Amy Dallon had been working at the hospital for the past four hours. With the Teeth in town, there had been a surge in gunshot wounds and knives-related injuries to match the worst of the bad old days, before Lasombra and the Protectorate (but mostly Lasombra) had cleaned up the city.
She had just finished patching up the last of the injured and was enjoying a break on the hospital's rooftop with a hot cup of coffee. It was as cold outside as one might expect from an early March night on the East Coast, but a perverse part of her enjoyed the bite of the night wind on her face. It certainly helped keep her awake, which she was going to need if she was to drag herself to school tomorrow –
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Amy froze. She recognized that sound from the audio-only broadcasts of the ceremony at Canberra. Slowly, she turned around, and there, having appeared out of nowhere, was Lasombra, looking down at her like Death come to collect her soul. This was the first time Amy had ever seen the Endkiller with her own eyes, but it was impossible to mistake him for anyone else : he looked exactly like Vicky had described him, though he was far more intimidating in person than even her sister's enthusiastic and vivid description could give justice to.
"Hello," she squeaked. "Can I do anything for you ?"
Lasombra nodded. "YES. ELSEWHERE. COME." He extended his left hand in her direction, as if asking for a handshake.
Amy hesitated. She had no idea what exactly Lasombra intended, or what he wanted her to do. But … this was Lasombra. This was the cape who had freed the Bay from the gangs, the cape who had brought the Empire that had killed Aunt Fleur down. This was the Endkiller.
If she couldn't trust him, then who could she trust ? Maybe someone had gotten hurt somewhere and he needed her to heal them – that was the only reason she could think of, anyway. And if he wanted her to come with him, then it wasn't like she could do anything to stop him. So she grasped Lasombra's hand. It felt cold and smooth to the touch, like marble rather than skin, and her power didn't tell her anything : she might as well have been holding a statue.
"CLOSE YOUR EYES," commanded Lasombra, and Amy obeyed without thinking, wincing at the sound of his voice.
Then she felt very, very cold for a second; colder than she had ever felt before in her entire life, in a way that made the previous wind seem positively balmy by comparison. It was as if she'd just been dunked into a tank of ice water – then the temperature returned to something more tolerable.
She opened her eyes, half-expecting to find herself drenched, but her costume was just as dry as before. She looked at her hands, expecting to see frostbite, but there was nothing, and the sensation was already fading away as if it had never happened.
"What the fuck was that ?!" she gasped before she could catch herself and realize that swearing at the Endkiller might not be a good idea.
"Yeah, it sucks, doesn't it ?" a voice that definitely wasn't Lasombra's answered from somewhere nearby. "I told him we could just take a cab, but he insisted on operational security. Which, given how many people must have tried to kidnap you over the years, fair enough."
Blinking, Amy finally took a look at her surroundings. She was standing inside a building she recognized as a warehouse from her occasional adventures with Vicky – high ceiling, piles of crates, the works. The lack of dust indicated that this place wasn't abandoned like most of the city's docks.
A young blonde woman in a black and lavender skinsuit was leaning against the wall in front of her. Amy forced herself not to look too long at the curves on display, but judging by the smirk the other girl showed under her mask, she wasn't successful.
"Hi, Panacea," said the blonde. "I'm Tattletale."
She stopped. She recognized the name, and now that she'd heard it, she recognized the costume too. She took a step back and exclaimed :
"You're … you're a villain !"
"Not anymore, according to the PRT," the young woman replied nonchalantly. "They have officially moved me and the rest of my team to the Rogues category, last I heard, with our 'villain phase' being blamed on Coil for blackmailing us."
"Is that what actually happened ?" Amy asked suspiciously.
"Eh, close enough for government work, as they say," Tattletale shrugged. "Especially since now, I'm working for tall, dark and scary over here these days, so that he can have someone speak for him who won't drive people mad with fear if they speak in long sentences. The PRT was more than willing to excuse a few indiscretions in exchange for making contact with him."
Amy wanted to say the PRT wouldn't do that, but the words died on her tongue. This was Lasombra, the Endkiller, after all. Who was going to tell him he couldn't recruit a small-time crook ? Nobody, that's who. Besides, now that she had a moment to think about it, she remembered that she'd heard from the PRT grapevine that Tattletale had come into the PRT HQ after Lasombra had returned from his post-Canberra recovery. It was amazing the kind of things people would say within earshot of the healer they all trusted with their lives.
And since Lasombra was standing in the corner like some really fucked-up sleep paralysis demon and not saying anything to contradict Tattletale, Amy had to assume she was telling the truth.
"Are you still committing crimes ?" she asked, not sure what she would do if the blonde said yes.
"Technically speaking ?" Tattletale shrugged. "Maybe some little fraud and tax evasion, but no more than any modern corporation, and it's all in the service of revitalizing the city's economy by cutting through the red tape. The boss has a lot of money these days, but he doesn't exactly know how to invest it into the city properly. That's where I come in."
A lot of money … right. Of course. Killing the Simurgh had to be worth a lot, even if it had been years since everyone had given up on anyone ever collecting those bounties. Briefly, Amy held the mental image of Lasombra entering a bank and asking to withdraw cash, and suddenly, him recruiting Tattletale as an intermediary made a lot more sense.
"Also, before you start worrying," Tattletale added, "I already sent a text to your sister to tell her the boss recruited you for a job, so your family won't freak out and rip the city open to find you."
Oh. That was good. She had completely forgotten about that. Nobody had seen Lasombra take her away, after all; disappearing from the rooftop would have gotten people worried, especially with the Teeth having just been taken down.
Then she realized something :
"How do you have Vicky's phone number ?" she asked accusingly.
"I'm a Thinker who has been active in the Bay for months, and she is an open cape." Tattletale winked at Amy. "Do the math."
Never underestimate what Thinkers are capable of, one of Carol's warnings echoed in Amy's mind. Of course, another warning had been 'never let the Thinker talk' but it was already too late for that.
"That's … okay." Amy took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm calm. Now, if you don't mind, why exactly am I here ?"
"We have someone we need your help with," said Tattletale, all levity abruptly gone. "And when you see her, please let me explain before you start screaming."
Someone they couldn't bring to the hospital ? Amy wondered. Nobody would have stopped Lasombra if he'd shown up with a patient and asked for me to see them. Maybe someone related to him, who could be used to figure out his identity ?
Amy may be an open cape, but she wasn't stupid. She knew Lasombra's secret identity had to be one of the most burning mysteries, and a lot of people would pay a lot of money and do a lot of very stupid things if it meant learning it.
Tattletale pushed herself off the wall and walked between the stacked crates. "Follow me," she called out, and Amy hurried after her. Lasombra was standing next to a table, despite Amy not having heard him move. Right. Of course.
On the table was a young girl, approximately twelve years old. Amy's instincts took over and she began visually checking her on reflex for any sign of injuries, but she didn't find anything. There was blood on the girl's blue dress, but Amy couldn't see any damage to her clothes, so it probably wasn't … hers …
Wait. She knew that face.
"What the fuck ?!" she blurted out.
"As you just realized, this is Riley Grace Davis, also known as Bonesaw," said Tattletale, with all the subtlety of a hammer to the face. "The boss just wiped out the Slaughterhouse Nine; the others are all dead, but he spared her, because … well, she is a kid, and from what he told me, Jack Slash had some kind of Master power he used to keep the Nine under his control and make a kid who Triggered while trying to save her family into Bonesaw. The boss did something to wipe out her memory of her time under Jack Slash's influence."
"Wait. Wait, wait wait. He fought the Slaughterhouse ? But …" Amy turned toward Lasombra. "But you were fighting the Butcher, like, two hours ago !"
Lasombra nodded silently.
"Did the Nine come to Brockton while everyone was distracted by the Teeth ?!" she shrieked.
To Amy's relief, this time Lasombra shook his head.
"Then how the fuck did you …" the healer sputtered, then took a deep breath (she was doing that a lot tonight, an increasingly hysterical part of her mind noted). "Right. Bullshit teleportation powers. Nevermind. Although, how did you even know where they were ?"
"Bullshit Thinker powers," Tattletale answered drily while Lasombra stayed silent. "Anyway, that's why the boss went to get you. We need your help to remove all the implants she grafted onto herself, as well as give her some cosmetic surgery so that she can have a hope of living a normal life."
"But she … she's a monster !"
"NO," said Lasombra.
"What ? Yes she is ! She and Nilbog are almost entirely responsible for the bad reputation of wet Tinkers in the country !"
"YET," said Lasombra, before suddenly stopping, shaking his head, and … holding up his hand as if telling them to wait ?
"Wait a sec," said Tattletale, suddenly alarmed. "Boss, are you sure this is –"
The suited nightmare rippled, and then vanished. In his place was a tall, dark-haired, lanky girl who looked about Amy's age and was wearing … pyjamas ?
Again : what the fuck ?
"Man, you're right, Tattletale : moving around like this sucks, and it's probably a lot worse for you than me," the new arrival declared after taking a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm sorry you had to go through it, Panacea, but I couldn't exactly have someone pick you up from the hospital with a car."
"Uh …" Amy hesitated, briefly flabbergasted beyond words. "Are – are you ?"
"Yes, I'm Lasombra," she replied. "Also known as Taylor Hebert, at your service."
"Taylor !" Tattletale exclaimed. "What are you doing ?!"
"Revealing my civilian identity to the most trustworthy cape in the entire United States," Lasombra – Taylor retorted. "I am asking a huge favor out of her; that's the least I can do, and it will make explaining a lot easier. Also, Panacea, you probably already know the identities of a bunch of other capes, right ? Actually, don't answer that."
"You … why ?!" Amy sputtered. "Why are you telling me this ?"
"Because you deserve to talk to me face-to-face rather than through an intermediary. And because talking in my Lasombra form isn't exactly convenient. Jack Slash nearly died when I talked at him in full sentences, for instance."
The cognitive dissonance of hearing the girl talk about killing the leader of the Slaughterhouse Nine while in her pyjamas made Amy's head spin. She felt any moment now, she was going to wake up in her bed, the entire thing turning out to be nothing more than a stress-induced dream.
She pinched herself. Ouch. No such luck, it seemed. She took several long, deep breaths, and forced herself to calm down.
"Okay," she said eventually. "Okay. That's … a lot to deal with, but okay. Now, why do you want me to help with Bonesaw ?"
"Because my powers have a Master component to them. I won't bother you with the details, but they let me see through the memories of other people through eye contact. What I saw in Riley's memories … I know I could have killed her, and nobody would have blamed me. But I also saw her Trigger Event, and what Jack Slash did to make her into a monster. That made the decision a lot more difficult."
That … that made sense. Amy was aware of the publicly available backstories of the Nine, and what had happened to the girl who had become Bonesaw was part of that, even though the details had been censored for obvious reasons. For someone who didn't look any older than her to see it through Bonesaw's own eyes … it would be enough to tug at anyone's heartstrings.
"I heard from the PRT troopers who were brought to the hospital for healing that you took Butcher's powers away," said Amy tentatively. "Couldn't you do the same to her ?"
Couldn't you do the same to me ? The selfish thought lingered on her tongue.
She had never said it aloud, of course, but the fantasy of her powers just … going away, was one she'd entertained more than a few times as the exhaustion of constantly healing people piled up since her Trigger. She couldn't just stop healing people; she had a responsibility as a hero. But if her powers were just gone, well, nobody could blame her, right ?
"I could," Taylor admitted. "But I haven't checked with the PRT how the ex-Butcher is doing; for all I know, she is going to wake up even crazier than before. Also, there's a lot of good Riley could do with her power – just like you have."
"Anyone with that powerset is going to be looked at very suspiciously, no matter how much I change her face," Amy pointed out.
"Let me worry about that," replied Taylor. "I have … contacts, let's say, who have the assets and influence to take care of that and ensure she is properly cared for and monitored."
Well, Amy could believe that. After Canberra, there probably wasn't anyone on Earth who would refuse the girl before her anything so long as she showed up in her Lasombra guise.
"With my powers, I could do a lot of terrible things. Things that would put me in the same category as the Endbringers themselves. This isn't a mere guess on my part : I know that for a fact."
There was something in the way Taylor spoke that gave her words a lot more weight than should be possible, given that, if Lasombra had done something wrong with his – her powers, surely Amy would have heard about it. Unless she knew someone else with powers similar to hers (but not nearly on the same level) who had turned into a villain ?
"I want to give her a second chance, because I have to believe our powers don't define who we are," she added.
It was weird, Amy thought. This whole situation was strange, but maybe the strangest thing about it was hearing Lasombra, someone who had broken the gangs of Brockton Bay in mere weeks, who had decapitated the Simurgh with what the Internet was pretty sure was a gate to Hell, and now had effectively destroyed the Slaughterhouse Nine, sounding so … idealistic.
Then again, maybe it was the whole shadowy-demon-from-Hell look her power gave her. Combined with the fact she couldn't communicate properly in that form without breaking her audience's brains, it wasn't hard to imagine how Taylor might have developed her terrifying reputation whether she intended to or not. It wouldn't be the first time a parahuman's powers clashed with their personality.
"… Fine," Amy sighed, conceding to the inevitable. "I'll help you."
If nothing else, she had to admit she was interested to see what Bonesaw had done to herself. She reached out and pressed her hand against her patient's forehead. Immediately, her power fed her a detailed description of the unconscious cape's biology.
"Holy fuck," she breathed. "That's … that's a lot of stuff."
Beyond physical augmentations (which in themselves were very interesting and could have kept her occupied for hours studying them and figuring out how to replicate them), there were a number of dead-man switches that would have depopulated a good portion of the United States – potentially wiped out Humanity completely if the people in charge dropped the ball and didn't glass the country with bombs and high-end Blaster powers. The amount of lethality in the plague containers revealed just how small-minded Jack Slash had been, for all the horrors he and his merry band of murderhobos had committed.
"Can you do it ?" asked Taylor.
"I … I think I can," she replied slowly, still reeling from the sheer amount of never-before-seen data her power was feeding her.
It was a challenge unlike anything she had ever encountered, and she caught herself smiling as she lost herself into the work, everything else fading away.
I watched as Panacea worked, without bothering to hide my interest. Her power was fascinating; even a casual look was enough to tell me it was a lot more efficient than even the highest-ranking masters of the Tzimisce's Vicissitude Discipline were capable of. Riley's flesh parted under her touch, her body rippling as it was transformed by her parahuman power down to the genetic level. The only part of the young girl that was left untouched was her brain – a restriction that just had to be self-imposed, nothing else made sense.
Revealing my identity to the powerful biokinetic was a risk. Perhaps even – no, definitely a foolish one. But my emotions were still running hot after killing the Nine and seeing their gruesome work. Panacea was as close to a saint as existed on Earth-Bet; she had saved thousands of lives with her regular hospital work, and her actions during Endbringer battles had saved hundreds of capes who had gone on to save countless more people over time. In a way, she reminded me of Saulot, Lau-Som-Bheu's cousin and the only one of the entire accursed Cainite family which could be considered an even remotely good person.
Of course, Saulot had also been a warrior, and his Clan had fought the hardest against the Baali. My inherited memories of the Infernalists were among the most fractured, but what little I remembered was more than enough for me to be happy about that.
Anyway, I had decided to reveal myself to Panacea because she deserved to be shown that level of trust. I wasn't like New Wave, who had made their civilian identities public; I couldn't be, not with the amount of attention Lasombra had already gathered. Besides putting Dad in danger, it would also mean I wouldn't have a single moment of peace, to say nothing of the fact my human body was still my principal weakness.
But Panacea had kept the secret identities of many heroes before. Since I was asking a huge favor of her, showing her that I trusted her with what, all false modesty aside, was probably one of the most sought-after secrets on the planet, was only right. Sure, knowing that secret might put a target on her back, but she was Panacea. The kind of people willing to go after her already had plenty of reasons to do so.
Also, I knew that Tattletale would be able to tell if Panacea was planning to share my identity with others, at which point I would have simply erased the memory from her mind. I felt dirty merely thinking about it, but I couldn't deny that the notion had occurred to me.
"Alright," said Panacea after about half an hour, gesturing to a sphere of smooth bone she'd put on another crate. "I put everything she made that I couldn't break down into this. It needs to be disposed of very, very carefully."
"I'll handle that," I said. I gestured with my hand, and a tentacle of shadows emerged from the ground, wrapped itself around the bone container, and sunk into back into the floor, taking the container into the Abyss, where it would dissolve harmlessly into nothingness, since it didn't have anything even resembling a soul.
"… What ?" asked Panacea. "Where did it go ?!"
"Nowhere," groaned Tattletale, rubbing her temples. "And everywhere. At the same time. Somehow. Fuck, boss, don't do that in front of me, please."
"What's wrong with her ?" said Panacea, eyeing Tattletale.
"Every use of my powers has an anti-Thinker effect," I explained. "Sorry, Tattletale, I should have warned you. As for where I sent the container, it's the same place I sent the Simurgh's body."
I took a good look at Riley. She had lost a lot of body mass during the procedure, and now looked like an eight-years old child, with a completely different face, hair and (presumably) eye colors. If she wasn't still wearing the same blood-stained blue dress (which was now several sizes too big for her), I wouldn't have been able to tell it was the same person.
"Great work, Panacea," I praised. "You could do a lot of money with that kind of thing if you wanted to – I can imagine many uses the Protectorate would have for someone able to give people such complete makeovers."
"Not if I want to stay a Hero and not become a Rogue, and it would bring even more weirdos out of the woodwork to ask me stupid things. What are you going to do with her now ?" Panacea asked.
"It's probably best if you don't know," I told her honestly. "Plausible deniability and all that."
"Hmm. Given you trusted me with your secret identity, I'm frankly terrified to know what you don't think you can tell me. And what should I say when I'm asked where Lasombra took me and why ? Even with Tattletale's text, Carol – I mean, Brandish is going to freak out."
"Just say Lasombra's great powers don't include healing, and he needed your help with someone else who was in need of your services," said Tattletale. "Then invoke doctor-patient confidentiality, and if they push, remind them Lasombra owes you a favor and won't take kindly to you being pressured or made uncomfortable."
"A favor ?" Panacea repeated.
"Yes. I won't forget this," I assured her. "I owe you for your assistance; if you ever need help, don't hesitate to get in touch. The PRT arranged for me to have a certified PHO account; I'll send a message to your own official account so you can contact me there if needed."
She paused then, a troubled expression on her face – hope and what looked like shame mixed together.
"I … I do have something you might be able to help with. You said you wiped out her memories and turned her back into who she was before Jack Slash got her hands on her, right ?"
"Horrible phrasing aside, yes, that's what I did," I nodded. "Why ?"
"Well, I – "
"Okay, stop right there," Tattletale suddenly cut in, a troubled expression on her face as she was suddenly staring at Panacea. "That's not a healthy mindset, and no, you shouldn't ask for that. I'm pretty sure the boss wouldn't do it anyway, because that's a terrible idea."
"How do you –" Panacea began.
"I'm a damn good Thinker, that's how," Tattletale interrupted her. "I've been reading your body language and micro-expressions since you arrived, and, combined with the files on every parahuman in the Bay that Coil made me read through when he was pumping me for analysis, I've a pretty good idea of what you are about to ask."
"Tattletale ?" I asked, frowning. "What's going on ?"
"I'm not going to give you the details, boss, because those are very, very private and I already feel uncomfortable having figured them out," Tattletale told me frankly. "But Amy here was about to ask you to do something really, really bad and fucked-up to her, because it turns out that she's just as sane as any other parahuman, except she's also got everyone simultaneously looking up to her as some kind of all-loving saint and pressuring her into working herself to death."
Oh. Ooooooh. I didn't have all the details, but I could imagine that whatever was causing Tattletale to drop the snark had to be serious.
"Look, we still have stuff we need to do to finish dealing with your patient," said Lisa, gesturing at the unconscious form of Riley. "So how about I give you my number, the boss brings you back to the hospital, and we get in touch to talk about this later, once the two of us have had some time to sleep ?"
"I … yes. That's probably a good idea," said Panacea, looking down.
I looked between the two of them hesitantly, then nodded. I had a feeling this was way outside my skill set, and nothing I'd inherited from Lau-Som-Bheu was remotely useful when it came to dealing with teenage girls.
"Fine. Brace yourself, Panacea."
"Wait, are you –"
Before she could protest, I wrapped myself and Panacea in shadows, and we passed into the Abyss, then right atop the same hospital I had taken her from. I kept myself covered in shadows, just in case; there wasn't anyone on the roof, but there might be cameras, either as part of the building's security or pointed at the roof after Panacea had vanished from it moments prior.
"Fuck me, that sucked just as bad the second time," she gasped. "Did you really have to do that ?"
"Sorry," I said. "I couldn't risk you being seen leaving the place I brought you to."
"… Okay, I guess. One last thing, before you go," she called out. "I really should have asked you before, but I was caught up in … everything else. How did you know I can do more than heal people ? I have been very, very careful about what I do in the hospital to avoid drawing too much attention to my powers."
"Every other parahuman power I know about can be used to fight somehow," I replied. "Beneficial uses of parahuman powers are always the result of the parahuman using them in creative ways."
I suspected this was by design from whoever (or, most likely, whatever) was responsible for the existence of parahuman powers in the first place, but I wasn't going to say that aloud. Panacea and Tattletale were both still connected to the source of their own powers, and I didn't want my suspicions to get back to the overseer.
"So … anyone with more than a passing knowledge of parahuman powers know I'm more than a healer," she said glumly. "Great. I already suspected that was the case, and my family already know that I can put someone out just by touching them, but I was hoping that was it."
"The PRT are definitely aware, or at least suspect the full scope of your abilities, yes," I agreed. "But whatever their reasons for not bothering you until now, you don't need to worry about them. Remember that I owe you a favor, Panacea. If someone ever tries anything with you because of your power, you just need to call Tattletale, and I will be there to teach them the error of their ways."
And I would, too. Whatever her issue was that Tattletale had picked up on, Panacea had done me a great service, and I would repay that debt – if not because it was the right thing to do, then because Lau-Som-Bheu had absolutely been the kind of bastard to abuse the vampires' prestation system (one of the very few things that kept their society even half-functioning from what I remembered) by calling in favors from people who weren't in a position to refuse him, and then never paying them back.
Panacea left after that, going back into the building to face the questions of her fellow medical professionals and then, no doubt, those of her family and the PRT. I moved through the Abyss and returned home, shaking off the freezing cold of the brief transition, and collapsed back on my bed.
The night had been … busy. I still didn't know whether or not I had handled it the best way I could, and it wasn't over yet.
As I burned through Bonesaw's memories, I had, by necessity, seen them, like the world's most fucked-up snuff film on fast-forward. I hadn't wanted to, but it was the way Dominate worked, and unfortunately for me, the power I'd inherited from Lau-Som-Bheu meant that I could process them despite the speed at which the information had flashed before my mind's eye.
I was lucky that I had stopped dreaming, as the horrors of the Nine stood out even against the backdrop of the Antediluvian's own memories. For all his many, many, MANY flaws, Lau-Som-Bheu had been a practical kind of monster; the suffering and broken lives he'd left in his wake had been, for the most part, an unintended consequence of his actions, rather than the intended goal.
Not that he'd cared about the pain he had caused, mind you, and he'd definitely been the kind to enjoy his petty cruelties from time to time. Even contrasting with the Slaughterhouse, it wouldn't do to give the bastard too much credit, and when it came to the scale of their actions, the Nine absolutely paled in comparison to the Antediluvian and (most of; again, Saulot was the only exception I remembered) his peers. They had killed thousands and traumatized an entire country; Lau-Som-Bheu had pulled the strings of empires over thousands of years with all the passion of a chess player moving pieces across a board, and that was after participating in the acts which had resulted in God calling down the Great Flood upon the First City.
Back to the memories, having seen them might turn out to be a blessing in disguise, grotesque as the thought might be. Beyond the atrocities Jack Slash had directed Bonesaw into committing, Bonesaw had also been one of the world's premier researchers on parahuman powers. For instance, she had figured out that the Corona Gemma was used to interface between the parahuman and the source of their power, rather than being the source of the powers itself.
That accumulated knowledge lived on inside my head now, even if I lacked the Tinker power needed to make use of most of it. I dearly hoped such knowledge was unique, because the thought of another person, group, or, God forbid, government doing the kind of unethical horrors that had been required to obtain it was … not pleasant to say the least.
However, despite its dismal origins, said knowledge might actually be of us to me in my goal of figuring out the truth behind parahuman powers and whether it presented a threat to Humanity (which, given how things had gone for Earth-Bet since they had shown up, was the most likely option). It wasn't worth the horrors Bonesaw had committed; nothing could ever possibly be worth that. But the potential devastation if I made a mistake while investigating was simply too great for me to turn my head at any source of information, no matter how repugnant. I wouldn't do what Bonesaw had done myself, nor encourage or allow others to do it, but if the knowledge already existed …
If, for some reason, I ended up needing it in the future, then I would need to find Riley and give her the expertise of her former self back, using techniques perfected by Lau-Som-Bheu. The ancient monster had plenty of experience in implanting practical and theoretical knowledge into people without them having the corresponding memories of learning it, and though he'd given little thought to their comfort afterwards, he had needed to make sure they didn't go insane as a result, as that would make them useless to him.
I sighed. For some weird reason, none of Mom's books on ethics had covered this scenario. I would just have to do my best, and not let my powers or the situation erode my morals. I had plenty of examples from Lau-Som-Bheu's memories of how quickly even the most noble motivation could descend into bloody depravity if it was used as a justification.
Speaking of potentially noble motives and dubious means, I had another meeting to arrange.
Lasombra (Verified Cape) (Endkiller) : You have been trying to get in touch with me directly by threatening my associates.
Lasombra (Verified Cape) (Endkiller) : I do not appreciate this. Nevertheless, congratulations : you have succeeded in getting my attention.
Lasombra (Verified Cape) (Endkiller) : We will speak. Now. Send someone who can speak for your organization to the following address.
Lasombra (Verified Cape) (Endkiller) : You have one hour. If nobody shows up, I will take that as a declaration of hostilities between us.
From a private PHO chatroom, March 3rd, 2011.
"Well," said Legend, looking up from the printout of Lasombra's messages laying on the table before him. "This sounds suitably ominous."
Doctor Mother had called for an emergency meeting of Cauldron's leadership, which had been difficult to arrange due to what had already happened this night. Legend had stayed in Brockton Bay after Lasombra's abrupt departure to assist with the clean-up and ensure none of the other parahuman members of the Teeth got any bright ideas about making a break for it now that the Endkiller wasn't in sight, while Alexandria had flown all the way to Bluetown to confirm Lasombra's message, and Eidolon was on stand-by, ready to respond to any emergency.
All the same, they had all come, knowing Doctor Mother wouldn't call for anything less than an emergency. They had made up excuses, finished the most urgent work that they couldn't pass off to their subordinates, and, less than ten minutes after the initial call, they had all vanished, using Doormaker's portals to reunite inside their extra-dimensional base.
"At the risk of saying the obvious, we need to accept this meeting," said Eidolon. "Even without getting into whether we could defeat Lasombra if it came to a fight, Tattletale figured out that Alexandria and Rebecca Costa-Brown are the same person, just from being in the same room as Alexandria with her body double on the line for a few minutes. We knew that, because Rebecca told us as much right after the meeting. Revealing that information could do a lot of damage to us."
"She doesn't have any proof of that," Doctor Mother tried to argue.
"She doesn't need proof," Eidolon sighed. "She's working for Lasombra ! As long as he makes it obvious he's behind her, she could claim we're forcing every Protectorate member to swear a blood oath to the Triumvirate and people would at least consider that it might be true."
"I think that's overly optimistic, actually," said Legend. "We would have protesters in the street in hours, and a formal inquiry into the matter by the end of the week at the latest."
The Protectorate had a lot of influence in the United States, and Cauldron had even more. But Lasombra had done something none of them had ever managed : he had killed an Endbringer. Even people who genuinely supported the PRT would be forced to give some credence to his claims, and once they started investigating, they would find the signs of Cauldron's influence. Contessa's work in keeping the organization a secret from the masses hadn't erased all evidence – that would have required her to dedicate herself full-time to the task, even with her power – but instead ensured it never surfaced, and that the people who had to know about it were suitably 'convinced' to keep their mouths shut.
The moment Lasombra got involved, however, all these precautions would stop applying. Lasombra was holding a loaded gun to Cauldron's metaphorical chest, and their own actions had given him a reason to shoot. This needed to be solved, quickly, and for all the respect Legend had for his friends and comrades, he didn't trust any of them to get this done like it needed to.
"I will go," said Legend. "Out of all of us, I'm the only one who hasn't been using a Thinker power in every important conversation for years apart from Doctor Mother." Who couldn't meet with Lasombra, for … a number of reasons they didn't have time to get into right now. "And since we've established pretty definitely that Thinker powers don't work on Lasombra, it's best if I'm the one who goes."
Nobody disagreed, which was good, because Legend didn't intend to budge on this point.
"Cauldron's usual approach won't work here," he continued. "We aren't the scary cape bogeymen approaching a new cape to bring them into the fold, nor mysterious political backers with far-reaching influence or powers-gifting benefactors with vague, undefined abilities to remove said powers. We are supplicants throwing ourselves at the feet of the Endkiller and asking for his help, after already fucking things up during the initial contact with his associates."
"My approach worked in getting Lasombra to contact us," said Contessa, sounding more ticked off than her usual emotionless self.
"Yes, but at the cost of him distrusting us on principle !" Legend retorted. "You're usually better at avoiding side-effects like this, but Lasombra's blind spot status has brought you back to when we were first starting and figuring things out."
Path to Victory was an incredible power, and one without which Cauldron couldn't have run nearly as effectively. In fact, without Contessa constantly running around, the United States would most likely have collapsed years ago. But, even outside the blind spots forced upon it by the Entity it'd come from in its final moments, it had weaknesses, chief among those the potential to become the most terrible monkey's paw imaginable.
They'd had a number of close calls in Cauldron's early years because of this, until Contessa had learned to formulate and manage her paths better – and even then, they'd still taken grievous losses, such as Hero's death to the Siberian.
At least you have been avenged now, old friend, Legend thought as the face of the world's former best Tinker flashed in his mind's eye. As a member of the Triumvirate, he'd been informed of Lasombra's claims of having defeated the Slaughterhouse Nine immediately, and had been kept in the loop even as he stayed in Brockton Bay.
Terrible as it was to say, Bluetown had gotten off lightly by the standards of the Slaughterhouse's attacks. However, that still meant there were several hundred people in need of urgent medical attention, to say nothing of the psychological scars. If not for the fact that the Nine had been put down, this would be yet another blow to the USA's morale, which had only recently started trending upward thanks to the death of the Simurgh.
They had been able to confirm the deaths of Jack Slash, Shatterbird, Burnscar, Mannequin, Hatchet Face, and Crawler. There had been no sign of the Siberian, but they had found the body of William Manton in a ripped van on the outskirts of town. Not that his body had been in any state to be identified, but the PRT had access to some Tinkertech DNA scanner that had the genetic profile of one of the world's most prominent parahuman researchers on file. A quick examination using some of Cauldron's more unconventional assets had confirmed that Manton had been a parahuman before his death, which, combined with the fact the Siberian had looked like a naked, black-and-white striped version of his daughter, had confirmed one of the organization's long-held theories as to the Brute's true nature.
That only left Bonesaw, but given what their Thinkers had warned would happen if she was targeted directly, Legend guessed Lasombra had disposed of her the same way he had the Simurgh. The fact the entire Slaughterhouse had been wiped out so quickly, right after Lasombra had finished removing the Butcher's powers, was yet more proof of the Endkiller's terrifying power, which made the tone of the messages they had received all the more worrying.
"I will go," Legend repeated. "Lasombra has removed two major parahuman threats from play in one night already; if he is calling for a meeting now, he must have a good reason beyond wanting to grill us for being pushy with his subordinates. Unless it's something truly awful or straight-out impossible, I will give him whatever it is he wants. It will give him a reason to trust us, and us an opportunity to learn more about him and whether or not he's related to Scion."
That was Cauldron's nightmare scenario. Lasombra had displayed emotions several time – anger, sorrow, mercy – which was already more than Scion's golden avatar ever bothered to, so the odds that he was another of the entity's kin were small. Unless, of course, Lasombra was just better at faking human emotions than Scion : the fact that, unless Scion, he could actually prioritize and respond to events in order of importance instead of, for instance, ignoring an Endbringer to pull out a kitten from a tree, would also be explained by this.
Legend didn't believe that to be the case, but he was self-aware enough to know he might just be refusing a possibility which would doom all of Humanity more likely than not. If Lasombra turned out to be another of Scion's kin, with the same approach to the Earth's primary species …
Well. They might as well just all kill themselves and put an end to this whole sordid farce. But Legend refused to accept that was the case. He had been in Lasombra's presence mere hours before, and for all the cape's terrifying presence, he was convinced there was a human being hiding behind it.
"I checked the coordinates given for the meeting," said Contessa. "They lead to a warehouse in the Dockyards of Brockton Bay. The current ownership is a legal mess; it's been abandoned for years."
"So anyone with a modicum of pull could have gotten access to it," Legend summed up. "In other words, a convenient place to have a meeting without drawing attention or divulging any clues as to Lasombra's identity."
"Exactly," Alexandria nodded. "Legend, are you sure about this ? Do you want any of us to come with you as backup ?"
Legend thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. "If you aren't going to say anything, then it will look like an attempt at intimidation that's just not going to work. I will go alone."
"Then I wish you good luck," said Doctor Mother, still looking annoyed with the whole situation. "Gaining more information on Lasombra is of paramount importance if we are to adapt our plans for dealing with Scion and the end of the world."
"I will," he promised.
Moments later, Legend passed from one of the compound's nondescript rooms, through one of Doormaker's portal, and out at the coordinates of the meeting.
His sight immediately started adapting to the lower light levels (he restrained himself from using his power to light up the space, as that might be taken poorly by his host). The only source of illumination were the bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling; there were stacks of dusty crates around him, left to rot when whoever they had belonged to when the Bay had been blocked had written them off.
"Huh, so your group has access to a portal-type teleporter," said a voice in a surprised tone. "Interesting."
Legend turned, and saw a young blond woman in a purple bodysuit with a domino mask on her face. He recognized her at once; there weren't as many capes in Brockton Bay as there used to, and only one of them had walked into the PRT ENE headquarters and walked out after a meeting with the organization's leaders.
"Tattletale," Legend greeted the (supposedly reformed) villain with a cautious nod. "Did Lasombra ask you to be here ?"
Tap. Tap. Tap.
As if summoned by Legend speaking his name, Lasombra emerged from the shadows of the room, coalescing into being. He didn't look any different from when the hero had last seen him; apparently, fighting and killing the entire Slaughterhouse Nine hadn't affected him in the same way the Simurgh fight had.
"LEGEND," said the shadows.
"Lasombra," he greeted back. "I assume you asked Tattletale to be here as your voice, then ?"
"You got it," said Tattletale with what, to Legend's ear, sounded like a mix of forced cheerfulness and genuine enjoyment at the sheer absurdity of the situation. "I'm here to serve as translator, because the boss doesn't trust you to know his real identity, which, given your resources, would be inevitable if he met you in his true form, even with mundane masks or disguises. If you don't like it, then too bad. He isn't happy about you trying to threaten me and my friends to get to him, so you'll just have to deal with him."
"I apologize for that," Legend said quickly, turning to face Lasombra fully. "After what happened in Canberra, we really wanted to make contact with you. My colleague was … overly enthusiastic in her approach, shall we say."
"Sure, let's go with that. Anyway, I have a few questions to ask you before getting to the real reason we asked you to come. To start with, as I'm sure you're aware, I figured out you and Rebecca Costa-Brown are part of the same secret group of parahumans, as is the scary hat lady who came to threaten my friends and I. What exactly is going on with that ?"
Legend had expected that question. In fact, part of him was relieved that Tattletale needed to ask; that Lasombra's powers didn't extend to pulling their secrets out of thin air.
He would have to be careful. He couldn't reveal the whole truth right now, not when there still existed a possibility Lasombra was linked to Scion, or might react poorly to the truth of the world's 'greatest hero'.
"We call ourselves Cauldron," he said. "Our goal is the protection of Humanity. Over the years, that has required some actions we aren't proud of, but the only reason America still exists as a civilization and not a blasted hellscape populated by parahuman warlords and their slaves is our work. That is why we needed to get in contact with Lasombra; we've been searching for a counter to the Endbringers for literal decades, and nothing worked until you arrived and killed the Simurgh."
"You actually believe that, and given the number of parahumans in the country and what happened in Africa, I'm inclined to believe you," mused Tattletale. "Are you related to the rumors that there is a group that can give powers ?"
"We are," Legend admitted. "The process is … not the most reliable, despite years of refinement. I myself am one of the results of it, as are many other heroes in the Protectorate."
"And the Case-53s are another, aren't they ?" asked the Thinker, with a smile that was as sharp as a knife.
"… yes. As I said, the process isn't the most reliable. But we make it a point of offering the formulas to people who have nothing to lose – the crippled, the terminally ill, that sort of folks. As for the ones who buy their powers, they are made aware of the risks beforehand."
"MEMORIES," Lasombra said, and Legend shivered.
"You wipe out the memories of the Case-53s," said Tattletale, and she wasn't smiling anymore.
"We do." There was no point trying to hide it. "We didn't always, but that … didn't end well. Removing their memories lets them build new lives for themselves."
"By abandoning them in the wild and leaving them to their own devices, without any form of assistance ?" asked Tattletale acidly.
"We do provide some assistance," Legend hastily added. "Not nearly as much as we should, I admit, but we try to arrange for them to be discovered by heroes so that they can be recruited into the PRT. It doesn't always work out, I admit."
"Well, you're honest, at least," said Tattletale after staring at Legend for several long, tense seconds. Right, Thinker. She probably thought she could detect whether he was telling the truth or not, though in Legend's experience such powers tended to be a lot less reliable than the parahuman in question assumed. "I can't say I'm happy about that, and neither is the boss. Next question. Why didn't you lot take care of the Nine before the boss got to them ?"
"Jack Slash," Legend replied immediately. "We knew his power interfered with other parahuman abilities, and were afraid that he would be able to kill some of our irreplaceable assets if we moved to eliminate him in force. Especially with the Siberian and Bonesaw having joined the group, which is when they really became a threat instead of just another roaming gang of killers. Sending unpowered soldiers would have resulted in a slaughter, and a direct assault with numerous parahumans would have resulted in massive casualties among the attackers, and if any of them escaped – which seemed likely given how slippery they'd already proven – they would have escalated in retaliation. Our Thinkers estimated Bonesaw alone could depopulate a good chunk of the country by herself, for instance."
They had run through that scenario many times in Cauldron's headquarters, drawing on Thinker assets greater than anything the rest of the world could muster. Every time, the results had been the same : the odds of something going wrong and leading to catastrophic consequences were too great to risk it. It was one thing to say that the only thing needed for evil to triumph was for good people to do nothing; it was another to see the predictions of millions of casualties as Tinker-made plagues swept across the United States, and decide the risk was worth it to stop the depredations of a gang of serial (or, as some had darkly joked about, massively parallel) killers that had mostly been keeping their activities away from large population centers.
It wasn't an impossible choice, because they had made it, time and time again. But it wasn't one he had ever been happy with, and neither had been the rest of Cauldron. Well, except maybe for Kurt; not that he had any attachment to his former group, but he didn't have attachments to anything as far as Legend could tell.
"The only way to minimize the risks was to use Thinker powers to plan, but the presence of Jack Slash meant that such plans were unreliable," Legend continued. "Instead, we had to resolve to … managing the Nine, so to speak. We tried to keep them from deciding to target massive population centers, and used them as an example to other villains, something to avoid living down to."
"Hmm. You're telling the truth," Tattletale observed. "That … wow. It must have sucked."
"It did," replied Legend. "And I'm grateful to Lasombra for ending that situation along with the Nine."
"I know you are," grinned Tattletale. "Which is good news for you and all the people you've been working with, because it means the boss and I can trust you with a little favor for us. Just to show that you're sorry about your past actions, you understand."
"Of course," said Legend, bracing himself. "What do you need ?"
"Follow me," said Tattletale.
Legend walked behind the Thinker, and Lasombra followed behind him, the tapping of his cane on the warehouse's floor an unnerving reminder of the Endkiller's presence. They went into another section of the warehouse, where a young girl was laying down on a crate in the center of an open space, her blue dress (which was far too large for her, as well as specked with dry blood) rising and falling along with her breathing.
"Who is that ?" Legend asked, concerned for obvious reasons.
"That is Riley Davis, more commonly known as Bonesaw," Tattletale casually revealed. "We asked Panacea to remove all of her augments and change her appearance."
Well, that explained the few panicked messages he'd received about the healer's disappearance, before her mother had called in to inform the hospital and the PRT that she was fine (with Brandish's usual curt tone and refusal to elaborate).
Of course, the far more important issue was the fact that Bonesaw was still alive, albeit without the numerous implants which had been predicted to cause a near-apocalypse if she was directly targeted and the first strike didn't completely erase her from existence (which, given the presence of the Siberian at her side, was … a complicated proposition to say the least).
"We need a new identity for her, as well as a place she can recover from the mental trauma that will still haunt her even with the boss' cutting out the memories of her time in the Nine," Tattletale continued. "Show the boss that you can be trusted with this, and he will consider listening to your spiel about working together to save Humanity. But not until then."
"That's … perfectly acceptable," said Legend. And it was : such a thing was well within Cauldron's power. "I'll send you regular updates on her condition. Should I use the PHO account, or …"
"Here," Tattletale put a bit of paper inside one of the pockets on Legend's uniform. "That's one of my phone numbers. Send the reports and photos about Riley to me and I'll transfer them to the boss. Play this straight, and we will be in touch later about … all the other stuff."
'All the other stuff'. What a way to describe the long degradation of Humanity's status on Earth-Bet, and the inevitable extinction of all life across all dimensions in the future according to their Thinkers.
"LEGEND," said Lasombra.
"Yes ?"
"DO. NOT. DISAPPOINT."
"I won't," the Triumvirate member promised.
This was all a test, Legend knew, at least in part. Lasombra's previous experience of Cauldron, as well as tonight's revelations, didn't exactly paint them in the best of lights; he was seeing whether they could be trusted to handle Bonesaw – no, Riley, he corrected himself. And with Tattletale present, Lasombra would know if Legend was lying before handing the girl over.
It was lucky that Legend hadn't lied at any point during the conversation, then. Of course, the test wasn't over : how they handled the girl would reflect on Cauldron, which was another reason for Legend to do his absolute best. It would take some work to convince the rest of Cauldron to go along with it, but phrasing it as doing a favor to Lasombra should do the trick. First, they'd need to have Doctor Mother look Riley over with their advanced Tinkertech medical facilities, just to double-check Panacea's work – the girl was good, very good, but you didn't take risks when it came to that kind of things. As for setting her up with a new identity, that would be simplicity itself : all it would take was a few minutes of Contessa's time, or slightly more of his if she was too busy.
Helping them deal with her trauma would be far, far more difficult. There was a precedent for members of the Slaughterhouse Nine to turn over a new leaf, but Kurt was a special case.
"GOOD," said Lasombra, and Legend swore he could hear a hint of appreciation in the nightmarish chorus.
Then the shadows wrapped themselves around the Endkiller and his minion, and when they vanished, the two of them were gone. Legend was almost sure he'd heard Tattletale yelp as she was engulfed, but he wasn't certain; the sound had been cut off almost immediately.
Moments later, as he called in the portal back to Cauldron's base and stepped through, carrying Riley's unconscious form in his arms, Legend couldn't help but feel cautiously optimistic, which was still a feeling he was getting used to.
AN : Happy Holidays, everyone ! Here, have another chapter that turned out a lot longer than I anticipated. I know, it's been a long time since the last update, but the Muse got distracted. Obviously, this story won't end in 2025.
I couldn't find a reference showing that Cauldron deliberately kept the Nine alive in canon (apart from that bit with them ordering Battery to free the ones in captivity, which to me stinks of PtV shenanigans). In the end, Legend's explanation to Taylor and Lisa is the truth in this story, at least as far as Legend knows. Same with the Case-53s and everything else he told Tattletale and Lasombra that may not 100% fit with canon.
Man, Legend being canonically kept in the dark about a bunch of Cauldron's most evil activities really came in clutch, didn't it ?
As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, look forward to your thoughts and comments, and I will see you all next year.
Zahariel out. Award