absolute catastrophe?”

  “Since the order came down from the highest authority to only use the lightest touch when dealing with Seraph,” the man replied calmly. “We took your warnings very seriously, and I’m here to help make our attempts look as friendly as possible.”

  “You understand that he’ll see right through whatever you cook up, right?” Director Piggot asked scathingly. “Especially given the Thinker who is probably controlling him?”

  “We do have our own Thinkers, you know?” Chambers replied with a smile. “They reported that attempting to contact Seraph won’t go as badly as you seem to believe.”

  “And you believe them?” she asked in justified disbelief. Thinkers haven’t been the most reiable when it came to the winged cape.

  “Not completely,” he reassured. “However, we still have to try. We’re not the only ones who know of the mass resurrection that occurred here. The CUI would definitely have informants here, and do I even need to mention Gesellschaft? And those are just the start! Whether you like it or not, every major player will be coming to Brockton Bay. Accord has already made his play, hasn’t he?”

  As galling as it was to admit, Miss Militia couldn’t argue with his points. Even if the PRT and Protectorate did nothing, Seraph was simply too tempting a target to leave alone. If one ignores all of his other powers, the resurrection alone could be enough to catch The Slaughterhouse Nine’s attention.

  The truth of the matter is that they need additional security.

  “And there’s another thing that you seem to be deliberately ignoring,” Chambers pointed out.

  “What are you talking about?” the Director asked.

  Getting up from his chair, Chambers went over to the corner where a whiteboard stood.

  “May I?” he asked, to which Director Pigot gave a jerk of her head. Chambers then picked up a marker and started writing. “You already witnessed him using Red-Eyed, Blue-Sea, Violet, White-Silver, and Darkness, correct?” he asked, listing the names accordingly.

  “Yes,” Armsmaster answered for everyone.

  “Let’s forget Jade and Golden, for now,” Chambers continued. “And instead, focus on Divine.”

  A chill started crawling up Miss Militia’s arm.

  “Now, I’m assuming that you have your own guesses as to what these colors meant before the Echidna incident. I didn’t have enough time to read all the reports, I’m afraid. What did you think Divine meant?”

  “There had been far too many possibilities to account for them all,” Armsmaster said. “We narrowed it down to an expression of hubris, perhaps a Thinker aspect pointing to divination, or a codeword for something else.”

  “And now that he has brought people back to life and healed an affliction?”

  Armsmaster answered through gritted teeth, “Parahuman powers, regardless of type or strength, do not denote godhood.”

  “Of course, not!” Chambers snorted. “But, you need to see this matter from a different perspective. You said so yourself. These colors and names seem to be more than just a highly convenient label scheme. Now, I invite you to consider.” He opened his arms in a sweeping gesture. “If Seraph’s naming convention designated a form with near-miraculous abilities as White-Silver – virtually innocuous and, dare I say, almost innocent in connotations – it stands to reason that this applies to all of the names and colors.

  “With that being the case, wouldn’t it make sense that he was as straightfoward in using the word ‘Divine’ for this particular form? Which is more likely; that a young Parahuman who has demonstrated considerable power would want to exaggerate anything in his naming sense? Or that his use of ‘Divine’ is exactly what he thinks is appropriate?”

  Silence fell over the room as the full weight of what Chambers is saying made itself known. If nothing else, it was clear that Seraph didn’t like attention.

  “Even if you’re right,” the Director finally said. “Why exactly did they send you? How would PR help make Seraph more amenable to our way of thinking?”

  Chambers’ smile was all teeth. “The young man has already drawn a lot of attention, Director. As someone who makes a living making Parahumans shine in the eyes of the public, it stands to reason that I know how to give them obscurity, doesn’t it?”

  A wave of comprehension swept through the attendees.

  “You want to make him disappear,” Triumph guessed.

  “Even better, my boy!” Chambers crowed. “I’m going to turn him into a nobody.”

  Sitting in one of the smaller rooms of the warehouse they’re using as a temporary hideout, Lisa let her mind wander for a bit. It was only her, Brian, Rachel, Alec, and Taylor at present. She took one of the ratty plastic chairs they were able to scrounge up. Brian leaned by the door, Rachel and Alec sat on a stained couch that was already there when they moved in, and the bug mistress sat on a stool.

  They were listening to a radio broadcast from a dinky little wireless Brian bought from a pawnshop. A step down from having access to the internet, but needs must.

  In any case, the news didn’t really say anything that they didn’t already know. Not that this was surprising in any way. Besides, they had a much better source of information in Lisa.

  Despite the prevailing limitations of her power in actually needing data from which she could draw her conclusions, the lack of a power-induced migraine still made it immensely useful. And the results were not encouraging.

  Hence, Alfred and Danny had to take a trip despite the risks.

  “Are you sure they’ll be fine?” Taylor asked.

  Twin groans came from Alec and Rachel. Quite the understandable reactions, too.

  “For the tenth time, yes!” Lisa answered in exasperation. “Alfred won’t let anything happen to your dad. Even if Danny did get hurt, your boytoy’s a healer.”

  “Not my boytoy,” the girl muttered under her breath.

  Lisa found it suspicious that Taylor wasn’t as vocal in denying the insinuation as she expected. At any other time, she would’ve needled the girl to find out why. However, they had more important things to worry about.

  Speaking of…

  “You’re good with the plan, right?” Lisa asked.

  “I still have my doubts,” Taylor sighed. “But, we don’t really have a lot of options, do we?”

  “No,” Grue said from his position, “we don’t. Things are about to get real messy, and this is the only way to get ahead of the storm.”

  “Yeah, about that,” Alec spoke up from the couch without taking his eyes away from his phone. “Why can’t we just skip town, again?”

  “And go where, Alec?” Lisa asked tiredly. “Distance won’t really solve anything. At least, here, we have the home advantage.”

  “Dogs,” Rachel grunted.

  “Thank you, Rachel. Yes, moving the dogs would be a pain, too.”

  “Look, I’m all for using the White Hats as meatshields,” the insufferable boy said. “But, we don’t really need to be in the city for the plan, right?”

  “Isolating ourselves risks us getting cornered if we’re found,” Brian explained stoically. “The risk is too great.”

  “Really?” Taylor cut in. “You’re all just fine with using the heroes as cannon fodder?”

  “Why wouldn’t we be?” Alec replied, still not looking up.

  “Because it’s wrong?”

  “It’s not that simple, Taylor,” Lisa moaned. “We’re all in the pit, now. If we want to live past this month, we need to use every tool, every resource.”

  “We’re not talking about a wrench or a screwdriver! These are people, Lisa!”

  “People who chose their path,” Brian jumped in, pushing off the wall and walking to the center of the room. “I get it, Taylor. But you have to remember that these aren’t civilians. Heroes put their lives on the line every time they go out in costume. All capes do to some degree. They won’t be doing anything that they haven’t already committed to.”

  “That doesn’t mean we should talk about them like they’re disposable pawns,” Taylor retorted.

  “Ha!” Alec barked out in laughter. “You can dress it up all you want, dork, but that’s exactly what they are. You’re playing in the big leagues now. Might as well own it.”

  Just as the girl opened her mouth, no doubt to complain a bit more, the sound of tires crunching gravel blessedly interrupted the argument. Brian swiftly went outside, and after a series of door slams, he, Alfred, and Danny walked in carrying bags of varying sizes.

  “Here,” Alfred said, handing Lisa her laptop case.

  “Thanks,” she said in appreciation.

  Taylor embraced her father before accepting a backpack, which likely contained extra clothes and toiletries she wasn’t able to bring before they had to bug out. Alec, on the other hand, was more interested in the plastic bags full of food and snacks.

  Rachel received the sack of dog food that Alfred was carrying as if it weighed nothing, grunting in gratitude.

  Once everyone was settled in, Lisa opened with, “Taylor still has concerns about the plan.”

  The most powerful cape in the room raised both eyebrows and gave the girl in question an inquiring look.

  “It’s not about the plan, exactly.” Taylor shot Lisa a venomous glare. “Everyone’s just been acting like putting heroes in danger was no big deal.”

  The blonde could almost see the gears in the boy’s head start to turn, flaking off rust as they did so. His look of bewilderment certainly made it seem like he never considered the problem before. Knowing him, that’s more likely than not.

  “So, you just want us to stop talking like it isn’t?”

  For fuck’s sake, Alfred!

  Predictably, the Master bristled. “No, I would rather we didn’t put them in danger at all!”

  “But, we –”

  “Yeah, no, we’re not doing this.” Lisa has had enough. “Arguing in circles won’t fix our situation. This is our best path forward. If we pull this off, not only will we rid Brockton Bay of the gangs, but we might just take down some out-of-town villains along the way.”

  Pinning Taylor with a withering glare, Lisa continued, “You’re a VIP, Taylor, but that doesn’t mean you’re in charge. I don’t give a shit about Alfred’s weird white-knighting sickness, but we’re not him. Your life’s not the only one on the line here, and I happen to value mine very much. So, kindly get the fuck off your high horse.”

  “Ooooh! Burn!” Alec crowed.

  “Oookaaayyy, let’s button it up, girls.” Danny interrupted, having gotten up, and gently pushed Lisa to sit back down. She didn’t even notice that she was on her feet. “Kiddo, I’m sorry to say this, but she’s right. We just have too many eyes on us now. And if Accord is really after you? I’d rather have the heroes between you and him, or anyone else who comes knocking.”

  The Thinker didn’t need to use her power to understand the man’s thought process. The chance at closure that Alfred gave them affected the two very differently.

  Danny had taken the protective father routine to an entirely alien direction. It’s like he’s trying to make up for his past paternal failures to an unhealthy degree.

  Taylor, on the other hand, became a lot angrier. The suicidal depression has lessened quite a bit, along with many of her self-esteem issues. But, boy, did she become a lot more willing to lash out.

  “In any case,” he went on, “it’s done. The only question now is how we proceed.”

  “Oh, that’s easy enough.” Finally getting over the hurdle of a certain bug controller’s whining made Lisa’s presentation less likely to go off the rails. “Alfred goes out as Ruff ‘n Tumble to do two things: The first is to scout areas where Bakuda is likely hiding with a camera. He brings the footage back so I can watch it and pinpoint her lair. While I do that, he’ll find some crime to fight and gain the PRT’s attention, with the intent of registering as an affiliated, Independent hero.

  “By doing so, we’ll have someone who can easily get in touch with the PRT and Protectorate, potentially even gain intel in the process. Plus, as a minor cape, Ruff ‘n Tumble won’t gain nearly as much attention as Seraph would.”

  Not the most foolproof of plans, but they were constrained by the lack of alternatives. Honestly, the biggest problem in this scheme is how it hinges on Alfred’s performance.

  “Just to make sure, you are up to this, right?” Lisa asked him.

  “I managed to go over a week without giving the game away, Lisa.” The boy had the audacity to roll his eyes! “I think I can manage a single interaction without outing myself.”

  Everyone in the room shot him dubious looks.

  “What?” he squawked. “I’ll have you know, I’ve already met Armsmaster, Velocity, and Dauntless as Ruff ‘n Tumble. My alter-ego’s still intact, isn’t it?”

  “Isn’t the PRT going to wonder why you weren’t at the Echidna incident?” Taylor asked, sounding genuinely curious.

  “That’s easy,” Alfred said smugly. “I’ll tell them that Ruff ‘n Tumble is a coward.”

  …

  …

  …

  “Wut?”

  Lisa wasn’t sure who blurted out such a consequential vocalization of bewilderment. It certainly wasn’t her.

  “Yep! Ruff’s a coward,” he went on, genuine pride oozing from his voice. “It explains why he only ever strikes from the shadows, and why he kept running when Oni Lee attacked him. It’s perfect!”

  “Why’re you referring to yourself in the third person?” Really, Taylor? That’s your first question?

  “Because Ruff’s not me?” Alfred replied, seemingly confused as to why the girl brought it up.

  “Better question,” Lisa interjected. “Couldn’t you just say that you –” “Ruff!” “–fine! Couldn’t you just say that Ruff was occupied elsewhere? Why go through the trouble of calling you, um, him a coward?”

  “Ah, you’ll appreciate this one!” he proclaimed. “It adds another level of separation from my other cape identity. Who would think that big, bad Seraph could be a little bitch?”

  You certainly act like a bitch-ass pussy when around Taylor, Lisa thought scathingly.

  “Huh, that makes sense.” The Thinker could practically hear her neck crack after twisting her head to give the Master a disbelieving look.

  “Thanks!”

  Christ! These two were really made for each other, weren’t they?