Archive of Our Own ^beta

2014

“I am invoking my right to legal counsel.”

Mallory raised an eyebrow. “There’s no need for that. You’re not under arrest.”

“Am I free to leave?”

“Not yet.”

“Then I am invoking my right to remain silent,” said the girl, sitting back in her seat, arms folded.

Mallory shrugged and dropped the folder on the table. She pulled out the other uncomfortable steel chair and settled herself into it, adjusting it with a few wince-worthy screeches as it dragged against the floor of the interrogation room.

Not so much as a twitch from the girl, though. Mallory was slightly impressed.

“Taylor Hebert. Born June 12^th, 1995. Currently studying Journalism.”

The girl’s poker face was impressive.

Mallory opened the folder and extracted a stapled printout. “This paper you wrote got flagged by your professors. ‘The Mythologisation of Supes in Modern Media’. Very interesting stuff. A lot more critical than most people would be.”

Mallory turned the page and set her finger under a highlighted passage. “Much like the heroes of old, superheroes have been depicted as flawless, larger than life figures of strength and justice; as being beyond the failings of average people.

“However, this whitewashing of superheroes obscures the very real failings that many Supes fall victim to- from substance abuse, to acts of violence, to unjustified lethal force.” Mallory set the papers down. “That’s a surprisingly delicate way of saying that Supes tend to kill the people they’re supposed to bring in.”

At last, a crack in Hebert’s composure. Her eyebrows drew together behind her thick glasses.

“Your professors kept that paper out of sight. Probably told you something about that you’ve got a bright future ahead of you, how it’s not worth it to criticise the people who protect us.”

Mallory leaned forward. “The thing is, I’m looking for people who do think it’s worth it.”

Hebert slowly leaned forward in her chair. “What is this about? Really?”

Mallory smiled humourlessly, reached into her jacket pocket, and pulled out her ID. “Grace Mallory, CIA. I’m putting together a small taskforce to monitor, investigate and prosecute Supes for criminal acts.”

“And you want me.” Hebert said flatly. “Why.”

“Because you’re damn smart, kid. I’ve seen some of your other notes- that power classification system you cooked up, notes on Supe psychology- hell, those theories about why there’s never any straight-up supervillains made for a hell of a read.” Plus a ton of theories behind where powers came from, the average ages that Supes got their powers, why they started appearing around WW2- this girl wrote conspiracy theories the way other people doodled in the margins.

“You broke into my dorm room.” It wasn’t a question.

Malory tilted her head in acknowledgement. “Good luck trying to prove it, of course.”

“You must have hundreds of people better qualified than me.”

“Oh yes. But none of them have come up with anything close to what you have. It’s ground-breaking stuff. And we need ground-breaking stuff. We need every advantage when it comes to dealing with the Supes. They’ve got the money, they’ve got the lawyers, and they’ve got raw power.” She pointed between herself and Hebert. “We’re just human.”

Hebert twitched a little at that- her eyes widened. Mallory congratulated herself- she’d hit a nerve.

Mallory leaned forward. “You wouldn’t be coming up with all this if you didn’t want to make things better. Work for me as a consultant; provide my team with the right intel, and I’ll give you a shot at real change. You’ll have access to all our files, all our research, and you’ll still be able to continue your studies at college. Hell, I’ll even pay off your student loans.”

Mallory pushed her chair back with a scrape and stood up, holding out her left hand. “It’s your choice, Miss Hebert. You can keep being an ordinary college student that people don’t want to listen to, or you can come with me and make a difference.”

Hebert stared at her with eyes too old for a 20 year old girl to have. Then she slowly unfolded her arms. The right arm, the one that became a prosthesis just below the elbow, rested on the table with a hollow clunk. The left hand, the flesh and blood one, gripped Mallory’s firmly.

2019

Taylor fed the papers into the shredder with a sigh. Another day, another rejection. Apparently nobody else at The Gazette wanted to risk the wrath of Vought’s army of lawyers and spin doctors and worse.

4 out of 5 times that she got evidence for a story about some horrific thing a Supe had done, or allowed to happen, the editor would refuse to run it. And the 1 time out of 5, Vought would release a mealy-mouthed apology, shuffle the Supe off to somewhere out of the way, and either pay off the victims or coerce them into signing a non-disclosure agreement.

At this point Taylor was pretty sure that the biggest reason she was being kept on was because her arm let The Gazette fill a disability diversity quota.

Intellectually, Taylor knew she should take a step back. She didn’t have powers anymore; didn’t have CIA contacts anymore; she was just ordinary. But it still grated on her very soul to think that the rich and powerful were getting away with every kind of corruption and vice while they posed for commercials and signed autographs instead of actually contributing to the world.

“Rough day, love?”

Taylor spun around instantly. Her right arm was raised in a guard position, while her left went into her pocket and came out with the pepper spray canister on her keychain.

A tall, dark, bearded man in a scruffy coat and a lurid Hawaiian shirt grinned back at her from the corner of the copy room. “Bit jumpy, ain’t ya?” he said in a thick London accent.

Taylor lowered the pepper spray, but didn’t put it back. “What the hell are you doing here, Butcher?”

“What, a man can’t swing by to say hello to the good luck charm, ask how the family is?”

“I’m not your good luck charm, my dad is fine, and you’re an asshole. You were the only one who didn’t stay in touch, so I know you’re not here for a social visit. Spit it out.”

Butcher’s grin shrank into his beard. “We got a lead. Proper grade-A shit. I’m thinking we get the band back together, chase it down- we could do some damage.”

Taylor stared at him. “Really. I’m guessing this isn’t an official operation.”

Butcher shrugged laconically. “Just some concerned citizens having a poke about.”

“Which means nobody to go to if things go to hell,” Taylor pointed out. “What even is this lead? Where’d it come from?”

“Translucent.”

Taylor stiffened. “Translucent? The Translucent?”

“Yep. The invisible cunt himself. What’d you call ‘im- Stranger/Brute. Turns out that impenetrable skin don’t mean nothing if there’s a lump of plastique up your bum hole.”

Against her will, Taylor’s imagination conjured up an image of what that would have looked like, and it disgusted her.

At the same time, she was a little impressed. Translucent hadn’t made it into the Seven by looking good- people had shot him, stabbed him, hit him with a car, and tried to drown him; all without success. In retrospect attacking from within was a smart move. It was what she would have done back in her old days.

“Anyhoo, before we spread ‘im all over the walls, Translucent coughed up something good. You heard about A-Train’s little fuckup?”

“That woman he ran through? Yeah, the editor had me edit the piece I wrote three times until it was neutral enough for him.”

“Well,” Butcher said, his horrible grin widening again, “We know where he was coming from that day. Fancy digging into it? I know you love a mystery.”

He was right. Taylor missed the feeling of uncovering the truth; more than that, she missed the feeling that she was actually doing something significant with her life, that she was making things better.

Still, she hesitated. The Lamplighter thing still haunted her. She wasn’t a cape anymore- and a skinny 24 year old woman with one arm was barely a toothpick for the heavy hitters in Vought’s upper ranks. She was supposed to be out.

“It’ll be different this time,” Butcher said. “Less of the murky shit, no repeats of the Mallory thing. But I need your brains for this.”

Taylor sighed. She’d probably already made up her mind the second Butcher had made the offer- she still had a knack for justifying her decisions to herself. At least therapy had let her understand that much.

“You want my brains, you get my say-so with it,” she warned. “If I try to tell you something, you damn well listen. Got it?”

“Absolutely,” Butcher said in a tone that suggested butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

Taylor sighed and slapped her hand into his outstretched palm.

2014

“Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet our new analyst, Taylor Hebert. Taylor, these are the Boys.”

Taylor wasn’t surprised that they were meeting in a dingy little warehouse- she’d had plenty of meetings like this as a villain and a hero.

Still, part of her wished the CIA could have sprung for something a bit nicer. She’d permanently lost any fear of the cockroaches scuttling about in the corners, but the general grime wasn’t pleasant.

Three men- two large, one small, all looking like they knew how to handle themselves.

The first to step forward was a muscular black man, with a leather jacket and a neat beard. “Marvin Milk,” he said gruffly. “Most call me Mother’s Milk.”

Taylor thought for a second. “Because you’re sweet as?” she guessed.

Milk nodded, looking impressed. “You got it.” He put one big hand to his chest. “Marines. Where’d they get you from?”

“UMass.”

“Ah, a scholar!” said the shortest man with a thick French accent and a cheeky grin. “Welcome to our social club.”

Milk rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Frenchie.”

“Don’t mind Serge,” Mallory said, “He’s always like this.”

Taylor shrugged. “I’ve worked with worse.”

Frenchie adopted an expression of comically exaggerated offense, running a hand over his moustache. “Truly? Then I will have to try harder.”

“So where did they get you from?”

Frenchie shrugged. “Trouble.”

Something to ask about later then. Taylor turned her attention to the last man in the room.

He was standing at the back, almost leaning against a support beam, half-hidden in a pool of shadow. When he stepped forward, he didn’t brighten much. Slicked-back black hair, a thick beard, and a face built for scowling. He was wrapped in a long grey coat and big boots.

“Butcher,” he grunted in a Cockney accent. “I was in the SAS.”

Taylor nodded slowly. “Looking forward to working with you.”

Mallory cleared her throat and stepped forward, offering stacks of paper to each of the men. “These are information packets that Ms Hebert’s put together; profiles on the major Supes, their powers, their backstories, possible weaknesses. I want you to read through them and let me know what you think. We’ll be using this kind of intel a lot more going forward.”

The Boys each took a packet and started flipping through them. It took about ten seconds before Taylor saw their expressions start to change.

Frenchie let out a low whistle. Milk’s eyebrows drew together. Butcher started to chuckle lowly.

“You came up with all this?” Milk asked, turning his packet around to show the profile Taylor had written on A-Train, the Seven’s current speedster.

“Most of the information is available on the internet, or in books,” Taylor said. “You can get their biographies in bookstore bargain bins. It’s mostly ghost-written crap, but there’s some truth in there.”

Milk turned his packet back around. “And what the hell are caltrops?”

“Old sort of trap,” Frenchie said, who’d flicked to the back to read the power classification system. “You take two nails, you bend them and weld them together in the middle, you get a metal spike that always has one point aimed up. Scatter them around, someone steps on them;” he shrugged, “Quite painful, non?”

“Diabolical,” Butcher said, like he highly approved. He looked up to fix Taylor with an intense look. “I think you and I are gonna get along just fine, love.”

2019

Hughie triple-checked the cables to the laptop in the van, making sure they’d get a clear signal. It wasn’t like they really needed it, but it helped him take his mind off things.

A-Train. Fucking A-Train. Hughie had almost walked into him coming out of Popclaw’s apartment, and the bastard hadn’t even recognised him.

The familiarity of cables and screens and which went where helped him calm down as the rest of the group caught up. Apparently Frenchie and Mother’s Milk had only had spotty contact for years and mainly heard how the other was doing through mutual friends. There was talk of the women in their lives, MM’s daughter Janine, and their respective jobs.

It was bizarre to hear MM elaborate about his work at a juvenile detention centre, and Frenchie to talk about how he cooked drugs and ran guns, and for the two of them to be so honestly happy for the other.

Hughie straightened up. “Okay, we, uh, we’ve got the cameras all linked. Living room, bedroom, weight room, computer, uh, corner.”

MM peered at the screens showing various angles inside Popclaw’s apartment. “Damn. Remind me to ask you next time I upgrade, kid.”

“Solid work,” Butcher agreed. “Now we just need to wait for her to show us where she’s keeping that Compound V stuff.”

Frenchie muttered something in French. “A terrible time we live in, to be so surrounded by cameras.”

Hughie jumped at a sudden banging on the van doors.

MM had already swivelled towards the noise. “Were we expecting anyone else?”

“Oh yeah,” Butcher said, unconcerned. “Just a sec.” He stepped around the rest of them and opened the door to the evening air.

A woman clambered into the van’s interior- thin, with big glasses and lots of curly black hair. She wore a neat grey jacket and tight jeans, as well as fine black leather gloves and a small bag at her waist.

MM rounded on Butcher furiously. “God damn it, you said you weren’t bringing the kid into this!”

“Charcutier, qu’est-ce que c’est?” Frenchie was distraught as he glanced between Butcher and the girl.

“Alright, look,” Butcher began.

“No, you look!” MM said, jabbing a finger at Butcher. “We fucked up last time with Lamplighter- I ain’t letting you do that shit to her all over again!”

“Hey!” The woman shouted. “I’m standing right here.”

MM turned around, anger fading from him. “Taylor, you don’t have to do this.”

Taylor smiled a little. “I know, Marvin. I’ve made my choice. Besides, last time was more on me than anything else.”

“Taylor, no, don’t put that on yourself,” Frenchie said softly.

“Look, we’ve had years to move past all that.” Taylor spread her arms. “Come on, say hello first.”

Frenchie’s face broke into a grin, and he enveloped Taylor in a hug with a lot of back-slapping and groans. He’d barely let go when MM stepped up and pulled her into another she almost disappeared into.

“How’re Monique and Janine?” Taylor asked when he released her.

“Doing great. Let me know when you’re free to babysit again- Janine’s asked about you.”

“Aww.” Taylor turned to Hughie- her gaze was surprisingly intense behind the glasses. “Taylor Hebert,” she introduced herself, holding her hand out. “I worked with these guys back in the day.”

Hughie got up from crouching over the laptop. “Uh, Hughie. Campbell,” he added, taking her offered hand, not noticing that the rest of the guys were stifling grins.

Hughie had barely got a grip when Taylor’s entire forearm fell out of her sleeve, dangling from Hughie’s hand. Hughie screamed and dropped it, jumping back as everyone else burst out laughing.

“Hahahahaha! Oh fuck, man, your face!” MM laughed.

Frenchie was bent almost double, hands on his knees as he cackled. Butcher had a hand over his mouth, but his amusement was obvious.

Taylor giggled a little. “I’m sorry, that was mean,” she said, shrugging her jacket off to reveal her right arm, ending just below the elbow. She bent to pick up the prosthetic that had landed on the van’s floor and fit it back onto her stump.

Hughie tried not to stare at the stump, but Taylor still caught him looking. “In case you’re wondering, it was a car accident.”

“Oh.”

Taylor shrugged. “Well, actually a dragon burned it off, but nobody believes me when I say that, so…”

“Same dumb joke,” MM said fondly.

Taylor snapped her fingers. “So what’re we looking at?”

Frenchie hadn’t argued too hard when Taylor insisted on accompanying them in the field, but he and MM had looked at each other and silently agreed they’d be keeping her safe. Looking for Supe steroids was marginally less dangerous than going up against actual Supes, but still dangerous.

Taylor had essentially been mission control in the old days, combing through any information on Supes and squeezing precious information out of it. She’d often collaborated with Frenchie on devising countermeasures, his chemistry knowledge and her devious imagination a potent combination.

But more than that, she’d made a real effort to be friends with all of them. She’d opened up about losing her mother, her father’s struggles, adapting to life with one hand; and they’d found themselves opening up in return. MM’s OCD, Butcher’s rage and grief, Frenchie’s papa and one bad boss after the next- she never pressured, just offered sympathy with a calmness no teenager should have possessed.

In the year that Taylor was with them, the Boys had found a greater sense of camaraderie. Even Butcher had relaxed a little.

And then the whole shitshow with Lamplighter happened. For the thousandth time Frenchie cursed that man to the deepest bowels of hell, to be tormented for eternity by devils with many sharp things.

But now they had a mission to do, following a man through an Asian supermarket and down into an extensive basement. Taylor was surprisingly well prepared for it- her little belt pouch had a flashlight, pepper spray, a first aid kit, and a multitool. And she had a small pistol that she carried with surprising expertise.

Frenchie was getting the feeling that they might have underestimated her before. She hadn’t flinched when Popclaw had accidentally crushed her landlord’s head. Maybe she’d sharpened herself in the last few years.

The underground hideout they’d sneaked into was all grey bricks and cardboard boxes, and some guards too busy with their takeout to pay attention. Past them, they came to a wide storage room- more boxes scattered all over the place, and Japanese music faintly playing from the corner.

“Split up,” MM ordered. “Look for the V.”

“Guys,” Taylor hissed.

Frenchie was already looking- at the cell built into the wall, with steel bars. There was a TV inside, playing a Japanese music video, a bed with a colourful bedspread- and tucked under a table was a person. A girl, or a young woman, with long dark hair.

“Damn,” MM said.

“We should let her out,” Frenchie murmured, feeling an immediate sense of sympathy for this poor wretch, locked away from the sunlight.

“We ain’t here on a rescue mission,” MM insisted. “Find the V and go.”

“You sound like Butcher,” Petit Hughie said accusingly.

“I sound like a motherfucker that wants to be breathing.”

“But what if she knows something?” Taylor pointed out. “If these guys have talked around her, she could be the key.” She stepped forward, knocking the knuckles of her prosthesis against the bars.

The woman in the cage twisted round, revealing a dirty face and wide dark eyes.

“Taylor,” MM began warningly before Frenchie hushed him.

Taylor crouched down so she was on eye level with the woman. “Hey,” she said softly. “We need to know what these guys are doing. We can get you out of here. Do you want to go home?”

The girl shifted around further, rising to her hands and knees. Poised to leap or to flee.

Taylor slid her gun back into its holster, and then held up her hands. “We’re not here to hurt you. Do you want us to let you out?”

Slowly, the woman nodded.

“Frenchie,” Taylor said without turning her head, “Open it on my mark.”

“This ain’t the plan,” MM said lowly.

“We can look for the V and still practice basic human decency,” Taylor retorted. “Frenchie, open it.”

Frenchie gently slid the bolt back, then then swung the door open. The hinges squealed with a pure tone. High C, he thought.

Taylor held out her hands as the woman crept forward. “It’s okay,” she began.

Then the guards charged into the room with guns blazing. The Boys threw themselves to cover, Taylor reaching for her holster.

The woman leapt past them like a lioness and tackled one of them to the floor, then clawed a chunk out of the second man’s stomach, wove behind him, and jammed her fingers into his eyesockets. Blood spurted and he screamed, before she broke his neck with a quick twist.

The first man fared no better- the mystery woman simply kicked him onto his back and stabbed her hands into his stomach a few times.

The last guard came in, saw his two dead compatriots, and the woman, bloodied to the wrists. Without hesitation he backed up to the wall and shot himself in the head.

“Oh fuck,” Hughie gasped from the corner he’d ducked behind.

“Wait,” Taylor said, stepping out from behind a pillar. Her gun was pointed at the ground, and her right arm was held out. The woman rounded on her, poised to attack.

Frenchie drew his gun, mind racing. If the woman attacked, he’d have to shoot, to protect Taylor- but would bullets even work on a woman who tore men apart like pastries?

“I’m guessing these guys pissed you off,” Taylor said, carefully stepping towards the woman. “Probably deserved what they got.”

Frenchie saw MM behind a stack of shelves, his gun out. Another silent communication there- if the woman hurt Taylor, they’d empty their guns into her.

Taylor let her gun drift to her side as she took another step forward. “I can guess what’s going through your mind. You’re scared, you’re angry. You’re probably wondering why it had to happen to you. It’s not fair.”

The woman curled, just a little, from the wary stance she’d taken. Some complicated emotion was playing out on her face.

Taylor slowly raised her right arm to her mouth and grabbed the fingertip of her glove in her teeth to pull it off, revealing the plastic and metal joints of her artificial hand.

“It’s not easy to get through it when things go bad. But you can get through it. And it’s a lot easier if you let people help you.” She held her prosthesis out again as she set her gun down on a table next to her.

Slowly, gingerly, the woman extended a bloodstained hand, until it touched Taylor’s, fingertip to fingertip.

“I don’t fucking believe it,” MM muttered.

“I’m sorry, are we running a fucking youth hostel now?” Butcher demanded, gesturing at the woman currently crouched in the corner of the room, picking from a plate of food Frenchie had set in front of her.

“Can you keep your voice down?” Taylor asked, sitting next to the woman. She looked perfectly at ease next to someone who could pull her spine out through her kneecaps.

MM shrugged. “I don’t know, Butcher. I mean, Taylor’s got a point. If we can get this girl to talk, she could be a goldmine.”

Butcher leaned over to MM and hissed, “She’s a fucking Supe. You want to wake up in the middle of the night with your throat ripped out?”

“Come on, Butcher, have a heart,” Taylor said. “She’s been hurt just like the rest of us. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my many mistakes, it’s that you have to try and be the bigger person if you want to call yourself the good guy.”

“I don’t care about being the good guy, I care about getting bloody results,” Butcher grunted. “Which is why we’re not waiting around for her to decide to tell us anything. Hughie, you’re going on a date with Starlight.”

“Wha- uh, what? What?”

Butcher cracked a grin at the lad’s stammering. “She’s talking at that Believe Expo, right? Ezekiel runs that whole show- and we’ve got some quality dirt on him to incentivise him to talk.”

“That asshole who talks about ‘praying the gay away’?” Taylor asked. “What, is he fiddling his taxes?”

“Sure, if ‘his taxes’ is what he calls the boys he’s seeing on the quiet.”

“What?” Taylor hauled herself to her feet. “He’s gay and still saying that shit? Oh, I’m going to tie his dick in a knot!”

Butcher laughed. “That’s what I like to hear. But Hughie’s the one who’s gonna sweat him. All you need to do,” He said, turning back to Hughie, “Is ask Starlight to get you one of those VIP tickets. Backstage pass, access all areas. Then you show Ezekiel the video and make ‘im tell you everything he knows about Compound V. Or else he ends up on Pornhub.”

“Those tickets are like $15000 a pop,” Hughie protested. “I’ve only been on a date and a half with Annie- Starlight. You don’t think she’s going to get suspicious?”

“A little much, to ask for that when petit Hughie hasn’t even taken her to bed yet,” Frenchie quipped, strolling in with a plate bearing a neat slice of sponge cake. “Dessert, mon couer,” he said to the woman, setting the plate down in front of her. She waited until he’d stepped back, then grabbed the plate and began munching on the cake with every sign of enjoyment.

Hughie paled. “I’m not going to sleep with her just to get tickets!”

“Come on, Hughie,” Butcher said with a horrible grin. “That’s the price of doing business. Just close your eyes and think of England!”

“Knock it off, Butcher,” Taylor interrupted. She glanced at Hughie and added, “Nothing ruins a relationship like asking for too much, too fast. We can look for another way.”

“I don’t like this either. Hughie’s still green, he needs to be trained up. But who else do we send?” MM asked. “Homelander’s the one doing the baptisms with Ezekiel. He’s already seen Frenchie, and ain’t no way we’re putting Butcher in a room with him, so they’re out.”

“Uh, could you do it?” Hughie asked MM. “I mean, if I asked Starlight for a friend…”

MM paused. “Maybe,” He admitted grudgingly. “Still don’t like it though. A-Train and Popclaw already saw my face. I don’t want more exposure.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone thought to themselves.

Taylor sighed. “Ah crap.”

Annie was starting to notice things at Believe Expo.

The teens roundtable had been awkward as hell- having to lie to all those kids about still being a virgin and trying to steer other people into Christianity. And all those posters saying ‘Fly Straight’ and ‘One Man + One Woman = One Marriage’…

Had things gotten worse since she’d come here as a kid, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked? Or had it always been like this, and she’d only just started to notice?

It was a relief to catch Hughie at the refreshment tent. He saw her out of the corner of her eye and turned with a bright smile and an overpriced soda in each hand.

“Hey Annie,” he said warmly. “Got you a drink- figured you’d want something after all that good talk with the youths.”

Annie snickered at his corny delivery and took one of the drinks. Cold bubbly relief.

Hughie’s face flickered. “Oh, right, I meant to say- I bumped into a friend. Wanted to introduce you two.”

He pointed back towards the counter, where a tall slim girl in a white dress was buying a water. She turned and waved when she spotted Hughie, bouncing over enthusiastically.

“Oh my gosh, you weren’t kidding, you actually know Starlight!” the girl gushed. “Hi!” She proffered her left hand. “I’m Taylor- Hughie and I go way back.”

“Uh, yeah, a while,” Hughie mumbled as Annie shook Taylor’s hand, bemused at her sheer energy.

“Nice to meet you. So what brings you to Believe?”

Taylor shrugged and raised her cup to take a sip. For the first time Annie realised that her right arm was fake. “Well, I used to be pretty ambivalent about church when I was young, you know- my parents were lowkey about it. But after this,” she rapped her knuckles on her forearm, eliciting a hollow knocking sound, “I was looking for guidance, and I guess I found God. It’s been a real comfort to have something to turn to, you know?”

Annie smiled softly. “I do, honestly. I’m glad it’s helping you.” Her smile faded a little. “It’s…”

Hughie noticed. “You okay?”

Annie sighed. “This place… It’s not what I remember. That teen talk thing- I had to hold back a bunch of stuff to them. I didn’t think this job was going to mean lying to people.”

“Is that like a ‘I can’t tell you about secret superhero projects’ thing, or something else?” Taylor asked curiously.

“No, it’s a ‘I’m still a virgin’, kind of thing,” Annie said. A second later she realised she’d just blurted that out in front of her not-quite-boyfriend and his childhood friend. “Oh, God, sorry, that just slipped out.”

Taylor just cocked her head. “I don’t think that’s anything to be ashamed of,” she said sympathetically. “Lord knows I never sweated about losing my virginity.”

 Hughie’s flustered look gave Annie pause. “Uh. How did you two say you knew each other again?”

“Not like that!” Hughie yelped.

Taylor shook her head. “Definitely not. I meant my first boyfriend. Big guy called Brian. I was crazy about him.” She sighed, all of her peppy energy deserting her for a moment. “He’s married now. We haven’t talked in years.”

“Right, sorry.”

Taylor shrugged. “It’s okay. Life just got in the way. We grew up, got jobs, made a living- although I wouldn’t mind getting a better job, honestly.”

“So what do you do?” Annie asked.

“Journalism- and before you ask, no, this conversation won’t end up in the tabloids. Anyway, it pays alright, but there are some things way out of my price range.”

“Uh, yeah,” Hughie said. “Like, uh, like those Diamond Pass tickets. Saw that in a flyer.”

Taylor nodded. “Exactly. I mean, a one-on-one with Ezekiel? I’d give my right hand for that. Again.” She held up her prosthesis and waggled it about for emphasis.

Annie had to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Hughie was smiling uncomfortably too.

“You can laugh, I’m the one saying it.” Taylor sighed. “Well, I guess I should go mope around the stalls or something. It was nice catching up, Hughie. And it’s been great meeting you, Starlight. Good luck with everything.”

Hughie caught Annie’s eye as Taylor turned to leave, nodding towards his friend. “Do you think you could…?” He shrugged awkwardly.

Annie made a snap decision. “Hey Taylor?”

Taylor stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

“If you really want, I could probably pull some strings and get you in to see Ezekiel.”

Taylor blinked. Then her face burst into a smile almost too big to be real. “Really? Oh my gosh, thank you!” she cried, bouncing forward to clasp Annie’s hands. “Thank you so much, this is so generous!”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Annie said. “I’m just glad I can help. I’ll talk to someone, get your name on the list.”

“Oh my gosh, this is great. I should get some stuff- thanks so much, I owe you a million!” Taylor released Annie’s hands and rushed out of the tent with a backwards wave.

Annie smiled. “You’ve got a good friend.”

Hughie stared in the direction Taylor had gone with a weird look on his face. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“I doubt most of them know about Compound V,” Taylor said contemplatively. “Honestly, a conspiracy that large doesn’t sound right. If every single one of them knew about where their powers really came from, someone would have talked for a quick buck, sell a memoir.

“More likely,” she continued, leaning on the counter with her arm twisted in a way that should have been uncomfortable, “Only a few of them know the truth. The ones involved with production of more Supes, like Ezekiel; and the ones using it to get high or increase their powers. I mean, A-Train makes sense- he’s built his career on being the fastest man alive, and Vought’s so fixated on PR that even if he were an experienced and competent crimefighter- which he’s not,” she added with a glance at Hughie, “They’d drop him as soon as some other speedster beats him by a millisecond. So he’s juicing to keep his career afloat.”

“Other Supes, their powers are more static, or less subject to scrutiny- it’s not like the Deep needs a boost, he’s just the fish guy. They don’t need to go looking for an upgrade, so they’re kept out of the loop for operational security.

“If we take Compound V public, I’m thinking Vought will lose a lot of people immediately- some will quit, some will be fired. The rest will be easy pickings for the law. I mean we’ve got Vought on, what- child endangerment, drug trafficking, corporate fraud. And if we’re lucky, this whole thing will finally convince people Supes aren’t really necessary around here. There’s no supervillains to fight, no giant monsters to fend off- they’re just shinier law enforcement, and they’re not even that good at it.”

Marvin clapped his hands together. “Ladies and gentlemen, Professor Taylor Hebert with her new Book, ‘How we’re Going To Bring Down Vought’.”

Taylor gave a short bow. “Thank you. But honestly, this explains so much. I could probably write a paper on the socio-economic factors that make the majority of Supes a bunch of dysfunctional corporate shills.”

There was a rustle from the next room over. The mystery girl was still scribbling away on reams of paper, using Marvin’s carefully sorted colour markers. Frenchie was crouched next to her, watching her intently.

“What the hell is up with that?” Marvin complained.

“Trauma response, maybe,” Taylor shrugged. “We don’t know how much she remembers. Could be total amnesia in there for all we know. I think that symbol’s important though. Maybe we should investigate.”

“May I remind you that we had Black Noir himself coming after Frenchie and her?” Marvin pointed out. “It’s not safe right now.”

“It never is. But a mystery girl with powers who doesn’t fit the big baby-dosing conspiracy?” She gestured to the big map Marvin had drawn of all the hospitals where Vought smuggled Compound V to inject babies with. “Sometimes the outliers give as much data as the rest of the pattern.”

“She’s not talking though.”

“I might have a way to get past that,” Frenchie said, wandering over. “One word.” He leaned in and spread his hands dramatically. “Mesmer.”

“Mesmer?” Marvin said sceptically. “The fucking kid detective off TV?”

“It’s a simple trip- she and I hide in the back of the van; in, out, boom, bing!” He snapped his fingers a few times for emphasis.

Taylor straightened up from the counter. “There’s no way I’m going near an actual telepath.”

Marvin gave her a glance. Taylor had made it very clear during her tenure that she didn’t want any kind of Thinker poking around in her head. She’d refused to elaborate on the why, but Marvin could respect wanting your memories to remain private.

“Taylor,” Frenchie said, “I know you. You have a passion for justice. You can never stand by while there is wrong going on. You do not think ‘Someone should do something’ and move on. You think ‘I should do something’- and you do. That is what I admire about you.”

Taylor pursed her lips. Marvin recognised it as the face she rarely pulled when someone had her dead to rights and she was too stubborn to admit it.

“And you,” Frenchie said, rounding on Marvin. “I’ve seen you eat ice cream.”

“What.”

“You get a tub, you open it, you take a scoop- delicious, yes? But then there is a divot, it’s uneven. So you must take another scoop, but that produces a corresponding divot. No way to even it out, unless you finish. The entire. Pint.

“Because that is who you are, my friend. You cannot abide things out of order. Whether it’s your pens or some wayward youths or a tub of ice cream, you must sort it out. Straighten the pens, teach those youths, and finish that ice cream.”

Frenchie leaned forward conspiratorially, pointing back to where the mystery girl sat. “And she? Is out of order.”

Marvin sighed, exchanged a weary glance with Taylor, then slapped his pen down on the table.

Kimiko let the man called Frenchie guide her from the van and into the house behind the big man called Emem and the white man with the beard she hadn’t met before. Taylor was behind them, looking nervous.

Kimiko was reasonably sure what they were trying to do- the bearded man was called Mesmer, and he could read people’s minds when he touched them. That was the gist she got- her English was alright, but sometimes her new friends spoke too fast to keep up, or their accents were too strong.

She looked about the house curiously as Taylor closed the door behind them. White walls, big couches, lots of pictures on the wall of Mesmer as a child. A bit pretentious. Very American.

“So, anything in particular you want to know?” Mesmer asked, shrugging his jacket off as Kimiko poked at some of the things on the mantelpiece.

“Everything there is to know,” Emem said.

“Well, that narrows it down,” Mesmer said sarcastically.

“We’re looking for her name, where she was born, grew up, how she came to America,” Taylor said, lurking in the corner, gloved hands together. “If that’s alright with you?” she asked, looking directly at Kimiko.

Kimiko nodded slowly. That was about what she was comfortable with. It was nice to have someone ask though.

“Mon couer, have a seat,” Frenchie said, gesturing to the couch. Kimiko sat in the middle, plenty of space on either side.

Mesmer sat himself in front of her, on the table. “Okay then.”

“Wait.” Taylor stepped forward, gesturing at Mesmer. Confused, he got up and moved back as Taylor crouched down next to Kimiko.

“This is probably going to be hard for you,” Taylor said honestly. She pulled something out of her pocket and held it up. It was a small squishy bumblebee toy, which she placed in Kimiko’s palm gently.

“If it starts to feel bad, just squeeze the bee,” Taylor said. She gently turned Kimiko’s hand so her palm was facing down, then backed off, motioning to Mesmer. “Back of her hand,” she warned him. “She’s got a very strong grip.”

Mesmer looked very confused, but he sat down again and placed his hand on top of Kimiko’s, closing his eyes.

Kimiko felt something- a pressure in her mind. She screwed her eyes shut against it-

-in the basement again, snapping a man’s neck-

-stabbing into a man’s stomach with her bare hands-

-Black Noir slicing her open with knives, blood spilling out-

-Kimiko’s eyes shot open, and she reflexively squeezed her hand shut.

There was a muted pop as Mesmer yanked his hand away. Kimiko lunged after him, only for Frenchie to grab her before she could reach him. She threw Frenchie aside into a chair, looming over him and breathing heavily.

“Easy,” said a voice. Kimiko looked up, and saw Taylor standing behind the chair, plastic hand held out again. She nodded to Kimiko’s own hand.

When Kimiko turned her hand over and opened it, the bee had been ripped apart by the sheer force of her grip, spilling foamy stuffing all over her hand. For some reason the sight of it was almost painful.

“Holy fuck,” Mesmer said hoarsely.

“You alright?” Taylor asked.

“I think so,” Mesmer said, rubbing his wrist.

“Not you,” she said dismissively.

Kimiko took a few steps back, trying to get her breath under control. She flopped back onto the couch, baring her teeth at Mesmer. Frenchie put his hands on her shoulders as she tried to rise off the sofa again, keeping her in place.

“Where the fuck did you find her?” Mesmer asked.

Butcher stepped in with a grin as MM opened the door of the little suburb bungalow. His eyes immediately went to the chubby man on the sofa.

“Wow, Mesmer. Big fan.” He turned to MM and Taylor. “Well, now we gotta kill him,” he murmured.

“We made a deal with him,” MM said. “He keeps his trap shut, he gets to keep his kid. He’s just a dad with a kid.”

“He’s a Supe with a kid. You know better than this.”

“Dial it down, Butcher. There’s more ways to deal with people than violence and threats,” Taylor said.

MM gestured to her in agreement. “Sometimes you get further with people by treating them as people.”

“Although if he looks inside my brain, I’ll kill him myself,” Taylor added.

MM and Butcher both stared at her. It definitely sounded like one of Taylor’s occasional dark jokes, but she looked dead serious.

Butcher shrugged. “Have it your way.” He turned back to Mesmer. “Right then. Let’s get cracking.”

The mystery girl was fetched from where she’d hidden under the table, and sat in a chair, with Frenchie holding her spare hand for comfort. Butcher watched as Mesmer gingerly put his hand on top of hers and closed his eyes.

“There’s a camp in a jungle,” Mesmer said. “She’s a soldier. There’s a flag with a two-headed snake on it.”

“Like this?” Butcher said, raising his arms in a cross. “With red rays behind it?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“What does that mean?” Hughie asked cluelessly.

“The flag of the Shining Light Liberation Army,” Taylor said. “They’re a far-left extremist group mostly based in the Philippines.” She gave the mystery girl a long look.

“Frenchie, you’re dating a terrorist,” MM said. Mesmer hastily let go of the girl’s hand.

“No, no, there must be more to all of this,” Frenchie insisted.

“Okay, so, they smuggle in a top-shelf extremist recruit and pump her full of,” MM glanced at Mesmer and added, “Stuff.”

“And then when she’s good and ready, they turn her loose to cause havoc,” Butcher completed.

“They’re making super villains,” Taylor said, looking horrified. “There could be hundreds of them.” She muttered something under her breath- Butcher caught the word ‘slaughterhouse’.

“Which gets Supes in the military. Sergeant fucking Homelander,” Butcher growled.

“No, listen,” Frenchie insisted. “Maybe that’s what they want her to be, but that’s not who she is. She just wants to go home!”

“She’s a fucking Supe!” Butcher said, raising his voice. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Butcher, stop it,” Taylor said, stepping in front of him, glaring up at him. “Mesmer, we need more info.”

“Hey, this is way out of my wheel house,” Mesmer protested.

The mystery girl grabbed Mesmer’s hand and closed her eyes. Mesmer yelped. “Ah! Wait- I, there’s- the moon, and palm trees in front of it. It’s where she grew up.”

Taylor paused, rooted around in her jacket, and came out holding a folded piece of paper that she deftly flicked open. A circle with long triangles on the left.

“That’s what she’s been drawing,” Taylor said, holding the paper out to the rest of them. MM took it thoughtfully.

Mesmer flinched. “They killed her parents. Kidnapped her and her brother. Forced them to be soldiers. She just… wants to go back and get her brother out of there.”

The girl let go of his hand, panting, eyes wet. Mesmer leaned back. “Her name’s Kimiko.” He got out of his chair and left the room.

“Not a terrorist,” Taylor said softly. “Just a girl.”

“Kimiko,” Frenchie murmured. He shuffled around the chair to look her in the eye. “Bonjour, Kimiko.”

Butcher looked askance at MM, who spread his arms helplessly. Taylor folded her arms and cocked her head.

Butcher sighed. No arguing with her like that. “Alright,” he said reluctantly. “Take her back to the safe house.” He grabbed his coat. “I’m gonna go see Raynor. We’ve got more than enough to get the Feds onboard now.”

He paused to glare at Mesmer. “You tell anyone what you saw or heard here today, and I’ll cut your hands off and shove them so far up your ass, your fingers will give us a little wave out of your throat. Yeah?”

Mesmer held out a hand in a silent challenge.

“Fuck off, wanker.”

2015

MM held out the box. Nestled inside was a gold ring with an impressively large diamond sparkling on top, even in the dim light of the dusty old factory they were meeting in.

“Mon dieu,” Frenchie said, visibly impressed.

Taylor leaned in to peer at it. “Now that’s an engagement ring, alright.”

“Now I don’t want to hear no bullshit about getting tired of the pussy,” MM warned, shutting the box. “I love this girl. Like, she’s the one.”

Frenchie smiled and stepped in to hug MM. Taylor followed suit, cracking up as MM laughed and hugged both of them back.

“Congratulations, Marvin,” Mallory said warmly as MM finally prised the two off.

“Thank you, Colonel,” MM said, holding out the box to see for herself.

“It’s beautiful,” she said with a smile.

Frenchie slung an arm around MM’s shoulders. “Ohhh! The bachelor party I will throw for you! What’s your thoughts about transgender strippers?”

MM held up a finger. “Strippers ain’t really my Hershey, with or without nuts. But- You do golf, I’m thinking about doing a golf trip.”

“I guess I’ll try to help Monique with the bachelorette party,” Taylor began, before Butcher interrupted from near the entrance.

“Oi.” There was a rattle of metal as someone entered the building.

“Taylor, stay out of sight,” Mallory ordered, walking forward to greet their guest.

Taylor sighed and crossed over to stand behind one of the support girders. Even she wasn’t skinny enough to hide behind one completely, but she just needed to avoid giving the man a clear view.

Flickering light preceded Lamplighter as he strode into the room. He wore a long dark hooded robe made of sone shiny material, and large dark goggles. His right hand held a large metal staff topped with four burners that gave off bright yellow flames. He banged the end down on the floor with an echoing thud.

Taylor gave him a long look from behind her pillar. A lot of Vought’s heroes didn’t really go into practicality- they were for show, not real combat. Masks were rare too.

So, the goggles- maybe to cut down on the glare from his flames. And the robe seemed like it was made of fire-resistant material. Probably so he didn’t accidentally burn his clothes off and flash the public, but it could be a hint that he wasn’t immune to his own powers.

Butcher was snickering. Frenchie and MM were smothering laughter too. Even Mallory coughed a few times to hide her amusement.

“What?” Lamplighter demanded.

“Sorry mate,” Butcher said insincerely. “You just look like one of those poncy baton-twirlers.”

“A majorette,” MM supplied.

“That’s right!” Butcher crowed. “A fucking majorette!”

Taylor held back a groan. Even if they were blackmailing him, it didn’t seem wise to antagonise the man who, as she’d repeatedly told the group, could burn the lot of them to ash.

Mallory stepped forward and held up her tablet for Lamplighter to see. Whatever was on there was enough for Lamplighter’s expression to drain of confidence.

“You look good in these,” Mallory said sarcastically. “So here’s what’s going to happen now- you’re going to tell us everything we see and hear at Vought Tower.”

“Especially Homelander,” Butcher cut in.

Lamplighter’s flames flared for a moment, illuminating the room. Taylor put her hand on her gun.

“Please don’t pretend like you have a choice,” Mallory said, unimpressed. She held out a card. “I look forward to your call.”

Lamplighter snatched it out of her hand and stormed off with a huff.

“Easy-peasy,” Butcher said once he’d left the building.

“I don’t like it,” Mallory said. “You don’t back an animal like that into a corner.”

“The Colonel’s right,” Taylor said, stepping out from behind the pillar. “We’ve got leverage on him, but there’s no guarantee he won’t do something desperate. And desperate from a pyrokinetic is going to be ugly.”

Mallory nodded. “Blaster protocols. His range isn’t too long, so a rifle would probably do. Right?”

Taylor nodded back. “I’d say so.”

Mallory turned to Frenchie. “Frenchie? Don’t let him out of your sight.”

Frenchie nodded respectfully. “Oui, mamon.”

2019

“Look, all I’m saying is that we should try Raynor again. Or anyone,” Taylor insisted. “We’ve got one Supe to Vought’s hundreds,” she said, gesturing to Kimiko, who was happily helping Frenchie stir a bowl of cake batter on the counter, “And they have about a thousand times our resources. I’ve seen what happens when small groups try to hold out against odds like that. It’s costly.”

“That’s the fucking job,” Butcher grunted, not looking up from his lunch.

Taylor gave him a hard look. “Okay. Then let me call Raynor and try talking to her. Maybe without your macho attitude, we can make some headway.” Or check for herself whether the CIA really refused to go after Vought, or whether Butcher was up to something.

That made Butcher look up. “Are you implying I can’t hold a polite conversation with a colleague? Taylor,” he pressed a hand to his chest, “You wound me.”

There was a click as Hughie came in through the door before Taylor could voice her suspicions. Kimiko nodded towards him.

“She wants to know where you were,” Frenchie supplied.

“That’s a compelling fucking question,” Butcher grunted, going back to his lunch.

“Can we talk?” Hughie said, coming closer. “Like…” He glanced away.

“No secrets here, son,” Butcher said around a mouthful of potato. “Spit it out.”

Taylor eyed Hughie as he shuffled in place. He seemed nervous- more than usual.

“Butcher, stop being difficult,” she said.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Hughie blurted.

Butcher pushed his chair back. “Do what?” he asked with deceptive ease, standing up.

“This,” Hughie said. “I mean, Vought, whatever with Kimiko- it’s awful, and you’ve got to stop it, but I can’t.”

“Right,” Butcher said, putting his empty plate down and turning around. “You just want to kick back and drink a few Mai Tais while we do all the work, eh?”

“I managed to go my whole life without seeing someone die horribly, and now I’m up to about a half dozen, so I think I’m good,” Hughie shot back.

Taylor stepped in between the two of them, putting her prosthesis to Butcher’s chest before he could advance further. “Look, we’re all here of our own free will. Hughie’s already done a lot to help us. There’s no shame in saying you’ve had enough.”

“Please,” Butcher said dismissively. “We’re all killers here. Now,” he said to Hughie, “Why don’t you stop pissing about and tell us what this is really all about, yeah?”

Hughie said nothing for a second. “Fine. Annie. It’s about Annie, okay?”

Taylor’s eyebrows shot up as Butcher began clapping sarcastically. “Fucking finally. He’s been sneaking off to give her one at Lincoln Grand.”

“You’ve been following me?” Hughie asked in disbelief.

“Like you gave me a choice,” Butcher countered.

“Stop,” Taylor ordered. She sighed and dropped her hands. “Look, sending Hughie to date one of the few genuine superheroes out there was never going to end cleanly. He’s not some cold-hearted operative like the rest of us, and she’s not some callous asshole like the rest of Vought. The line was bound to blur eventually- undercover ops are hard when you’re not prepared for it.”

“Thank you!” Hughie thrust a hand in Taylor’s direction. “Look, she doesn’t know anything, I’m not gonna tell her anything. We’ll just-”

“Just what? Fuck off to the Hamptons and raise a couple of flying babies?”

“No, I… I don’t know.”

“Calm down, both of you,” Taylor said loudly. Neither of them listened, too caught up in their argument.

“No, you don’t know, because you ain’t thinking except with your dick,” Butcher growled.

“You’re wrong about her.”

“That bitch is playing you, and you’re too blind to see it.” Butcher stomped past them to the other side of the room.

“Oh yeah?” Hughie called after him. “So better to be loyal to a dead woman who doesn’t know and doesn’t care? How’s that working out for you?”

The room went silent. Taylor grabbed Hughie’s shoulder and pulled him back a step as Butcher swivelled around like a tank turret.

Just as Taylor was worrying she’d have to physically restrain Butcher, Hughie’s ringtone went off. He groaned and turned away to answer it. Taylor stepped over to Butcher to give Hughie some space- the rest of them gathered around him, maybe out of support, or just to stop him from doing anything rash.

“Hey Dad,” Hughie began. He frowned. “Who’s this?”

A pause.

“Dad, are you okay?”

Taylor turned. Hughie sounded frightened, like a little boy.

“A-Train, listen to me-”

“Shit,” MM cursed. “If he’s burned, then I’m fucked.” He rushed over to his laptop and started tapping.

Taylor pulled out her phone and checked the hidden app for her apartment’s security. There was a red warning flashing on the screen.

“Fuck.”

“My place is burned,” Butcher announced. “They got me.”

Whatever MM saw on his laptop made him clap his hands to his head. “Oh my God. All my bank accounts are frozen and flagged.” His phone was at his ear. “Monique, when you get this, leave the house immediately. Lay low and call me.”

Taylor hit the speed dial for her dad. He picked up in two rings. “Hey Taylor.”

“Dad, shit’s happened. A, red.”

“What? Uh- E, green.”

“Listen, Dad, get out of the house, I’ll meet you at the hiding spot we agreed on. You remember that?”

“Yeah, I remember. Taylor, what’s going on?”

“It’s Vought. I’ll explain everything, just keep your head down and watch out for Supes.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.” She ended the call and pressed the phone to her forehead for a second. “Fuck.”

“Well, I hope she was worth it,” Butcher shouted.

“It wasn’t Annie, she doesn’t know.” Hughie didn’t look up from grabbing his bag.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m gonna do her in anyway,” Butcher said.

“The hell you will!” Hughie shouted, straightening up.

“Hold on a second,” MM said loudly, standing up. “It can’t be her. She never saw me. So how’d I get burned?”

“He’s right,” Taylor agreed. “It had to be someone who’s seen all of us, like-” She cut herself off as the answer came to her.

Butcher’s face folded into a scowl. “Mesmer. You fucking idiots had to go to Mesmer.” He stormed out without another word.

Hughie turned to face Taylor and MM. “Thank you.”

“That was not smart to sleep with her,” MM said, marching past to gather his things.

Taylor awkwardly patted Hughie on the shoulder. “It’s okay. We don’t get to choose who we love.”

Danny walked over to the older man perched on a box and sat down. “You alright?”

“Uh, yeah.” The man looked completely lost at sea, sat in the Boys latest little hideout and hiding from the authorities. Everyone else had knowledge of the group from the last time; himself, Monique- well, not Janine, since she hadn’t been born at that point.

Danny could sympathise with that feeling. He stuck his hand out. “Danny Hebert.”

After a brief pause, the other man took it. “Hugh Campbell. Senior.”

Danny glanced at the skinny man currently talking with Marvin and his family. “That’s your son?”

“Yeah. That’s my Hughie.” Campbell sighed. “I don’t really know what’s going on.”

Danny shifted. “Well, my daughter,” he pointed at Taylor, who was off talking with Butcher, “Was in this group the first time around. They were basically trying to dig into Vought’s dirty secrets, bring them to justice. They started up again a couple of months ago.”

And that had been an argument. Danny had just about been able to stomach her involvement the first time around- the whole point was that Taylor would not be going into the field, while still satisfying her desire to make a difference. They even set up a college fund for her.  It sounded perfect.

Getting back in to it again, after the Lamplighter thing that almost got Taylor killed? Well, Danny had shouted. And Taylor had shouted back. It took about an hour before they ran out of energy and Danny finally agreed, on condition that she kept him informed of everything.

She would have just done it anyway if he’d said no. At least she’d told him before she got started.

Campbell buried his head in his hands. “Oh God. Robin. That’s what this is about.”

“Robin?”

“Hughie’s old girlfriend,” Cambell elaborated. “They were talking on the side of the road, and then,” he gestured vaguely with his hands, “A-Train hit her.”

Danny hissed through his teeth. Taylor had mentioned that too. “I’m sorry.”

Cambell sighed. “They gave us some money, and I thought that’d be it. But Hughie was angry, and he wanted to fight back. I didn’t think we could do anything against something that big.”

Danny nodded. “It does seem a bit crazy.”

A faint smile crossed Campbell’s face. “I’m so damn proud of him.”

At Danny’s confused look, he elaborated. “I’m not a fighter. I know it. But Hughie- jings, look at him. He dug deep and stood up for himself- you know, A-Train was in our house? He was acting all jumpy and sweaty, I didn’t know what he was going to do. And Hughie? He just talked the guy into letting me go with a tube of something or other.”

Campbell grimaced, and glanced over at the Asian girl perched in a corner. “Hughie said that girl there broke the guy’s leg.”

Danny blinked. “Well. I guess he’s not going to be running anywhere.”

Campbell burst out laughing. A second later, Danny joined in too. It was tasteless, and not really that funny, but in times like this, a man could laugh at anything.

There was a screech of tires from outside.

Heads turned. Frenchie rushed to a window and peered out. “Shit.”

He tossed a big gun to Marvin, who caught it with ease and pulled out a pistol to match. The girl, Kimiko, hopped onto the top of a couch like a cat.

Danny jumped to his feet, pulling Campbell with him and herding Monique and Janine along with him into the back room as the Boys set up firing positions.

To his surprise, Taylor came with him, pistol in hand. At his questioning look, she shrugged. “I’m not exactly going to be in the thick of it.”

Danny patted her shoulder. “Okay.”

Butcher seemed far too at ease, strolling past everyone else to open the door. “Easy, lads,” he said, coming back into the room with a bunch of people in government jackets at his back. “Easy.”

Danny recognised the woman at the front- long brown hair with light streaks and a hard look.

MM stood up, lowering his gun. “Deputy Director.”

“Who’s that?” Campbell whispered.

“Raynor,” Taylor said. “She’s from the CIA. They must have agreed to prosecute Vought. We’re going to be okay.”

The Boys started packing up their things as Raynor stepped forward. “Your families are going to be okay, you have my word,” Raynor said. “We can take you all into protective custody, keep you safe.”

Monique followed at once. Danny saw MM try to speak to her- he didn’t hear her response, but MM’s face fell. He did crouch down to give Janine one last hug before she left.

Campbell embraced his son with a firm pat on the back. “Take care of yourself.”

Danny turned to Taylor, who threw herself into a hug like she never wanted to let go.

“I’m sorry I keep pulling you into my bullshit,” Taylor whispered into his ear.

Danny held her head and shushed her. “I’m proud of you,” he whispered back. “For always standing up.”

Taylor laughed wetly. She gradually let go, wiping her eyes with her hand.

Danny held her shoulders for a moment longer, then gave in to the agent who was standing and watching like a statue, heading out the door.

For a moment, Hughie had thought they were done. Then they got the curveball that a Supe terrorist had blown up a building and a squad of soldiers in the Middle East, and now the CIA had cut them loose. So now Butcher was driving him and Taylor to see someone about one last desperate move.

“To be clear, if we weren’t up to our necks in shit, I’d never agree to this,” Taylor said, staring out the passenger window.

“Ah, come off it,” Butcher grunted. “You did the best you could. And you nailed the cunt. Things could’ve been a lot worse.”

“Could’ve been a lot better,” Taylor retorted, still not looking at him.

Perched on the back seat, Hughie cleared his throat. “Uh. Who- who are we going to see?”

Taylor sighed. “Mallory. Colonel Grace Mallory. Ex-CIA. She’s the one that started The Boys. Recruited all of us personally. She plucked me out of college, got me on as an analyst.”

“Wow.” Hughie was impressed. And a little spooked. He knew Taylor was younger than him and had started earlier, but the thought of a teenager going up against superheroes and conspiracies was pretty intense.

“Yeah. We haven’t spoken in years. Not since Lamplighter.”

“Um. What happened with Lamplighter?” Hughie asked. He remembered hearing on the news, how Lamplighter had died on a search and rescue mission back in 2015. Or at least that was how it was reported.

Taylor said nothing for a long moment.

“I killed him.”

2015

Taylor held the phone in the crook of her ear as she stirred the pasta. “Hey, Serge. How’s the tail going?”

“Eh, pretty standard,” came Frenchie’s voice over the phone. “He goes to Vought Tower, he goes to a club- if he suspects he is being followed, he gives no sign. The majorette is acting normal.”

Taylor snorted. “Good to know. Sorry if I’m bothering you- I just worry when my friend’s up against some unstable pyrokinetic.”

“Eh, I appreciate it. A stakeout is always a tedious affair, non? You sit, you stare, you wait, maybe you bring a book- except you cannot become too involved in it, because you may miss when your target moves. So, boredom.”

“Mmm.” Taylor had usually monitored people through her bugs back in the day and read a book regardless, but she didn’t have that kind of multitasking available to her any more. “I guess you could listen to music.”

“True. It would be better than listening to all the press, clamouring for a photo-”

There was a beep on the line. Taylor frowned and put the spoon down to take her phone away from her ear and check the screen. Nothing on her end.

“Un moment,” Frenchie said distantly. The screen switched to On Hold.

Taylor frowned, tapping her foot. Serge had other friends- he’d spoken of them a few times. An odd time to call, maybe, but she’d called too.

The screen switched back. “Shit. Taylor, I need someone to cover me! My friend, I have to help, he’s ODing-”

“Whoa, Serge, hold on,” Taylor said, tucking the phone to her shoulder again and turning the stove off. “Where are you?”

“The club on Franklin. Lamplighter just went in- please, Taylor, I only need a few minutes!”

She was already grabbing her coat before she’d consciously made the decision. “I can be there in five. Hurry back.”

She hurriedly tapped in the combination of the safe by her apartment door and wrenched it open. Inside was a pistol, a couple of magazines, and a shoulder holster. She shrugged the holster on, loaded the gun, and pulled her jacket on over it, straightening it to cover the pistol.

“I owe you a million.” The call dropped without another word.

Taylor swore under her breath. She’d made it to the club, yes- but just a little too late. Lamplighter had slipped out, got into a car, driven away. Now she was following, but she wasn’t a fast driver, not with one arm. She lost speed on the turns, or changing gears, and a few times she almost lost Lamplighter.

She couldn’t make out where he was going. They’d gone from inner city to suburbs, the more expensive houses in nicer neighbourhoods. Her nondescript little car stuck out for how cheap it was.

Then she turned a corner in time to see Lamplighter’s big ugly Hummer pull over at a nice looking house, with a manicured lawn and flower beds.

A lead ball dropped into Taylor’s stomach. She recognised that house.

Lamplighter was already out of the car and walking across the lawn. He’d left his big metal staff behind, but he was holding something small in his fist. He raised a hand, and a stream of flame shot out, striking the front door right over the lock. He kicked forward, and the door swung inward, the lock burned away by the flames.

Taylor swerved the car to a stop halfway over the curb. Precious seconds were wasted fumbling with the seat belt before she threw herself out, not bothering with the keys.

She sprinted across the lawn and up the front steps, drawing the gun as she ran. She could hear Lamplighter’s heavy footsteps going up, and took the stairs two at a time, bouncing off the wall as she turned the corner to see-

Lamplighter’s hand was already raised. A cigarette lighter was in his fist. His face turned towards her, dark goggles reflecting the light of the flames.

Taylor raised the pistol and fired.

Lamplighter roared and staggered. A jet of flames burst out at an angle and splashed over the wall, instantly catching.

No time to hesitate- she had to end this fight immediately. Taylor advanced, firing again and again. Her aim wasn’t great, and Lamplighter had some armour under his costume, but it was hurting him. He fell on his back, blood leaking from somewhere; but the lighter came up again.

Taylor threw herself into the bedroom as flames rushed past her. For a brief, mad second, she wondered if she’d burned her hair again, and wanted to laugh.

High pitched screams came from the bed. Two little kids were huddled under the covers, wide eyed and shivering.

Mallory’s grandkids, Tommy and Jenna. Age 10 and 6. They were staying over at her house for a few days to spend time with their Nana Grace.

Taylor’s grip tightened on the pistol.

Footsteps came- Lamplighter was up and staggering towards them. Taylor waited a second longer, then dropped low and spun around the corner.

Lamplighter had a ball of flame hovering over his hand, held about shoulder high. He wasn’t expecting Taylor to come out at groin level.

At point blank range, even Taylor couldn’t miss. The first shot hit him in the stomach. The second hit a little lower.

Lamplighter howled and clamped his hands over his crotch. Maybe he’d forgotten that he had a fireball over one hand. The flames crashed into his groin and clung there, spreading rapidly.

Lamplighter screamed again, batting desperately at his flaming crotch to no avail. The fire spread to his hands and up his stomach as he flailed, crashing into the walls and knocking over a decorative side table, sending flames scattered everywhere.

Taylor shot him twice more, silencing his screams, and didn’t wait to see if he was dead. She hurled herself back into the bedroom, holstering the gun.

“Okay kids, we need to get you out of here,” she said in a rush. “It’s alright, I work with your grandma.”

The kids flinched at the sight of her in a way that made her heart ache, but she managed to pull and cajole and wheedle them out of the bed and into their slippers and across the room to the corridor. She hustled them out the door and towards the stairs, chivvying them along.

There was a roar of air behind her.

Taylor yanked Tommy out of the way of Lamplighter’s last burst of fire, almost fast enough to dodge all of it.

The fire swallowed Tommy’s left foot instantly. He screamed at the top of his lungs.

Taylor picked him up and threw herself down the steps and out onto the lawn, dropping him on the grass and ripping her jacket off, clamping it down on Tommy’s leg to smother the flames.

By the time an ambulance arrived, the neighbours had gathered to help while the house steadily burned behind them. Tommy had passed out from the pain while Jenna sobbed over his still form. Taylor kept watch over them, all the while struggling not to vomit from the smell of smoke and burnt meat.

2019

Mallory opened the door and sighed. “William.”

Butcher nodded. “Mallory.”

Grace glanced over his shoulder at the two others standing behind him. The nervous skinny guy met her eyes uncomfortably. The girl with the glasses did not.

Mallory pursed her lips. “Let’s talk inside.”

The group trailed into the kitchen, clustering around the island while Mallory headed for the cabinet and grabbed a glass. “So,” she said, filling it from the tap. “What’s going on?”

“We put the Boys back together,” Butcher rumbled. “Found a few things out. What Vought’s been up to, where supes come from.”

Mallory turned and regarded him. Butcher looked entirely serious. “Okay. What went wrong?”

Butcher scowled. “They made supervillains too. Now there’s some exploding terrorist in the Middle East, and they suddenly need Supes in national defence. And we’re on the run. Vought, Supes, Feds- all after us. We’re wanted men. We need something.”

Mallory regarded him for a long moment. “And why should I give it to you?”

Butcher leaned in slightly. “Because you owe me, god damnit. You owe all of us. You took our anger and our ideals and you sharpened us up and pointed us at them like fucking missiles. Me, MM, Frenchie, Taylor-”

“Don’t.” Taylor raised her head. “Don’t put that on Mallory.” Her eyes were dry, but Mallory had never seen Taylor so sad. “I was horrible before I ever met Mallory.” She finally met Mallory’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said thickly.

Mallory set her cup down and sighed. “Christ, kid. All this time, you still think I’m mad at you for saving my grandkids?”

Taylor looked completely lost at sea, so Mallory elaborated. “Tommy’s doing well. He’s going to try out for the baseball team when he starts high school- his new foot’s good enough to run with. And Jenna’s always talking about her friends and her toys- she’s obsessed with animals right now, talks my ear off about armadillos and pangolins and whatever every time I see her.

“It’s not perfect- they’re still seeing a therapist, they still have bad dreams, they still don’t want candles on their birthday cakes- but they’re still alive.” Mallory sighed. “I was mad as hell when it happened. But they’re alive. Against a Supe?” She shrugged. “That’s about as good as it gets. And I’ll take it.”

Taylor managed a small, fragile smile.

Butcher cleared his throat uncomfortably. “We’re in the shit, Colonel. Please.”

Mallory drummed her fingers on the counter for a moment. “Madelyn Stillwell.”

“Vought’s VP?” Taylor asked.

“She and Homelander have a, shall we say, very special relationship. Complicated, hard to quantify, but intimate. If Homelander actually has a weakness, she’ll know it.”

Butcher nodded. “Thank you.”

Mallory pointed a finger at him. “If you want to kill yourself, that’s your right, but Billy; not the others.”

Butcher turned and walked out without a word.

Taylor hesitated for a second. “Goodbye, Grace,” she said at last, following Butcher out the door.

Butcher drove past the entrance to the motel.

“What’s wrong?” Taylor asked, leaning forward from the back.

“Someone’s grabbed them. The window’s new, front path is scrubbed, and there’s a black van with ‘Flowers’ on the side waiting out front.”

“Feds?”

“Probably, yeah. Doing Vought’s dirty work for them.”

“Fuck.” Sitting in the passenger seat, Hughie went pale.

They drove along further, Butcher taking a few extra turns and switch backs before finally stopping in a concrete lot behind a building. Hughie followed Butcher and Taylor as they headed to the trunk, where Butcher pulled out a screwdriver and a spare number plate and started working on the car’s back fender.

“So, uh, what’s the plan? How are we getting them back?” Hughie asked.

“Good question,” Taylor admitted. “Maybe one of us can act as bait, figure out where they’re being held. Breaking them out’s going to be hard though. Vought might have a Supe standing by for extra security-”

“We ain’t,” Butcher grunted, fiddling with the screws.

“What?”

“What?!” Taylor demanded.

“We’ve got maybe a few hours before the Feds close in on us. We gotta get to Stillwell before they grab us.”

“Who gives a fuck about Stillwell?” Hughie shouted. “We have to go back for them!”

“We don’t have time,” Butcher said without looking up. “They’d want us to finish the job.”

“You want to finish the job,” Taylor said angrily. “I’ve seen this shit before- you want to keep pushing and fighting until there’s nothing left. I thought you were better than this.”

“This is about Homelander, isn’t it?” Hughie said.

“And A-Train. This is your shit too, Hughie.”

“No, it’s not,” Taylor said. “If you’re bent on destroying yourself on this crusade, then you’ll do it with or without us. And you can do it without us. I’m getting my friends back.”

Butcher scowled at her as he stood up and tossed the screwdriver in the trunk. “You’re gonna regret it when you get yourself disappeared to some black site instead of making a difference.”

“There’s a lot of things I regret,” Taylor snapped back. “Caring about people is how I avoid making more.”

“She’s right,” Hughie agreed. “We have to save them.”

“And what about Robin?” Butcher demanded. “What about her?”

Hughie shook his head. “No, you don’t get to use her name. And you don’t get to use me. Not anymore. I’m done.”

Butcher glared at the both of them. “Bloody pathetic,” he growled, getting into the car and driving off.

Once the dust cloud had died down, Hughie turned to Taylor. “Please tell me you actually have a plan, because I’m starting to freak out a little bit,” he begged.

Taylor nodded. “I’ve got ideas. First things first- do you still have Starlight’s number?”

Annie heard someone clear their throat behind her. When she turned around, Hughie and Taylor were both sitting in the pew behind her.

“I remember you said you liked to come here to listen to the choir practice, so. Um.” Hughie shrugged awkwardly.

Annie glared at the both of them. “You must want me to arrest you both or something,” she said, turning around to look towards the front of the church again.

“Something else, actually,” Taylor said. Her voice was cool and matter of fact, unlike the breathy chatterbox she’d pretended to be at Believe Expo. “We need your help.”

Annie gave them a long, incredulous look, before getting to her feet and storming out of the church.

“Annie, wait, please,” Hughie begged as she made it out the door.

“Why? More awful secrets you want to tell me, more drugs I was dosed with as a kid?”

“Vought’s giving the compound to extremist groups to make supervillains,” Taylor said.

Annie jerked to a stop and whirled to face her. “That’s insane.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s the truth,” Hughie began.

“Oh, the truth- because you’re all about the truth,” Annie shot back.

Taylor stepped forward, raising her left hand. “Look, you have the right to be mad at us, but we’re not telling this to hurt you. That Supe terrorist had to come from somewhere, right? And there’s no better way for Vought to make themselves look good than to set up some bad guys for Homelander to flatten in the name of ‘keeping America safe’.”

A few months ago, Annie would have argued against that. But seeing the darker side of Vought, seeing how Homelander could get when he was angry… she didn’t have a retort.

“Our group was trying to uncover the truth. We gave information to the government, but then the supervillain showed up, and they cut a deal with Vought. Our friends got taken, and we don’t know where. We were hoping you could help us find them- maybe make something up about wanting to see them for yourself.”

Annie glared at her. “I was almost arrested just for knowing you two. I had to convince them I was an idiot that you used and threw out, and now you want me to help your psycho killer friends?”

“Can you honestly say we did less damage than Vought does on a regular basis?” Taylor challenged, stepping forward. “We’re terrible people, I won’t deny it- if I went back in to that church and confessed my sins, I’d be in there all day and they’d burn me at the stake when I was done. But A-Train’s killed multiple people by accident, Black Noir’s got a bodycount like a phonebook, and god only knows what Homelander’s got away with.

“I’m not asking you to like us or join us or even work with us in the long term. I’m asking you to point us in the right direction, while we’re the lesser of two evils. Just until this whole shitstorm has passed. Then you can go back to trying to take us in if you want.”

Annie almost stepped back from the force of Taylor’s argument before she found the words to argue back. “And why should I ever help you? What makes you think I would?”

“Because Vought’s up to some evil shit?” Hughie asked. “Because it’s your job?” He smiled a little. “Because you’re a superhero?”

Annie snorted miserably. “I can’t remember the last time I saved anyone.”

“You saved me,” Hughie said. “When we went bowling.”

“Bowling,” Annie said flatly.

“Yeah. I was angry, after Robin. I was headed for a cliff, and then you and I went bowling. That’s it.”

“That’s not saving you, that’s just being there.”

“Sometimes that’s the same thing,” Taylor said quietly. “If I’d had someone like you… Maybe I would have been different.” She shrugged. “Or maybe not, I was on a serious path to self-destruction when I was younger.”

Annie dropped her gaze for a moment, thinking.

“Look,” Taylor said. “Doing the right thing, the hard thing; it sucks. But it’s better than looking back at your life and wishing to heaven and hell that you’d done things differently. Take it from me.”

Annie gritted her teeth. “If…” She cleared her throat and started again, looking both of them in the face. “I can find out where they’re keeping the rest of your- gang, crew, whatever. And then I never want to see you again.”

She tried to force herself to be cold and immovable, but the hurt look on Hughie’s face made her waver.

Taylor nodded slowly. “Okay.”

The guards shoved Hughie into the cell on his knees, pulled the bag off his head, then closed the door and left without a backwards glance. Frenchie knelt at once to check him. “You okay? You break any bones?”

“No, I’m good,” Hughie said, a slight lisp to his voice.

“What about Butcher and Taylor? They separate you? When?”

“Uh, well, Butcher went after Homelander,” Hughie said awkwardly. “But they didn’t get Taylor. She’s figuring something out.”

“Fucking Butcher,” Marvin cursed. “What’s Taylor going to do?”

Hughie shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. She said if I didn’t know they couldn’t force it out of me. But I can get us out of this cell. Well, I can help Frenchie get us out of this cell,” he amended.

“How?” Frenchie asked.

Hughie opened his mouth wide and tilted his head back, showing something in his top jaw. “They searched me- very thoroughly… But I managed to put my old retainer from 12^th grade in, so it looks like a permanent bridge. You think you can use the wire to pick the lock?”

“Certainement,” Frenchie confirmed.

First they had to knock the retainer out of Hughie’s mouth, but a few minutes later they’d knocked out one guard and taken his gun. Frenchie led the way as they crept through the maze of a facility, past support beams and bits of broken concrete.

“Where is she?” Frenchie muttered, scanning around. Then he froze, and headed towards a glass window. Kimiko was lying in a raised bed, with cuffs on her wrists and a line in her arm. She smiled when she spotted Frenchie.

Frenchie smiled back- and then a shot rang out and he yelled.

Guards flooded in, firing assault rifles. The boys threw themselves back, sheltering behind a cement slab. Frenchie cursed at the bloody spot that was spreading from his side.

Marvin cursed as bullets pounded against the cement and rattled off the floor around them. Shit was not going well, as usual. He glanced at Frenchie, who seemed to have forgotten the wound in favour of staring back where Kimiko was held.

“Ah fuck,” he grunted. “She better be worth it. Cover me!”

“Hughie, you cover him!” Frenchie said, holding the gun out to Hughie.

“What! I can’t!”

“Just point and shoot!”

“I don’t know-”

An explosion sounded from off in the distance, and more gunfire. The guards stopped firing for a second, and Marvin threw himself around the corner. Bullets and Hughie’s panicked screaming came from back the way he’d came, so the kid had found his balls in the nick of time.

The door to Kimiko yielded from one good kick, and the straps didn’t have locks or anything. He didn’t bother to be gentle with getting the line out- they didn’t have time, and she’d heal fast. Marvin slung her over his shoulders with a grunt and ran back towards cover, swearing to himself. How the hell was a tiny little girl so damn heavy right now?

Hughie provided more cover fire and yelling as Marvin threw himself and the girl behind cover again, where Frenchie immediately started fussing over her. Another explosion came from the distance- a bunch of explosions. It sounded like fireworks.

“That’s got to be Taylor,” Marvin said, catching his breath.

Hughie’s gun clicked dry in the middle of him yelling frantic apologies. “I’m out,” he said, ducking back behind the wall.

Marvin didn’t even bother to curse, just shared a look with Frenchie. They’d tried their best, but they’d be lucky if they were just thrown in solitary now.

The guards circled around the cement slab, guns raised. “Don’t move! On your knees! Hands on your head! Face the wall!”

“Okay!” Marvin yelled back, cooperating. There wasn’t anything else he could do. He got on his knees, put his hands on his head, faced the wall, closed his eyes, and thought of Monique and Janine.

There was a flash of light from behind him, and the guards went flying over the slab, screaming. When Marvin turned, he saw Starlight, in her old costume, eyes glowing as sparks fell from the lightbulbs, swatting the guards aside with blasts of light and haymakers. Decent technique, he thought through the surprise.

Hughie was grinning like Christmas had come early. “You came,” he breathed as Starlight walked up to them.

Starlight just shrugged awkwardly. “Like you said. I’m a fucking superhero.”

Marvin grabbed Kimiko’s arm, and Frenchie grabbed the other, pushing to their feet. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said.

“This way,” Starlight said, gesturing. The boys followed her out another door and through to a loading bay. One of the metal shutters had been pried open and the bottom and rolled up.

Taylor was waiting for them with a backpack and a handgun. “I’ll take Kimiko,” she said at once. “Marvin, take the gun.”

Marvin quickly swapped dead weight for lethal metal with relief, turning to cover the way they’d come while Taylor helped Frenchie haul Kimiko outside. He backed up after them, Hughie and Starlight following.

There was a blur, and suddenly A-Train was standing about fifty feet away. “Ho-lee shit,” he declared loudly.

Hughie slapped the door close button, and the shutter started rolling down again. “Go!” he shouted. “I’ll be okay!”

“Like hell,” Taylor muttered, dropping Kimiko’s arm. Before Marvin could say anything, she’d thrown herself forward and rolled herself under the door, Indiana Jones style.

“Fuck!” Marvin cursed.

Taylor pushed herself to her feet, fixing her gaze on A-Train. Even in the dim lights, she could tell he was sweating, and he sounded breathless as he ranted about Starlight being the mole Homelander had talked about, and a jailbreaker.

“Walk away,” Starlight ordered in a powerful voice. “Get out of here, I got this,” she said to Taylor and Hughie in a lower voice.

“I’m the one he wants,” Hughie said. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Me neither,” Taylor said, pulling her backpack around and rooting through the contents. She’d packed all sorts of low-budget odds and ends. She’d figured there might be at least one Supe guarding the facility, which could be one of many options, but A-Train was the Seven’s speedster, their designated fast response; and as Hughie had said, A-Train had a personal vendetta. She’d prepared some options in case his broken leg wasn’t enough to keep him down- which apparently it hadn’t.

Starlight and A-Train stared each other down across the distance, fingers flexing like gunfighters in the Wild West. Taylor decided to take a chance, with A-Train’s attention divided. She pulled out a plastic bottle as she stepped to the side, quietly pouring the contents onto the ground. The puddle spread out across the warehouse floor, and she grabbed a couple of little bags.

Starlight’s arm came up, firing a blast at A-Train. He dodged a couple of feet to the side, and Starlight fired again. Another dodge, to the other side of the room. That was telling- he could have just kept the speed up and rammed her in a millisecond. Either he was deliberately sandbagging, or he was running on fumes. She opened the bags and tossed the contents onto the floor just as Starlight fired two blasts at once; powerful enough that the shockwave blew Taylor off her feet.

An instant later, Starlight slammed into the ground with a cry. A-Train crashed into the wall on his back, yelling. The floor behind him was bubbling with heat- friction as he’d hit the cooking oil Taylor had poured. A couple of crushed marbles were mixed in too- apparently he’d hit some.

Taylor rushed over as A-Train swore, trying to get his feet under him.  His feet had hit the metal shutters and dented the metal around him, and now his shoes were stuck. Before he could pull them out, Taylor pulled out the canister of pepper spray from her left pocket and sprayed the entire can into his face.

“GAAAAAAAHHH! YOU BITCH, YOU SICK FUCKING BITCH!” A-Train screamed, clutching at his face. Even with his goggles covering his eyes, the spray had hit his nose and mouth. He gagged and coughed, flailing an arm out to try and catch her.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” A-Train choked out. “POP-CLAW! I LOVED HER!”

“I didn’t kill Pop-Claw!” Hughie protested, helping Starlight to her feet.

A-Train coughed and spat. “No,” he rasped. “I did. But it’s your… fault…”

Even as she watched, the flailing weakened, A-Train gurgling with pain- then he went limp, arms flopping to the floor.

“Holy shit. I think he’s having a heart attack,” Hughie said. Taylor stared down at A-Train, then her pepper spray. Had she caused that? He’d looked pretty bad already- and if the Compound V he’d been taken functioned like regular steroids, that could have caused heart problems. But a faceful of pepper spray at point blank certainly wouldn’t have helped.

He’d killed multiple people by accident without a shred of remorse or punishment. And he’d just admitted to murdering his own girlfriend. And if he lived, he’d never stop pursuing them.

But that felt like the kind of thing she’d have thought before, back in her worst moments. She’d given Triumph an Epi-pen.

Just as Taylor was about to reach for A-Train, Hughie exclaimed “Oh fuck,” and knelt to check his pulse, then placed both hands on his chest and started pumping. “Call an ambulance,” he said to Starlight.

“He’ll keep coming after you,” Starlight said warningly.

“I know,” Hughie said, still pumping.

Starlight tapped a button on her wrist and raised it to her mouth. “This is Starlight, I have a code 78-65. A-Train is down, I think he’s had a heart attack.”

Taylor knelt next to him, putting her hand over Hughie’s. “Pump harder,” she said. “If his ribs break, you’re doing it right.” She put her weight behind the next few pumps, and felt something crack.

Starlight knelt next to them. “You need to go. I’ll take over, just get out of here.”

“She’s right,” Taylor said, still pumping. “Take over on three. One, two-”

She pulled her hand and Hughie’s away, and Starlight put her own in place.

“Thank you, Annie,” Hughie managed as Taylor grabbed him by the elbow and tugged him towards the door.