“He stopped,” Weaver said, slowing her pace.

  “Great,” I said. “Let’s get moving and—”

  “Hold on,” she said, grabbing my arm. I snatched it away and shot her a glare.

  “We don’t have time to hold on,” I growled.

  “We don’t have time for you to get yourself killed again either,” she retorted sharply. “Something’s wrong, he wouldn’t stop running unless he reached his goal, right?”

  “All the more reason to hurry up.”

  “Amaranth, let’s wait,” Joy said, putting an arm around my shoulders. “Come on, the guys need a minute to catch their breath.”

  “Fine,” I huffed, shaking my head. “Do whatever you need to do Weaver, but do it quick.”

  The streets were quiet, but that only set me on edge. Five blocks from the bridge and we hadn’t encountered another clone. Either Jack was running out, or we were running into a nasty fight. In the distance, I could still hear lasers firing, and the dull ‘thud’ of tremendous impacts. Even if they weren’t here, the clones were still out and causing havoc.

  But we had to leave that to the other heroes, and Cauldron apparently. They didn’t want the Slaughterhouse Nine getting away with dozens of dangerous villains eager to butcher humans and parahumans alike. While they kept everyone else safe, we had to make sure they stayed that way for a little while longer yet.

  While we waited, I checked what little ammunition I had left. Three magazines for my pistol, three grenades, and six explosive charges in my bag. Once that was gone, I was down to my hands and my knife. Dangerous yes, but it could be even more so for me. If Jack had more Hatchet Faces around, it was going to be extremely dangerous.

  “Okay,” Weaver said at last, twitching slightly. “The Protectorate has cordoned Washington Heights. They’re not moving in, they’ve lost too many capes, but they’re going to make sure Jack isn’t able to escape.” A chill ran up my spine.

  “Firebombing,” I muttered.

  “What?” Joy said, eyes wide as saucers.

  “You remember, don’t you Weaver?”

  “I do,” she said grimly. “They didn’t say that was their plan, but they didn’t tell us last time either.”

  “Shit, you’re talking about what happened to the Docks, right?” Zeke said nervously. “You think they’re gonna do the same here?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” I sighed. “Means we need to move. We know it won’t work.”

  “It might,” Weaver countered. “They don’t have Siberian, after all. And there aren’t any Endbringer shelters nearby them. They’re exposed.”

  “Are you really convinced?”

  “No,” she admitted after a moment.

  “Tell them we’re moving in to confront them,” I said, pressing the slide of my pistol to make sure it was chambered. “And tell them it’s a hero team would you? Better odds they hold back.”

  “I...shouldn’t go with you,” Weaver said hesitantly.

  “Are you serious?” I demanded. “You’ve come this far, why the hell would you stop now?”

  “If, somehow, we succeed, Cauldron would have questions for me.” There was the slightest hum of agitated bugs in the air. “And if they don’t like the answers, people will pay.”

  “There’s a good chance they’ll die anyway if Jack succeeds,” I retorted. “Don’t be stupid, if Jack starts things off here, what’s to stop the Eastern Seaboard being the first thing destroyed?” It hadn’t happened that way in the story, but we were way off of anything there as it was. “Tell you what, you help us and I’ll put whoever they’re threatening under my protection.”

  “You can’t do a thing against Contessa,” Weaver said flatly.

  “No, I can’t,” I said with a shrug. “But I can air so much dirty laundry that they’ll never be able to do business again. They hurt your people, I ruin them.”

  “They’d kill you,” she said, cocking her head slightly, her tone oddly curious.

  “They’re welcome to try and try and try again,” I replied. “Oh, and if you tell them that little tidbit, that’s your life forfeit.”

  “I wouldn’t,” she said quickly. “No, they...they would find it too useful to let you get away. However I feel about you, I’d rather you weren’t enslaved as Cauldron’s reset button.”

  “Appreciated,” I said, relaxing just a bit. “So, how about it? Want to help make sure everyone survives this?” I stuck out my hand, hoping against hope she’d see reason.

  I meant every word. It didn’t matter what I had to do afterwards, as long as Jack was dead at the end of the day and Scion went along his merry way saving people. If that meant an eternal struggle against Cauldron, I could cope and seethe. They couldn’t stonewall me forever after all, not if Jack Slash and the Siberian couldn’t. The only question was: did Weaver believe me?

  “Okay,” Weaver said quietly, stirring slightly. She gripped my hand firmly and nodded. “Okay. I trust Tattletale’s judgment on this one.”

  “Even though she’s not here?” I asked dryly.

  “She will be,” she said firmly. “If she actually said that to you, we can count on it.” Well, she wasn’t trusting me but...

  “Then I’ll trust your judgment,” I replied, pulling my hand back. “So, killing time?”

  “Killing time,” Weaver agreed, drawing her Tinker-tech pistol.

  She spoke rapidly to the Protectorate as we regrouped and got moving once more. Hopefully they’d stave off their bombing campaign long enough for us to win.

  “Stop.”

  We froze, as we had more than a dozen times approaching the large square Jack had set himself up in. I resisted the urge to shoot a look at Weaver, it wasn’t like it would tell me anything. Instead I kept my attention outward, searching for anything that may be lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce.

  “What is it?” Joy asked quietly after a minute of tense, silent waiting.

  “Something’s off,” Weaver said flatly. “Counting two in the square. Jack and Grey Boy, going off their builds.”

  “Where’s everyone else?” I asked, frowning. “Bonesaw at least should be there, unless he split her off for a distraction but—”

  “I lost track of them for a few minutes,” she said, her tone neutral but with the faintest hint of embarrassment. “After they crossed the bridge, while we were fighting the Hatchet Faces.”

  “Ah.” That was...fair. “So, a bunch of MIA clones, plus Bonesaw. Less than ideal, but the Protectorate can handle them if they try to get out.”

  “And getting in?” Joy asked, making me click my tongue.

  “Exactly,” Weaver said with a nod, gesturing to the tall apartment blocks lining the streets. “I’m sending bugs through every building I can, but it’s a lot to cover. Lots of civilians who didn’t evacuate, but might be compromised now. Trying to sort it all out.”

  “The longer we wait, the more chance the Protectorate decides bombing is the right option,” I warned. “And once they do, that’s it. I may be fireproof, but I still need oxygen to breathe. No one else here can deal, and certainly not your bugs.”

  “And Jack?” she said, cocking her head. I just shrugged. “I’ll go as quick as I can, but it’s probably better I don’t rush.” I pursed my lips and looked up the road.

  “You got a spare radio?” I asked.

  “Why?”

  “I can go...demining,” I said slowly. “You guide me to whatever, wherever, and I see whether or not it’s a problem.”

  “Vetoed,” Joy said sharply, shooting me a glare. “You said this is as far as you’ve ever got. I’d rather you not have to do it all again, frankly. Not just for your sake, anything you find out there probably won’t be there next time.”

  “She’s right,” Weaver said. “Don’t throw away progress needlessly. If it comes down to it, you’ll know when to go back; or I will.”

  “You won’t know shit,” I spat, then sighed. “But fine, whatever. Do your sweep.”

  I settled down and kept watch, hoping Weaver wasn’t going to try and make good on her threat.

  The cold was finally starting to get to me. Miles of running and fighting through snow-clogged streets had bathed me in sweat. Now that we were sitting and waiting, I was fighting to keep myself from shivering. My team wasn’t in much better condition, unable to keep still, pacing the sidewalk trying to keep warm. The snow was getting heavier too, visibility getting worse. If the Protectorate really was planning a firebombing, how was the plane going to deal with these conditions?

  The answer was probably they’d go sooner than later. The minutes dragged like hours, every shadow seemed to jump at me, and the cold only got worse. If I didn’t know better I’d swear Winter or his Mannequin hybrid were nearby, but Weaver would definitely have noticed that...right? Surely. She was a Cauldron operative, and they wouldn’t tolerate sloppiness like that.

  Finally, after god only knew how long, Weaver made a sharp gesture for us to follow and keep quiet. She took us down a narrow alleyway, pistol raised. I kept my eyes moving and my weapon ready, the chill of the night forgotten. My heart was pounding, the hair on my neck standing on end, and it was all I could do to avoid trembling.

  I knew what was waiting ahead, and frankly I was terrified. Partly of failing and trying again, but partly… It was Jack Slash, leader of the Slaughterhouse Nine, the guy who’d seen that I’d become a villain long before it ever happened. Somehow, he knew me on a level that even I was only just coming to understand.

  Hopefully my marginal understanding of what I could really do would be enough to see us through.

  Weaver held up a hand and brought us to a halt just before the opening of the alley we’d come down. She turned to me and put her pistol in her belt, then rapidly spoke with her hands.

  ‘Two ahead,’ Weaver signed. ‘Glass-bird, Knife-dog.’ I couldn’t help but snort at the names. Simple, but understandable.

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  ‘I cut,’ I replied crudely. The basic book hadn’t told me how to say ‘kill’. ‘Stay here.’

  Weaver nodded and I gestured for Joy, Zeke, and J to stay with her. I took half of the remaining explosives and strapped them together for Hookwolf, leaving the bag with my team. A pistol, a knife, and a bomb against two people that had terrorized Brockton Bay. No pressure…

  Really, there wasn’t; I’d fought scarier monsters this round alone. I poked my head around the mouth of the alley and spotted them just up the block. Hookwolf looked like a regular guy, though I could see his metal skin churning under the streetlamps. Shatterbird hovered nearby, head swiveling as she kept a lookout down the boulevard they were on.

  Oh for a proper rifle, I could drop Shatterbird from here. No matter. I charged from the alley and straight towards them, my training from Crane coming in handy at last for keeping my steps as quiet as possible. Not silent of course, with fresh snow underfoot, but I’d made up half of the distance before Shatterbird finally turned and spotted me, shouting a warning to Hookwolf.

  She started to rise higher, but my trigger finger was fast and my aim dead on. I fire three rounds from my pistol and saw shards of glass burst from her armour, along with blood. She half-fell half-flew down to the street, then Hookwolf exploded into motion and gave me something more pressing to worry about.

  I threw my pistol behind me and hugged the charge to my chest, ducking my chin to meet him head on. His fist struck my head, whirling metal scraping against my projection and tearing longer bits of hair that stuck out. I pinched the detonators and shut my eyes as the bomb went off, blasting Hookwolf away from me and nearly throwing me off my feet.

  I didn’t hesitate to go after him. As soon as I’d recovered, I headed through the cloud of snow and smoke, searching for his remains. Bastard could reform from just about anything and— There. I pounced on a hunk of moving metal, trying to skitter away from me. Not wanting to waste any more explosives, I dug in with my hands, tearing Hookwolf to scrap piece by piece.

  It took nearly a minute, but when I was done there wasn’t a piece of metal moving in the street. I retrieved my pistol and moved up the road, searching for Shatterbird. I found her blood trail and followed it to a small alcove behind a building. She had her hand pressed to her neck and was breathing raggedly, until I raised my gun and finished her off.

  With shaking hands, I returned my pistol to my belt, its holster having become a casualty of the bomb used to kill Hookwolf. Weaver was already leading my team from the alley and gestured for me to come over. I jogged on knocking knees and offered a pained grin.

  “Okay,” I panted. God, that took way more out of me than I thought; or else I was coming to the end of my rope. “Next?”

  “Well, Jack probably heard that,” Weaver said. “Couldn’t be avoided, unless we wanted to use my holdout, and that has issues of its own.”

  “Your holdout...the Tinker gun?” I asked.

  “One of Hero’s designs,” she said. “Maintained for years at quite a cost. I expected to use it on a Crawler, but Nadir took care of them easily enough.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find someone to use it on,” I huffed. “Nadir, Zeke, J-Dog, you guys ready?”

  “Man shit I never thought I’d be going up against the guy that fucked our city after Leviathan,” Zeke said, gripping his gun hard.

  “Gonna be a crazy story,” J-Dog said.

  “Let’s make sure you live to tell it,” I said, offering a tight grin. “Nadir?”

  “Fuck,” Joy cursed. I could see her hands trembling. “This is really it.”

  “The real deal,” I said, my grin vanishing. “This is what it’s all been about.”

  “Everything?”

  “Everything.” I took a deep breath. “We’ve given up a lot, you’ve given up a lot. Sorry I have to ask for more.”

  “If you didn’t I’d still volunteer.” Joy pulled off her balaclava and shook her braid free. Her eyes shone warmly as she offered a nervous smile. “Besides, I was training to be a nurse. This is only a little more stressful.” I snorted and shook my head.

  “Let’s make sure you don’t eat those words.” I gave her a brief side-hug, then turned towards the square where Jack waited.

  It was time to find out what our future held…

  “There he is,” I muttered as we finally came into sight of our target.

  “Arrogant motherfucker,” Joy growled.

  He really was, standing out in the open at the top of a small hill with a staircase leading up to him. There was a tall obelisk behind him, some kind of memorial maybe? That’d be just right for someone like him, turning a place of remembrance into a battlefield. Despite the chill, he was in his usual collared shirt, undone to his navel. The monochromatic Grey Boy was at his side, bored judging by the way he was listlessly looking around.

  “Watch out for Grey Boy,” Weaver warned me. “Doesn’t matter what your power is, he can trap you in a time loop and torture you forever.”

  “Oh gee, what a terrifying concept,” I said sardonically. “Anyone else around besides them? Rather not get shot in the back.”

  “No,” she said. Like usual, she was staring off into space, her mind on her bugs. I tracked her gaze with idle curiosity and found she was staring at a tall apartment complex across the square, completely blacked out. “We’re alone.” I frowned.

  “So much for Tattletale,” Joy said, curling her lip. “Knew we couldn’t trust her.” For the first time since we started questioning Tattletale’s intent, Weaver didn’t jump to defend her.

  “That’s fine,” I reassured her, glancing between Weaver and the building she was staring at. “We never planned around her anyway. I have my team, that’s all I’ve ever needed.” I drew my shoulders back and took a deep breath. “Single file behind me. Zeke, confoam grenades?”

  “Ready,” Zeke said, patting his belt.

  “Good.” Only one of the handheld variety, but maybe we could stick the grenade rounds on a regular grenade for the same effect. We’d find out soon enough… “Let’s go, the world is waiting.”

  I took off running, pistol in one hand and knife in the other. I stood as straight as I could to block any attack Jack could send my way. As we approached, I saw him turn towards us, a vicious smile glittering in the lights of the memorial.

  “You finally made it,” Jack boomed. “And not a moment too soon. Really, what were you waiting for, Amelia?” I slowed our pace, wary. Weaver gripped the back of my vest, stopping me a few meters shy of the steps leading up to Jack.

  “An invitation,” I said, glancing around the square. It was empty, save for him and Grey Boy. The little bastard had an expectant grin on his face. “Awful stupid, sending your team away.”

  “They’re ensuring we aren’t interrupted,” he replied. “After all, I wouldn’t want us to miss it.”

  “You’re insane if you think I’ll let you win,” I snapped.

  “You know I heard the definition of that is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results.” His smile grew. “I always thought your precognitive ability sounded a little strange. Memories are formed from experience, after all.” An icy pit grew deep in my stomach. No, no. “Your fight against Siberian was all I needed to figure it out. You’ve done this before.”

  “I’m just that good,” I spat, trying to cover my horror with hate. “I’ve had a long time to get ready Jack, figure you guys out. You’re not half as smart as you’d like to think.”

  “More bravado,” Jack said, feigning a yawn. “Is that really all you’ve got left? I expected more than empty bluster, but no matter. I’ll make sure your friends experience all the pain life has to offer before the world ends.”

  Jack reached around his back and unlimbered a large sword that had been hidden from view. He swung it in a long, overhand blow, and I spread my arms wide to make sure I caught it. It was a simple, vertical slash that tore straight down the front of my vest. It did little to me but expose more skin to the cold; and piss me off that much more.

  He swung again and again, sending up showers of snow with the telekinetic blows. I weathered it relatively easily, more concerned with making myself as big a target as possible than fighting back. Weaver tapped my back twice, and I started moving slowly forward, pausing to take hits when need be.

  “Well this is more entertaining than last time,” Jack smugged, resting the flat of his sword on his shoulder. “You really were getting ready.”

  “Told you,” I said as we reached the steps that led up to the obelisk.

  “Well come and die then!” He spread his arms wide, then swung the sword at us.

  The banisters on the stairs were torn apart, and I felt the strike hit my knee. I heard a cry behind me, and nearly looked back before Jack started swinging again and I was forced to block it as best I could. Another cry. My team was getting hurt or...or worse. I couldn’t just sit here and take it. I wrenched my last grenade from my belt and tore the pin free.

  “Frag out!” I screamed, throwing it overhand towards Jack, then charging up the stairs.

  The moment I took a step, the stairs burst into a thick, purple smoke. I barely stopped myself from flinching as the clouds swirled around me, and I could hear the panicked reaction from my team. I yelled for them to retreat as a blow struck my face from out of the smoke. Who, what?

  A monster loomed from the dark, swirling clouds. It was reptilian, its skin a slightly lighter colour than the smoke that trickled from wide gashes on its arms. Vents. I raised my pistol and fired a round, but it ducked back into the smoke, out of sight. I stood still, carefully scanning for any sign of it. Who the hell was this?

  It didn’t matter, I just had to find and kill it. Fortunately the smoke was being kept out by my projection, but if I flinched it was over. Smoke swirled to my left, and I twisted just in time to catch a clawed fist to my face. I raised my pistol and fired twice, but the monster skipped away again like it hadn’t been hurt. Shit. And there was no way for the rest of my team to—

  The smoke swirled again, and two loud shots rang out to my right. I heard a body fall, and a silhouette loomed from the smoke. I raised my fists to fight, then relaxed. No need to fight a teammate.

  “You okay?” Weaver asked.

  “Just fine,” I said with a sharp nod. “You?”

  “Filters,” she answered the unasked part of my question, tapping her mask. “Your team is out of the worst, but I wouldn’t expect their help anytime soon.”

  “Shit.” If it was just us...we still had to try. “Let’s go then. Get behind me.”

  We headed up the stairs, the real stairs, through the thinning smoke. I felt blows raining down on me, and soon the air was clear enough I saw Jack hacking away at the air. His smile had shrunk, but he still had that air of confidence that practically defined him. Despite my earlier optimism, I couldn’t help but feel my stomach twist.

  The key, my team, was out of the fight. Worse is that it was entirely my fault, rushing desperately towards my objective without thinking, like always. Now I was forced into a slow, methodical approach towards Jack, without the weapon I needed.

  At long last, I took the final step up to the memorial, lungs burning. I glared at Jack hatefully, and purposefully drew my knife. I’d take him on his own terms, and when I beat him he’d—

  I yelped as I was shoved face down into the snow. There was a faint whistle overhead, punctuated by a loud scream I recognized as Weaver. I pushed myself up and brushed off my face, twisting around. My eyes went wide and my jaw dropped at the horrific sight.

  Weaver had been caught by Grey Boy, and was now stuck in a rictus of repeating agony, each cycle accompanied by a looping, pained scream. Next to her monochromatic torture was Grey Boy himself, face down in the snow, a hole in his skull slowly leaking pinkish-grey fluid mixed with regular blood. Jack looked equally shocked and twisted his neck around, staring at the building Weaver had been before the fight.

  I exploded into motion, a bellow of fury echoing through the square as I threw myself at him. Nowhere to go now, for either of us. He swung his sword and, though I’d usually take the blow on the chin, a pricking at my neck made me duck. Jack threw away the sword the moment he’d missed, drawing a long, thin stiletto with his off-hand. He drew a cut across my belly, and I jumped back as shattering glass echoed in my ears and my projection broke. Shit, I’d been right to dodge the sword.

  “Nice knife,” I said coldly, brandishing my own. “Think I’ll take it as a souvenir.”

  “Oh please, you can’t beat me,” Jack replied, rolling his eyes and twirling the knife in his hand. He took a few steps to his right, and I followed carefully. “Whatever training you’ve undertaken, you simply don’t hold a candle to my skills, and as you’ve seen I can take your life anytime I please.” I did my best to ignore Weaver’s screams and steel my nerves.

  “You’ll die trying,” I said with confidence I didn’t feel. “Like Grey Boy, like all your other cronies, you won’t live to see tomorrow.”

  “If I have my way,” he said, settling into a fighting stance. “None of us will!”

  He lunged, knife outstretched and pointing straight for my heart. I barely dodged, but still caught a glancing blow on my shoulder that made me hiss with pain, and made my ears ring with the sound of my projection shattering. I lashed out, ignoring the pain and aiming a backslash at his stomach. He skillfully twisted away, leering at me with a madman’s smile.

  There was another whistle, and Jack skipped backwards a step as an arrow split the air between us, scant inches from my nose. Another whistle and he turned, slashing three times in quick succession towards the building the shots presumably came from. There was the sound of shattering glass and he turned back to me, his grin widening.

  I took a step towards him, then paused as I caught a glint of metal flying through the air. A dull grey canister landed at Jack’s feet, and he looked down with a momentary flash of confusion. Then the confoam grenade popped and he was instantly covered up to his waist in stick, expanding containment foam. I turned my head just in time to see Zeke fall on his face at the crest of the hill, and ran over to get him.

  “Zeke,” I panted, grabbing his shoulders and turning him over. “Zeke!” He groaned and let out a loud, rattling cough.

  “Shit,” Zeke wheezed. His eyes were bloodshot, lids half-closed. “I get him?” I turned my head and saw Jack struggling against the foam as it expanded up to his shoulders, trapping him tight.

  “You got him,” I said numbly. It clicked in my head and my heart skipped a beat. “You got him, you got him!” I laughed, long, loud, and pained; but triumphant. “Holy shit Zeke you fucking hero.”

  “I try,” he huffed, then coughed again.

  “You didn’t get shit!” Jack exploded, his face turning a deep crimson. “You’re going to die screaming you little bastards!”

  “Come on,” I said, getting an arm under him and helping him sit, then stand. He leaned heavily on me, but I bore him easily, happily. “Let’s finish this.”

  “Hell yeah,” Zeke muttered through chapped lips.

  As we limped over to Jack, he was utterly apoplectic. He’d lost, and not even to a parahuman. It was unthinkable, as unthinkable as Zeke stuffing a glove in his mouth after five seconds of ranting and securing it tightly with a zip-tie. Zeke dug into the bag of explosives and pulled out the three remaining charges. As he lay them in the foam that had expanded up to Jack’s neck, I saw an emotion I was sure no one had ever seen in his eyes before.

  Fear.

  “Boss, do the honours?” Zeke asked as he finished his work.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head and offering a smile. “You know what to do.”

  He gave me a nod, then struck the fuses and half-limped half-jogged to the edge of the hill for cover. I stayed and watched them burn down, waiting for something to go wrong, for the fuses to burn out or the charges to fail or—

  BOOM!

  The sudden detonation made me flinch, and I felt bits of shrapnel sting the surface of my skin, then larger ones pinging off my projection. Gobs of containment foam were scattered around the square, peppering the memorial obelisk. When the smoke cleared and I finally saw the results, I couldn’t help but weep.

  It was finally over.