Reality Intrudes


Part Sixteen: Speedrunning, Matrix Style


[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]


Tattletale


It took a few moments for the feeling of disorientation to go away altogether, but as far as Lisa could tell, the others had their own problems. When she figured she could finally open her power up and allow it to sample the world properly again, Grue was shaking his head and Regent seemed to be getting over a minor panic attack. Only Bitch was more or less unaffected, though her knuckles were a little whiter than normal.

"What the fuck just happened?" asked Grue shakily. "Who was that?"

"Didn't you hear?" Regent tended to double down with snark when he should be feeling fear, and this time was no exception. "She called herself Morrigan. What I want to know is how she rode a motorbike straight up the side of the building. Did she have gravity powers or something?"

"When she was chasing us down the alley, she pulled a barrel roll with the bike, inside my darkness," Grue added. "Whatever powers she's got, it's more than just gravity."

"Wasn't gravity." Whatever else Lisa was uncertain about, she was sure of that. "I could almost see it. Reality was warping around her, to do what she wanted. She was able to ride the bike up the wall because she'd decided she was damn well going to ride the bike up the wall." Her power had kept trying to categorise what Morrigan was doing, and had ended up headbutting a brick wall. It had not been a pleasant experience.

"So, when my power didn't work on her, it was because she'd decided it wasn't going to?" Regent sounded miffed. "That's not how powers work."

"No." Lisa shook her head. "She didn't even realise you'd tried anything until she got the phone call. Someone told her you'd done it. Which means she's got some kind of backing, who can pick up on stuff like that."

"What I want to know is, how did she see through my darkness if she doesn't have powers?" Grue didn't sound pleased. "Reality warping, or something else?"

"You said Coil bends reality," Bitch broke in unexpectedly. "And you say she was warping reality. What's the difference, or is it just fancy words for the same thing?"

"It's not the same …" Lisa spoke carefully, thinking her words through. Coil had a way of finding out shit that she'd never told him, so she had to make sure she didn't screw him over too blatantly. "I'm almost sure of how he does it. And I know for a fact that's not how she does it." She looked at Grue. "At a rough guess, she needed to know where the obstacles were, and so she knew about them. The fact that she couldn't see them was just a detail." A wave of pain swept through her head. "Now please don't ask anything else about her; I'd rather not have a migraine tonight, thanks."

"Fine," said Grue. "So how did you know that about Coil, anyway? We've never associated with him in any real way."

"Fuck that." Bitch pointed at Regent. "Which supervillain's your dad? Because if he comes looking for you and hurts my dogs, I will fucking take it out of your hide."

"Actually, yeah, I want to know about that, too," Grue agreed. "Regent?"

Regent hesitated, then turned to look at Lisa. "You already know, don't you?" His voice was more resigned than accusing.

"There's not all that many Masters out there." She had indeed already connected the dots, and was pretty sure he was talking about Heartbreaker. He had the looks and the accent, and neural control wasn't a million miles away from emotion control, which would make Regent Hijack if she was right. And she was rarely wrong.

"Yeah, true. Fuck." He sighed. "He's Heartbreaker. I got away from him and I'm not going back. He's one of the reasons I accepted the offer to sign up with the Undersiders. Safety in numbers, and all that crap."

Grue wasn't pleased. Not totally surprising, considering that he had family in the city. Lisa would've personally thrown her father to the wolves, given the chance, but Grue felt differently about his sister. "And you were going to tell us about this when, exactly?"

"Never, had been my game plan." Regent stared at Grue with defiance written into his very posture. "But you saw her. You heard her. If she didn't like the answers we gave her, she would've started asking questions without giving us the choice not to answer. So, I told her what I needed to."

Lisa wasn't thrilled at the omission either, but it was water under the bridge now. "Plus, I'm pretty sure she heard what you didn't say, Grue. I'll keep my ear to the ground, and if I hear even a hint that one of Heartbreaker's kids is in town, we turtle up. Go radio silent."

"And what if he comes to town?" Regent had lost nearly all his blasé tone. "Because he won't stop looking until he finds me. It's just the way he is."

"And if Morrigan's still in town, you know she'll go looking for him." Lisa tilted her head to one side, because she couldn't raise her eyebrow behind her mask. "Who do you think'll come out on top then?"

A thoughtful silence fell over the group. Lisa knew they were thinking about how Morrigan would fare against Heartbreaker, but she had something else on her mind.

If she can find that base from what I told her, Coil is fucked.

I hope.


Morrigan


Once I'm away from the Undersiders, I pull out my phone again. Armsmaster's bike is a real beauty; even if I wasn't an operative, I'd be able to ride it one-handed. Being one just makes it easy.

"Operator." Loki's voice seems to be edging between fascinated disbelief and gleeful anticipation. "Just so you know, when you pulled that shit with the motorbike, the Captain swore and punched the wall, then went out to get herself something to drink. In case you missed that part of the briefing, we were supposed to be keeping things on the down-low. Not advertising to all and sundry that there's a Matrix operative running around in their server."

From his tone, Hornblower had meant something alcoholic, which means the guys running the still in Hold 3 are about to get a surprise visit. I'd wondered if she was aware of that thing. Well, now I know.

"Hey, in my defence, even when I'm going loud, it's still not as flashy as some of the idiots in this server seem to be." I'm quite pleased by the way that encounter turned out, actually. Shock and awe absolutely has its uses. "So, did you get everything they said?"

"In living colour. But seriously, did you really just ask a bunch of costumed comic-book supervillains why they're supervillains?"

"Not comic-book supervillains. Just costumed ones." I pause thoughtfully. "If this was a comic book, it would be the sort being published as a dark, arty trade paperback. Not one of them is a supervillain for the giggles. I have no doubt there are some like that out there—like that Jack Slash clown—but for the majority, it's just a life choice."

"Still, you took way too many risks for the Captain's liking." He doesn't sound displeased by this. "When you inevitably crash and burn on this assignment, I'll be right there to testify that you ignored orders—"

"Oh, put a sock in it. Preferably the crusty one you keep under your mattress." I don't give him time to respond. "I need you to do a survey of the city for skyscrapers under construction. Think you can do that, or will your fragile male ego get in the way?"

"You know what? You can take—sure, I'll get right on it." The sound of typing is audible to me over the phone. "Hey, Captain. Morrigan's just chasing down that lead on Coil."

I grin as I end the call. It seems that Captain Hornblower came back from her hunt for booze at just the right time to forestall Loki's attempt to stonewall me. At my best guess (from the last time I was out and about) the only place that it's likely they'll be building a skyscraper will be in the Downtown area, so I head in that direction.

However, it also seems that the so-called superheroes of Brockton Bay haven't finished getting up in my grille yet, as I'm about to find out.

Le sigh.


Velocity


Coming to a halt on the Boardwalk (he'd been whipping past the late-night strollers almost too fast to be seen when the message came in), Robin Swoyer pressed his earpiece more firmly into his ear. "Velocity to Control. Say again your last, over?"

The specialised radio could take his words, compare his current rate of time dilation to the steady pulse of clock pings from the Protectorate base, and stretch everything out as it transmitted to give the guy in the switch room an audible answer, but it was so tedious to wait for a reply. Besides, what he'd just heard definitely needed confirmation now.

"I say again, unknown parahuman temporarily codenamed 'Bandit' has engaged Armsmaster approximately ten minutes ago, damaged his helmet and stolen his motorcycle. Be aware that 'Bandit' previously intervened in a fight between Lung, Oni Lee, Menja, Fenja and Stormtiger; Lung and Oni Lee were incapacitated and subsequently taken into custody, while the others were driven off. This may also be connected to the attack last night on an Empire Eighty-Eight stash house, with multiple confirmed fatalities, as well as the reported but unconfirmed deaths of Victor and Alabaster."

"I copy all that." With some effort, Robin managed to keep his voice level. "Physical description of Bandit? Any notable Tinkertech? Observed powers? Over."

"Bandit appears to be a slender woman or a tall teenage girl, wearing a fedora, sunglasses and a long coat over civilian clothing. She is reported to be armed with at least one pump action shotgun, and perhaps a pair of pistols in shoulder holsters. No visible Tinkertech. Brute level strength, highly acrobatic, trained in martial arts, very possibly a combat Thinker. Was able to disable the safeguards on Armsmaster's cycle and ride off on it before he could stop her. Fragmentary report by someone reporting that she was riding the bike straight up a vertical wall, but last spotted by someone on the Armsmaster tracking page, heading toward Downtown."

"Roger that. Will patrol in that direction, and report in if I see her. Velocity, out." He started off toward Downtown, accelerating as his time dilation rate increased. Weaving around traffic on autopilot, he zoned out as he crossed the city. The main thing on his mind was how exactly had this 'Bandit' gotten the better of Armsmaster.

Robin had sparred with Armsmaster before, and the man was good. More to the point, he had enough tech at his disposal, especially built into his halberd, that he could take out most street-level threats without obvious effort. Brutes were a special case, but his skills and equipment were usually good enough deal with them, too.

For someone to take on five parahumans at once—moderate to heavy hitters all—and disable two and chase off three, before Armsmaster even got there, was the mark of a superior combatant. Especially since the two taken down were the heretofore undefeated Lung and the nigh-untouchable Oni Lee. That bespoke impressive levels of combat Thinker capability, provided it was how she'd beaten them. If not, Robin really wanted to know what it was, because trying to match Lung in the (lower-case b) brute force stakes had always been a losing proposition.

He hoped Armsmaster had a recording of the fight between him and Bandit. It would undoubtedly be highly educational, if only to show people why she wasn't to be taken on one-on-one. But that was for a later moment in time; right now, he was looking for the big man's ride.

Motorbikes were not an uncommon mode of transportation inside Brockton Bay, especially for gang members, but this one had been so thoroughly modified that it was unique. Keeping an eye out for it, he did a sweep through the side-streets and back-alleys of the Downtown area without any luck. God damn it, she's already taken it under cover somewhere. But he didn't want to admit defeat so quickly, so he made one last check along the main roads coming through the area.

And there she was. Not even trying to hide, just hammering down the middle of the road like she had every right to be there. Also treating the road rules like a vague suggestion, but that last bit didn't surprise him in the slightest.

Not bothering to slow down because he wanted to keep sight of her, he activated his radio microphone. "Velocity to Control, I have a visual on the perpetrator. Description as given, riding southeast on Columbus Drive. Requesting advice on how to proceed, over."

It was no problem at all to keep up with her. As fast as she was riding, weaving between the cars like they were standing still, he could more than match her speed with no effort. However, he intended to learn from Armsmaster's example and not engage her until he either had solid orders from above or some kind of backup.

As far as he was concerned, any member of the Protectorate would be welcome right now. On his own, keeping up was about all he could do, unless they ordered him to get in close and tase her. He was reluctant to do that, mainly because coming off a motorbike at that speed would almost certainly leave her severely injured, if not dead. But he could absolutely work with someone else to a) stop the damn bike without destroying it, and b) get her off it and into custody relatively unharmed.

And of course, after all that, they could ask her what the fuck did she think she was doing? But that bit wasn't in his purview. He was just there to stop idiots from killing themselves and each other doing stupid shit.

"Control to Velocity. Vectoring PRT and Protectorate assets to your location, ETA ten minutes. You are authorised to do a close pass on the perpetrator. If possible, disarm her. Do not initiate physical combat, or do anything else that might endanger bystanders."

He took a deep breath. "I copy, close pass, attempt to disarm, no combat. Velocity, out."

As he started to move in on the slim woman riding the motorbike like it was an extension of her body—seriously, her balance and timing for it were even better than Armsmaster's, who'd designed it—he considered the phrasing. It had definitely come from the higher-ups, and not from Armsmaster. The whole 'do not do anything that might endanger bystanders' was basically them covering their asses.

If this blows up, they want to be able to put their hands on their hearts and swear they told me not to do anything dangerous. Right after telling me to do something that might be dangerous.

God, he hated being a Protectorate cape sometimes.

Cranking his relative time dilation up to about two hundred to one, he angled in on the bike, just about where he judged the right-hand blind spot to be. The bike was pulling a hundred miles per hour easily, switching lanes and zooming around cars with careless abandon, but that was fine. He could keep up, no problem. And while his punches at that level of dilation were slightly less authoritative than being slapped across the face with a powder-puff, he could manipulate items, so long as he was careful about it.

To him, the bike was crawling along at a casual walking pace as he jogged up alongside the rider. The best bit about this was that he had all the time in the world. Nobody could react as fast as he could when he was—

She whipped her head around and looked directly at him. Caught reaching for the nearest holstered pistol, he stared at her. She took her hand off the handlebar and slapped his hand away. Then, while he was still gaping, she backfisted him in the chest. The impact was hard enough to send him stumbling back several yards, where he tripped and fell on his ass.

"What the fuck?" he demanded, climbing to his feet. He was in the middle of a traffic lane, but the car coming up behind him wasn't doing more than fifty, so he was able to get up, get his head back in the game, and dust himself off before he even had to think about moving out of the way. "Are you a Mover, too? Is that how you did all that?"

She either couldn't hear him or was ignoring him, because she didn't answer. She had, however, returned her hand to the throttle and was actually accelerating. Not that she could get away from him, but it was going to take a little more effort to catch up with her.

"Velocity to Control, we have an issue." He started jogging again, to make sure he could keep track of her. "She's got Mover capabilities. She can focus on me just fine, and she just tagged me. I'm not injured but I think I'm going to have a bruise, over." Two bruises, but he wasn't going to tell them how he landed on his ass.

While he waited for the reply, he pondered a question that had just occurred to him. If she's a Mover, why steal the bike? Why is she even bothering with a bike?

She still seemed to be ignoring him, though he didn't trust that for an instant. The way she'd turned to look at him had surprised the crap out of him, and he didn't surprise easily. There was no doubt in his mind that she was keeping track of him via her rearview mirrors, with which Armsmaster's bike was amply equipped.

About three minutes later, or a little under one second if he wanted to count it in real time, she actually took her hand off the handlebars and reached into her pocket. He watched, both incredulous and horrified, as she lifted the phone to her ear. Oddly enough, her hand wasn't moving nearly as fast as it had been when she deflected his attempt at grabbing her pistol.

Still weaving through traffic at a ridiculously high speed, she seemed to have a conversation over the phone, at one point glancing back to check on him with the same high-speed head-flick that she'd used before. He was still waiting on the response from Control when she finished the call and put the phone away.

She downshifted and took a corner at what he normally would've called suicidal speeds. He rounded it with a lot less hassle because unlike her, he wasn't actually travelling that speed, so he didn't have all that inertia to worry about. Though he had to wonder about Armsmaster's bike; it was good, but Robin hadn't thought it was that good.

Finally, he got a response back from Control. "Velocity, if she's got Mover capabilities then she should be able to handle coming off the motorcycle. Disable the bike without destroying it, please. Only engage if absolutely necessary."

He wanted to roll his eyes, but refrained. More covering of asses, right there. Armsmaster totally wanted his bike back in good shape, but they also wanted to stop Bandit before she attacked any other capes. Meanwhile, he was the poor schmuck on scene trying to carry out conflicting directives, and he was totally the guy who'd get blamed when the whole thing went to shit.

But he'd been given orders, so he was damn well going to do his best to carry them out. That was one thing that hadn't changed from his first days in uniform. "Velocity to Control, I copy disable the bike without destroying it. Will only engage if I consider it necessary. Velocity, out."

Which left two huge questions looming over him. First, how was he supposed to disable a bike like Armsmaster's, travelling at that speed, in a way that wouldn't end up destroying it? Second, how was he supposed to even get close enough to disable it, considering that she had Mover capabilities and she was able to react to what he did in (his) real time?

The quickest way to stop any two-wheeled vehicle, he knew, was by sticking something into the spokes of one of the wheels. Front wheel would inevitably make it go end over end, while back wheel would probably cause the back end to slide out. Armsmaster wouldn't be thrilled either way, but the back wheel was probably preferable.

The next question was, what should he use? He suspected that an ordinary wooden stick would fail to suffice; Armsmaster's tech was more durable than that. I need a metal bar of some sort.

Still following the bike down a back street, impressed despite himself at the way she weaved between the worst of the potholes and took the ones she hit in her stride, he looked around for something to jam in the wheel. Up ahead was a car parked at the side of the road, the driver just getting out. Perfect.

Speeding up a little to pass her (and making sure to give her a wide berth) he arrowed in on the car. The driver was almost frozen in place, his head only just beginning to turn as the bike roared toward him. Robin could see he was in no danger, but hopefully he had something useful in his car.

Reaching in past the driver, he triggered the trunk release, then ducked around and opened it with a surge of effort. Right there, ready to hand, was exactly what he needed: a tyre iron. Nice and durable, just what he needed to stop a bike that Armsmaster had designed.

Grabbing it, he set off after the bike, which had passed the car in the meantime. It was only a few yards ahead, but now travelling at a rather respectable walking pace. She had to know he was up to something, but unless she wanted to actually stop controlling the bike altogether, there wasn't much she could do—

She triggered the oil sprayers.

Normally this would not have been a problem for him. At his current rate of time dilation, the oil—actually, a special formulation of synthetic low-friction high-surface-tension liquid lubricant—would take so much time to reach the ground that he could literally walk around the perimeter of the spray and still have time to buff his nails before inserting the tyre iron where it would do the most good. But this didn't happen.

One second, he was casually jogging up behind the bike, and the next he was covered from the waist down with the 'oil'. Somehow, she'd made the bike's systems act within the same time frame he was used to using. He couldn't stop his foot from coming down, and it was like the asphalt had been covered with the slickest of black ice. Only by the greatest effort of waving his arms did he avoid going ass over teakettle a second time.

By the time he got his feet under himself in a stable stance, she was well away. He couldn't move or chase her, not without falling over. His boots were now coated with the stuff, so he wouldn't be able to walk, let alone run, until they'd been cleaned off.

The worst part was, she'd stymied him in a way he didn't understand. Actually, that was the second worst part. The worst part was the way how (as she rode off sedately down the back street) she gave him the finger without looking.

He sighed and activated his radio. "Velocity to Control. We have an issue …"


End of Part Sixteen