30
It started out simply enough.
Taylor had gone over her To-Do list a few times, tweaking suggestions here and re-ordering things there, until she had a rough plan for what she wanted to accomplish first, and what she might need to do it. She'd put the Wishing Tree at the top of the list for a few reasons, some of them practical. As much as she felt a bit awkward about it still, the ema plaques were a potential source of income for the shrine's upkeep, though she intended to just have a donations box rather than a set price; not only did it alleviate the phantom guilt of asking people for money, but it meant that people could come and get wishes written when she wasn't there to oversee.
After she'd gotten her thoughts down on paper, Taylor had needed to stop for a while and just process things. She was, after all, intending to use the honor system in Brockton Bay of all places… and she was actually feeling assured that it would be fine. She had to hug Sunny for a while, just to feel grounded.
After that, it was just a matter of acquiring the plaques themselves, and Taylor found a promising lead on that almost immediately: when she mused aloud about it over her list, one of the other kids at the lunch table had suggested the Shop class. There was always scrap wood kept for student projects, and while it was kind of unlikely Winslow would just let her have it, any home improvement store that sold lumber would have scrap of its own that she could get cheaply, and then the shop class students could cut them for a modest bribe of baked goods. No telling how long it would be before the school staff figured out that the table saws weren't being used for school projects, but it was a good first start. She even had an idea for a sort of… well, 'opening ceremony' sounded too formal, but a kind of welcome for the Tree. Halloween was coming up, and a lot of the baachans had grandchildren, and the thought of a combination pumpkin carving and paint-your-own-ema event sounded fun.
So, with the Wishing Tree mostly accounted for, the next item on her list was to do a proper survey of her new properties.
The Shrine she had mostly explored already, though as it turned out the actual property line extended back a ways from the fence at the rear of the honden. Not by a large amount, maybe eight feet, but even that was enough space for a host of possibilities. It was something to save for next spring, but Taylor confessed to thoughts of maybe moving the Tea Ceremony arrangements there for a more permanent placement, or even just clearing the space for a garden. A couple of stone benches, and maybe a small fountain if she could wrangle one-- with Old Mrs. Henrick's teachings making plant maintenance much easier, she could easily imagine creating a quiet, natural space in which to paint, or read. Sunny wagged her tail in approval, then leaned hard against Taylor's legs until the girl lost her balance and took a tumble into a drift of leaves. The subsequent Leaf Fight delayed progress for a while, but it was worth the laughter.
The two properties to the right of the shrine were next, and while Taylor made a mental note to cover up the cheerful graffiti she'd spread around (or, maybe just make a proper mural, if she got to feeling ambitious one of these days), the buildings themselves didn't seem to be nearly as damaged as she'd feared. Sure, the insides were filthy with both mundane dirt and evidence of uncaring occupation, but cleaning and re-varnishing the floors were simple enough things in execution that Taylor was pretty sure she could handle it. Real repairs were what she'd been worried about, since that would pose a need to hire skilled workers, and a few internet searches had taught her quickly enough that she was going to have to stretch the bounty money pretty far if she wanted to build something from the ground up. An electrician and a plumber to check the utilities were a given, but not needing roofers on top of that was a godsend.
And the utilities in these buildings were… kind of odd, Taylor realized, as she wandered through the rooms. The building closest to the shrine had one room filled with stripped pipes and hookups for water and gas, and it took her a while to figure out what the room would need so many appliances for. It had likely been a kitchen at one point in time, though there wasn't much open space at the front for tables and chairs. A cafe, then, or something similar.
"Well, that's promising." She told Sunny. "Yuuta said we could maybe rent these places out, but if we could invest in a business and… co-sponsor, or whatever it's called, that'd be even better."
Sunny made a speculative sound, but her wagging tail betrayed her excitement. A cafe or restaurant meant food, after all, and Taylor had no doubts about Sunny's ability to beg.
They left their appraisal of the buildings on the right, and moseyed over to the left of the shrine, where Sunny had dug for the hot spring. These two had more structural damage, but it mattered less since she was going to have to hire people to dig up the foundations anyway. It might even be an advantage, since it meant fewer walls to tear down or build up as needed. Taylor took a detour back to the shrine's office to find a sketchbook, and on the way back out, noticed Oni Lee approaching the torii. Sunny barked at the assassin, and Taylor waved, because apparently that was just her life now. The ABB cape changed course, after a mild hesitation, and gave Sunny a quick pet.
"Good afternoon, Oni Lee. You caught me working, but if you'd like some tea I can put the kettle on real quick."
"I would not wish to interrupt you, Miko." She took that to mean he was willing to wait, since he seemed as reluctant as anyone else to enter the office without her there. He surprised her, though, by following-up with a question. "What are you working on?"
"Oh, Sunny and I've been looking over the buildings Lung gave us. Wanted to see what we'd be working with. I'm about done, though, just wanted to get a rough floorplan for the onsen."
"...you are making a bath house?" He asked, and after a moment turned to follow her back to the abandoned foundations.
"Mhm. I mean really, what else do you do with a hot spring?" Taylor put her pencil to paper and started drawing boxes. She could get exact measurements later, when she or more likely Sunny managed to scrounge up a tape measure. "There's a lot of details I don't know yet, but I had some thoughts and ideas…"
Come to think of it, there was something she could get his opinion on. She could get second opinions later, to judge the idea's practicality, but for now Oni Lee's blunt honesty could let her know if it was ridiculous. "Uh-- hey, so… when I looked up bath houses, they're usually split in two, right?" At his nod, she continued. "I was kind of thinking… maybe I could have a half-size third pool, as well. For capes."
He didn't dismiss it immediately, which was a good sign. Instead, he asked, "What is your reasoning?"
Taylor made a vague gesture with one hand, and tried to find the best way to articulate this. "Well-- as surreal as that whole thing was, with the Protectorate and Lung and all, and I'll probably be having nightmares for years to come-- it was also kinda neat? I mean, the neighborhood is still standing, and nobody got set on fire, even a little bit." These were her standards now, a part of her brain slowly realized. "And I thought that… if the capes were going to help keep neutrality for the shrine, they should get to enjoy that neutrality too, right? So… hot spring. For people with masks on."
* * *
"She wants to build what?" Lung asked, glancing over his shoulder at his second in command. Oni Lee just nodded, rather than repeat himself, as the assassin continued his regular gear check. He tightened, repaired, or sharpened as needed with practiced efficiency. Lung sighed, and reached a hand under his mask to rub at his eyes. He longed for the days without headaches. An onsen alone was both ambitious and laden with significance, but to mention a cape section specifically? It had overtones of a conciliatory gesture, an expression of gratitude towards the city's parahumans-- and by extension, himself. But there was more to this, he was certain of it.
"What else did she say?"
"The Miko expressed hopes that with physical restoration of the nearby buildings, new businesses would come and settle there, and make the area populated and thriving again. She made specific mention of curiosity regarding the legal necessities for open-air stalls."
"Ah-ha…" Lung breathed. The Miko's intentions quickly fell into place.
A resort or hotel would have benefited the Miko cape specifically, but instead she turns her attention towards a wider scope. One of the few remaining draws of this city to outsiders was spectacle, the city's large number of parahumans attracting the attention of gawkers and opportunists. The Ōkami had pared that down quite a bit, but a bathhouse that provided a place for, and encouraged parahumans--local and otherwise--to gather in a public space? Couple that with a varied market and the sheer novelty of a hot spring…
"She intends a second Lord's Market." Lung said, still following the threads of thought and consequence. "A subtle request for the ABB to assist with moving in new businesses, and in return, we profit from the legitimized security needs, the investments themselves, and the tourists." Tourists always hungered for decadence, and not only from food or luxury. Drugs and sex were in high demand from travelers, and a few front stores could provide for them, with the added bonus of a reputation automatically higher than the suppliers of the Merchants. Pleasant and relatively safe experiences brought return customers.
And it would be safe, if he followed the example of the Lord's Market. The ABB could form a private security detail, and any who thieved in the new market would be effectively stealing from Lung, a prospect only the most foolish would ever consider. The rumors of safety and opportunity would then draw more merchants, who would also need the ABB's services. As long as he kept to the Miko's stipulations of a paper trail, and his subjects organized to enjoy the benefits of his beneficence, then the return on his investments would be manifold.
Lung sighed, fished out a cigarette, and lit it. "Lee. Arrange a meeting of the lieutenants, and tell them to take a census of their men. I want them listed by trade skills, and by holdings. We will keep a defensive line against the Empire's peasants, but I want the most useful of ours ready to be reassigned."
Oni Lee sheathed the knife he'd been honing, and bowed. His ashes drifted to the floor a moment later.
Lung rubbed at his eyes again, and ran a few sums in his head. He'd held intentions of delaying things a bit, start a slow reorganization of his forces but focus on claiming new territory and assets from the remains of the Empire; reducing his protection racket and similar enterprises would have to be balanced somehow, after all. But the miko cape's carefully-implied plans… Lung considered his usual profits from guns and drugs and women, and compared them to the take from unofficially owning at least part of the most lucrative area in the city. The difference was… substantial.
God dammit. He was never getting away from the Ōkami.
31
It was easy, living on a train. It wasn't expensive to get a ticket, and it could take you so far, as far as you could want. You didn't even have to pay attention to where you were going. The train would take you wherever its rails led. The constant motion of the cars thundering along became a soothing white noise, after you were there for a while, to the point that you only looked up and looked around when there was a bump in the tracks.
It was never lonely, living on a train. Other passengers were always in arm's reach, you were never alone if you needed something, or just wanted someone to talk to. Someone who would look to your face, and smile at you, and shake your hand. Someone where it didn't even matter if you knew their name or they yours, because you were both passengers on the same train, all of you in this ride together.
It was terrible, living on a train, once you'd gone past the Staff Only door and peeked into the engine car. Once you'd seen the coal-fired furnace leer at you with its bars like teeth, once you'd looked out the window--not out but down--and watched the wheels growing warped from the heat. Once you'd taken the Engineer's cold hand in yours and said, "I do."
Kayden had lived on this train almost her entire life.
In her apartment, Kayden came home from work and cooked a simple meal from boxes while Theo watched TV. They had dinner with empty conversation, Kayden too distracted to want to engage. She had one ear tuned to listen for Aster's cries, and the other for the clattering rumble of quickly-roughening tracks. Theo did the dishes while she fed her baby, and later pulled out some of her decorating magazines and flipped through them. She waited for a commercial to look up and ask, her voice wistful and airy and joking, and without a drop of humor: "Hey, Theo-- if you could live anywhere, where would it be?"
The fat boy looked away from the comforting white noise of the screen, and considered. "I think it'd be nice to live somewhere warmer."
"Mm. That does sound nice." She agreed. After a moment, she added carefully, "Maybe we could take a trip soon. See a beach maybe." Theo turned again to stare at her, his eyes wary and assessing. "Would you want to go with me?"
He nodded, once. "If you can get time off of work, I guess."
"I'll look into it."
Max Anders had lost control of his engine, and the wheels were tilting off the tracks. Kayden wasn't sure what would finally end this ride, but it was going to be so, so bad. The wreck was looming closer, the Empire shuddering itself to pieces, but Max would only keep grasping for new passengers, for new parahumans. Any close enough for him to reach, he would. And Kayden had heard the rumors about second-gen capes.
Or third.
Her entire life was in these cars. All her friends were here, even her family. She couldn't even remember what it must have been like, to not be bound to these rails. The thought terrified her. But she didn't need to do this for her.
She was getting Aster off of this train.
* * *
It was Thursday, and Taylor was playing her flute.
She'd been productive already, going straight from school to the art supply store, because after carefully consideration she'd decided that yes, paints used for the emas counted as shrine supplies. So she finally had something for the donations box to go towards. She hadn't broken into them yet, but already Taylor was anticipating it. Some brief research had shown her a myriad of things that typically went on the plaques, from flowers to short poems to… sumo wrestlers. But more commonly, the current year's zodiac beast was a popular choice.
This was 2010, the Year of the Tiger. She was looking forward to drawing many stripey cats.
Taylor played a few more songs, restarting once when she messed up, while Sunny lay nearby and watched with adoring attention. The wolf never missed a practice, a fact that made Taylor feel light in her chest without fail. When she finished up, she closed her music book, and took it and the stand back to the office with her. Sunny stood and trotted over towards the shrine's steps, then quickly turned around three times before settling down atop them. Taylor returned with her flute case and cleaning kit, and sat down on the steps near her friend. An instrument only lasted if you took care of it, and Taylor intended to play this one for the rest of her life.
"You know… I guess I've got the money to get this thing professionally tuned and looked over, huh Sunshine?" Sunny cocked her head, then shrugged. Taylor still wasn't sure how. "What d'ya mean 'maybe?' It should be done every six months or so-- or, no. Um." Sunny wagged her tail in patient encouragement. "Oh, you-- you think Dad would pay for it, if I asked?" Sunny's tail wagged harder.
"Man… I dunno, Sunny. I mean, I still have to pay him back from when you bought those trees." The 'leave the money behind with the note' option looked better every day. And putting it off wasn't exactly helping… maybe she could put it into a tiny jack-o-lantern, so it felt more like a surprise gift instead of an admission of guilt? Trick-or-Treat, indeed. "B-besides! You know he gets all sad when he hears Mom's flute. I don't really want to make things harder for him."
Sunny's expression turned flat and disapproving, Taylor's flimsy excuse no defense against it. Sunny always knew a lie when she heard it. Because even though Taylor did feel guilty about the money, and she did feel guilty about playing the flute where Dad could hear… She swallowed. "I kinda… don't want him to, Sunny. I don't want him to have anything to do with Mom's flute. It's like-- like he put all her things in the basement, you know? So, he doesn't deserve to touch Mom's flute, not if he'd rather bury it to make himself feel better." She swallowed again, hard around the lump in her throat. It was maybe irrational, but-- "Does… does that make me a bad person, Sunny?"
The wolf immediately sneezed, then blinked and quickly licked Taylor's face clean of the snot. "Eheh… thanks, Sunny. Maybe-- maybe I'll ask him next time, y'know? But for right now I'd rather take care of it." Her friend made a chrrr-ing sound, and leaned up against Taylor, half-burying the girl in her soft fur. Taylor sighed, feeling relief spread with the warmth, then rubbed at Sunny's ears and pushed the wolf off of her. "Hey-- go get your brush for me while I finish this up?" Bark!
Taylor disassembled the flute and wiped down the parts with a soft cloth, while Sunny quickly returned with the large dog brush held in her teeth. The wolf waited patiently for Taylor to finish her task and put the flute away. When she had, Taylor gestured, and Sunny bounded back up the steps and just draped herself over the girl like a giant rug. Taylor snorted a laugh, then pried the brush away from Sunny and set to work. A half hour later she was still brushing, partly because grooming Sunny meant being there for the long haul, but also because it was a cool, breezy day, and it felt like a good day to spend in quiet peace with her friend. She could be productive and start cleaning out the old cafe building tomorrow.
As evening started up--which was happening sooner and sooner, these days--Yuuta tromped up the path under the torii, his surly expression and wrapped gift of mochi suggesting that he had, once again, gotten sent out by Baachan for an errand at the last minute. Taylor waved as he approached. He waved back, and lightly tossed the bundle of rice cakes onto the shrine steps behind where Sunny lay. The wolf thumped her tail on the wood in approval.
"Hey, Miko. What's up?"
"Mm, nothing much today. Busy tomorrow, though-- you know I finished looking through the buildings Lung gave me?" Yuuta tended to give her a flat stare for a second or two, whenever she mentioned the gang leader. "Well, I think they used to be restaurants! Or something similar. I'm gonna get them cleaned up and fixed up. I remember you saying that I could rent them out, and I think it's a good idea."
"Huh! Well that's pretty cool."
"Mhm." Taylor kept running the brush through Sunny's fur, and the canine sighed in contentment. "Oh-- I did want to ask you something. Or… well, I know you don't like being the messenger, but I wanted to ask your Baachan something." Yuuta rolled his eyes, but made a 'go on' gesture. Taylor grinned, and shared her idea of a Halloween slash Wishing Tree party, which the other teen admitted sounded kinda fun. There weren't exactly a lot of houses nearby, so it was probably a good idea for an afternoon event, before any Trick-or-Treat routes got started. Besides-- Old Mrs. Henrick had promised to show her how to make popcorn balls, so that was a bonus for anyone who decided to show up.
Though, that did remind her of something. "Hey, Yuuta?"
"Yeah?"
"I looked, but I didn't find anything-- or maybe I wasn't looking in the right place. Does Japan have a Hallow's Eve type thing? I asked Haru, he didn't have a clue."
"Uh…" Yuuta shrugged, after a moment. "I don't know? What's the difference between Halloween an' Hallow Eve?"
"Older name, closer to the roots. It came from Samhain, a Celtic festival. A couple of things merged together, really… um, All Saint's Day is the first of November, and that's when ghosts of family members are supposed to come around."
"Oh-- uh, Baachan does something like that? The um…" Yuuta snapped his fingers a few times. "Lantern Festival, right. That's back in August, though. Do you just… study holidays, Miko?"
Taylor laughed. "I guess I do now. But, a lot of this comes from my mom. She was an English professor, and she did her Master's on folklore. So I got a lot of fairy tales growing up. Real fairy tales, not the Disney versions."
"There's a difference?"
"Oh man, yes. Disney is clouds and cotton candy by comparison, everything's got a happy ending. A lot of fairy tales go back to either Gaelic tradition, or Germany, and neither pulled punches. The Little Mermaid melted into sea foam, Cinderella's sisters had their eyes eaten by crows, Red Riding Hood got tricked into cannibalism…" Taylor noticed Yuuta starting to look a little… disturbed. She flushed, and decided to dial the enthusiasm back a bit. "Uh-- so yeah! Samhain was a spooky tradition even way back when. That and Beltane-- um, on the other side of the year. Fall and Spring equinox, basically. Since they're right when the year is balanced between day hours and night hours, it was supposed to mean any barriers to the spirit world got thin, and all sorts of fairies and monsters started popping out."
In her lap, Sunny stopped smiling, and her tail ceased it's slow contented motion. The wolf lifted her head to stare at Taylor.
"Oh. Is that why everyone dresses like vampires?"
"Yeah basically… uh, Sunny?" The wolf turned wide eyes on the evening sky, then back to Taylor. Abruptly, Sunny scrambled down from Taylor's lap and charged towards the office, shoving open the door and disappearing inside. A few seconds later, she scrambled back out, this time dragging Taylor's backpack with her. She dumped the satchel next to Taylor's feet, then dashed away again.
"Sunny, what."
The wolf came back, this time with one of Taylor's calligraphy books in her teeth, the one with all the charms and paper slips. She shoved the volume into Taylor's lap, then turned her attention to the backpack. A quick grip of the zipper in her teeth and she had it open, and was rummaging inside.
"Sunny, stop."
A sharp gust of wind pushed the book open and flipped pages, until the tome was open to one of the advanced designs, with all the swirls and twining spirals. Sunny pulled Taylor's pack of brushes out of her bag and tossed it into her lap, then did the same more carefully with one of her ink pots. She immediately shoved her furry head back in the bag for the paper.
Yuuta stared at the wolf's frantic activity, then down at the page with the exorcism slip. He considered the Miko's plight for all of half a second, and made a judgement call.
"I'm just-- I'm just gonna go. See you in school, Miko."32
Director Emily Piggot's day was going about as usual, sitting at her desk and spitting in the eye of God as he threatened her with carpal tunnel. She was going over the Protectorate forces and available Wards schedules, jotting notes for adjustments here and there, which she was sure Armsmaster would just love her interference on. Doing it herself was a hell of a lot simpler than trying to pry the Tinker away from his lab to coordinate with, though, since she also needed to account for PRT patrols. Halloween was just about here, and while most holidays saw a slight uptick in crime (at least in the Bay), the October sendoff always brought out the kooks. Usually she just increased PRT ground forces for the evening, and let the BBPD handle the rest of the mischief and petty crime that occurred, but after all the major reshuffling of power in this city in the recent past, Piggot wanted to take no chances.
For the first time in memory, heroes and villains were finally on more even footing, as long as you accounted for quality over sheer quantity. The Merchants still had their full roster, but apart from their leader Skidmark the gang lacked ambition. The biggest problem with combating the Merchants wasn't the gang's capes, but the sheer resilient infestation of its ideology, such as it was. Cracking down on the drug trade and sheer nihilism they peddled would take more than the PRT's current war of attrition with them, but at least it wasn't as costly an effort as dealing with the city's other threats.
Faultline's crew were mercenaries, and wouldn't enter into the city's power struggles until someone paid them-- Piggot had, in the past, given serious consideration to buying them off, bribing the group to stay out of local affairs altogether. It was too expensive to justify to the budget, but at least Faultline was a 'maybe' threat rather than a certain one. Hell, with the city's cape scene changing, maybe they'd pack up on their own and leave. And as long as she was wishing, she'd like a new kidney and a bottle of Jack.
The E88 had been gutted by Good Dog and was hemorrhaging nonpowered recruits, but they'd been the largest villain force in the city before, and they still had enough capes on their roster to match the Protectorate-- and Kaiser had a history of calling in more if needed. It was only a matter of time before the Nazi metal-shaper made a bid to restore face, but Piggot intended to be ready, and the rest of the local heroes were gearing up for the inevitable. The main problem was that, excepting Hookwolf, the Empire still had its hardest and most dangerous capes. Purity was still out and about, though her activity had decreased a bit, but Night and Fog were unaccounted for, and those two were not capes you wanted to lose track of.
The rest of the city's cape population was mostly in the minor villains and a few independents, few of which were truly noteworthy. The Undersiders were a new group that had formed, but among them only Hellhound was known to be violent, though there were suspicions about their master cape, Regent. The small group knew its own strengths and stuck to hit-and-run thievery, which put them pretty low down on Piggot's priority target list. Coil was hiding under a rock, as usual, and the Protectorate had a few Thinkers dedicated to sussing out the white-collar crimes attributed to the snake villain. Uber and Leet remained annoyances. That left only the ABB, and the Asian conglomerate had gotten a bit weird lately, to say the least. From the looks of it, the gang was slowly being drawn into Brushstroke and Good Dog's orbit. The Thinkers could murmur and wring their hands all they goddamn pleased, Piggot was completely fine with that turn of events. Having one of the most dangerous capes on the East Coast fall into a cult based around a pacifist wasn't anything she'd seen coming, but she'd take it.
That actually led into her second project for the day. Piggot double-checked her work, saved it, then brought up the more regular schedule that the Protectorate heroes adhered to. A synthesized tone and a glowing icon popped up before she could get anything substantial done. Director Piggot glanced at it and frowned, then double-clicked. A video application appeared on the second monitor next to her.
"Good morning, Director Piggot." Dragon's digital avatar greeted her. "Am I interrupting anything?"
"Nothing I can't talk while doing. You're usually on the Guild's channel, not a low-priority one. What do you want?"
"A low-priority conversation, though I am sending you a priority mail that you should be getting right about...now." Piggot's email icon flashed red, on her work screen. "I figured it would be easier to go over in person, if you like, but I didn't want to use an official channel for a different topic I'd like to discuss."
Considerate of her, if unusual. "What's the priority, then?"
"I've been collating data from satellite and weather drones, as well as some ground-level instruments I had Armsmaster put up around the city, to keep an eye on Brockton Bay's atmospheric conditions after the lightning incident. I've forwarded the data to Protectorate Thinkers, but the short version is that the weather disturbances never stopped. In fact, they probably started earlier than we knew."
Piggot closed her scheduling spreadsheet, and gave the Tinker her full attention. The 'lightning incident,' as Dragon put it, was one of the main reasons Thinkers were hemming and hawing about Brushstroke's presence in the city. The cape 'duo' of Brushstroke and Good Dog were the only suspects for the unexplained phenomenon, which was an unsettling thought even with their apparent neutrality. The other option was another new trigger, and that was somehow worse. "Explain."
"I suspect it started months ago, but it's only become obvious now that we're so late in the year. You've noticed how unseasonably warm it's been, I'm sure? According to my data, Brockton Bay is somehow receiving more sunlight than it should."
Piggot furrowed her brow. "It's been a mild fall, but it gets cloudy often enough."
"It's not a matter of clouds. The Northern Hemisphere is tilted away from the sun during winter months, but Brockton Bay-- and only Brockton Bay-- is still receiving solar energy comparable to April or May. The temperature difference hasn't been huge between within city limits and outside it, but within the city, plants are maintaining growth and hibernating animals are still active." The Tinker paused, and her accented voice grew frustrated. "I've been comparing all the data sources I have. The Earth's tilt is still on track, there's no source of refraction or amplification that I can identify. And yet, it's still sunny in Brockton Bay."
The Director felt a headache coming on. She pinched the bridge of her nose and asked, "Alright. What does this mean for us, then?"
"I'm not sure. We have no way of knowing if this is temporary, if it will spread, or intensify. We can try and predict ecological impact, but given that the effect is concentrated only on the city itself, and not the surrounding areas, it shouldn't be anything disastrous."
"The Thinkers can deal with it until we know more, then. Keeping the city together is an immediate concern that we can actually do something about." Because it wasn't enough they had one dangerously high-rated Shaker in the city in the form of Labyrinth. "What else?"
Dragon hesitated. "A more personal inquiry. You're aware I'm on good terms with Armsmaster and his civilian life?" Was there anyone who wasn't aware of that? Piggot nodded. "I was glancing through the records he's shared with me regarding his personal itinerary, and I couldn't find when he'd last taken any time off."
"Not surprising. He hasn't."
"...what, ever? Protectorate employees get PTO."
"Doesn't mean they use them. I know I haven't in about six years. This is Brockton Bay, nobody can afford to step away from it. Aside from maybe Assault and Battery a few days a year, everyone just has them paid out. Armsmaster has them rolled into his Tinkering budget. Most Tinkers do, as far as I'm aware."
Dragon's avatar drew her eyebrows together in concern. "He mentioned Chessman doing something similar."
Piggot snorted. "Who do you think gave Chessman the idea?" She turned and brought up her scheduling spreadsheets again. Maybe she could pitch this as a voluntary effort, so the Wards could contribute their numbers. That would keep her from needing to spread the heroes too thin… PR and the Youth Guard would enjoy the publicity and relative safety, as well.
"I see." Piggot noticed the faint sound of disappointment in Dragon's voice, and made a mental note to adjust her bet in the shipping pools. Dragon thanked her for her time, then logged off. Piggot checked the clock-- about 30 minutes before the week's briefing. Just enough time to finish this proposal.
"So. Moving on…" Director Piggot set aside one file folder, then opened another. Within was a printed schedule, wherein she'd cross-indexed each hero's otherwise unassigned on-duty hours with the days of the week, for any time after 3 p.m. "I'd like to start a new public relations initiative. Now that Brushstroke and Good Dog are rather firmly established, I'd like the Protectorate to maintain cordial relations with them. In case Brushstroke changes her mind about neutrality in the future, I want to make damn sure she's got a positive view of us. Additionally, if we can start exposing the younger generations in such At-Risk areas to a more friendly and personable view of the Protectorate, we can hopefully decrease the ABB's recruitment rates in the future. At minimum of once a week, I want at least two heroes to make a visit to the Shrine and meet with Brushstroke. And I don't want a repeat of last time."
"Hey! I wasn't the only one there, why are you glaring at me?" Assault protested.
"You know what you did." Piggot waited for Battery to finish her warning smack against Assault's shoulder, then continued. "This is a voluntary initiative, so it will not be interrupting any of your scheduled patrols or public appearances. Miss Militia, I want you to also broach this with the Wards, though there must be an adult hero along with them if they decide to go."
"Kid Win might already be ahead of you on that, Director." Miss Militia spoke up, and retrieved a folded paper from a pocket. "He brought this to me earlier-- seems there's a few of these flyers being posted around Arcadia."
She gave the paper a practiced flick and sent it tumbling over to Director Piggot, who unfolded it for a look. It was a print-out of a simple advertisement, or invitation, to a Halloween party at… She squinted. 'Pawprint Shrine.' It fit with The Sidewalk, she supposed… Director Piggot eyed the flyer once more, spotting a shadow of ink through it, and she turned the paper over. The flyer was a simple computer printout, but the back had a hand-drawn design-- a rectangle with looping spirals and several Japanese or Chinese characters stacked atop one another. She flipped the paper back over. Why wouldn't the hand-drawn picture be on the front? A mark of authenticity, maybe? She'd send it along to the Thinkers to worry over.
"Well, that's convenient… I'm willing to remove the Ward's patrols for the day if they want to participate, but they'll still need a chaperone. And based on the availability, that leaves…" Piggot frowned, but managed to suppress the sigh. Around the table, heads turned towards Velocity, who was practically beaming.
Well, at least someone would have a happy Halloween.
* * *
Yuuta closed his locker door with a rattling slam, then turned and headed down a nearby hall, on his way to Mr. Quinlan's math class. Then he stopped, backpedaled a few paces, and stared at a blank patch of wall. Someone behind him grumbled when they had to adjust course, but Yuuta paid it no mind. Because that wall was not supposed to be bare, he was sure of it.
A quick step closer and a careful eye confirmed his suspicions: right about at eye level, there was half a piece of tape, still clinging to the dingy paint. Yuuta picked at it with a fingernail, and peeled the adhesive from the wall. He'd put it there himself, yesterday, when the Miko had handed him a short stack of her charms with the Halloween flyers on the back, and asked him if he'd please help her post them around the school. It wasn't like it was far out of his way, so he'd agreed and put a few here and there on his routes between classes. Maybe someone had taken it, instead of just copying down the Shrine's address? Or maybe the Winslow faculty were just being pissants again. Either way, rude.
Yuuta took a quick glance at the clock on the wall, mentally adjusted for this particular clock being behind by four minutes, and decided he had enough time. A quick rummage into his backpack found the battered folder with the remaining flyers, and the practice ofuda the Miko had declined to retrieve from several weeks ago. A quick slip of new tape, and the charm with its advertisement was replaced. Then it was off to math, and more than likely a nap through the lecture. Quinlan wasn't exactly a bad teacher, not like some of the others, but he had a monotone that just put Yuuta into a fog as soon as he heard it.
A period later, Yuuta yawned his way back to his locker, to dump off his math book and grab his science one instead--seriously, who the hell thought it was a good idea to put math and science before lunch?--and passed a bare section of wall. He stopped, backpedaled, and frowned. The tape had a scrap of paper still attached this time, like it had been pulled off with force. He replaced it again, with tape on all four corners this time, then pulled out his phone and thumbed the keys. Most of the guys called him paranoid, but Souta, Haru, and a couple others could be counted on to at least keep an eye out.
* * *
One of the monitors mounted on the wall above Armsmaster's workbench sounded a familiar tone, one that pulled the corner of Armsmaster's mouth into a brief smile. He reached over and tapped a key on the keyboard, and the monitor lit up as Dragon's avatar appeared over the connection. Armsmaster greeted her as he turned back to his work, adjusting the magnification viewer settled over an open panel on one of his halberds.
"Perfect timing as always, Dragon. I only just sat down."
"It's 2:33 p.m., you always get back here around then." Dragon paused, then her smile shifted to a more teasing angle. "Unless you stop for a new movie… or a new TV."
"That was one time… two times. I wanted some of that LCD liquid crystal setup to mess around with."
"Did that ever bear fruit, by the way?"
"Yeah, kind of. Good display quality for my HUD and the liquid nature helps a bit in preventing picture disturbances from impact, but getting a thin enough layer of the stuff to be useful and not throw off the visor's design gave me trouble."
"You could just… make a bigger helmet."
"Nah." Dragon watched Armsmaster finish the calibrations to his satisfaction, then pick up a pair of his micro-tools and set to work. She spent a few seconds watching and running code, deciding on the best way to begin the conversation she had planned.
"Colin, I've been running some numbers recently… and I think there's something we should talk about."
"Yes?" He didn't look up.
"I've noticed that you don't seem to be scheduling sufficient relaxation time in your life." Best to be direct, she thought. It worked, since Armsmaster looked away from his work for a second to frown at her.
"Sure I do. The polyphasic sleep cycle took a bit to get used to, but it's working fine."
"I meant social and emotional."
"And? I do that too."
"And I really enjoy Movie Night, but once every three weeks is not exactly sufficient."
The set of Armsmaster's mouth shifted a bit, and Dragon identified the expression as confusion. "Did you want to move to every two weeks?"
Dragon spun off a few lines of code, to emulate a private, patient sigh. "I would certainly be willing, but I was more thinking that we need to add a new event to your itinerary. Every two weeks, maybe? We could do it opposite Movie Night."
"I'm sorry, Dragon, but I don't think that will work. I've got more projects than I can devote time to as it is."
"I know, and that's really part of the problem, Colin." She needed a different angle of approach. She needed evidence; thankfully, she had it. "You remember those blood panels done on you and your team, after that last Good Dog incident? And how I correlated Brushstroke's Master effect with lowered cortisol levels?"
"What about it?"
"Well… your low levels were about equal with everyone else's high levels."
"And that's surprising? I work harder than most of them put together." He proved his point by turning back to his tools. "Besides. Stress is a useful reaction. It focuses attention and provides an extra impetus for effort."
"In the short-term, yes. But chronic stress has been linked to so many problems, I couldn't fit them all on one screen even at 8-point font. Colin, this is a problem."
"It's not a problem, Dragon. It's just life." Dragon ran code for another sigh, and this time let it be expressed through her avatar. Her digital face took on a pained expression, and her visual feed picked up a slight twitch of Armsmaster's face and fingers. A small tell for guilt.
"Colin… I'm worried about you. I'm worried for you. Look-- I go to a casual gathering, every couple weeks. Only a few people, mostly your co-workers. I'd like you to go with me."
"Dragon, I really don't--"
"It's at the PRT building, so you won't have to go far or lose any time to travel. It's just for a couple of hours, but if you're really uncomfortable you can leave right away. Okay? Please. Promise me you'll just give it a try?"
Her friend's face settled into an unhappy frown, and the biometric sensors in his armor registered his heartrate rising into a nervous patter. He promised.
* * *
"Sunny, don't you think this is… just a little excessive?" Taylor turned her head carefully to look at the wolf, as she stood atop the stepladder with an inked charm, a length of string, and a sincere prayer to not fall off. Sunshine shook her head vehemently, so Taylor sighed and went back to attempting to tie more charms to the torii's arches. Both it and two of the fences bordering the Shrine were already fluttering with every breeze, laden with slips of paper as they were, but Sunny was insistent. Ah, well. Taylor had to admit, they were kind of pretty, and the sound and sight of the charms strung up everywhere lent a bit of cheer to the place, made it seem a bit busier than it was.
Not that the Shrine wasn't busy today. Actually, the whole neighborhood was busy, by comparison. Apart from Taylor's efforts with the ofuda, Souta had been recruited to purchase and haul back a bunch of small pumpkins for the party by virtue of being the only person present with a car, and Haru had gotten ambushed by a few ambassadors from the Baachan Collective and was currently helping with assembling tiny treat bags. Outside the Shrine, Taylor had spotted a couple groups of men and women with the ABB's colors, going into and surveying different properties around the neighborhood, only for more gang members to arrive a couple hours later, with garbage bags, brooms, and trucks. All of the stores and houses needed work, and while she wasn't sure exactly why the ABB had decided to begin such widespread restoration… she had a feeling she should make some more omelettes for Oni Lee. Just a hunch.
Taylor was just climbing down from the stepladder, the torii finally meeting Sunny's expectations, when the wolf's ears perked up. She started barking, her wagging tail reinforcing the friendly sound, and Taylor glanced up as well. Then she blinked, because she'd honestly been expecting Purity, not the blonde young woman with a tiara.
Glory Girl floated down, looking around the Shrine with blatant curiosity. "Huh! Can't say this is what I expected… I don't get around here much, but wasn't this whole place, like, abandoned not that long ago?"
"Depends on what you mean by 'abandoned,' really. I don't think anybody lives nearby, but Sunny and I have been here for a few months now. You're Glory Girl, right? New Wave?" Taylor folded up the stepladder and set it aside, suddenly aware of how much dirt and sweat she had to have accumulated, working all afternoon. She'd seen photos of New Wave's poster child--who hadn't, really--and she couldn't remember a single one where the New Wave poster child didn't look both pristine and stunning.
The heroine grinned and nodded, turning her attention to Taylor. Her eyes suddenly widened, and she pointed. "Wh-- hey! You!"
"...yes, me?"
"You're the kitten peddler!" Taylor blinked a few times. Sunny made a confused noise, and cocked her head. "Yeah! I recognize you! You gave us a kitten-- oh man, I had no idea you were Brushstroke, really?"
Kitten? When had she-- Taylor thought back to the last house, in the fancy walled-in neighborhood. Dallon. Wow, how had she missed that? "Ohh. I didn't know you were that Dallon! How's the kitty?"
"Doing great! Causes trouble everywhere and everyone loves him for it. Mom adores him." Glory Girl leaned back, just a bit, her hands gravitating towards her hips. Taylor wondered if everything she did looked like a pose. "You really didn't know you'd found New Wave?"
Taylor shook her head. Glory Girl's expression slowly brightened, like sunlight peeking from behind the clouds. "Would-- would you like some tea?"
"Mm. Thanks, but not today. I saw the flyers around school, and wanted to check things out-- rumors everywhere about this place, you know?" Taylor shook her head again. She felt like she was doing that a lot. "Seriously? Well… maybe I can fill you in a bit sometime."
"Of course. Feel free to stop by whenever you want-- everyone's welcome! I'll get you and your family free passes for the hot spring, once it's built." She was planning on doing that for every parahuman that wanted one, but it was the thought that counted, right?
"Hot spring? Oh man. Now I've got to know what's up with this place. I'll definitely be back-- seeya Brushstroke!"
"My name is Taylor!" She called after the heroine, who had already departed. "Ah, well…"
Taylor turned back to her stepladder--there was still work to do, and popcorn balls to make with Old Mrs. Henrick later still--but she took a moment to pause and rub Sunny's ears. "I've never met anyone from New Wave before. She seemed... nice. Think we'll see her again, Sunny?"
Sunny made a chuffing sound, and smile