We need to talk,” Weaver said to me the moment our team arrived in Yonkers.

  “Sure,” I said. “So let’s talk.”

  “Give us some space,” she ordered the rest of my team.

  “Don’t bother,” I said, raising my voice. “You want to know what I talked about with Tattletale, it was just this, the here and now.” She stayed quiet a moment, like she was going to protest having it out here.

  “You have a plan,” Weaver said, not a question.

  “Nope,” I said with a shrug. “What I have is another piece on the board. Whether this works or not…” I shook my head. “We’ll find out soon enough. I told Tattletale roughly where to be when she needs to be to give us a hand. I’m hoping that’ll be enough to tip the scales in our favour.”

  “And what do you plan to do with her?” she asked, her voice taking on a dangerous tone.

  “She’s going to help us kill Jack,” I replied. “And that’s what we’re here to do, Weaver. I know Cauldron’s idiotic idea and I’m telling you right now it’s not happening, not if I can help it.”

  “That’s—”

  “I know, you think it’s the best option,” I cut her off. “I know you’re even willing to go through with it, but don’t. Billions, Weaver, at a minimum; that’s what we’re looking at, and that’s not even counting what happens after.” Something I barely knew about, beyond Earth becoming practically uninhabitable.

  “It’s fewer than everyone on the planet,” Weaver protested, but it sounded weak.

  “It could be less,” I retorted. “How much more blood do you want on your hands?” When she didn’t answer, I turned to Joy. “Any issues, us working with Tattletale?”

  “None,” Joy replied with a shrug. “Except she’s a bitch.” I snorted and nodded.

  “We’ve never seen eye-to-eye, Weaver,” I said, turning back to her. “And that’s okay, but on this one I need you to trust me. Trust me like you didn’t when you decided to go to Arcadia.” She stared at me silently for a long, tense minute. Finally, she gave the slightest nod.

  “I don’t think you’re right,” Weaver said quietly. “I think your plan is just going to get you and your team killed, maybe a lot more people too. But…” She trailed off, staring off down the road. “How do you know what’s going to happen?”

  “I’ve lived it,” I replied flatly. Her head snapped towards me, and I suppressed a sigh. If I wanted her to trust me...well it was a two way street, and she hadn’t tried anything last time. “I’ve lived this fight, here and now, more than a dozen times. That’s why I can tell you Jack’s going to appear in a couple hours, that’s why I can tell you when you talk to the PRT we’ll be directed a few blocks north.

  “It’s not perfect,” I said, making a face. “There’s too much going on for me to keep it all in my head. But I can see the bigger picture, and more clearly than Cauldron. I know we can do better than just surviving, Taylor. Give me a chance to prove it.” She stared down at me quietly for a long, tense moment. Finally, she straightened up and tapped the small computer on her wrist.

  “Weaver to NYC Protectorate,” Weaver said, all business. “I’m here with a small team to assist with the fight against the Slaughterhouse Nine. Can you direct us to assist any nearby teams?” She cocked her head, listening, then nodded and pointed her arm in roughly the usual direction. “Understood, we’re moving. Looks like you were right, Amaranth.”

  “Unfortunately, I usually am.”

  And hopefully, I still was…

  “Stay down,” Joy growled at the puddle of gore staining the snow, the only remains of a clone of Crawler. “Motherfucker.”

  “Good,” I said, smacking her shoulder. “All clear! Regroup on me.”

  My team scrambled to follow my orders. An hour into the fighting, we were still entirely intact, if a little light on ammo. Things were going relatively smoothly, especially with my knowledge of how to deal with the myriad enemies we were facing. Friendly casualties were still heavy, but no worse than they’d been any other time.

  The real concern, as ever, was surviving all the way to the end. It was almost a given that at least one clone would get close enough to cause my team issues, potentially kill them. But with Joy and I taking point, and Weaver watching our backs, we were at least putting the odds in our favour.

  We took five minutes to reload, then were off running to the next fight. I wiped at the sweat stinging my eyes, focusing on controlling my breathing. Even though my stamina wasn’t improving, I was at least getting used to lugging around my body weight in ordinance and ignoring the ache of my muscles.

  It was...strange, repeating the same fight over and over. Not even Leviathan or Behemoth had proven as much an obstacle, though with them I was able to leave the main fighting to other capes. And there, I’d had days of warning, compared to mere hours.

  Was it getting easier? A little, at least most of my deaths had been relatively quick. Besides, I’d been through some of the most hellish training the world could offer alongside Crane. My body was made for this, rebuilt for a singular purpose. My mind was focused on its one objective. By the end of the day, Jack Slash would be dead. At least, if I ever reached the end of the day.

  “Hey,” Joy said as we ran towards the next engagement: Crimson, Miasma, and Mannequin. “Are we...is this going okay?”

  “Yeah,” I said with a sharp nod. “No casualties, no surprises. We’re good.”

  “Alright,” she said, sounding nervous. “Just...it’s just us?”

  “For now,” I replied. “Not sure when Tattletale will get here, hopefully not too long now.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Hopefully,” she huffed.

  “She’ll be here,” Weaver said, just loud enough for us to hear. “You can count on that.”

  We continued our charge quietly through the heavy snow, footsteps muffled by the drifts underfoot. I really wasn’t convinced we could count on Tattletale, but it was at least better than going alone. Actually, the Undersiders in general would be perfect allies. Grue could steal and suppress powers, Imp was the perfect assassin, and Tattletale could figure out the perfect way to beat everyone she came up against.

  But I still had the feeling capes weren’t going to be the deciding factor. She had mercenaries, didn’t she? Coil’s old soldiers, they were a nasty bunch with nasty weapons. Hopefully they actually showed up. Confident as Weaver was, I knew how hard it was to get people on board with the same mission.

  I couldn’t spend more time worrying about it now, as we approached the site of the next battle. Mannequin and Crimson were engaged with four capes, one firing lasers from a distance while the others were stuck in close combat. Past them, I could see the bodies of others, victims of Miasma’s gas no doubt.

  I barked orders to my team, sending them after the two they had a chance at taking. While they went to back up the remaining capes in combat, I slipped past the fight and readied my grenades. No one overhead, unfortunately, but if lasers were able to deal with Miasma then explosives should do something.

  When I reached the second body, a cape in bright blue spandex, I started searching. At least I wasn’t lacking grenades, a small blessing. As it turned out, I didn’t need to waste much finding him. The second grenade I let loose skipped over a curb and blasted the windows from a shopfront. Through the new holes, a thick, green gas poured out. Bingo.

  Two more grenades flew through the shattered glass, then I dug into the bag strapped over my belly for some explosives. Three charges, six kilos of Semtex in all, got bundled into a satchel charge. I lit the fuse and poked my head into the window, throwing it where the gas seemed to be thickest. I ducked back out, and seconds later the charge blew, making my teeth crash together so hard I was worried they’d break.

  When I poked my head into the store again, there was nothing left but a crater surrounded by wisps of rapidly dissipating gas and scattered debris. Well…damn, not bad at all. I raced back to my team, still tangling with a badly wounded Mannequin. Crimson was dead, his head missing and corpse laying in the snow.

  It didn’t take much longer to finish Mannequin off, despite how much of a problem he'd caused me in Brockton Bay. A cape wielding a massive, iron-studded club drove a blow into Mannequin’s chest, sending him flying back towards me as I charged. I skidded to a halt as he struck the ground, then pounced on top of him and started crushing everything I could get my hands on. Within a minute, he’d stopped moving, gore leaking from the cracks in his armour.

  “Amaranth?” Joy called as the fighting fell silent. “You good?”

  “All clear,” I responded, quickly scanning the street. “Miasma’s dead too.”

  “Good work,” Weaver said as she came over and looked down at Mannequin. “Too bad you couldn’t have done that to the original.”

  “I was a little busy worrying about being a nominee,” I said dryly. “Among more important things. Next targets?”

  “We have a few to chose from,” she said, cocking her head. “A Hatchet Face and Breed are fighting to our south, another Crawler and a modified Mannequin west.” I grimaced. Of course it was the capes who could take me out.

  “Hey, thanks for the save,” the club-wielding cape said as he jogged over to us. He wore a scowling, demonic mask with a long nose and tusks. His armour was odd looking, more like scales than plates, but square instead of round. “We’re moving west to back up another team.”

  “We’ll head south then,” Weaver replied. “Good luck.” He ran off and left us alone, and I pursed my lips. “What are you thinking?”

  “Before we go, let me take a look at those bodies,” I said, pointing to Miasma’s distant victims.

  “Why?”

  “Looking for anything useful,” I said with a shrug. “Never know, we might get lucky.” She checked her watch and I heard her huff.

  “Five minutes,” she said flatly. “Hurry.”

  I nodded and headed over, not wasting more time than I needed. The heroes and villains weren’t the people I was looking for here. It was a bit of a long shot, but Miasma may have gotten any PRT troopers before they could retreat, like they could from Crimson and Mannequin. Their misfortune may make for a lucky day…

  My time was nearly up when I found what I was looking for. Two armoured people with the PRT’s logo on their pauldrons laying face down in the snow. I turned over one of them, disappointed to only find rifle ammo. The other was better though, offering up a single confoam hand grenade, and finally what I had been after since Brockton Bay.

  I pocketed half a dozen grenade launcher rounds. The weapon itself had been smashed up, but that was fine if Tattletale actually showed up for once. Only two confoam rounds, the others were plain explosive. That didn’t matter to me though, I was just happy I finally had what I came for.

  Rejoining Weaver and my team, I let them know my findings. They didn’t understand why I was mildly excited about it, and frankly I wasn’t entirely sure either. Maybe it was just nice to get one over on Miss Militia, securing some of the gear she wouldn’t bend the rules to give me. And anyway, it wasn’t like the troopers could use it anymore.

  We headed onto the next battle, and I finally felt like things were going my way.

  “Reese!” Joy screamed as Hatchet Face swept his feet from under him with a vicious blow from his axe.

  I shouted in fury as Reese cried in pain, drawing my knife and pistol as I charged. It was a stupid thing, but I was going to avenge him or die trying. Hopefully not the latter...but it was Hatchet Face. There was no time to worry about that though, because I was already on him and could feel snowflakes wetting my cheeks.

  He was too close to get me with the blade of his axe on the backswing, but drove the handle into my gut as I stabbed at his wrist. The breath was driven from my lungs, but I saw his fingers slacken their grip as my knife destroyed his tendons. Taking a sharp gasp through my nose, I drew back my knife and stepped closer to the monster who’d killed me ten times or more.

  Not this time. Even as he began crushing my ribs in a brutal bear hug, I pressed the barrel of my pistol under his jaw. Hatchet Face was a monster when it came to strength, but at this range, with a Glock Twenty to his neck, he was painfully human.

  I emptied the magazine as my ribs creaked, snapping his neck back violently. When I’d finally finished, much of his already ugly face was simply gone, smashed to unrecognizable giblets. As he keeled over, I pried myself out of his grasp and skipped back before he hit the ground. I winced and clutched my side, panting as I tried to catch my breath. Fuck, I hadn’t taken a real hit like that in a while.

  “Yo Amaranth, you good?” Zeke asked as he skidded to a stop next to me. He offered a hand and helped me up, then gave me his arm to lean on.

  “Yeah,” I wheezed. “Help Reese.”

  “Nadir’s on it,” he assured me, gesturing with his carbine. I looked over and saw he kneeling next to his legs, or what was left. “C’mon, sit down and catch your breath.”

  “‘kay,” I panted, leaning heavily on him as he helped me to the curb and sat me down. “Shit, fuck.”

  “He’s gonna be okay,” Zeke said, patting my shoulder. He looked over to where Nadir was crouching over Reese. J-Dog had joined them, working on the other side. “Might be down a leg or two, but he’ll be cool.”

  “Hope so,” I muttered, holding my head in my hands. “Fuck, I really hope we don’t have much more to go.”

  “How many times you done this now?” he asked, voice low.

  “Dunno,” I sighed. “I think maybe this is number seventeen, eighteen maybe? That’d be sort of funny.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m eighteen,” I explained, raising my head. “Birthday in the Birdcage. Didn’t know when it was in there, but that was back in September.”

  “Uh...hope it’s lucky?” Zeke offered a confused smile.

  “Me too,” I said flatly. “How are you doing?” His smile shrank and he held up a trembling hand.

  “Can’t stop,” he said. “It ain’t the cold, you know?”

  “Yeah, I do,” I said. “Glad you’re here though.”

  “Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he replied, smacking my shoulder.

  “Amaranth, get over here!” Weaver yelled, making me snap my head to look at her. She had her head cocked, staring at the sky.

  “Let’s go,” I huffed, pushing myself up. I unslung my carbine and gave Zeke a grim look. “Jack’s in play.”

  And Tattletale was nowhere to be seen.