“Did you really bring that again?” Dean asked as he watched Amaranth pull back the slide on her pistol.

  “Yeah,” Amaranth said flatly, her aura barely flickering with suppressed irritation. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  “If the heroes see you with it, yes,” he replied. There was a flare of orange annoyance as she glared at him.

  “Then I’ll deal,” she said, slipping it into her waistband. “If it comes down to it...well, I value my team.”

  “More than your freedom, more than other peoples lives?”

  “More than the lives of people shooting at us,” Amaranth said, the rusted-steel of uneasy resolve flickering around her head. “It’s another difference between me and the Protectorate I guess. Facts are: the bad guys have guns and we mostly don’t, and that’s a problem. Unlike you, I have to get intimate with anyone I want to take down, Nadir’s limited to five meters, and Z is Z. Unless you want to buy us some confoam sprayers, I’ll take my chances.”

  “Lia you know that’s too far,” Dean said, putting a hand on her shoulder. She looked at the ground, shame colouring her.

  “I know,” she said quietly, taking a deep breath. “But this is just how things are. They don’t care about civilians, look at Esther, Z, Nadir, none of them were involved before they were made involved. They will kill us, Dean.” She met his eyes and he saw there was no arguing this.

  “We have to try every other option first,” he said firmly, squeezing her arm. “You cannot just go around shedding blood.”

  “No shit,” Amaranth spat, shaking off his grip. She wrapped her scarf around her face, hiding her expression. “I don’t exactly go around firing this thing off, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t want more blood on my hands but...but if push comes to shove I won’t hesitate.”

  “That scares me,” he said honestly, pulling on his balaclava.

  “Me too,” she replied, and he saw she meant it.

  “Hey guys,” Nadir said as she and Z approached, already masked up.

  “What’s good?” Z asked, reaching out a fist. Dean bumped his against it, nodding. “We gonna party tonight?”

  “It’s Tuesday,” Amaranth said flatly.

  “C’mon, any night we beat up Nazis is a party,” he said with a laugh.

  Z was an oddity, in that he didn’t seem to hold back. He wore his heart on his sleeve, though it meant Dean didn’t need to spend energy guessing what he was thinking; a small blessing considering his general edginess around law enforcement. Nadir meanwhile was a mess of bubbling fear and anger hidden just below the surface. He didn’t know the particulars of how she got powers, only that she’d been captured by Wotan’s Wolves.

  The three of them were a dangerous cocktail. Lia was already one step towards becoming a villain, but he’d be damned if that would happen on his watch. It was a good thing he’d offered to coach them, they desperately needed it. But every ounce of patience he had for Shadow Stalker he’d need tenfold here.

  They moved out, following Amaranth onto the streets of the South End. Dean had his doubts about her methods, but he’d already voiced them and pushing her any more would just make her push back harder. At least she hadn’t been working with Tattletale anymore. Hopefully it really was just a once or twice thing and she’d be smart enough to realize how dangerous it was.

  “So what was it like?” Z asked as they walked along.

  “What?” Dean said, confused.

  “You know, being one of the big heroes,” he said, excitement in his aura and voice. “Amaranth doesn’t talk about it so—”

  “I don’t talk about it because it’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Amaranth said, not looking back as irritation briefly surged.

  “So what was it like?” Z finished, lowering his voice.

  “It was...the best job I’ve ever had,” he said slowly. “I enjoyed helping people, and the Wards gave me the perfect opportunity to do it. I knew, no matter what they had me doing, I was going to make things better. When I got older, I realized it wasn’t just civilians I could help, but my team too; and they arguably needed it more.”

  “So what, you were like a therapist?” Z asked.

  “No, not exactly,” Dean replied, chuckling. “Did work with ours a lot though, it’s the nature of having a power like mine.”

  “Those light-balls?”

  “Concentrated emotional energy, essentially,” he explained. “Feels like a punch in the face and hits the target with whatever feelings I’ve packed into it. Fear, anger, loneliness, despair.”

  “Shit, try not to hit me huh?” Z said.

  “Don’t worry, I’m a pretty good shot,” Dean replied. “But I can also see emotions. Anyway, other part of the job was pretty much what we’re doing here. We’d have a dispatcher talking to us though, telling us what was happening and where.”

  “Sounds handy,” Nadir commented.

  “It is,” Amaranth said. “But it’s a luxury we don’t have. Focus up.”

  Irritated as she sounded, Dean could tell Lia was more afraid than actually angry. He used to think she just acted without thought, running off instinct and feeling. The last few days had shown he was wrong, or that she’d changed. In some ways, a lot of ways, she seemed to be thinking too much, or at least in the wrong direction. A dangerous direction.

  He knew she had a tendency for violence, and it only seemed to be getting worse. Amaranth didn’t seem to see the issue with her carrying a pistol, even though it was a clear escalation of how capes did things. Dean didn’t feel good, letting it happen, but he didn’t exactly see another option. If he kept pushing, she’d just kick him out and like that any mechanism for restraint would be gone.

  At least she seemed to understand that it was a last resort. That was something Dean felt he could actually trust of her. With a little guidance that wasn’t from someone in a command position, Amaranth would probably start to settle down. Dean could be patient, if it meant keeping her from going down a darker path.

  “Contact,” Amaranth said quietly as they came around a corner.

  Ahead of them was a group of five people, smoking and loitering outside a burnt out storefront. Gallant saw two of them with weapons on their backs and felt his stomach twist. Amaranth’s aura was cold, not even a flicker of nerves as she led them towards the suspects.

  “Hey, who the fuck are you?” one of the people bellowed as the group turned towards their team. He pulled a black pistol from his waistband, holding it at his side. “This ain’t your turf, blood.”

  “Man fuck you, GD life!” Z yelled from behind Amaranth, raising his hand and twisting his fingers.

  “Shut up Z,” Amaranth snapped, then raised her voice. “Put your weapons down and surrender, you get one warning.”

  “Yeah motherfucker?” the guy yelled back, raising his pistol and aiming at Amaranth. “I got a counter offer: you walk away or die.”

  “Careful Amaranth,” Gallant said quietly, leaning over to her. “This could out of hand.”

  “Last chance,” she warned as a nervous fury coloured her aura.

  Dean felt a sharp, burning pain blossom in his stomach and his breath was driven out of him as he fell to the ground. He heard gunshots, muffled by the ringing in his ears and pounding of his heart, then screaming and felt himself roll on the ground. Nadir was on top of him, aura panicked as she pressed on his stomach and made him groan in pain.

  There was a strobe-like flashing, and he saw Amaranth’s silhouette lit by the muzzle blast of her pistol. She burned with pure, murderous hatred, brighter than the flashes of her gun. His vision flickered and he yelled out, hand flying to his belly. Nadir batted it away, and he saw her fingers soaked in red.

  Oh fuck he’d been shot. The belated realization made his heart beat faster, breath coming in rapid gasps. It wasn’t the first time he’d been badly injured, not even the first time he’d been shot, but he could tell this was bad. Dean tried controlling his breathing, but found he could barely take in enough air. His eyes flickered as more people gathered around him, and flashing lights appeared at the edge of his vision. He felt himself being moved and caught a glimpse of Amaranth, smoking pistol in hand, watching him go.

  Dean couldn’t help but feel, as his vision faded, he’d failed her worse than ever before.

  “Thank you A— uh, Pandora,” Dean croaked, shifting and pushing himself up in the hospital bed.

  “It’s fine,” Amy said, shaking her head and tugging at her mask. Her emotions were a raging storm of anger, fear, sorrow, even love; for Lia, he assumed. “You...I have some questions.”

  “I thought you might,” he said, looking down at himself. His shirt was stained with crusty blood, a hole just above his kidney.

  “What happened?” she demanded.

  “We were attacked,” he said. “I’m not sure who it was, probably Werwolf considering where we were. I...they shot me, obviously. Amaranth fired back, not really sure what happened after since I sort of passed out.” She gave him a look that screamed ‘are you serious?’

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “So that’s why she’s being jailed,” Amy muttered, glancing at the ground before looking back at him. “You have to tell them she didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I...I don’t know how true that is,” Dean said hesitantly. “Do you know what happened?” The door to the room they were in opened without warning, and an exhausted looking Miss Militia stepped through. He straightened up in bed, despite himself.

  “Relax, Gallant,” Miss Militia said, leaning against the wall by the door.

  “Is Amaranth alr—”

  “Amaranth has been detained pending possible murder charges,” she said, as Amy cut herself off with a gasp. “Two men died at the scene of the shooting. Gallant, if you’re up for it I’d like to debrief you, get your story.”

  “I’m not sure how useful I can be, ma’am,” he replied. “I didn’t see much.”

  “Still, you may have key information,” she said, glancing at Amy. “You may go, Pandora.”

  “What about Amaranth?” Amy asked nervously.

  “We’ll see,” was all Miss Militia said. After Amy left, Miss Militia sat in the newly vacated chair and tugged down her mask. She looked totally despondent, and her aura reflected it. “How are you feeling Dean?”

  “Better,” Dean said with a shrug. “And worse. What happened?” She sighed.

  “Please, if you’d explain what happened from your perspective first?”

  “Alright,” he said, frowning. “We were on a patrol. I offered to join Amaranth’s team as a coach, trying to encourage them to play by the rules, show them how to do so effectively, that sort of thing.” She nodded and gestured for him to continue. “While we were out, a group of armed people confronted us. Amaranth warned them to lay down their weapons, one of them aimed at her, then...well it’s a little fuzzy. I know I got shot, I know she fired back.”

  “Where did she get the weapon?”

  “She had it,” he said. “I don’t actually know the source, she never said.”

  “I see,” Miss Militia said with a nod, her aura flickering an uneasy green. “Her shots hit two people, both were treated when PRT medics arrived on the scene, neither survived until Pandora could reach them.”

  “Fuck,” he swore, scratching his chin. Needed a shave. “I’m sorry ma’am I...I failed.”

  “This isn’t your fault, Dean,” she said gently. “As you confirmed, you were shot. Are you certain Amaranth didn’t fire first?”

  “She didn’t even have her gun out,” Dean said, shaking his head slowly. How had things gone so wrong so fast? “What about the others?”

  “Amaranth’s teammates weren’t hit,” Miss Militia said. “They were interviewed and released with the understanding that they may be charged in the future as accomplices, depending on the results of our investigation.”

  “And Amaranth?”

  “In containment,” she said flatly. “She has refused to say anything, outside demanding to see you.” He pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

  “I should—”

  “It wouldn’t be a good idea to visit,” Miss Militia said, raising a hand. “She’s agitated, aggressive.”

  “She has pending murder charges and doesn’t know if I survived,” Dean said sharply. “Of course she’s agitated.”

  “It may make things harder for her,” she warned, making him roll his eyes.

  “If you’re going to prevent me, I’m not going to fight you,” he said. “But you’re wrong and, no offense, I think I know better in this case.”

  “I suppose so,” she sighed, rubbing her temple. She pulled on her mask and rose. “Come on.”

  “It’s...good to see you,” Dean said as he got out of bed and followed her, donning his balaclava and fixing his shirt. He’d need a new one…

  "You too, Dean," she replied as she led them out.

  The headquarters seemed to be in better shape, from what Dean could see as he was led through the halls. No more squads of battered PRT officers on their way for emergency treatment, or exhausted Wards limping out the door for another twelve hour patrol. It felt like it had before everything had fallen apart, in a way.

  But there was a mute tension in everyone he passed. It was the same edginess after Echidna’s revelations, just suppressed. Despite things improving, the PRT was still on the knife’s edge. No wonder, with what he’d heard through the grapevine of lagging recruitment numbers and even more severe government oversight.

  And here was Lia, throwing fuel on the fire without even realizing it. Even with vigilante deputization being considered automatic for whatever was left of Empire Eighty-Eight, there was a lot off limits. Dean wondered how many meetings they had about Lia and breathed a guilty sigh of relief that he wasn’t involved.

  At least until now.

  “Here,” Miss Militia said, pausing outside a door marked ‘BRUTE CONTAINMENT >10’. Her power flashed and she was holding a pistol in her hand. “I’ll go in first.”

  “You’re overreacting,” Dean said, eyeing her.

  “Maybe,” she said, nodding her head. “But I won’t allow her to harm anyone else.”

  With that, she scanned her eye and opened the door, leading the way in. At the third door in the hallway, they stopped. It was barely a seam in the wall, and when Miss Militia scanned her iris it seemed to turn transparent instead of opening. Dean winced at the sight of Lia within, pacing the smooth, near featureless room. Turrets in the ceiling tracked her every step, though she didn’t seem to notice or care. Her aura was all guilt and fear, ragged like her costume now full of bullet holes. How many shots had she taken instead of him?

  “Amaranth,” Miss Militia said sharply. Lia’s head snapped towards the door and her eyes narrowed.

  “Where’s Gallant?” she demanded.

  “I’m here,” Dean spoke up, taking a step forward. Lia’s eyes widened and she ran towards the door, pure relief washing over her.

  “Are you okay? What happened to you? Did they—”

  “I’m fine,” he interrupted, holding up his hands. “Pandora healed me, I’m okay.” She slumped against the door, tears filling her eyes.

  “Thank god,” she hiccupped. “I...fuck I thought you were dead, they wouldn’t say anything.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “No,” Lia said glumly, shaking her head. “I… No, I’m not, but if you’re okay then I’ll be fine. What about Pandora?”

  “She’s worried,” he replied. “I’ll tell her you’re okay though.”

  “Thanks Gallant,” she sighed. “Don’t get involved anymore.”

  “What do you—”

  “He may be needed as a witness,” Miss Militia said icily. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Amaranth?” The relief in her aura vanished, replaced by simmering anger and resentment.

  “Let me know when you make it official,” Amaranth said bitterly. “So I can call my lawyer.”

  “You see?” Miss Militia said as the door turned opaque once more. “No remorse.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Dean said as he followed her out of the containment hall. “She was pretty broken up, even if she’s not showing it. I...no offense again, but I don’t think she trusts you to show it, ma’am.”

  “I see,” she replied, her neutral tone not showing the deep sadness that idea caused her. “Your insight is sorely missed here, Gallant.”

  “I can’t come back,” he said, shaking his head.

  “I understand,” she said. “Not even as a consultant, or crisis point manager?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, looking at the ground.

  “So am I Gallant,” Miss Militia said, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving him a squeeze. “You’ve lost weight.”

  “Not the first person to say that,” Dean said with an empty chuckle as they rode the elevator up.

  He hated that it felt like he was abandoning Lia to her fate.

  “So why haven’t they let her out til now?” Amy asked as they walked down the street.

  “Fact finding,” Dean replied with a shrug, suppressing a shiver as a gust rushed past them. “They have to see if there’s enough evidence to press charges, find mitigating factors, that stuff. It’s a criminal investigation Amy, she shot two people.”

  “I…” She bit her lip, a mix of anger and guilt gnawing at her.

  “Not for no reason,” he said. “Which might be why they asked us to come down and get her. I don’t want to get your hopes up though.”

  “I just...she killed people Dean,” Amy said, voice low. The notes of guilt spiked, washing out the now muted anger. “Fuck, is it bad that I’m more worried than angry?”

  “I think it’s natural,” Dean said gently. “Have you been okay?”

  “Barely sleeping,” she muttered. “It’s...nothing, just sucks.”

  “Having Lia there helps?” Amy hunched her shoulders, nodding. “Then for your sake, I hope she comes home today.”

  “Why are you being so nice?” she asked, suspicion colouring the look she gave him. “You hate me, Dean.”

  “I don’t...hate you,” Dean replied uneasily. “You did something awful to Vicky but...I don’t know, I did too.”

  “What?” Shock shot through her aura.

  “I won’t get into the details around it, but I lied about my trigger event,” he said, chest tight. “It’s not exactly the same thing, but I understand you a bit better. Sorry.”

  “You’re...different,” Amy said after a moment.

  “You too,” he said with a shrug. “Been through a lot, you know?”

  “I guess we both have,” she said as they approached the PRT building. She paused, gazing up at it, and took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go.”

  The lobby was busy like it had been before Leviathan. A tour group was gathering in the center as their guide excitedly explained the history of the PRT, Battery was off to one side with a small group of fans gathered around, and everywhere one looked there were armed officers standing guard. Well, maybe not exactly like before Leviathan…

  “Hi there,” Dean said as he led the way to the reception desk, smiling at the person there. “We’re here for an appointment? Last name Stansfield.”

  “G-got it,” the officer at the desk stuttered, offering a lopsided smile. He slowly typed on his keyboard, then stared at his screen for a moment. “Okay, y-you can go through the door to the side there. Here, wear these.” He put a couple of guest passes on the counter in front of them.

  “Thanks officer,” Dean said, taking the lanyard and putting it on. Amy did the same beside him.

  They followed his instructions, heading through the door off to one side that led to the interview rooms as Dean knew. Another officer was waiting there and, after making sure who they were, led them down the hall. As they rounded a corner, Dean spotted Lia speaking quietly to a man he didn’t recognize ahead. Amy pushed past him and the officer, sprinting over to Lia and wrapping her up in a tight hug.

  “Hey,” Lia said, hugging Amy back. “Missed you.”

  “Hey Lia,” Dean greeted her as he caught up, then glanced at the man beside her. “And you are?”

  “Samuel Bradford,” the man said, sticking out his hand and offering a snake-oil smile. “I’m young Miss D’souza’s attorney.”

  “I see,” Dean said as Amy pulled away from Lia’s embrace.

  “You got this guy instead of Mom?” she said, sounding mildly disgusted.

  “We’re not having this conversation here,” Lia said flatly. “We can talk at home.”

  “Lia—”

  “She’s got a point,” Samuel said, giving the PRT officer a look. “Best to have some chats in private.”

  With an uncomfortable expression, Amy nodded in agreement. She took Lia’s hand and they made their way out of the PRT building. Dean studied this lawyer as they walked. His name was familiar in some way, maybe a colleague of Carol Dallon? And how did Lia know him? Well, these were question he’d hopefully have answered soon.

  “Are you okay?” Amy asked as the four of them walked down the street.

  “Fine, kind of sore, tired,” Lia said, shrugging. “Holding cells aren’t exactly luxury suites, and they definitely don’t make sleeping easy.”

  “I assume your friends are in on the joke?” Bedford asked, getting a sharp nod from Lia. “Very good.”

  “How do you know Lia?” Dean asked.

  “He was my mom’s lawyer,” Lia answered. “Handling her will and stuff too.”

  “And why him over Mom?” Amy demanded.

  “Amy…” Lia sighed, giving her a look.

  “...Okay fair,” Amy grumbled, sticking her hands in her pockets. “But she wouldn’t have been that bad.”

  “So what happened?” Dean said after a moment. “After you were detained, I mean.”

  “Same thing that happens to everyone we bag,” Lia replied. “Interrogation and containment. Every couple hours they’d come and grill me through the door, until I got sick of it and called Samuel. After that it was just...negotiating.”

  “Negotiating?” he asked.

  “Making sure the good folks at the station understood what ‘self-defense’ means,” Samuel offered. “And it was self-defense, Lia.”

  “Yes, I know, you won’t shut up about it,” she muttered. “They shot first, you can confirm that Dean.”

  “I...yeah,” he said, nodding and swallowing hard. “What about the...you know?”

  “Misdemeanour for possession,” Samuel answered for her. “The implement was confiscated and she plead for a fine.”

  “The implement...you mean a gun?” Amy said nervously.

  “Yes,” Lia said, evidently not on the same page of deflection her lawyer was. “Look, can we not hash this out right now? I just want to get home.”

  The conversation died as they continued walking. A little further on, Samuel left them alone, offering Lia a few choice pieces of legal advice before going. Dean parted from them soon after, wishing both girls well before heading towards the motel he was staying in. He felt exhausted, more than he had in a long time.

  And now he had to wonder if working with Lia really was the right idea.