Because of the War

Chapter Ten

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"Those horse-fucking, cum-gargling, carpet-munching dyke cunts!" a male voice roared in fury, shortly before the deafening noise of something large and metallic smashing through a wooden wall. While this would, theoretically, result in complaints from neighbors and a visit by law enforcement, it was safe to say that neither had a chance in hell of happening. Here, in the Trainyard core of Merchant territory, the only neighbors were other members of the gang. As such, while the power-laden tantrum of Adam Mustain, publicly known as the villain Skidmark, was witnessed and heard by many people, no one who was aware of it had the inclination to do anything about it except stay out of the way.

"Skiddy-baby, you need to relax. So what if a bunch of bitches are running around giving our guys crap?" his girlfriend (for want of a better word) Sherri Bailey, the villainous tinker Squealer, mumbled a bit listlessly from where her naked form was splayed out on a nearby couch, alcohol in hand and a needle on the floor next to her. "They're going to piss off Kaiser or Lung eventually and get wiped out without us having to lift a finger."

"The fuck you say?" Skidmark's voice was quiet and calm, too calm, and if she had been even slightly more sober, she would have heard the threat of danger in his tone. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't sober, and so completely missed the conversational cue before her.

"I said it doesn't fucking matter if they take out a buncha random pushers and thugs, we can always find more where they came from. Ain't like its hard to find recruits, and…"

Her words were cut off by a gasp of pain as an empty beer bottle smashed on her thigh with a sickening crack that resounded over the sound of the bottle breaking. As the Tinker tried to instinctively curl in on herself, a wail of agony escaping her, another bottle dislocated her left shoulder.

Fury driving cruelty, her lover followed in the wake of power-launched projectiles with his own fists and feet, an avalanche of abuse that overwhelmed her before she could even attempt to muster a defense. She lost consciousness a minute into the beating, but her insensate state did nothing to stop his assault. Bone cracked, skin split and bled, muscles were bruised and torn, and every moment hurtled her closer to death.

Then the door was smashed off of its hinges, black-armored and heavily-armored figures storming into the room with weapons raised high. They froze, shocked by what they were witnessing, before they moved forward to interfere. A power-flung chair smashed into two of them as Skidmark turned his wrath on the new-come intruders, and their comrades responded with a quick salvo of precise shots to his legs and arms, crippling him with accuracy that regular police couldn't have matched. As those still on their feet moved forward to secure him and stem his bleeding, a second team arrived, and Archangel looked around at the destruction before gesturing for Menace to help their comrades to their feet.

"Talon Squad, update." She barked at the first team, slinging her sniper rifle onto her back as she looked around the room.

"Ma'am, we breached to find Skidmark beating this woman. Fowl and Yasha got hit by by a chair he used his power on and we dropped him. No ID on the woman, but given her presence and state of dress we can probably assume she is Squealer, Skidmark's Tinker and paramour." Was the prompt response, and Archangel frowned as Morphine rushed forward to check on the unconscious Tinker.

"Ma'am, this damage is…he must have hit her with some objects he used his power on. Medispray is helping the external damage, but it isn't so good on internal bleeding, and judging from the looks of her she has a lot of that. We need to get her to a hospital now or she won't make it. Even then, 15% chance of survival at best, judging from her vitals." The medic responded, shaking her head as she checked the woman, one eye on her visor feed as her GREMLIN scanned deeper than her skin.

Archangel's mind raced. Squealer was a criminal, a villainess whose equipment had been the target of this raid, but she couldn't imagine leaving someone in this kind of condition, and she doubted that the Commander would support such a decision either. This also offered an opportunity, one to turn Squealer from enemy to ally. They just had to make sure that she lived through the night…

"Firebrand, priority evac to my position. Severe trauma on an unaffiliated individual." She said finally, coming to a decision. It was a bit of a long shot, but maybe she could pull this insane idea of hers off. "Talon, keep Skidmark alive until The Commander decides what to do with him. Any Merchant counter-attacks happen, wipe them out. Maintain this position."

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Amy Dallon jerked awake as her cellphone rang shrilly, the screen brightening her room from where is sat on her desk, and she pawed about clumsily on her sidetable. Her alarm clock told her it was barely two o' clock in the morning, and she wondered just who the hell would be calling her at such an hour. It wasn't Vicky, that was for sure, given that her sister was currently grounded from any non-school activity in either parahuman or civilian attire. Very few people had her personal number, and Dragon had done her a favor and made it impossible for anyone not on her contacts list to call her…

Slipping out of bed, she picked up her charging device and answered the call.

"Ms. Dallon, this is Archangel from Menace Squad, with XCOM. I need your help. I have a badly injured person here, severe injuries and internal bleeding. She won't survive to make it to the hospital, never mind surgery. I'm enroute in a dropship, can I count on you?"

"How did you…no, never mind. Yes, I'll heal whoever it is. How long until you get here?" Amy, now as awake as she had ever been in her life, responded as she pulled on a bathrobe and heading for the stairs. Her answer came in the form of droning jet engines and a flood of light that poured in through the downstairs windows. Ignoring the shouts of alarm and confusion from her family, she ran to the front door and threw it open, just in time to see a sleek VTOL setting down on the street in front of her home. Its rear hatch clanged open and a darkly armored figure came sprinting towards her as several others came out with a stretcher and followed hastily, but with rather more care given their burden.

"Get her inside where I can work properly! Have you notified emergency services?" she shouted to the first woman, whose name tag identified her as Archangel herself, once they were in earshot of one another.

"Yes! PRT and BBPD are busy with the situation we pulled her out of, but they'll route some people here as soon as they can! The Commander sends her apologies for intruding on your home life like this, but you're the only chance we have of saving her!" The sniper responded as the dropship, engines roaring, got airborne again. The pair of them were quickly stepping aside as the stretcher bearers rushed past and through the door, giving Amy her first glimpse of the patient. The blanket covering her body and the oxygen mask on her face did little to hide the enormous damage (blunt force trauma, if she had to bet) that she had sustained.

"What the hell is going on!" Carol demanded as the pair of them reentered the house, glowing energy forming a blade in her hands as she regarded the soldiers who had invaded her home. "Amy! What are you doing, who is this?"

"Mrs. Dallon, ma'am. Archangel, leader of Menace Squad with XCOM. We rescued this woman from the Merchants a few minutes ago during a raid on a central location. Attempts to treat her onsite with standard medi-spray failed to stabilize her condition. We didn't think we had time to get her into a hospital and operating theatre, otherwise we never would have trespassed both on your sleep and your daughter's off-duty time." Archangel answered respectfully but briskly as her troopers cleared Amy's path to the now-standing stretcher.

"You didn't have time. Her lungs are failing, heartbeat is thready. Three crushed ribs, shattered sternum. Ruptured bowels, spleen, and liver. Massive blunt force trauma. She wouldn't have lived another three minutes." Amy reeled off as she lay a hand on the woman's forehead. "She doesn't have the biomass for me to the repair the damage. Vicky, fridge! Anything you can!"

"Vanguard, Whisper, help her out." Archangel ordered as the blonde superheroine literally flew for the kitchen, the two women hastening to follow as her eyes turned towards the other waiting commandoes. "The rest of you, lockdown the yard. Keep the curious back until LEOs get here, secure your arms, and respect OpSec. You know the score. Move it."

They nodded tightly in acknowledgement, securing their weapons on magnetic clamps as they filed out the door, expression firm but not threatening as they spread out along the front walk to face the gathering crowd of pajama-clad onlookers and unpacking media people. Meanwhile, Vicky and her two helpers reappeared with arms full of various meat products, which were ripped open and dumped into a small waste bin that Vicky held for the healer as she continued repairing the damage as quickly and thoroughly as she could with the ticking clock.

"Who is she? Another kidnap victim, a prostitute that ran afoul of one of the Merchant pimps?" Mark Dallon inquired quietly from his place near the stairs, where he was carefully watching the goings-on without getting in the way.

"…neither. I am reluctant to say anything regarding her identity, but she is a ranking member of the Merchants and Skidmark was the one who almost killed her. If we hadn't arrived when we did she wouldn't have made it, and I can't speak to what The Commander will do now. Depending on whether Miss Militia can speak convincingly enough, Skidmark will either be in prison or a body-bag." Archangel said with a shrug, clearly undisturbed by the idea of summary execution.

"Excuse me? You're just going to murder a man? What the hell gives you the right to make a decision like that? How dare you…" Carol started, her sense of justice and accountability flaring at the very idea, but a sharp voice from the doorway interrupted her.

"With respect, Mrs. Dallon, your opinion on the matter is irrelevant. I admire your sense of justice and dedication to the law, and I say that without prevarication or exaggeration, but the time has long since passed where the current system works."

The room turned to the speaker, and the members of Menace Squad instantly stiffened to attention as they saw the armored, helmeted female form entering the building. She was tall and slim with hints of an athletic build showing through her kevlar, a golden XCOM emblem in lieu of a name-badge over her breast.

"You fail to understand that this city is a battlefield, one where the forces of good are heavily outnumbered and crippled by useless bureaucracy. Skidmark and his supporters, indeed any villain who has committed the crimes he has, are not civilians. They are unauthorized and unlawful enemy combatants, viable targets under the rules of war. And make no mistake, heroes of New Wave: this is a war, and Brockton Bay is a battlefield. One of many, and one of the worst."

"Commander, we weren't expecting you. Is your escort outside with the rest of Menace?" Archangel asked calmly, a flicking of one hand sending Vanguard and Whisper outside.

"I have no escort, Archangel, nor do I need one so long as your squad is here. I needed to see for myself the damage that Skidmark afflicted on someone whom he should have protected and cherished, someone who has rescued him from a well-deserved stay in the Birdcage many times, and remained loyal to him for so long." The shockingly, appallingly, and altogether painfully young Commander of XCOM responded, walking over to the stretcher, staring down at the still form on it. Glancing at the somewhat wide-eyed Panacea, she continued. "Will you be able to save her, Miss Dallon?"

"Ah…yes. However, even with the supplemental biomass, I had to use what little of her fat reserves she had and even some muscle-mass. She will have to be transferred to a top-of-the-line hospital and put on several nutritional IVs. A medical coma might prove necessary." The healer responded, blinking slightly at being addressed, before frowning slightly. "You are aware that…?"

"Yes, I know exactly who she is, which is why XCOM will be taking custody of her immediately, pending the final eradication of The Merchants." The Commander responded bluntly, ignoring the stuttered protests from the Dallon adults. "If we allow her to go to a normal hospital, the chances of her dying or being captured by one of the other gangs is enormous, given her specialty. This is impermissible. Archangel, we will be withdrawing immediately."

"Aye, Commander." Archangel acknowledged, lifting a hand to her ear as she continued speaking. "Firebrand. Foehammer. This is Archangel. Rendezvous at the Dallon household for immediate retrieval. Have a full medical team standing by when we land."

"Her specialty…are you saying that this is Squealer?!" Victoria shouted, grasping what some might have considered obvious at last and announcing it at volume.

"Victoria!" Carol snapped, wrath turning for a moment from the members of XCOM to her daughter who had just unmasked a cape with what seemed like half the city outside of the house. With any luck, they would have been too busy shouting questions over and at one another to have heard the teen's faux pas.

"While I wish you had been somewhat quieter," the Commander leveled a mildly reproachful look at Vicky, one that was impactful enough to have the blonde blushing and mumbling an apology despite the Commander's face being covered. "Yes, this is Squealer. I sent Menace and Talon to acquire elements of her Tinker-tech for possible reverse-engineering or inspiration, and they found Skidmark beating her to death. From what interrogation revealed, she voiced a lack of concern over the efforts of my people in weakening the Merchants. He…took offense."

The Commander regarded each of them in turn, body language radiating discontent and even rebuke as she contemplated them, and despite the fact that she stood within their own home, they couldn't help but feel unwelcome.

"You've always regarded the Merchants as unimportant compared to the ABB and E88, something to ignore unless a crime was committed before your very eyes. A superficially pragmatic view, given the threat posed by Kaiser and Lung, but you all seem to have forgotten that simply possessing less physical might than their rivals means little. They still commit great evils upon innocents, still kidnap and enslave through intimidation and inebriation, still perform the same vicious and cruel acts of violence. Her injuries," here the Commander pointed authoritatively to Squealer. "occurred in part because none of you were willing to crush the Merchants in their infancy or offer rehabilitation without contempt."

She sighed deeply, shaking her head as her entire presence seemed to soften slightly, a tinge of shame entering her voice.

"I know why you have restrained yourselves mostly to safer patrols or intervened only when necessary. You are all unmasked, some of you without any choice of your own," she tilted her head slightly to Amy and then Vicky. "and you lost a loved one because you were willing to do what was necessary to remove a threat to the city. I can only imagine the fear that you have over such a thing happening again, to your children or their civilian friends. It is easy for me to claim you should do more when I have the safety of a mask and an army of trained soldiers, but I ask all of you this question as I leave: what, above all things, allows evil to triumph?"

Then she was headed outside, her soldiers following with Squealer's stretcher as the howling, droning whine of the transports returned, their floodlights illuminating the street as the crowd shouted and jostled one another in order to get out of the way. The Dallon's watched as XCOM and their patient/prisoner loaded up and vanished into the night, somehow disappearing from the sight of every eye on them.

"What did she mean by that last comment, mom?" Victoria finally asked as law enforcement began to arrive and disperse the crowd, taking statements as needed.

"'The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.'" Amy told her softly, eyes still locked on where the transports had last been visible. "Edmund Burke said that, and he's right. She is right…"

Apparently lost in thought, the healer wandered up the stairs to take a thorough shower and clean herself of any contagions, real or imagined alike. She didn't notice as her adoptive mother stepped towards her in an effort to stop and speak with her, nor did she notice her father lay a restraining hand on one of Carol's arms. It was obvious to him Amy had been affected by the night's events and, especially, by the impromptu lecture the family had received. It was ironic, really, that the person who worked hardest to help the world at large seemed to take words not even directed at her so harshly. Maybe he wasn't the only one in the family that needed clinical help…

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"With all due respect, Commander, that was a foolish risk to take. You're not ready to move in the open yet, especially not in a situation as volatile as that. If the heroes had decided that they needed to bring you in for our activities, Menace would have been hard pressed to stop them without Talon, and you wouldn't have been able to deploy any further support from the Avenger." Central said into his headset, mindful of the tense atmosphere that permeated the bridge. "Compounding that, you let emotion over-ride judgment. Skidmark is an issue, and what he did is disgusting and reprehensible, but you allowed it to blind you."

He would never have spoken like this to a Commanding Officer back home, not publicly anyway, but with the intricacies of how Taylor communicated with those living 'inside' her, and given Taylor's permission to treat her as a 'shave-tailed louie' (a phrase that she had admitted to seeing in a movie) , he felt the circumstances allowed a bit of blunt honesty. In fact, he felt that the circumstances demanded some blunt honesty. Any soldier that allowed emotions to control them was as much a danger to themselves and their allies as those they fought, but when one who commanded armies did it, generations died and nations fell.

"No one should treat someone they love like that. He's supposed to protect her, cherish her. Not kill her because he was having a bad day!" the seething response was a hiss of fury, and he resisted the urge to sigh in somewhat fond exasperation. The Commander's parents had been, in all seriousness, the picture-perfect representation of every romantic cliché you could imagine. Dedicated to one another, fiercely in love, supporting one another without being burdensome, child-hood friends that grew up and married…yes, he could see why she might have a naïve and somewhat idealistic view of how a relationship ought to work. He could, and did, agree that Skidmark had violated all the most basic rules that defined a healthy, proper relationship and deserved punishment for it, as if he didn't already for his numerous other crimes.

"I'm not arguing that, ma'am, but that was a damn big risk. You can't save your city, never mind kill The Entities, if you take foolhardy risks because you got emotional." He said finally, checking his readouts as he shifted subjects. No need to push the subject too hard at the moment, not with her feeling defensive. "The trauma team is standing by, but are you sure you want to bring her in here? We have no idea if she can safely leave again, or how her 'shard' will react to being dragged in with her."

"It should be fine. Asaru said I can bring people in and out without hurting them. I mean, he says that I'll eventually be able to manifest you all permanently into the outside world, I just have to get stronger first. A lot stronger, but at least it is possible." She responded, accepting the shift with ill-disguised grace and gratitude. "Besides, maybe he can help me do something to her Shard, maybe separate it from The Entity. Might mean that we can let her design and build vehicles with heavy guns for us. God knows something like that could come in handy."

"I certainly wouldn't say no to some heavier equipment, especially when we start going after somewhat more sober and heavily armored or armored hostiles." He agreed, ignoring the somewhat-mumbled agreement from some of the bridge staff. "That being said, it could be dangerous for the Avenger if she decides not to play nice. Plenty of stuff in here she could use to make something nasty, and while I dont know what would happen if she started throwing tank shells around, essentially inside your head, I can imagine that it isn't good."

"Probably not, but then again once she is in the heart of my mindscape, I have total control over her environment. That should be sufficient to keep her contained, and if worst comes to roost, I think we can count on Asaru to step in. He needs me, gave me this power so that I could help destroy the Entities. I can't see him risking that." Taylor's tone was a bit too care-free, as far as he was concerned, given the subject matter involved both a narcotic-obsessed villainess and an Ethereal being within the very core of what was essentially her soul. It was true that she had a great deal of power here, and it was true that Asaru the 'Good' Ethereal was quite passionate, and probably honest, in his desire to see all versions of Earth saved from the predations of the Entities.

All well and good, but that didn't mean he wouldn't betray XCOM and their Commander after the Entities were dead, now did it? No, it most certainly did not, and Central Officer Bradford was no fool. He would use what allies, fair-weather though they might turn out to be, he had in order to accomplish the mission…and then he would be ready to deal with anyone who thought they could stab XCOM in the back and get away with it.

Straightening up, he informed the next ranking officer that they had the bridge and departed for the landing pad. He was going to oversee the transfer of Squealer into his custody personally, and then he was going to have a few words with Talon and Menace about how they should perhaps, in the future, creatively interpret the Commander's orders. An 'accidental' fatal wound on Skidmark, who was already marked for death or lifetime imprisonment anyway, would likely have prevented the Commander from revealing herself tonight. It most certainly would have meant less of a headache for himself and the rest of XCOM, as the Merchant's would have been functionally directionless, and therefore easy prey for mop up operations. Either those of XCOM or the local LEOs. He wasn't particularly fussy about which. Now, if Skidmark managed to escape Protectorate custody yet again, he would be on a warpath. God only knew how many innocents might get caught up in his path, and he would be relentless in his hunt for his Tinker.

He exited the elevator doors just in time to watch the two Skyrangers touching down, rear hatches humming open as the small craft settled onto their landing struts. The trauma team, waiting patiently to the side, hastened forward to take custody of their still-insensate prisoner/patient, rolling the gurney away with careful speed even as he moved forward. He glanced down as they passed one another, and grimaced unhappily at the shape the woman was in, even after Panacea's miraculous healing. Far too thin and gaunt, a grey pallor to her skin with eyes that seemed sunken in her skull. He did not envy her the recovery that lay before her, as even with the advanced medical technology XCOM possessed, breaking from an addiction and rebuilding one's body after years of it would be a long and arduous road.

Menace Squad was the first of the commando units to reach him, uninjured as they were, and he returned their salutes gravely before turning to look at Talon, who were approaching far more slowly given the three injured members of their number. He hadn't quite realized how hard Skidmark had hit them, and he decided that his lecture and their debriefing could both wait until after medical care, food, and rest. He also decided that, when the time came to deal with the head of the Merchant's, he would have Archangel or another sniper deal with him at long range. His commandos were good, very good in fact, but dodging power-slung furniture inside an enclosed space was obviously a difficult thing to do, and if he started throwing larger objects outdoors…well, he had no interest in helping The Commander compose Letters of Condolence or carry out military funerals. It would likely happen eventually, but the longer it took, the happier he and everyone else involved would be.

"Medics, food, and ten hours of sleep, all of you. We'll debrief and figure out how to handle the next engagement afterwards. You did a good job out there tonight, considering the circumstances, and you've earned the rest. Dismissed."

Another round of salutes later, and he was alone with his Commander. She looked somewhat sheepish, embarrassed that she let her emotions get the best of her, but she was equally unrepentant, and he shook his head at her slowly.

"Head home and get some sleep, Commander. We can discuss what went right, and wrong, during this mission after you get some rest and spend some time with your father. In the meantime, I'm going to have to run so damage control online, depending on how badly people take our actions tonight." He said finally, and she nodded and saluted before vanishing back into the real world. Quite how she could manage to be inside her own mindscape, physically, was mind-bendingly bizarre and defied any explanation he could come up with.

Sighing tiredly, he turned on his heel and headed back for the hatch into the Avenger proper. He had a lot of work to do.

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"I'm sorry Director, but we still can't track them reliably. Their transports have excellent stealth ratings and move too quickly for them to be followed manually or with the sort of drones we have on hand." The ranking Strike Team officer on duty said with a shake of his head, standing at parade rest before the ENE Director's desk. "Not to mention the fact that they must have some sort of EW system running almost constantly, because we have trouble even picking up the heat blooms from their engines. It might not be Tinker-tech, but it's definitely beyond anything we have right now."

"I'm growing tired of these people running rough-shod over the city, doing as they please with no regard for the consequences, but orders from on high are to leave them be until they do something overtly hostile against Protectorate or Response Team members." Piggot responded, regarding the somewhat over-full room with cold, unhappy eyes.

"Director, we should easily be able to push a charge of kidnapping and forced, illegal captivity. They did take who New Wave confirms is Squealer to their base rather than hand her over to law enforcement." Armsmaster suggested, but the Director shook her head with an air of distaste.

"We could, but it would probably cost us in the field of public perception. All they have to do is go public about why they took her and have Panacea verify the shape that she was in before being healed. They'd come out either as the heroes protecting and rehabilitating a badly abused junkie, or as soldiers holding a dangerous prisoner to ensure she isn't rescued or forcibly recruited. I'm sure that I don't need to remind you all that the civilians already think we are either too incompetent or too neglectful to keep the city safe." She responded, and the majority of the room made unhappy faces or noises of agreement. They had all heard the mocking jokes, the sarcastic remarks. Especially popular was the claim that the 'PR' in 'PRT' didn't mean 'Parahuman Response', but rather 'Public Relations'. It was unfortunate that so many had such a difficult time understanding the subtleties that the situation required, the wrangling and carefully-toed lines to keep the entire city from turning into a bloodbath.

"When can we expect Fletchette to arrive? I was surprised to hear that we were actually getting another Ward, especially one with her reputation and power-set." Miss Militia asked, diverting the subject for multiple reasons, not the least of which being that she had rather complicated feelings where XCOM and their activities were concerned. Feelings she had yet to truly confront or sort through, feelings that she was (shamefully) being deliberate about ignoring for as long as possible.

"Two more days for the appropriate groundwork to be in place for maintaining her cover and finishing any business she has in New York. She should arrive on the third day ready for duty. We've agreed that sending her to Arcadia with the other Wards is a security risk," Piggot responded, glancing down at a printed page on her desk, and the room nodded in agreement again. Having someone starting the new school year, after moving from New York at the same time a New York Ward was transferred, at the school the vast majority of ENE Wards attended…well, it wouldn't exactly be subtle would it? "and given that her grades are too good for Winslow, she'll be transferring to Immaculata."

"Vista is looking forward to having another girl on the team. She's been…rather vocal about it, as a matter of fact. One that is more personable than Shadow Stalker is a bonus. The fact that their powers could end up complementing each other fairly well is only icing as far as she is concerned." Militia added softly with a small smile, and there was a small murmur of amusement that seemed to flow through the room's occupants. The city's youngest Ward, and the most experienced, had grumbled more than enough about the shortage of girls in the ENE department for most of Brockton Bay to know her feelings on the matter.

"Is anyone going to talk about the fact that the Commander of XCOM is just a kid? I mean, she can't be much older than our Wards and she is, apparently, in charge of a highly-trained, near-Tinkertech equipped, untraceable paramilitary organization! Is no one else worried about that?" Battery's voice had slowly risen throughout until she was very nearly shouting, and Militia grimaced at the reminder of one of those details about XCOM she was steadfastly trying to avoid thinking about.

"Nothing we can do about it. Until our orders change, we're hands-off. All there is to it." Piggot responded with a slight throwing-away gesture of one hand, shaking her head to display her own unhappiness with the matter. "Fortunately, most of our analysts believe she is just a figure-head at the moment. Probably a hereditary position that she is being groomed to inherit from a parent that died in the field, and until she is older and more experienced, she has the title but not the rights or responsibilities."

That seemed to mollify the heroine, if only slightly, and with little in the way of fanfare it was determined there was nothing more to discuss. The meeting was disbanded, its various members moving to carry out other tasks or to head home as their duties demanded. None of them yet had any comprehension of just how much the night's chaotic events would change the fate of countless individuals.