Unfortunately, Joy had been wrong about the war ending.

  Things had quieted down somewhat. Lia had been shuttled through the legal system so rapidly there hadn’t been a chance to try and get her out. Not that Joy wanted to try. Getting rid of the Nazis that plagued this city was one thing, but fighting the heroes who were nominally there to protect it? She and Fidel had managed to delay the discussion enough that it became a non-issue, but there was a small part of her that felt sick about that.

  She had abandoned Lia to the mercy of the police, and they’d sent her to the Birdcage. Joy didn’t know much about it, but what she heard made it sound like the worst possible place a girl like her could be stuck. Nothing to do about it now though but keep going.

  And keep going they did.

  Even with the enemy capes all out of action, either dead or fled like Crusader had, there were still a lot of gangsters left. Fortunately it was easier to deal with unpowered grunts, and with their leadership taken out they were far less organized. The cops, finally, had begun to join in the fray. They’d clashed a couple times with the Terriers and their allies, but it seemed they were broadly focused on what mattered.

  That didn’t mean things were going smoothly. Just in the last week, there had been two bombs detonated outside community centers. ANTIFA had established a small soup kitchen operating with one of them, and Kristian had died in the blast. What remained of Werwolf had begun operating as a terrorist group, it seemed. They would be hard-pressed to root out the remaining cells on their own.

  So Joy had done the unthinkable and called the Protectorate. The fact was they needed assistance. Experienced as they were, they’d taken casualties and lost a lot of their own leadership. Lia had her issues, but Joy could always trust her to know what they were doing next. She had a breadth of experience that defied her age, and Joy knew why. God, hopefully she was doing okay in the pit…

  Now though, Joy was waiting on the end of the reconstructed Boardwalk. The spring breeze blowing in off the water was chilly, but her heavy jacket kept her warm. It was Lia’s, the leather jacket that her ex had made for her. She would understand why Joy had kept it. Her hair was unbound, waving steadily in the wind. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, the smell bringing back memories of springtime fishing on the Saint Lawrence.

  “So you’re Nadir,” a cool, commanding voice spoke from behind her. Joy didn’t turn her head as the woman walked up and stood beside her, but flicked her eyes to the side. “I’ll admit, you’re not all that I expected.”

  “Neither are you,” Joy admitted.

  Miss Militia stood next to her, dressed in a deep green coat that hung to her knees. She wore a red scarf around her neck, but her face was uncovered. Joy had hardly expected the all-American hero to be only a shade lighter than her. She wore her own hair in a tight braid, and the expression on her face was hard but curious.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve asked me here to surrender yourself,” Miss Militia said, making Joy snort.

  “Not quite,” Joy replied dryly. She took a deep breath and hung her head. “Truth is, I think it’s time we started cooperating, maybe trying to work with whatever rules you want to lay down.”

  “Now that you’re under the threat of arrest and imprisonment.”

  “Now that Werwolf is almost a done deal,” Joy countered. “You took Amaranth, and we’ve taken other casualties too. There’s been talk of what comes next, and the groups are starting to unravel without her tying us together. For my part...I want to try and help people.”

  “An admirable goal,” Miss Miltia said. “I wish you had come to us before starting a war.”

  “No going back now.” Not with Lia long gone… “Look, I know you probably see me as just another villain, but we aren’t that far apart in what we want. Right now, the main problem this city has is Nazi terrorists that need to be rooted out. I know your group has been dealing with everything else that’s going on, but with the bombings…” Joy shrugged.

  “It wasn’t long ago your group was firing rockets into houses,” Miss Militia said coldly. Joy sighed, this wasn’t going anywhere.

  “I’m trying to stop that from happening again!” she exclaimed, making the other woman start. “God dammit, this isn’t just my group. It wasn’t just Lia’s group, it never was. There were just six of us to start with, and now there are over a hundred total. I’m one voice of five in leadership, and most of them are looking at you next. So help me stop that, please.”

  Miss Militia stared out at the ocean silently, and Joy prayed she listened. She was at the end of her rope, frankly. They’d lost so many people, and it wasn’t like anyone else was better off in this fight. She’d gone out of her way to not let anyone else know this was happening, she wasn’t sure how they’d react. But this was necessary, before everything degenerated into pure gangsterism.

  “Are you ready to lay down your arms?” Miss Militia asked after a while.

  “I don’t think they will be until we get rid of Werwolf,” Joy replied, sighing. “Can’t blame them at this point. How about...deescalation? We have at least some non-lethal options, I can push us to start using them, and stop using explosives entirely.”

  “And what about prisoners?” she said. “We know you’ve been executing them.”

  “I can put a stop to that,” she said quickly. That would be a bit harder but...she could make do, she had to. “If you agree to not come after us, we’ll turn them over to you instead. But we don’t have the facilities to hold them ourselves; and I have a feeling you’d disagree to that anyway.”

  “You’re right about that,” Miss Militia said coldly. “You understand we can’t simply allow you to walk away from what you’ve done.”

  “Please don’t force a fight,” Joy pleaded. “We’ll lose, but you won’t exactly win either. Let me at least try to find a way through this peacefully?” The hero stared at her, and her gaze finally softened.

  “As it stands, any associates of the Terriers and their affiliated groups are considered criminals,” she said, voice steely. “There has been talk of potential kill orders being issued for the parahuman members. If you want peace, there’s going to be a very narrow path to walk.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” she promised. “But I don’t want to leave anyone behind for my own sake.” The older woman nodded slowly.

  “We’ll be in touch,” Miss Militia said, standing a little straighter. “The number you contacted me on, was that a disposable phone?”

  “I still have it,” Joy replied. “Let me guess, don’t call us?”

  “I won’t leave you waiting,” she said. “But I do need to discuss this with my colleagues in the PRT. In the mean time, try and avoid pushing the government to designating you a terrorist organization.” Joy winced.

  “I...guess it’s been pretty bad,” she said. “We’ll do better.”

  “I hope you do, for your sake.”

  Miss Militia turned and left Joy alone with the knowledge that there really was no going back.

  “You’re being reckless,” Fidel said quietly as he and Nadir walked up the stairs towards the command room. “Meeting with the Protectorate alone and unmasked?”

  “She wouldn’t have agreed to it otherwise,” Nadir countered, shaking her head. “And besides, it went fine, it went well even. You think we can make these conditions work?” Fidel sighed and scratched the back of his neck.

  “It’s going to be a tough sell,” he said after a moment. “Misha’s group won’t like it at all. These Russians aren’t as dedicated as the rest of us. Rache will take it in stride though, with maybe a complaint or two, but we can browbeat her; with Richard gone, she’s adrift.”

  “I’d rather they agree without a fight,” she said. “But I guess that isn’t realistic. What are we looking at for resources?”

  “We have about one-point-two million in cash,” Fidel said, taking a notebook from his pocket and opening it. “A little less than two-hundred thousand rounds for our rifles, with another twenty thousand for the machine guns, then forty-thousand pistol rounds. We have about two rifles for every soldier, a little fewer with pistols. Thirty submachine guns, fifty grenades, and three rocket-propelled grenades. About forty pounds of Semtex left, but we’re out of rounds for the grenade launchers and mortars.”

  “Jesus,” Nadir breathed, pausing and leaning against the wall as her head swam.

  “Nadir?” He put a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. “Are you alright?”

  “Just...realizing the scale of things,” she replied, pushing herself up and shrugging his hand off. “And this is after we’ve blown through most of it.”

  “Amaranth made sure we were ready, and we took most of the rest on night one,” Fidel said. “It’s quite the armoury though, one we need to keep under lock and key. I don’t know that the Protectorate will be happy with us keeping that.”

  “We’ll figure it out,” she said, continuing down the hall and pausing outside the command room. “Let’s just hope we manage before things get out of hand.”

  Nadir pushed open the door and headed inside, drawing her shoulders back and making herself at least look like a leader. Rache was standing at the planning table and offered her a nod in greeting. Misha and his elder friend were chatting quietly in a corner, while Whatchamacalit lounged on a chair, a portable game console in her hands.

  “Nadir, good to see you,” Rache said, smiling. “A good night last night, hm?”

  “Was it?” Nadir asked. She hadn’t been at the briefing this morning, having met with Miss Militia; and the night before had been her first off in a long time. “Good to hear.”

  “Rooted out a small cell, took some guns and explosives,” Rache explained. “None dead on our side, only one Nazi killed, the rest surrendered.”

  “Good,” Nadir said with a nod. “That’s actually part of why I wanted to see you all. Misha?” The two men raised their heads, then came over and joined them at the table. Whatchamacalit looked up from her came, curiosity on her face. “Okay, we need to talk about how we do things going forward.”

  “The enemy has gone to ground,” the old man, Gregori if she remembered right, said. “A difficult fight, but not unfamiliar, My men are searching for them as we speak, it won’t be long.”

  “That’s great,” she said honestly. “But I mean more tactics and...policies.”

  “It was necessary to deliver prompt execution while we were fighting the main campaign,” Fidel said. “But no longer.”

  “We haven’t gained the facilities for taking prisoners,” Gregori countered. “Unless you know something I don’t, and I doubt that very much young man.”

  “We’ll be turning them over to the PRT,” Nadir said, making the old man arch a brow. “Alive. The fact is we need to start cooperating, because if we don’t this is going to get uglier than it already has very quickly.”

  “Let’s vote on it.” Misha said. “Our tactics have worked well, I know I’m not eager to change them.”

  “No,” Nadir said firmly, shaking her head. Her stomach bubbled with anxiety, but she needed to take a page from Lia’s book here. “In this case, there won’t be a vote. If you have a problem with how we’re doing things going forward, you can eat it.”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “That isn’t how this works,” he said bitterly.

  “It is when it comes to this,” Nadir replied, voice hard as iron and cold as ice. “If you want to do things differently, then you won’t be with us.” Misha stared at her, blue eyes icy and furious.

  “What other rules are you planning to dictate?” Gregori asked, putting a hand on Misha’s shoulder.

  “We’ll be using our non-lethal options,” she said, eyeing him cautiously. “We took enough beanbag rounds and pepperball launchers for a start, and we can buy more. No more explosives either, we’re cutting back on all of that.”

  “Including flashbangs?” Gregori said, arching a brow.

  “No, we can still use those,” Joy said quickly, cheeks warming behind her mask. “Obviously if it’s non-lethal—”

  “They’re a fire hazard,” he interrupted. “And ‘rubber’ bullets are plenty capable of killing.”

  “We’re trying to limit how many people die,” she said, gritting her teeth. “If you can’t handle it old man, then you’re welcome to leave.” Gregori stared at her quietly, a small, confident smile on his face.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea when Werwolf has adopted even worse tactics?” Rache asked cautiously. “I mean, we’ve all seen it. Bombings, random drive-bys, they’re pushing it further than we ever expected.”

  “We know they have elements from the European Nazis,” Fidel said. “Might be that one of them is in charge, hence the change. Either way, it isn’t open warfare, and that’s what our previous tactics were contextualized by. We need to change as well, Rache, or we’ll be next.”

  “We can handle the PRT,” Misha said confidently.

  “We don’t want to,” Nadir said, slamming her hand down on the table. “Me and Amaranth were under no false impressions about our status as villains, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to fight the heroes. We have the means to do this right, so we will.”

  The tension in the room was thick enough to cut. It was two against two, with Rache still mulling things over. Nadir didn’t want it to come to a real fight with her allies, the arguing was bad enough. She wasn’t sure whether it was because she wanted to avoid fighting at all, or because she was so damned sure she’d utterly destroy them.

  “Well, it seems nothing can be done,” Gregori said with a shrug. “My men will continue intelligence gathering, but don’t expect us to join in your foolish attacks. Fighting the enemy with your hands tied behind your back is an idiot’s endeavour, and I’ll have no part in it.”

  “I’m with Gregori,” Misha said firmly. “Amaranth knew how to handle this scum. I don’t know why you’re getting cold feet now, when she sacrificed herself so we could finish this fight.”

  “With her gone, things have changed,” Nadir said coldly. “You’re not stupid enough to think otherwise. We won’t be tolerated anymore as we are, get that through your head. We change, or we get taken down.”

  “You’re right,” Rache said after a moment. “Things have changed. I...I don’t like the idea of sparing them. I’d rather kill every last one for what they did to Richard but...well, I don’t know if that’s what he’d have wanted.” She took a deep breath and shut her eyes, sighing loudly. “I’ll talk to my people, get them onboard with these new rules. Only a couple months left til we’re gone anyway, so the change doesn’t worry me that much.”

  “Perhaps you should be more worried about keeping your team intact until that point,” Gregori said flatly.

  “Worry about your own, old man,” she retorted.

  “Hey, enough,” Nadir snapped. “Our fight is out there. Go deliver the news to your squads, we’ll meet back here in three hours to figure out our next move.”

  The Russians didn’t need encouragement, Misha turning with a sneer and heading out the door, followed by Gregori. Rache offered a nod and accepted the dismissal in turn, not one to make much trouble. Fidel patted her shoulder as he walked past, leaving her alone in the command room.

  Well, almost.

  “That was a shitshow,” Whatchamacalit said dryly, rising from her seat and coming over, leaning on the tactical table. “You serious about this?”

  “I am,” Nadir replied, giving Whatcha a steely glare. “We’ve already gone too far, pushing it any more…” She shook her head.

  “Well, I’ll agree with you there,” she said, sighing. “Can’t see the PRT tolerating us much longer if we keep going how we have. Though that begs the question: why not shut it all down?”

  “We’re not done yet,” Nadir said simply. “There are still Nazis left, and that’s what Amaranth brought us together for.”

  “You could go out on your own,” she replied. “Or with a small team, the guys who actually want to be here. Why an army?”

  Why indeed? Truthfully, a large part of it was because this was Lia’s legacy. She’d brought together dozens of people with totally different ideas of what justice and heroism meant, then wrangled them all into a team that could take down the largest gang in the city. Even if it wasn’t what they needed anymore, Joy wasn’t keen to give it up. They’d given so much to make this work, letting it slip away would be a waste.

  “Still necessary,” Nadir said instead, shrugging. “I hope one day it won’t be.”

  “Me too,” Whatchamacalit said, putting a hand on Nadir’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “For your sake.”

  “Get them out here, line them up!” Nadir bellowed, pointing to a spot on the front lawn.

  A half-dozen men and women were dragged out of the house and made to kneel on the grass. Her team, a composite of ANTIFA and RFB forces, stood outside, keeping the few spectators at bay. It was early in the morning, but a few neighbours had come out to see the show. More of Nadir’s teammates came out of the house carrying the loot; a crate of hand grenades, dozens of rifles, and all sorts of other weapons. They laid it out on the grass behind the criminals, then joined her. The Nazis stared up at them fearfully, and Nadir couldn’t help grinning.

  “It’s your lucky day,” Nadir said, raising her voice so the onlookers could hear. “In five minutes, the PRT will be here to take you into custody. Considering the amount of weapons we found you with, you’ll probably be looking at serious jail time. It’s in your best interest to cooperate with them, because you know we aren’t so nice.” She paused to let it sink in, as approaching sirens wailed. “Personally, I recommend you get a plea deal that puts you out of state; after all, we have a long reach.”

  Of course there was no way the Terriers and their allies could touch them in the prison system, but better to make these guys too scared to dream of coming back to Brockton Bay if the system failed. Nadir tasked two of the RFB soldiers to watch the prisoners, then headed to the street to wait for the PRT’s pickup crew.

  They were early, fortunately, and Nadir strode over to their vehicle when it parked at the curbside. Her team gave the PRT troopers a wide berth as they piled out of the vehicle, pistols and sub-machine guns drawn. They weren’t quite aiming at her own team, but she could see her allies itching to respond. They had more self-control than that though, only glaring at the cops as they approached Nadir.

  “Stand down,” Miss Militia said as she stepped down from the cab of the van, striding over to Nadir. The PRT troopers lowered their weapons slightly, but didn’t seem happy with the order. “Nadir, I was a little surprised you called.”

  “Told you I would,” Nadir replied with a shrug. She pointed to the six captives on the lawn. “Found weapons and explosives inside. From reading through the documents we found, it seems they were planning some bombings in the West End. You might find more with a thorough search, we were just giving it a quick look.”

  “Indeed,” she said dryly. She gestured to Nadir’s teammates. “I notice you’re still heavily armed.”

  “Shotguns with non-lethal rounds, pistols, and pepperball launchers,” Nadir said, taking a couple shells from her bandoleer. She wasn’t carrying a shotgun, but she always made sure to carry spare ammo. She held them out to Miss Militia, who took them cautiously. “I told you we had options.”

  “And why not exercise them sooner?” Miss Militia asked, studying the two rounds; a beanbag and rubber slug.

  “Three guesses as to what changed,” Nadir said coldly. “The first two don’t count.” The hero at least had the decency to look bashful.

  “It’s...good you have changed your tactics,” she said slowly, handing the ammunition back to Nadir. “You understand you’re still acting outside the law?”

  “We’re acting where the law won’t,” Nadir countered. “But we’re trusting you with justice, Miss Militia. Don’t forget for one second what you did to Amaranth when you’re taking these guys to court.” Miss Militia’s eye’s widened briefly, then she let out a sigh.

  “Trust that I won’t ever forget what happened to Amaranth,” Miss Militia said quietly, sounding almost defeated.

  As she directed the PRT troopers to take charge of the captives, Nadir rounded up her own teammates and headed back to the vans. The few gawkers had dispersed when the PRT arrived, the show over. Even though the major fighting was over, Nadir still stared at the windows of the houses they passed, watching out for anything that would indicate an ambush. It wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened…

  But nothing came, nothing had for over a week. The days of roadblocks and obviously fortified positions, was over. Now it was something else, an insurgency, or something like it. Fidel had said it was similar to fighting the Nazis in Germany, something he’d done half a decade ago.

  God, what insane sentiment. Fighting Nazis in Germany five years ago, or five minutes ago in America. Her grandfather had nearly died a dozen times trying to rid Europe of them, he’d be disgusted to see she was still fighting them here and now; not because Nadir was fighting them but because she had to fight at all.

  She missed him. Joy hadn’t called home since her parents had told her to stay and finish her studies. It was a conversation she was dreading, so she’d avoided speaking to any of her family, just in case they started asking about that. But rakshotha would probably be more interested in hearing what she’d been up to instead of that…

  Later, right now she still had work to do.

  Joy stared at her phone as she sat on her bunk, foot bouncing against the ground. She was alone in the room, Rosa and Rache were both out with their squads; not for a fight, but for some genuine relaxation while they waited for more intel to come in. It was the first night off they’d had in a while, so she was happy for them.

  She wished she felt happier herself.

  All Joy wanted to do was call her grandfather, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to dial his number. The guilt of staying away so long, so silent, gnawed at her guts and froze her fingers. Would he berate her for not calling in so long, or for not coming home in spite of her parents wishes? There was no way to tell until she called.

  She had to. Joy doubted she could travel back home so easily after...everything. Even if the cops didn’t pick up on her being the villain Nadir, she’d lost her documents a long time ago. No telling what she’d be in for if she tried to jump the border without them. So there was no choice but to call and talk, all she had to do was dial.

  Finally she managed to force her fingers to work, tapping in the familiar number she had so many times before. Joy’s heart began pounding hard as she pressed the phone to her ear, each ring feeling longer than the last. Finally the line crackled to life, and she heart strained grunting in the background.

  “Hello?” a familiar voice greeted her and made her throat tighten. “John Rivers speaking, who’s this?”

  “Rakshotha,” Joy choked, barely keeping herself from sobbing.

  “Bear cub?” Her cheeks coloured at the old nickname. “Is that you?”

  “Yeah, it’s me, Joy,” she replied, sniffling.

  “It’s good to hear your voice.”

  She couldn’t help herself, breaking down in tears. There wasn’t an ounce of anger in her grandfather’s voice, he simply sounded happy to hear her. How had she been so scared? Of course he wasn’t angry she wanted to talk.

  “Sorry,” Joy apologized when she’d calmed herself down. “Sorry I...it’s good to hear you too.”

  “It’s been a while.” She winced, despite the lack of accusation in his voice. “How have you been keeping?”

  “I’m...I’m doing okay.” How much could she tell him?

  “You’re in that Brockton Bay right? North of Boston?”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” she confirmed.

  “Staying safe with that Seventy Hour War trouble going on?” he asked. “It’s been on the news, crazy times.”

  “I…” Joy chewed on her lip, then sighed. “Can I tell you the truth, rakshotha?”

  “Always little cub.”

  “I’m part of it,” she said, feeling her stomach clench as he inhaled sharply. Still, it felt like a weight had lifted from her shoulders. “Leading it now, I guess. The good guys, obviously. It’s...it’s not really like your stories.”

  “I don’t imagine it is,” her grandfather said gravely. “God above...were you hurt?”

  “No, no I’m fine.” She’d had a couple ribs broken by bullets impacting her vest a few times, but nothing a Regener-orb treatment couldn’t fix. “I’m… Look, I need you to promise you won’t tell mom or dad about this, okay?”

  “Why not?” he asked. “Don’t they deserve to know you’re okay?”

  “They do,” Joy said quickly. “It’s just...complicated.”

  “Well either you’re okay or you’re not, Joy. It’s really not—”

  “I’m a parahuman okay?!”

  Joy regretted saying it the moment the words left her mouth. She hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, certainly not as aggressively as she did. The silence that followed could have weighed a thousand tons, and Joy worried at her lower lip, waiting for her grandfather to chew her out.

  “You’re not lying,” her grandfather said at last. “I’m sorry child, truly I am.”

  “Thanks,” Joy said hoarsely. “I’m sorry too.”

  “I understand why you haven’t come home now,” he said with a sigh. “A parahuman...to think my granddaughter would be touched by Mother Bear.” She grimaced.

  “I wouldn’t call it that,” she said a little more harshly than she meant. “It’s not exactly a blessing.”

  “The touch of a bear often includes claws,” he said with a hint of humour. “You mentioned leading a group?”

  “Uh, yeah,” she confirmed. “You’ve probably heard of it, the Terriers. We’ve been fighting Werwolf, a big Nazi gang here in Brockton Bay.”

  “Goddamn krauts,” he swore. “I’m sorry you’re still dealing with those rotten things.”

  “Me too,” she sighed. “Was thinking about that earlier and...yeah, it’s messed up. But we’re getting rid of them, all of them.”

  “Good,” he said shortly. “From what I’ve seen on TV...it reminds me of Holland. Do you want to talk about it, bear cub?”

  Taking a deep breath, Joy began explaining the last few months. She skipped the details of her getting powers, not really wanting to relive that nightmare if she could help it. Her grandfather either didn’t notice or didn’t want to dig into painful memories, something he probably understood well enough.

  At times Joy cried, at others she laughed, and through all of it her grandfather listened faithfully. He didn’t question her stories, as ridiculous as they sounded sometimes, nor did he criticize what she’d done. Guilt gnawed at her stomach as she discussed the fight that had just ended, the lives lost, the destruction that turned a quarter of the city into a literal warzone.

  And now she was responsible for everything that happened, something she could never have imagined. Every shot fired in anger, every drop of blood that was spilled, all of it was her fault. It was too much, she had only ever wanted to be a nurse, to heal people; but here she was, a killer instead of a nurse.

  “You’re not a killer Joy,” her grandfather said after a long, tense moment.

  “No?” Joy asked, sniffling. “But I’ve—”

  “I can hear there isn’t an ounce of pleasure in your voice,” he cut her off. “I can hear the soul-sickness of a healer with bloody hands.” Her lower lip wobbled as he continued. “But prevention is part of healing Joy, eliminating disease before it festers and spreads.”

  “I...I guess,” she said, not quite believing it.

  “I’m proud of you, child,” he said hoarsely. “I’m proud my blood still fights against monsters like that. Even if your parents don’t understand, I do.”

  “Thanks,” she said, fighting back tears. There was a brief pause while Joy was at a loss for words, simply too happy to reply otherwise.

  “So this girl you mentioned, Amaranth, what happened to her?” he asked, making her throat tighten again.

  “It’s a bit of a long story,” Joy hedged.

  “I’ve got all day for you, bear cub.”

  She smiled for what felt like the first time in months.