I burrowed my hands further into my hoodie's pockets. The mornings were still cold in March. Which meant that I kept my run short. The late night on the console yesterday hadn't helped either. At least I got exercise on patrols. Though that was less 'exercise' and more 'burning calories while trying to fix the mess the gangs leave behind'.
Regardless, it was cold, and I was bored.
What did I even have to do today? My homework was done, with a bit less effort than my first weeks at Arcadia but I think a gang war was fair reason. School itself would… just be happening. And I had patrol tonight, thankfully.
Being on console last night sucked. When it was a punishment and I knew I wasn't getting back out there for a while, I'd accepted it and done what I could in the moment. But since then I'd experience the fight at the bank. Then assisting firefighters. I'd… done things and I'd been ready to do more.
Sure, console was a good opportunity to pick up the rules and procedures and stuff. But I'd done that during my punishment. And (mostly) followed them when fighting the Undersiders.
But. But! I'd been far more effective against the Merchants and Undersiders when I'd done what needed doing instead of following procedures to the letter.
So, my time on the console last night had mostly been watching my team do things that I could be helping with and stewing. Ruminating. Musing. Contemplating. Meditating (frustratedly).
Ugh. Enough. Yesterday… was there anything I needed to – oh yeah.
Vicky had asked me to call her.
I didn't have her number. (And I sure as hell wasn't contacting the general New Wave line.)
Regretfully, my hands left my warm pockets and grabbed my phone from my jeans. I wished I was able to type onehanded like the other kids at school, but learning that skill had not been a priority compared to things like… being a hero. And other stuff.
Unlocking the device, I realised that this was the first time I was using it for something other than texting Missy. Which we really only did to organise stuff outside of the Wards base. Huh. But I had grown up without one. It wasn't like organising things without a phone was impossible. Just less convenient.
Whatever. I'd never been the kid to be glued to their phone – books were far more interesting. And now I didn't have to worry about social interactions. Not with my team anyway. So everything was fine.
I called Dean.
"Hey, Taylor, what's the problem?" He was [concerned].
"Just wanted to tell you to give Vicky my number at school today." He was still [concerned]. "Nothing's wrong."
"Oh." Silence. "I know what it looked like yesterday, but Vicky and I will be okay. She just needs time and distance to reflect a little." Dean's [longing/resignation/frustration] was accompanied by an underlying [confidence].
But I was confused. Why was he talking about him and Vicky? Wait. Maybe he felt awkward about going up to her.
"If things are awkward, I can do it."
"It'll be okay. I appreciate your help, but our relationship is just like this. We'll be fine in a few days." Dean [reassured].
Wait… did he… ugh.
"No, I just don't have any reason to approach her out of costume. It's easier for secret identity stuff if you do it."
"Oh. Right." Dean said [abashedly].
In the pause afterwards, I rolled my eyes. I didn't have experience with boys in the way that most teenage girls (Emma) probably did, but it seems that some aspects of the stereotype were accurate. Although, I couldn't quite put my finger on which aspects.
"Well, thanks for talking to her yesterday. Vicky's taking university courses for a reason, but I'm not into the power science stuff. And most people just see blonde hair and superstrength." Dean had recovered from his misinterpretation. And his summary of Vicky was fair. It was what I'd seen before the bank fight anyway.
My left hand was cold from holding the phone.
"Well," Dean eventually continued, "see you at school!" He consciously focused on a few positive things to ignore the momentary [awkwardness].
"Yeah. See you at school."
I hung up.
Phone calls were still weird.
Being a normal teenager was weird. Relationships were weird. I mean, I wanted one. It'd be nice, having that specific person. But no one would want to date me. And things were so complicated. Like, Dean was nice, kind, attractive enough. I could see what made Vicky and Missy like him. Maybe?
It didn't matter. I had more important things to focus on. Appreciating muscled Puerto Ricans (and muscled and smart blondes) could come… Later.
After my city wasn't a cesspool.
I shoved my cold hand into my pocket and examined my body-sense while waiting for the bus.
[>[>/^\<]<]
Lunch was half an hour away. I was tired. Not bored, because today's Information Technology class had us playing with the website code language that PHO used. It was really interesting to see how messages were added to threads and how private messages were functionally just another board post made private between two people.
But. Interesting things aside, this topic was just introduced. So the assignment was to perform a checklist of functions – basically easy experimenting with pre-written code.
And I was feeling my late night on the console. (And lying awake in bed thinking about how bad things were happening and good things weren't.)
Honestly, with the state of the city at the moment, was it even worth it for me to be here? Not to mention the rumour going round that they might close the schools this week.
Which was fair. None of the students were focusing on anything actually class-related in class. Even the people who lived under rocks and didn't know about the gang war on Friday knew about it now. And people were talking about news reports about Lung and the Empire before school and in the corridors.
Hell, Ms Hurst had abandoned the lesson plan halfway through English earlier today. Half the class had been blatantly talking about what had happened over the weekend rather than the chapter that we were supposed to present in small groups on Wednesday.
Ms Hurst had grown up in Brockton Bay apparently. And had just finished college when Marquis was arrested. So, she had a point about crime lords seeming untouchable until they're not.
And another point about the Protectorate being able to fend off the gangs. "Lung seems stronger than any villain this city has faced so far," she'd said, "but the heroes held him off when he first arrived, and they've kept him at bay for the past five years. I'm sure Armsmaster will invent something. And if that doesn't happen then the Triumvirate will come in."
That seemed to reassure the class. Which… I didn't really agree with. But also, I did.
The Protectorate could make Lung back down. But how many people would he hurt in his rampage? And Armsmaster could invent something. But it'd been 5 years and he hadn't yet.
And in all my research, I hadn't found any instance of the Triumvirate coming here. They were the greatest heroes the Protectorate had. Internationally renowned. Always dealing with issues. In other places.
It honestly felt like my city was isolated. Cut off. We had our gangs; we had our heroes. No one came to Brockton Bay willingly. But people would leave thanks to this current war.
So, Ms Hurst had logical points. The Protectorate would act. They would win, if things really came down to it.
I just really didn't like imagining what we the people would lose before the PRT decided enough was enough.
I sighed. Blinked. Refocused on the checklist of functions I had to build on this dummy website. Refocused on my body-sense. Refocused on my team's emotions.
My team was [calm] even if slightly [discontented]. My body was regulating everything as normal, though something I instinctively – but vaguely – understood as my stress response was elevated.
Right. Slow breathing. I should be doing that. More of that.
My assignment was coming along fine. I could prompt the code to produce another page that I could adorn with header bar, title, and section for main text. It would be nice to have this all done automatically. But I supposed we'd be learning how to make different layouts or styles later so learning the slower way was probably faster in the end.
I absentmindedly noticed a static-person walking along the corridor towards my classroom as I was copying the standard text into main text section so I could code the paragraph breaks and make sections bold or italic or different colours. And this would end up really ugly from a visual perspective, but I guess that's what showcasing every basic text code in one area looked like.
The static-person opened our classroom door, peeked in with some vague static head movements, then knocked on the door frame. "Miss Hebert?"
I looked up. One of the school's secretaries. I immediately started saving my work.
"Could you please come to the front office? Your father's work called." The secretary sounded sombre.
I shut down the computer and started gathering my things even faster. There was a very low chance that my father was actually in danger, since this was my code for a Wards emergency. I'd bet that the secretary would be heading to my teammates' classes after this.
The IT class was looking at me as I got up and walked out. No one said anything, but I knew there would be whispers. (There were always whispers.) But with the circumstances, hopefully people would wonder about the gang war enough to ignore any hints around my secret identity.
Sure enough, the secretary told me to see the vice principal and walked off further into the school. The corridors were empty, which made going to the special teacher's bathroom instead simple.
God… or Scion, or… ugh, whoever. It had only been 4 days since I'd last been in here. Paradoxically, I wanted to be called for emergencies more. But I didn't want more emergencies to happen.
I just wanted to help.
My mental map showed a static-person walking towards this 'bathroom'. My team was all [alert], [worried], and [ready].
I warped to my locker, punched in my code, swapped school stuff for my costume. Warped to the women's change room that I got all to myself.
As I pulled off my hoodie, new-but-still-drab shirt, and new-but-still-probably-unfashionable jeans, I noticed three static-people entering the room. I heard my male teammates talking – inaudibly.
The second my costume was on, I warped back to the main room and shoved my clothes into my locker. Then grabbed the non-tinkertech version of my visor that would be swapped to the real thing on our drive to…
Whatever the emergency was.
I checked my phone. A non-alert email about ABB goons being supplied with tinkertech. Okay. That meant that Carlos would have an email explaining what the emergency was.
The boys' emotions had been drifting between [scared] and [ready] ever since they'd went into their changeroom. Which probably meant that Carlos had told them what was up.
After a short wait that was only half-agonising, my team (minus Missy) joined me. The sight of everyone standing in costume was still impressive – even if Dean was only in his under-armour.
"Seneschal, you're here." Carlos said.
"She's always early, what did I say?" Dennis – Clockblocker chuckled.
Aegis ignored him. Gallant's expression didn't outwardly change, but he was [amused].
"The ABB tinker has revealed herself. 'Bakuda' has armed the ABB with grenades that…" he pulled out his phone. "I'll read the list on the way. But they're non-conventional explosives. Every ABB member with any grenade must be treated as an unknown explosive blaster."
Shit.
Every member? Of course the villains were able to make deadly tinkertech weapons quickly.
I groaned. Aegis nodded. Dennis pursed his lips. Dean said, "we'll get through this. What's the deployment?"
Dean and Dennis' mood picked up at his words. Aegis merely got more [focused].
"Vista and I are with firefighters. The rest of you with the ambulances."
[>[>/^\<]<]
"He's gone." I told the paramedic.
They stopped performing CPR and stood up. Glanced at me, then down at the ABB ganger who just died in front of us. The paramedic jogged back to the ambulance.
Someone in a neighbouring apartment building had dialled 911 when they heard a weird explosion. We'd got here a minute ago to find the exploded building collapsed inward with the back walls and a few concrete rebar struts still standing. The lack of smoke or rubble strewn across the street made more sense when someone ran up to me and said that a black hole had appeared and 'eaten' the building.
With most of my focus on my mental map, I'd explained to the person that I couldn't talk because I had to help save lives.
There had been three lives to save. Most of the apartment seemed to be at work, thankfully.
One young woman was buried near the back and top. I'd warped up there and used my mental map to shift the wall fragments and furniture so she wouldn't get crushed any further. She'd been wearing an old-fashioned apron that was partly stained with some kind of batter. I'd picked her up and found a mostly stable path to the back fire escape.
Meanwhile, the paramedics had dealt with a tattooed man with a shaved head. Who'd had a bunch of cuts and slashes. And two knives in his back. The paramedics had pulled him out from where I pointed before warping to the woman. They'd bandaged half his body but had to cauterise the knife wounds due to how they were placed. Or something.
All I knew is that I'd heard "Cauterising!" Then a sizzle. The man's static shape had jerked on my mental map. More shouting from the paramedics. Then his body wasn't made of static anymore and I could tell the exact depth that the knives had cut into him.
After two of them had run to take the woman from me, I'd warped over to the ABB ganger. Who honestly looked like he was accidentally pulled in by whatever gravity-implosion-black-hole nonsense this grenade was.
Like the gangs were so ready to destroy the city they didn't care if they hurt themselves in the process.
There was blood pooling around his head. The paramedic had rolled him over and quickly declared his heartbeat 'weak'.
Which brought me back to now. The ABB ganger had blood all across his forehead, a broken nose, and was just generally… wounded. I hadn't seen any of the Merchants after I stopped Squealer's tinker-truck but I imagined that this wouldn't look too different from a…
…car crash. Injury.
On my mental map, the ganger was revealed in lengths of relative distance and shapes and I'd already seen dead bodies this afternoon but…
I couldn't help but wonder what Mom had looked like when the ambulance got to her car. Couldn't help but… if I'd had powers then then I could have….
Focusing on my body-sense was better than my mental map at the moment. I was hyperventilating. My brain releasing neurotransmitters to… do stuff. Aegis' power didn't quite allow me to panic or go into shock. My body did whatever it would normally do, but then it adapted to perform optimally under those conditions.
So, despite this being my thirteenth dead body for the day (and reminding me of Mom being gone), I was able to… keep going.
I warped back to the ambulance.
I knew the paramedic hadn't done everything they could to save that ganger. Maybe had even helped him die.
Which was definitely against some kind of code.
But as the paramedics got the young woman settled in the ambulance, I understood. The gangs weren't even abiding by criminal rules now. They were destroying our city. In broad fucking daylight. We didn't have to be nice in return.
It all came back to bullies. The gangs weren't scared of the 'teachers' anymore, so they did whatever they wanted. Treated my city like their personal playground. And I knew, I knew, that being nice to bullies resulted in nothing but them pushing harder. For people who… get off on the power of it all, giving them any second chances or slack in the rope just meant that they'd keep going until they found the boundary.
A paramedic called out in thanks as the ambulance drove off.
I turned back to the imploded building and felt tense. I needed to do something else. There was nothing left here for me to do. Where was the next area?
I toggled my mic. "Console, this is Seneschal. Finished up on Mill St, anywhere else you need me?"
My comms beeped. "Console here, we can send you to –" The PRT dispatcher cut off.
I waited. My body-sense showed me how tense my muscles were.
It'd been three hours since my team had been first sent out from the PRT HQ. Each going to a different part of the city and helping with any emergencies nearby. Except Dean, who had been sent to the hospital and been given permission to use his power to keep people calm.
Oh. I was also hungry. That's right. I hadn't had lunch. Were there any shops around? All the heroes kept cash in a hidden pocket. PRT policy: best for the heroes to be altruistic and not steal if they need something. And maybe so that if a villain did utterly defeat you, they might be happy with a few hundred dollars in exchange for your life.
"All Wards, this is Console." The dispatcher was back, sounding… I didn't know what their tone meant. "The Protectorate have confirmed that Kaiser and Krieg have killed Oni Lee."
Oh fuck.
"Which is what caused the ABB's attack today. Lung was spotted on Hill Road moving into Downtown. The Director wants you all to help the firefighters contain the edge of the blaze and evacuate civilians. She would call you back to HQ, but the Protectorate are needed to contain the fight and other disturbances elsewhere." A pause. "Gallant and Clockblocker, a van will pick you up. Everyone else, you'll have to make your own way there. Meeting point sent now."
A little pin appeared on the map in the corner of my visor's HUD.
I… slowed my breathing down. It had gotten inefficiently fast. I felt a little dizzy. Like when you stand up too quickly.
Oni Lee was dead?
The villains were actually killing each other?
This was… oh god, Lung was out for revenge, wasn't he?
Breathe. Focus. Calm down. Gah! Come on Taylor!
I had to get myself together. The Protectorate was busy saving lives, now us Wards had to help too.
My mental map had expanded enough in the time I'd been here with the paramedics that I could warp atop a nearby roof. Warp again. Another roof. Another warp. Each step closer to the pin on my map where I'd meet the rest of my team.
…
…
…
Okay. I was moving. Doing something. Now I could think about the update.
Lung was going after the Empire. Big time. He wanted revenge. Some of the Protectorate would be trying to stop him. They'd have a bunch of new tricks from my boost. And they were all seasoned heroes.
They would be fine.
Miss Militia's comments from yesterday returned to my mind. Our job as heroes encompassed all the different roles that first responders had. So, if the Protectorate are containing the fight – or fights – and arresting the villains, us Wards had to put out the… fires.
Okay. Okay. We could do that. Especially when working as a team. Our job was to evacuate civilians and help firefighters. Aegis, Gallant, Clockblocker, and I could focus on the civilians. As and after Vista and I found them. Clockblocker and Vista could keep things contained and safe. Gallant takes care of everyone who is rescued – and his armour could surely handle holding a firehose. Aegis with Kid Win for the dangerous rescues and as eyes in the sky.
And once the people were clear, Vista would do her thing. She'd told me about it I'd seen it last night on console. It was like she was a whole firefighting team herself. Or a whole rain front. Regardless, my [friend] was cool. And creative.
That was a good strategy. Aegis would probably add to it, but for now it was enough.
Now I could think about Oni Lee.
A man who'd been terrorising the city since Lung had brought him into his gang. A teleporter who left clones behind. A serial suicide-bomber. Suicide-stabber. I'd thought about his tactics before; a relentless and overwhelming barrage of blows from every side.
How did he die?
He'd been fighting the Protectorate and the Empire (and the Merchants, probably) for years. One of only two ABB capes who'd held their ground against the Empire's twelve.
Kaiser and Krieg had killed him apparently. The Empire's leader and his top lieutenant. Kaiser could summon metal objects from his surroundings. His power was fast, had a large range, and he was creative with it.
Krieg was listed as a brute, but the PRT's internal files said that he had more of a shaker-like field around him where enemies would be slowed down and ranged attacks deflected or dispersed. Armsmaster had even noted difficulty breathing after duelling him for longer than thirty seconds. And the brute classification came because he could punch people through walls.
Individually, Oni Lee could run rings around them. Krieg's field might defend him from grenades and Kaiser might be able to construct defences, but they wouldn't be able to launch a counterattack by themselves.
Together though.
Kaiser can control the battlefield. Hem Oni Lee in. No, that's a bad approach, if he escapes then he just focuses on Kaiser while Krieg has to get himself out.
Maybe… Krieg was bait. He can defend himself, especially if Oni Lee and his clones are slowed down inside the field. Then Kaiser just has to watch until Oni Lee overcommits and…
Yeah. I could think of lots of ways to kill someone quickly with Kaiser's power.
Okay. The lesson. Teleporters aren't invincible. No one is invincible. Be aware of your surroundings in case it's a trap.
My mental map would give me an advantage there, but if I never expected a trap, then the first one someone sprung on me would be dangerous.
But there was an idea. Could I work with my teammates to make traps for people we were fighting? Who would expect the heroes to set traps? They were heroes after all.
Hmm. It would have to depend on who we were fighting.
Okay. A plan for now and for the future.
I was okay now. My team was all a bit [tired] and [worried]. But okay.
[>[>/^\<]<]
"Sir, I need you to evacuate to the other side of the street."
"Yes ma'am, there are parahumans fighting, you need to get somewhere safe."
"Kid Win, I have a family, can you help the children?"
"To the other side of the street sir."
"I can't promise your house will be safe, but if you move now, we can focus on putting the fire out."
"The Protectorate are fighting Lung, I'm here to make sure you're safe."
"No, the fire is spreading. Head to the other side of the street."
"Come on, down the stairs, I'll help you – Aegis, I've got an old lady."
"Sir, your computer is less important than your life."
"Ma'am, no. Ma'am. The other side of the street."
"Please take photos of the fire when you are safe."
"I actually blame both gangs for this conflict. Now get across the street."
"Please evacuate to the other side of the street. We're trying."
"The Protectorate is fully mobilised, and the other Wards are all helping just like me. You need to evacuate."
And on it went.
Myself and my teammates, getting a whole street's worth of people far away from the fire that was lighting up the sky on the other side of the block.
The firefighters had been evacuating people mostly by loudspeaker, so Vista and I had located the stragglers and directed the other Wards. Gallant was talking to the gathered crowd of scared civilians. Aegis and Kid Win had helped get the old and young to safety as well as keeping an eye on the fire. Most of the homes were empty, but the groups of kids with college aged babysitters and retirees weren't really able to quickly escape if the fight did move in our direction.
We were far away enough from the fight that there wasn't immediate danger – everyone closer had got out before we arrived.
But bursts of flame did shoot into the sky. And beastly roars split the late afternoon air.
Clockblocker had gone to the hospital at the end. He'd been [frustrated] and [resigned] about it. More than I expected actually. But his power really was second only to Panacea's for making sure the number of injured didn't feed into the number of dead.
The firefighters beckoned us over. Time to start containment.
In two condensed steps, Vista moved us up to the next intersection, then right up the road till we were near the firefighters working on the blaze.
There was a sharp divide from one side of the road to another. In the block where Lung was fighting, smoke drifted into the air. Some houses still smouldered. The fire trucks were up one of the larger lanes, where buildings were burning.
My mental map expanded over the new area. I warped atop one of the trucks to let it expand faster. And to see what we were facing.
From the PRT dispatcher's updates – relayed from the Protectorate and firefighters – this part of the block had been where the fight started. As the relative distances became known to me, it was clear that while fire had done the most damage, there were clear instances of collapsed walls and gouged pavement. Metal spikes and walls, mostly melted to cover the pavement in iron like some weird abstract art piece.
Half the buildings looked… okay.
A quarter needed serious renovation. And some salvage work to remove Kaiser's impromptu additions.
The rest were ruined.
Gutted.
Already demolished.
Aegis flew to hover next to me. "Anyone they missed?"
"No." My mental map was showing all the details of the destruction, but no static-shapes of life. None that weren't behaving like firefighters anyway.
"Alright," he turned on his mic. "Vista and Kid Win, you're good to start dousing the flames."
"On it." Kid Win was [impatient] and [excited] to try his new invention.
"Can you get everyone back towards the trucks? There's some interference." Vista was [ready]. For what specifically, I didn't know. But we shared the same mentality about being done with this needless conflict.
Aegis and I moved forwards. I told the farthest out firefighters to return as Aegis quickly convinced whoever was in charge. Thankfully, we'd worked with them enough for the past three days that they didn't obstruct anything.
Kid Win started attaching half of his new invention to an unused fire hydrant. He'd only just gotten the thing approved earlier today. Piggot had blatantly rushed it – even ignoring that it was definitely a new item, not an upgrade module for his switch suit.
The half on the hydrant was set up in a minute. I knew the power wouldn't last very long. The torso sized box was effectively a portable fuel source for the other half of the invention. Which was cannibalised from the last of what he'd been working on before I joined. Whatever his 'Alternator Cannon' would have ended up as, its parts now comprised of his suit and what Clockblocker had nicknamed the 'Waterporter'.
"Everyone's clear!" Vista reported. She had stretched one of the mostly-fine buildings into a tower she could look down from.
"Alright. Console, Vista is beginning rain front."
"Confirmed."
I didn't roll my eyes at Aegis adopting a version of combat protocol despite us fighting fire – not a supervillain. But Vista was already doing her thing.
Twisting the air in front of the firefighters into what looked like a non-Euclidean whirlpool. The spirals went…
Yeah, I wasn't going to try to comprehend it. My mental map could feel how the distances were… not being changed… but changing position. Anyway, I knew that when Vista was done, anyone spraying a hose into that whirlpool would have the water ending up in an area that was now upwards and then it would go through a few more contortions until each hose's spray was dispersed above the block.
In short, water went into the broken physics, and Vista made it rain.
Diagonally. Inwards from a curve. Because why not optimise your personal weather event?
Kid Win flew above Vista's physics twisting and the second half of the 'waterporter' built itself out of teleported-in pieces. His hoverboard stabilised him as what was effectively a firehose targeted anything that was particularly on fire. His invention was ingenious in its simplicity.
It's difficult to fly with a hose connected to a hydrant, so get rid of the hose. Thus, a module that filled fuel tanks from a fire hydrant then teleported them into the hose section where they were used and teleported back.
I was proud of my teammates. Aegis actually said the sentiment over comms, but that was his style. I knew Vista was [concentrating], so I'd talk to her afterwards. I wouldn't join her on her spindle-tower for the same reason.
But I would like to see what was happening.
"Hey guys, I'm going to scout around the edges." I said over comms.
My mental map let me warp to safe areas, moving around the outside of Vista's constructed weather event. Knowing distances didn't give me inherent knowledge of which buildings were safe to warp onto, but I managed to find stable balconies and rooves to traverse the burnt block.
Because most of it was burnt. Even skirting the edges of where Lung had been fighting, there were charred sections where firefighters had contained things initially and the occasional smouldering crater where one of Lung's fireballs had impacted.
It really felt like he got the title of 'most destructive cape' and decided he needed to start making yearly records. I suddenly imagined Lung reporting to some board or council of ABB people about how destruction was at an all-time high. Then I felt bad for finding anything related to this funny.
I wasn't just warping through a cape's playground. These were homes. That people lived in. And thanks to Lung, half of this block would need to find somewhere else to live.
Along with all the other people whose homes had been attacked in the past four days. Fuck.
Something needed to be done.
A few more warps and I was past the edge of Vista's curved field. I turned and looked towards the smoke and glow of orange red that was flaring under the blue afternoon sky. It looked like – what did that Earth Aleph TV show call them? Hellmouths?
I may not have focused on all of the popular culture that my classmates did, but this definitely looked like hell.
I warped atop a taller building. Taller in the sense that part of the roof was still standing.
There was something in the fire. Orange and red interspersed with bright flashes and beams of white.
There was a dragon. Three stories tall. I could see it because a single sweep of its tail would knock down a house. Because each beat of its wings forced the smoke to clear. Because the fire it breathed was so hot resulted in an effect that was like lightning in a rainstorm. Momentary glimpses of a silver scaled beast amid the flames.
It jumped upwards, wings beating. No. That was flight.
Lung's wings blasted the whole cloud of smoke and ash and embers back towards the ground. I could feel the air shifting from where I stood. Looking.
A screaming roaring yell.
The dragon had been speared through the chest by a shining steel spike. Shit. That spear was bigger than me!
Lung roared again, white fire spilling from his mouth – which clearly opened wrong, I could see from even from this far away. Then he broke the spike in two. With one arm.
And dove back into the localised hell that the gangs had unleashed upon my city.
I felt like sitting down. On this half-standing roof.
I really wanted to just… not have to deal with that.
Because I couldn't do anything. Not against Lung. And probably not against Kaiser if the Hitler-wannabe was good enough to fight Lung for more than a minute.
My eyes itched. I finally blinked. Couldn't remember when I'd stopped.
Things sucked.
Big time.
But I had to keep going. Working. Struggling. Fighting.
I finally understood why the Protectorate thought containment was important. Why they didn't try to drive Lung out once and for all.
He was just too much.
But that was his power. In a way. You couldn't fight him.
Which meant that when he sought out fights, when he stacked the deck by ensuring that you had to answer his violence with violence… Then the 'might makes right' philosophy worked.
He could do whatever he wanted. Because you couldn't stop him.
And the Empire. They could do what they wanted because you couldn't stop them.
I stood up. Began warping back to my team.
My mind was racing. Miss Militia's advice; from yesterday, from the training last week. The gangs. Powers. Being clever with your power. Having all the roles of first responders.
Everyone had a weakness. Every power had a counter. Even Grey Boy – the sadistic child who could loop time. No one could defend against him, and he could defend against anyone.
He had died. Because the Fairy Queen's power worked differently.
I was a hero. Heroes had all the responsibilities of firefighters, of paramedics, of police.
Lung was too strong. You couldn't beat him.
The Empire were too many. You couldn't beat them.
I was a hero. I had my team. We could fill the role heroes needed to in many different ways. You can't beat Lung, so you beat the ABB. You can't beat the Empire, so you beat individual capes.
My breath was regular, but adrenaline was burning through my chest and chilling my fingers. I was nearly back to my team. We would discuss this. Talk. Plan. Strategize.
And then we would begin to –
"Wards, this is Console. Protectorate have reported that Lung is disengaging. Krieg has been killed and it seems he's satisfied."
[>[>Peasant<]<]
Alyse was worried about Taylor. She'd transferred to Arcadia from Winslow of all places and… been a little invisible.
Her friends had asked about the new girl, because Alyse was the only person who was in the advanced English class that Taylor had joined. But beyond the fact that Taylor was new, there just… wasn't anything to say.
She was smart – when she answered. She didn't pay attention – or she didn't look like she was. And she never talked to anyone.
Like… anyone.
Alyse had figured out that Taylor spent most of her lunches in the library. Which was a good idea honestly. Reading was great and her friends actually liked more quiet discussion.
Which was not the entire reason why Alyse convinced them to spend lunches in the library. Because Taylor's bookworm thing was cute, and her hair was really nice. And Alyse had seen her actually smile once and it had been so warm but usually Taylor acted fierce and –
Alyse was self-aware enough to realise what was happening.
Especially after the whole thing with Sally.
Anyway, Alyse – even if it wasn't entirely altruistic – was worried about Taylor.
Because she didn't talk to anyone.
Plus, she looked really stressed last Friday. And Alyse had heard that Taylor was among the people who got called out of class for family emergencies today.
So, Alyse sat on her bed and messaged her friends about the horrible state of their city. And about how her mother had covered her younger brother's eyes when the news had played a video about Lung. But the newscaster had said something like 'everyone needs to know why we have to support the heroes'.
Which was true because the Protectorate was the only reason her parents hadn't moved out of the city. And her friends were all talking about the Wards who had changed since the new girl replaced Shadow Stalker.
Later that night, Alyse turned off her bedside lamp and laid awake in the darkness hoping that the cute, lonely library girl's family wasn't dead.
My phone rang. It was still a surreal experience. Where I did my best to avoid thinking about sad (Mom) things and where someone wanted to talk to me.
"Hey Taylor! They've closed schools due to the gangs so are you free today to go down the Boardwalk? Dean said it was your day off and Missy isn't on shift till after lunch. Soooo do you want to meet up at 10?"
I blinked. Vicky really could condense a lot of communication into a ramble.
"Uh. Yeah. 10 works."
"Great!" Vicky sounded like it was the best news she'd heard in days. Which, with the gang war, it might have been.
"I'll call later to figure out where to meet Missy and all that. Oh, and I'm going to convince Ames to come along. See you!"
"Bye."
I waited until Vicky hung up because phone etiquette still felt strange.
But, more importantly, schools were closed.
I'd kind of wished for that yesterday. When it would have let me do something.
Because Dean had told Vicky the hard, unfortunate, frustrating truth.
Today was my day off.
Every Ward had a mandated day of console duty each week (with the seventh day rotating between us over a month or going to whoever messed up recently) as well as a day off.
A policy imposed by the Youth Guard. I think in other PRT divisions the Wards had two days off – like a weekend. But I think Piggot managed to wrangle one of those days into being console duty.
The thing that really pissed me off was that the day was mandated. Like us Wards were child actors. When I'd first joined it did seem like we were like actors. In a way. Meetings with Image and shallow patrols. But now we were doing important things. And we weren't easily-manipulated 8-year-olds in Hollywood.
If I got a normal job, I could work every day if I so chose. And if this day off was optional then I would happily take it. When things were better.
Just… ugh. Why was being a hero so limited?
I focused on my mental map and body-sense. Checked in with my team. There was some general [satisfaction] – probably about schools closing – and more of the [frustration] that had pervaded us since the Undersiders. Since the gangs stopped pretending they weren't utter bastards.
Missy was [excited] though. That was good. It would be nice to see my [friend]. And do something normal.
(But I'd like it more if I could do something normal and help my city.)
I blinked. Shook my head and distracted myself by using my body sense to focus on what was happening in my inner ear.
I was sitting on my bed, having wandered back to my room after dad had gone to work. There was about an hour and a half before I had to meet Vicky and Missy. And… Panacea?
That was enough time for a run. I'd been missing my morning runs – because a gang war meant late nights – and using the PRT gym instead. But it would be nice to run my old route again.
[>[>/^\<]<]
The boardwalk was busy. But different. All the adults were… well, I didn't know. But almost everyone on the boardwalk was a teenager enjoying the fact that education was cancelled for the immediate future.
So, I'd blended right in on my walk from my bus.
Thankfully, Missy had texted me where we were meeting. It was the fancier end of the strip, closer to downtown. A lot of bigger stores and designer labels or outlets. I'd never really been in this part of the boardwalk. Not for anything more than just passing through anyway.
My mental map was a mess of static. But in the time since I'd first gone to the boardwalk with Missy, things had sharpened and clarified. My understanding of distances was still blurred around people, but I could at least tell the number of individual blurs apart rather than it just being this big… clump.
And…
There.
A static-person nearly touching the ground. But still not actually touching the ground. Unless someone else who could fly (and didn't care who saw them flying) just happened to be in this area, that was Vicky.
I walked around one of the few groups of older people – some fancily dressed women – and was able to spot Vicky with my eyes.
She was as fashionable as she ever was at Arcadia. Converse, another pair of tight jeans (white this time), and a button up short-sleeve blouse that had stipes of different patterns. Missy was talking to her, wearing a green sundress – she looked surprisingly different with her hair not straightened. And standing close to Vicky was Panacea – Amy. She looked completely different to her sister. Frizzy brown hair, a black Metallica t-shirt, and baggy cargo pants that still looked way nicer than anything I owned.
Missy's emotions flashed – [notice] [paranoia] [recognition] – as she turned her head to meet my eyes. I smiled at her and walked the last ten feet towards the group as casually as I could.
"Hey Taylor," my [friend] said.
"Hey," I replied.
"Oh, that's who you are!" Vicky exclaimed in a whisper-shout.
"Vicky!" Panacea – Amy hissed.
"No, its just…" Vicky gestured at me. "Taylor was wearing gym clothes on Sunday and I couldn't figure it out and Dean wouldn't tell me."
Amy scowled.
Missy chuckled.
I was a little confused. But also a little grateful towards Dean for actually respecting my privacy.
Regardless, my best plan so far for dealing with situations where everybody knew what was happening except me was to do what we were meant to be doing. It wasn't interesting, but it helped in school at least.
"Hi Amy, nice to meet you."
Amy turned and took me in. When her eyes looked up to meet mine, they reminded me of the hard gaze I'd seen in the mirror back at Winslow. "Huh, that makes sense."
My eyebrow raised.
"You having…" she raised her hand and wriggled her fingers. Then flattened her palm and made a 'pew' noise. Huh. Amy was blunt. It was kinda funny. But also, kinda not. I really didn't want anyone associating Taylor with Seneschal. Or learning my real powers. Or uncovering any of my secrets.
I just nodded then nudged Missy's shoulder with my elbow because she was slightly [worried]. She elbowed me in the hip.
"So did you guys make a plan for today?" I asked.
Vicky visibly brightened. "We've got a few hours before lunch, so I thought we'd wander around and see where we wanted to eat. And pop into a few other stores along the way." She wore an innocent smile that I didn't trust for a second. I remembered when Emma had tried to trick me into 'just trying one thing'. I trusted Vicky to be a good hero, but shopping was a whole different playing field.
Missy managed to suppress most of her chuckle this time. I nudged her again with a grumble. She bumped me back.
"Alright." I'd met them expecting this anyway. "Lead on."
Vicky cheered and levitated into the air a little. She was majestic, and the excitement was a little contagious for Missy as well as me. Even Amy smiled.
"First stop; jackets!"
[>[>/^\<]<]
Two hours later, we were exiting yet another store where I'd managed to not spend my Wards pay (for once) and where Vicky had actually decided to get something for herself too. She'd gotten a second leather jacket. I'd got my first leather jacket, which Vicky had paid for. Despite my protests.
(She'd said something about tradition and doing her job as a role model to girls who want to look good. I'd tried my best to block out memories of Winslow. And then she'd, much more quietly, said: "I like to give gifts to my friends, Taylor.")
There was some irony in us buying jackets at the end of our shopping… trip? Spree? Expedition. But Vicky had gotten an idea right at the beginning and then I'd been ushered into change rooms with all sorts of outfits.
I'd managed to win the debate about dresses, because no. But I don't think Vicky had lost all that much with her compromise.
The bags I was holding were now filled with black jeans, turtlenecks of a variety of bold colours, some white tank tops (that I doubted I would ever actually wear but that Missy had said looked good), a flannel overshirt, and even a pair of boots. Because only ever wearing sneakers was bad for arch support or… something. I think Vicky just wanted me to have some fancier shores. And I was tall enough without heels, thank you very much.
I still didn't know how Vicky had got me to go through with all this. I'd nearly been badgered into wearing some of my new clothes now, but Amy had thankfully distracted Vicky by asking what Missy's patrol involved tonight. Those two were now a few steps ahead of us, leading the way to the sushi place that we (it had just been Vicky) had decided on for lunch.
Amy was next to me. She only had two bags, being much more practiced at reigning in her sister. Or so I imagined. She was staring at her sister's back and walking with an almost plod – like some plough-horse tired after tilling fields all day.
"So," I said.
She turned to me. Said nothing. Shit. How did these interactions work?
I'd always wanted distractions when I was done with life. What might Amy want a distraction from?
"So… what do you do outside of school?" Oh no. Why did I ever open my mouth.
"What do you do outside of school?" She grumbled, eyes returning to Vicky's back.
Right. Stupid question. I patrolled. With her power, Amy would heal. And there were enough people hurt in this needless violence. No wonder she wanted a distraction from that.
"Sorry," I said and tried to think of how to follow that up.
She turned to look at me again. The look this time was… curious? Cautious? It reminded me of a suspicious cat. "The rumour about you at school is that you never pay attention but somehow answer every question correctly. There's a bet riding on if you get detention before the end of the year."
I didn't nearly trip because my body sense adjusted for my mind going blank. There being rumours about me was normal. But… they were usually horrible. This was… There was a bet about me? About whether I was good in class?
"Uh." I said intelligently.
"Vicky had this whole rant about your powers. So, which one lets you cheat at school?" Amy had really mastered the whole sardonic shtick.
"I can focus on up to 6 things at once. Apparently, when I do that, everyone else thinks I'm distracted."
"Guess that explains today." Amy mused.
I closed my eyes. I had been focusing on my mental map and Missy's emotions quite a bit. The first one because being able to keep track of the people around me was far too useful to not be doing constantly. And the second because… I wanted this to be a new, better memory. (And I needed evidence for that.)
"Vicky!" Amy called.
"Yeah?" Her sister asked, turning on the spot too smoothly for it to be anything other than flight.
"Can we just eat here?" She gestured towards a Japanese restaurant on the corner of an alley. It looked good, if a bit pricey for dad and I.
Vicky pouted. "I was going to take Dean there tomorrow."
"Well Missy has a time limit and I need to go back to the hospital." Amy sounded tense. "And you can check out the menu ahead of time."
I glanced between Vicky and her sister. Missy felt [awkward] but I didn't know how much of that was being on the edge of this conversation versus Vicky talking about her relationship with Missy's [crush].
Actually, Missy had been just following Vicky and I around for this trip. She'd been feeling positive things, but I'd still been a bit too swept up to have any conversations with her. And I did not know how to talk to Amy. Who started walking towards the Japanese restaurant. And was followed by Vicky, who caught up to her almost immediately and slung an arm over her shoulders.
I looked at Missy, who shrugged, emotions still uneasy. We fell into step 15 feet behind the sisters.
"Sorry for getting distracted today."
"Nah. Beats avoiding the yelling from switching houses." She sighed. Then paled with [realisation/mortification]. Guess she hadn't meant to say that.
"Its fine. Having two bad parents must suck, so whatever helps."
She nodded absently. I nudged her. The [trepidation] resolved into [anxious commitment].
"You know, if you want to talk about your Mom, you can." Missy said hesitantly.
I blinked for a few seconds. I did know that. But I didn't. Had I ever actually talked about my Mom with anyone after Emma betrayed me?
Huh. It was nice to know that I could.
"Yeah, I know." I smiled at Missy.
She didn't smile back. "Just… you know. Bad parents. I get it. My parents aren't the worst, but…" She trailed off into a storm of [resentment/frustration/loneliness/abandonment].
Wait. Did she think Mom was bad? And I didn't talk about her because of that?!? God. That thought was so alien it just –
"They were my trigger." She whispered. Very quietly.
I stopped walking. She stopped as well, staring at her shoes.
Her emotions roared. Roiled. Recoiled. I'd never seen Missy like this. She was the experienced Ward. The powerful Ward.
I shook those thoughts out of my head. They weren't useful. She was thirteen. I knew how things could hurt at thirteen.
Stepping closer, I reached down and gave my [friend] a hug.
"My Mom was great. The best. She died two years ago." Missy shifted with [guilt]. "It hurts. Differently. But it still hurts." She hugged me back.
We stayed like that for a little while.
Missy's emotional hurricane subsided.
Then Vicky called out. Amy grunted loud enough from us to hear her from their position at the restaurant entrance.
We let go of each other. Missy let out a deep breath and was [mostly okay].
"Let's go eat some weird fish." I said.
Missy chuckled. It was a bit fake, but that was alright. I nudged her shoulder after we sat down at table hidden from the rest of the restaurant by a bamboo screen.
She bumped my elbow back. Things were okay. Mostly.
[>[>/^\<]<]
I had to put some of my bags down – avoiding the rotten step – to unlock the front door. Walking back to the bus while holding a good chunk of my savings in an easily stealable clothing format was… well, everyone had a lot of reasons to be paranoid nowadays.
And, in hindsight, maybe I had spent too much. But the high of materialism was real and so what if I wanted to indulge in actually having money (and friends) for once? That was my own business. As was the surreal satisfaction I'd got when a few people in my neighbourhood saw me with my purchases.
Front door unlocked, I dropped all my bags inside then shut and locked it.
The house was empty.
Had I been expecting someone to congratulate me on my social achievement? Or for something to feel right? Was this a turning point in my life like in the movies?
Maybe in another dimension. Like Earth Aelph. Or even the mystical and far off Earth Not-Fucked-Up.
I gathered the handles of my bags and went to the kitchen bench to remove tags and figure out how many different laundry cycles I'd need to run. Which I'd only known about because of Vicky giving tips about my new leather jacket. Which I was never going to wash at home on pain of being dropped into the bay. Considering Vicky could fly and hadn't specified where in the bay she would drop me, I probably wouldn't be able to escape by warping.
Eventually, everything was sorted, and the first load went on.
And I ran straight back into the problem that Vicky and Missy – and Amy – had so helpfully helped me avoid for most of the morning.
School was out. It was my day off.
There was nothing for me to do.
I walked up the stairs to the kitchen. It was empty. I'd already had lunch. The living room was quiet. I had no particular want to watch TV.
The front door was closed. Because I'd closed it. It hadn't moved.
Outside beckoned and part of me twitched. I could go out and…
And…
I felt the sudden urge to laugh. So I did. Alone in the hall of my empty house.
Guess I'd inherited dad's habit of avoiding things through work. Along with the gangly-ness and bad eyesight.
With resignation – and some small gladness for my teammates because they were able to act on their [anticipation] – I climbed the stairs to my room.
And stared around at my bed (straightened up this morning), my wardrobe (cleaned of things that I might have worn before today's haul), and my floor (vacuumed last week).
Then I stared at my desk. Which I'd cleared of clutter on Sunday and not touched since because I really didn't want to know how Tattletale had responded to my… question? Opening move?
Nope. Don't overthink the thinker. That way lies madness.
I sat down and booted up my old – Mom's old – computer. Stared at my bookshelf while the internet crawled its way out of Tartarus. Wondered if I should make random myth references to lead Tattletale on a wild goose chase.
I shouldn't. But it would probably be worth it.
I spun my chair back to my computer to find…
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♦ Private message from MoriartyStan:
MoriartyStan *New Message*: Hah
MoriartyStan *New Message*: Why give you the note?
Because you could have gotten me killed otherwise
MoriartyStan *New Message*: Why am I a villain?
Because independent heroes die and I do not want my parents finding me.
MoriartyStan *New Message*: Why is Brockton Bay a shithole?
Because three powerful people want it to be.
MoriartyStan *New Message*: Why is the PRT like it is?
Because of at least one shady conspiracy, the necessity of playing to public opinion so that we don't have the salem cape trials, and a need to play nice with the villains because otherwise they won't help with the S-class threats.
MoriartyStan *New Message*: There, I think I covered everything. But do let me know if you have any more questions, won't you? Xoxo
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…more than I'd been expecting. And also less.
More words. Less… aggression? I mean, she was certainly aggravating. But even the bitchy bits were helpful. Useful. Something slightly more positive than negative.
The first two questions and answered were cleverly worded. Reminding me of debt? Or that I was still new to this game. Because I was. I'd been a cape for 2 months. And a Ward for only 1. That was nothing compared to Missy or even Vicky. And Gallant. A good half of my team, now that I think about it.
But I'd done what Tattetale's note suggested. And while I have been ignorant before, I had my team now.
Anyway, her reason for being a villain felt shallow. Wards were safe, even in the Bay. And I knew the PRT had ways to emancipate minors and all that stuff.
Tattletale's last questions were… tricker.
They were the questions that I wanted answers to the most. I remember my frustration when sending that initial message. How she'd pulled my real concerns out of a single word, I didn't know. It was off-putting.
She was right about powerful people wanting my city to be a shithole. The leaders of the gangs, Kaiser and Lung, definitely benefited from chaos and lawlessness. But, rationally, they had a better deal in the stalemate that had lasted for years before this war.
And why 'three'? That was oddly specific. The leaders of the gangs made two, which meant… Piggot? I couldn't see it. The director was a hardass. And spiteful. But not some James Bond secret supervillain.
The Merchants were gone though. Squealer had escaped, sure, but no one had seen her since so she'd probably driven so some other city. Who else even was there?
Gah. Tattletale was frustrating.
And so was that final question. The PRT harbouring a shady conspiracy? Yeah right.
But the rest of that felt unerringly like a blunt summary of what PRT policy and Miss Militia's advice had alluded to. No single villain was worse than the Endbringers. They weren't even on the same scale. And the ones that got close, well, everyone knew about them. Nilbog, whatever was up with Eagleton and that place in Indiana. Details were vague, but everyone knew that those places were walled off and dangerous.
The PRT's focus on image and marketing did feel… inefficient though. Gaining goodwill by shaking hands and smiling while walking the beat felt a lot slower than gaining goodwill by getting rid of the gangs. Before I had powers I liked the heroes, sure. But… then and now, I'd much rather the heroes be actively fixing things than acting like celebrities on a red carpet.
And Tattletale thought she'd 'covered everything'? She'd – fuck. I had so many more questions now.
Ugh. I was going to make my reference as random as possible.
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DenethorHater: Bellerophon wanted to ride Pegasus to Olympus, but the gods got jealous. The horse became a constellation. Bellerophon fell.
■
After half an hour of slightly useless research on Bakuda's terror campaign at Cornell University, a response came.
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MoriartyStan*New Message*: Who is who in this little analogy?
MoriartyStan: Because Bellerophon originally rode Pegasus to fight the chimera. Fire breathing lion head, goat head and/or body, snake tail.
MoriartyStan: Huh. Kinda fitting.
MoriartyStan: But are you Bellerophon? Are the Wards Pegasus? Are the PRT the gods who strike you down for rising above your station?
DenethorHater: Did you really need half an hour to think that up?
MoriartyStan: Nope! I'm a busy gal. Time is money you know.
MoriartyStan: But since I'm here, did I manage to answer your question yesterday?
■
I couldn't stop myself from groaning. She couldn't leave things alone, could she?
What did I even say to that?
Actually, had she even answered my question? Had I even had a question? A specific one instead of some general annoyed confusion with the world?
And what did I even want with her? This was more than a trade of debts. She'd helped me way back at the start of the month and I'd… not captured her. Then she'd helped me again. Was she manipulating me into doing something?
I had omitted things from my report because I didn't want her to be in danger from this…
Oh. Was that the third person who wanted my city to fall into chaos. If the Undersiders were told to rob the bank on the day that the gang war started, then the PRT has more problems to deal with and can't force a quick resolution. So…
Okay. I guess now I had a reason to keep talking to her.
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DenethorHater: Not really. But I have more important questions now
MoriartyStan: Like whether the chimera's tail has its own brain?
MoriartyStan: And if so which brain actually controls the chimera? Or is the whole thing a contest where the two brains have to compete to walk in the direction they want?
MoriartyStan: Maybe Pegasus got lost on the way to the fight. Or Bellerophon couldn't read the map.
■
I had to lean back in my chair and look away from the screen. This felt like some kind of game where demanding that Tattletale just fucking tell me things meant I'd lose. Or the city would lose. Or… well I knew that PHO was monitored in some way.
Still, Tattletale could hint at things without being such a bitch?
I turned back to the screen.
■
MoriartyStan: No need for that kind of language. I am a perfectly upstanding young woman.
DenethorHater: Bitch
MoriartyStan: No that's my roommate.
DenethorHater: …
MoriartyStan: Glad I could help! Now, since you want to single-handedly clean up the city, here's a deal. I feed you information and you take your vengeance on me last. Okay?
[>[>Peasant<]<]
Enoch had only ever been called Enoch at home.
In public, with friends, at school; he was Marvin.
A completely different name, picked at random for all he knew. The name itself hadn't mattered to his parents. It was not even a name really, more of a mask.
What had mattered to his parents was that grandfather refused to leave. And that, decades after grandfather had settled in this city after leaving Europe, the Nazis had settled here too.
What mattered to Enoch was that nobody knew him as Enoch. And that some of the friends Enoch-as-Marvin had made at school turned out to be Nazis. They hadn't said it straight like that. Just mutters when they passed people in the school halls and on the streets. Then louder words.
While Enoch's family had encouraged and pushed him into a pre-medical degree, Enoch-as-Marvin's friends hadn't gone to college. The 'school of life' they called it. 'Purpose'.
Enoch knew they were part of the Empire. And had decided, when one of them turned up with a fresh tattoo that symbolised 'induction', that Enoch-as-Marvin had to stay friends with them. Because if they thought he wasn't with them, they'd think he was against them.
They might wonder why he was against him. And question the flimsy excuses he used to avoid them coming to his house.
Enoch-as-Marvin had managed to stay on the edges. Never inducted into the gang. But used by them, because he knew first aid and didn't look like someone that would help a Nazi.
Which was why Enoch was walking away from a shady alleyway where a ex-military man had given him fake identification documents that showed no sign of Jewish ancestry. And a burner phone with a single number already entered that he was obliged to text the names and actions of any Nazis to.
It was a dangerous deal. But medical degrees were expensive. Even more expensive than fake identification.
Besides, Enoch-as-Marvin was a part time driver and medic for a Nazi gang. When grandfather passed away, the family would move another state where Enoch could finish his education. They needed to save for that too.
Till then, Enoch had to help keep his family safe.
Why not sabotage the fascists in the meantime?