Interlude
Emily Piggot waited until the last of the Protectorate heroes had left the room, closing the briefing room door behind them. She wearily rubbed her temples with her fingertips. Her hands trembled slightly, her mouth was dry, and everything around her was beginning to irritate her. Sure signs that she needed to undergo hemodialysis. Again. She closed her eyes. Two hours lying still while machines pumped and cleaned her blood, unable to move... this procedure wasn't calming. Though last time she had even managed to doze off a little. Probably old age.
"Director?" Deputy Renick. Now the real briefing would begin. Emily disliked parahumans. They were unbearable as specialists, as subordinates, as soldiers. The PRT was essentially an armed force - military discipline, command and order should reign here. But parahumans in America were something like movie and TV stars, dressed in themed costumes, cared more about image than the job. What soldier would think to put on tights?
"You know, Renick, I sometimes start to regret that we don't have the Yangban. In China everything is simple - either you're a cog in the war machine, or you don't exist. No one has ever seen Yangban parahumans in colorful costumes. They're simply efficient and that's it. They're given an order, they go and execute it. As it should be," Emily sighs. "And what do we have? A clown preserve."
"That's just how it turned out, ma'am," Renick shrugs. "Even the Triumvirate has to follow these rules. The Think Tank eggheads believe this helps Protectorate capes unlock their abilities."
"I have problems, Renick," Piggot says, not listening to him. She closed her eyes and sighed again. "We all have problems."
"I know, ma'am." Renick walked around the table, pulled out a chair and sat down, crossing his legs and leaning back against the backrest. Emily opened her eyes and glanced at him. Costa-Brown's office at headquarters had as usual transferred all problems from the sick head to the healthy one. And they there, in their New York, don't understand even a hundredth of what's happening here. Just "act within the guidelines" and that's it. And when the shit hits the fan - note, not if, but when - then she, Emily Piggot, director of the Northeast PRT branch in Brockton Bay, would be responsible for cleaning up the mess. This city was career suicide, the highest concentration of parahumans, with eighty percent being villains. And instead of sending additional forces here, or asking Alexandria to drop by for a week - headquarters simply turned a blind eye to what was happening. And don't think she was a naive girl, she perfectly understood the delicate balance of power, checks and balances... territories and spheres of influence that had developed in the city. One visit from Alexandria or Eidolon wouldn't solve anything, even if they arrested all the parahuman villains. Nature abhors a vacuum, tomorrow other gangs would appear. The city itself was rotten, poisoned, a dying beast on the coast, poisoning everything around with its miasmas. She sincerely hated this city and its inhabitants, the parahumans, the villains who gave her no peace, the heroes who couldn't do anything as ordered, but instead played their games, pushing their own egos and... damn, she definitely needed hemodialysis. When the world around became slightly yellowish, when she started shaking, and her fingertips danced a jig, and most importantly - when she started hating everyone around her, it meant it was time for blood purification.
"Are you sure about your decision, ma'am?" Renick asks. "This is a violation of the Unwritten Rules."
"Seriously?" Emily tilts her head, looking at him. "Renick, we're not parahumans, we're a government organization. When have we ever followed something unwritten and non-mandatory?"
"I understand," the deputy director drops his "ma'am." "I'm not talking about that. If the Butcher finds out we're not following the Unwritten Rules, we might have problems. Any other cape would be fine. But the Butcher... even if he dies, the information remains with him. In that case, headquarters will simply hang all the dogs on you."
"They'll do that anyway," Piggot replies. "So what do you order me to do? I have Butcher Fifteen on my hands, who turns out to be the daughter of the dock workers' union leader, who was driven to trigger by our Ward! Any one of these facts is enough to bury us all here. But damn Sofia... and I can't let her go to school. There's never been a precedent of the Butcher being a schoolgirl. I can't allow her to attend school, imagine the uproar when everything comes out. They'll eat me alive, and that's if none of the children get hurt. And if God forbid the Butcher goes off the rails at school, then I'd better put a bullet in my own head than go through an official investigation. I can't report this information to the Wards, but I can't hide it either - otherwise Sofia will be in serious danger. And honestly, I would have given her to the Butcher to be torn apart, let him hunt her down with his wasps and ants or turn her inside out, but what's done can't be undone."
"The recruitment protocol won't work here," Renick nods. Emily chuckles in response. Yes, standard parahuman recruitment protocols wouldn't work here. If only because they weren't dealing with a newly minted parahuman who, despite her terrifying abilities, was still a schoolgirl at heart. They were dealing with Butcher number fifteen. How much time did they have before the Butcher's consciousness gained the upper hand over Taylor Hebert's consciousness and digested it, triumphing once again? A week? Two? So far this same Hebert showed an extreme tendency toward escalating violence in geometric progression and at the same time - tried to stick to some rules. Despite the deaths around her, she still didn't kill civilians left and right, only destroyed parahumans or outright bandits with weapons in their hands. Emily had seen this before, the girl was clearly a vigilante, she had a heightened sense of justice derived from teenage comics. Black and white perception of the world.
"You read Dr. Yamada's analysis of the available materials?" she asks Renick. "The girl has a confused and hypertrophied sense of justice. She believes she's driven by revenge and a desire to settle scores with society. And with specific people."
"I understand," Renick says. "We really can't let her go to school. But sending Miss Militia..."
"Hannah inspires trust in people. She's smart and empathetic, she has a true moral compass. She's our best choice," Piggot replies, getting up from her chair and approaching the window. She looks down at the city. As soon as Poison Ivy became Butcher Fifteen, they took all measures to identify the host. The first two weeks from the moment of transfer were the most important. In the first two weeks, the host could resist the Butcher, this had happened before with three heroes. One of them even voluntarily came to the PRT and allowed himself to be studied - until he finally went off the rails and destroyed the laboratory. But the data remained. Regarding the Butcher, the PRT had a secret protocol based on the fact that remnants of the host's personality could resist the ability's influence to suppress and drive insane. The hero who sacrificed himself, providing himself for experiments - told them that it didn't happen immediately. First - voices in the head. Always. Around the clock with you. They don't let you sleep, don't let you think, don't let you concentrate. No possibility to be alone, in silence. And then the voices merge into one incessant hum and... then he became the Butcher. Another one. But he left knowledge and this knowledge was now worth its weight in gold.
Remnants of the previous host's personality don't dissolve completely. When the host focuses on their own identity - they manage to hold out longer. The PRT had developed drugs that helped clear the mind, focus on what was happening, they called them "liquid sleep." Sleep deprivation, silence deprivation - there's such torture that inevitably drives one insane... nevertheless, scientists and Think Tank eggheads give some probability that the host could resist the Butcher's influence on the mind in two cases - either genius or schizophrenia.
"If what the Think Tank eggheads established is true, then we have hope of reaching the girl within this week. Establish contact and invite cooperation. New drugs and means that help increase self-control, hypnosis, a parahuman from Monterey whose ability is to inspire and strengthen a person's willpower... yes, we have Gallant and Glory Girl in Brockton Bay... so there's hope. We just need to establish contact with this Hebert. And if we have to bow our heads before her for this - we'll do it. If she were just a new parahuman, I would have unleashed the wrath of God and Armsmaster on her. But she's Butcher Fifteen and we still have the opportunity to take control of his destructive abilities, and therefore - Miss Militia," Emily says, clasping her hands behind her back. "If we manage to take her under control, headquarters will be licking our heels with joy. So we have hope."
"That's why you revealed Hebert's civilian identity to the Heroes and didn't give the same information to the Wards," Renick nods. "I understand. But... these are Heroes. A leak is inevitable."
"Yes. These are Heroes," Emily grimaces. "Someone will definitely blab. Let something slip. But this information will soon be available to everyone anyway. Leet and Uber already know - they covered the Butcher's face in their videos. And this newcomer... she's not hiding much. Dr. Yamada says this Hebert is cynical and assumes that the Unwritten Rules aren't followed by the government and PRT anyway, and her identification as the Butcher gives her some immunity. Note that when she was Poison Ivy, she didn't allow herself such things."
"Smart girl," Renick says. "That's right."
"Now let's imagine a smart and cynical person who was bullied at school for six months by our Sofia along with two girlfriends. One of them has a lawyer for a father, by the way. The locker incident remained without attention, the school administration only paid the medical bills. Do you think a smart and cynical person wouldn't have drawn the necessary conclusions? I suppose that upon receiving her abilities, Miss Hebert first found out that our Sofia is actually Shadow Stalker. And remember the incident a week ago when Sofia allegedly fell and hurt her knee? When we had to call Panacea?"
"You think?"
"Yes. Miss Hebert paid Hess back in kind. Because on the same day the second girl who bullied her - got a broken nose. She hit her with her elbow right in the face. I suppose that along with other abilities, Miss Hebert received some kind of combat precognition or the ability to control her body. If we extrapolate events chronologically, everything looks quite logical. Note that the outbreak of violence from a previously quiet and bullied girl - happens the day after Lung was discovered... after she killed Lung. Just imagine, Renick, you're a parahuman who just tested your strength, who defeated and destroyed one of the strongest capes on the Northeast coast, Lung himself! And then you return to school where they continue to bully you. And you already know about your powers... so Miss Hebert snapped. She hit Emma Barnes right in class and left school. Sofia Hess ran after her, and came back dirty and limping, with a bruised knee. Says she tripped."
"To be fair, I'll note that no one believed her," Renick says. "But no one paid much attention either."
"Because there was only one injury. It really looked like an accident. If there had been a fight - there would have been other bruises, hematomas, injuries, but here only the knee. Now I understand that Miss Hebert was playing with her. You saw the video of her fight with Glory Girl? She moved like a professional. If she had wanted to beat up Hess - she would have done it. I think she still values her ordinary life."
"I know Daniel Hebert a little. Saw him a couple of times at city hall, we crossed paths on dock shelter issues. He seemed quite adequate and pleasant to me. Ordinary. But with a core inside. I think he doesn't know yet that his daughter is Butcher Fifteen. If he knew, he would... I don't know. Bring her to us, probably?"
"You think he would turn in his own daughter?" Piggot raises an eyebrow and Renick shakes his head.
"No. Not turn in, but rather seeking help. After all, Taylor is his daughter, and the Butcher is capturing her mind and her body. He wouldn't sit idle. I don't know what happened during the locker incident, probably he was too busy with his daughter's health condition. However, after the incident with the fight at school, when Miss Hebert was being questioned at the police station - he hired McCallister. That same McCallister."
"Does the union leader have enough money to hire Henry McCallister?" Piggot chuckles. "Should we ask the IRS eggheads to look into his income?"
"McCallister claims he took the case pro bono, for free, in the name of public good. Normal practice, ten percent of cases per year are conducted on such grounds. But still suspicious."
"So he values his daughter, the daughter probably loves him back, there's the connection, the rope we can use to bring Miss Hebert to the PRT. And put her on a couch in the laboratory. Let the eggheads and scientists together with doctors and parahumans try to prevent her transformation into the Butcher. Although in my opinion Miss Hebert was frightening even without the Butcher, and with his abilities... if it were up to me, I would have issued her a Kill Order long ago." Emily turns and looks at Renick. He just shrugs, not considering it necessary to enter into discussion. This was an old and sore topic, Director Piggot sent reports to headquarters almost every month with an urgent demand to issue a Kill Order on Lung. And on a couple more parahumans from Brockton Bay. Each time she was refused. Each time her blood pressure spiked, and she went under the hemodialysis equipment a day earlier than scheduled. No one would issue such an Order on the Butcher.
"But in such circumstances, Miss Militia will be the best option. She'll be able to establish first contact with her father, she's excellent at charming men. And then we'll step in. I've put Sofia Hess under house arrest, she and her girlfriends will serve as assets for the deal. By demonstrating that we acknowledge our mistakes and exemplarily punishing this trio, as well as the school principal and Sofia's curator on our side - we'll extend a hand of friendship. I doubt it will work, but... it's worth trying."
"That's what I thought," Renick chuckles. "You're still predictable, ma'am. You'll never believe in good will from parahumans, especially villains. But if you don't believe that Miss Hebert can cope with her inner Butcher, then what's all this for? The attempt to ingratiate yourself, advances in the form of punishing your own people, willingness to bow down, negotiations through Miss Militia? If you don't believe in the possibility of defeating the Butcher inside the host's head, if you think that in the end we'll get the same Butcher anyway?"
"Miracles happen, Renick," Piggot replies, turning away from him. "Even someone like me can still believe in miracles, right? Is the dialysis equipment ready?"
"Everything's ready, ma'am," Renick replies. "Go down to the minus second floor."
"Good." Emily Piggot nods and exits through the door. Deputy Director Renick watches her go.
"Sorry, Madam Director, but I know for certain that you don't believe in miracles," he says quietly. He knows what Emily Piggot's real plan is. Lure the Butcher into the PRT building under the guise of help and healing from the voices in her head, and then... literally today a secret guest arrived. A cape. A girl named Sleeping Lily. Keeping the Butcher in a medicated coma is risky, the dosage needs to be carefully calculated, and God forbid Miss Hebert wakes up even for a second, or if the dose is exceeded - she'll be gone forever. Cape Sleeping Lily is known for her ability to plunge any person into deep and healthy sleep, slowing down other processes in the body. In such a state, a person can lie for years. Deputy Director Renick knew Emily Piggot too well. She never left things to chance, didn't hope for coincidence. And didn't believe in miracles.