Chapter Thirty
Every concentration of power creates its own opposition, whether that power is military, political, monetary, or social.
Opposition groups may or may not be violent, largely depending upon their aims and whether or not they believe the political
environment favors them. Citizen-militia groups existed previous to the Event, and their membership has grown in the wake of each
superhuman-caused disaster.
Department of Superhuman Affairs, Threat Assessment 10.4, Summary.
* * *
Lei Zi and Riptide didn’t even get directly involved, which was all to the good; Lei Zi could have stunned dozens, she was that
good with her control, and Riptide brought his own water-cannons to the fight, but both would have been hard on the crowd.
I found Artemis with Dane and the Bees. Annabeth sat on the bricks, shaken but looking okay, while Julie washed the blood off her
knees. Squatting beside her, Dane sported bleeding knuckles and the battle-light of his raiding, slaving, Viking ancestors in his
eyes. Megan’s open baton lay ignored a few feet away—she wasn’t stupid enough to claim possession of an illegal concealed
weapon in the middle of a police action. A couple of construction guys gave statements to an officer while others stood around.
I nodded to Artemis and kept going. I had an excuse; at the command center, I could hear Lei Zi yelling at Captain Verres.
“Why didn’t anybody tell us about the Paladins?” I’d never seen her seriously angry, and she had good volume.
“Ma’am,” Verres replied politely. “We had no idea they were in town.”
Now I wanted Shelly back for the virtual memory she provided. I vaguely remembered seeing a report on some anti-cape militia
groups. They met on weekends to train and prepare, waiting for the day when all of us capes decided it was time to openly take
over the government and the country and grind norms beneath our heels. No, really.
“And how could you people miss rocket launchers?”
“Ma’am, the team on the kiosk held cameras until they fired. Newsfeed timestamps show they didn’t fire until the Chicago News
helicopter spotted your pair on the Newberry Tower. We think their intent was to lure your girl in, then pot her.”
“Brilliant conclusion, captain.” She made his rank sound like a swearword.
“They’d have probably settled for any flying cape,” I said, stepping up. I made sure my voice was strong and I stood straight.
“Captain Verres. It’s good it was me—someone like Red Robin would have been… Well, yuck.”
“Astra.” Taking my offered hand, he returned a firm shake. He looked like his voice, completely bald, bull-neck, solid and
competent, and he gave me a quick scan. Under the dust and scorch I must have looked alright, because he chuckled.
“Glad it was you, then. Hate to have a hero go down on my watch.”
“Do you know anything about them, yet?”
“Only that they’re locals.” He rubbed his head. “The DSA hasn’t warned us about any local chapters, but both are in our
database for public disturbances. My guess is they’ve just been talk till now, and Shankman’s campaign pushed them into action.
”
So now we had a team of supervillains and homicidally paranoid normals with bad intentions. We were never coming off of Def-1. Lei
Zi must have read something in my face, because she exhaled and deliberately relaxed.
“I apologize for my outburst, captain,” she said. Then, quietly, “Astra, I’d like you to return to the Dome; we left no one on
watch.”
I looked back at the cleanup, nodded. “Thanks, boss. Captain.” He flipped me a salute as I took off.
* * *
Dr. Beth actually sighed when I walked into the infirmary. It hurt to peel out of my costume bodysuit (pretty much a loss,
miracle-weave or not) and my breath hitched when I raised my arms. He took one look at my scans and ordered me off patrol duty for
at least three days. And no workouts.
“Watch” is a joke; it’s not like the TV shows, where a superteam has a monitor room and they spend all their time watching the
news feeds and listening to emergency-channel chatter and waiting for Things To Happen. Dispatch plugged right into the Chicago
Emergency Dispatch System along with police and emergency services; we got our calls when a situation met a determined set of
circumstances. So being on watch just meant waiting—and training, studying, eating, sleeping, or catching up on paperwork while
waiting. In my case, catching up on schoolwork for the classes I wasn’t attending right now.
So I carefully showered and changed into a fresh costume, with one eye to Chicago News’ live coverage of the mess. Willis brought
me a sandwich and, in my room and mask off, I filed my after-action report, called Mom (I didn’t call the Bees; the way I felt
now, we’d have words), and then called the hospital to check on Chakra and had to reassure Blackstone I was fine. Apparently
Chicago News got a beautiful shot of my encounter with unfriendly fire.
And he said Chakra was awake! Which meant that now she could speed her healing with her own powers. Just hearing that made me feel
a million times better; Chakra and I didn’t have much in common, but she’d become kind of an older sister—an often embarrassing
older sister. Maybe an eccentric aunt? After that I settled in and killed time studying up on the Paladins.
Apparently their founder, Daniel Nathanial Allred, started the first chapter in rural Vermont just a year after the Event. The
report said they were mostly survivalists and weekend-warriors; they stocked food and weapons in their compounds against the day
when we took over, and did a lot of pamphleteering and online ranting. But a recent DSA report hinted that they might be
developing “action arms” (Gee, do you think?).
The rest of the team returned, and Lei Zi kept the debriefing short, reminding us to file equipment expenditures for used zip-ties
and such, and stood us all down; unless something major blew up—literally—all Dispatch calls would be shared among the Guardian
teams for the rest of the day. Artemis and I visited the lab to check on Shelly’s progress. The titanium-cased sphere holding her
“brain” looked, wow, just spherical and spherical. Vulcan had put up a screen with a task bar for non-geniuses like us to see;
the bar looked half-done, which meant about as much as a NASA launch countdown. Then we went up to her rooms. I cautiously
stretched out on her big bed and admired her panda picture. She’d had it professionally framed after moving in.
She stripped off her half mask and dropped her guns and gear before gently sitting on the bed beside me. Propping her head on her
knee, she looked me over. “So? Want to hear the skinny?”
“Just tell me they didn’t get arrested.”
“Not even Megan. Worst damage was Dane’s cut knuckles. Someone needs to tell that boy you don’t box without gloves.”
“Why?” I covered my eyes.
“Because teeth cut and you can break your hand on somebody’s skull.”
“No, why were they there? It’s not like they’ve ever had the urge to protest anything.”
“Well…” And I could tell she was smothering laughter. “I think it had something to do with being your friends.”
I puffed out a breath, giggled, and winced. I’d pay anything for a picture of Annabeth facing down those punks. “Okay, but this
has to stop.”
“Sure. How?”
Putting my hands down, I looked up at her. “I know you said our project has to wait—but we need to do something now. It’s like
… ice cream and murder.”
“What?”
“Every summer ice cream sales rise. So does the murder rate. Neither is causative but they’re related. It gets hotter, people
buy more ice cream and tempers get shorter. All of this—” I waived a hand vaguely. “It’s like ice cream and murder. Shankman
and this morning’s riot, it’s all really about Villains Inc. turning up the heat. Atlas always said we do what we do so people
would feel safe. They don’t feel safe. One big fight with lots of civilian casualties, and it’s all going to explode. We need to
turn down the heat.”
She closed her mouth. “That’s…actually pretty much what Blackstone is saying. Without the ice cream.”
“So why can’t we—”
“I never said we couldn’t; I said I needed information. Which I’ve got. I know where you man is hiding. We can go talk to him
tonight.”