Desperate as she was to find the warehouse where Paige had gone, after learning that fact from the voice in the radio held by one of the dead figures lying in a bush on the Banners’ estate, Cassidy gave no notice to the car parked at the end of the driveway as she rushed back out of the garage with her temporarily-borrowed replacement costume in place. If she had actually paid attention to it, she might have noticed that the car hadn’t been there moments earlier when she first raced back in to grab the jumpsuit and helmet so she wouldn’t be paint-racing through town as her civilian self. Which would have caused a number of problems far beyond this one.
She did, however, notice as a figure stepping right into her path just as she was about to launch herself into the sky. A familiar figure wearing an insectoid-like Samurai mask along with a black chainmail-like top and loose blue pants. She was already raising a hand to make the rushing girl stop. “Hey, hold it right there!” The woman snapped the words in a dangerous tone, making it clear there would be problems if her demand wasn’t immediately met. A fact that was made doubly-apparent given the sword she held in her other hand.
Even being that preoccupied couldn't make Cassidy ignore the sword pointed at her by one of the city’s main Star-Touched. She came up short, holding up both hands. “Whoa, hey. I know you guys didn't like it when I decided not to join the Minority, but I didn't know you went to these sort of recruitment tactics.” Joking again? Why was she joking at a time like this? Was it really that much of an impulse to do whenever she was nervous? She just defaulted to it.
Flea, for her part, wasn’t amused. It was doubtful that she had even paid attention to the words beyond processing that they weren't an explanation for what was going on. “Paintball?” she snapped, looking the figure up and down. “Prove it’s you. And tell me why you're wearing some old jumpsuit and helmet that are obviously not yours. And most of all…” Trailing off, she turned slightly to point at the nearby body in the bush with the sword. “Tell me why there’s a dead security guard over there.” Her tone had not turned any less suspicious through that. Nor had she taken her eyes off the other figure for an instant.
“Uh, okay.” Even as the panic about what was happening raced through her mind and made Cassidy want nothing more than to take off right then and there, she quickly pointed at the ground to shoot two bits of yellow and orange paint. “It’s really me, I just had to borrow the--I--look, the girl who lives here is in trouble. Really bad trouble. I need to do something about it, or she’ll die. So either let me go help her and I'll find you to explain later, or--”
Flea, in that moment, had already spun to move back to the nearby car. “Come with me. I'll drive, and you can explain what the hell is going on.” By that point she had already reached the vehicle and yanked her door open before gesturing. “Well? You said it was an emergency, so get in, and tell me what happened to--to the Banners girl.” She was no longer looking at Paintball suspiciously, but it was very clear that she wouldn’t react well to the other Touched trying to leave on ‘his’ own. No matter how much Cassidy wanted to.
So, after only a momentary hesitation, she quickly moved that way to get in the passenger seat. She still wasn't sure how she would actually explain what was going on, but there wasn't time to argue about it. And she knew that trying to run off would just result in having the older woman chase after her, which would cause more trouble than she was ready to deal with right then. It wouldn't do Paige any good if Cassidy got caught up in a struggle against Flea of all people. Anxious as she was, sitting down in the car was the best way to handle the situation.
Still, she couldn't keep the frustration and panic out of her voice as she slammed the door and blurted, “Go, go, go, I’ll explain on the way, just go, please!” Only belatedly did she remember that the woman had no idea where they were actually going, so she quickly added, “The warehouse over on Gratiot, we have to get over there, right now! If we don’t get there like, now, Paige is gonna die.” God, she didn’t even know if Flea knew who Paige was to begin with. Wait, no, she did, maybe? She’d referred to her as the Banners girl. Was that just because she knew which family lived there? And for that matter, why had she been there to begin with? A sudden sinking feeling had snuck its way into Cassidy’s stomach. What if this was a trap of some sort? What if Flea was taking her to the Ministry right now? Or--or what if--
Those thoughts had managed to jump into her mind within a second of blurting out that rush of words. Which turned out to be all the time she had before suddenly being thrust back in her seat as Flea slammed on the gas, sending the car rocketing forward, toward the house. The reflexive yelp barely made it through her lips before the other woman spun the wheel and expertly pumped the brakes to spin the car mere centimeters from the garage, leaving marks on the ground as it performed a near-perfect one-eighty turn to face the front of the driveway once more. Without any pause at all, Flea hit the gas once more, sending the car practically flying down the driveway and out to the street beyond. They hit the road, spun to the left, and tore off that way even as the woman hit a button under the dash to turn on a very police-like siren.
Only then, once they were speeding down the street on the way to the warehouse, did Flea glance at the figure beside her. “Talk,” she ordered, voice incredibly tense. “We've got a couple minutes, so tell me what the hell is going on. No bullshit, I want the truth, Paintball. Where are the Banners, what happened at that party, why is Paige in danger? Who’s trying to kill her? And why are you in a cheap ripoff costume?”
Right, now they were at the really hard part. Cassidy didn't have any more excuses in that moment. She had to explain at least some of it. She had to tell Flea enough about what was going on to satisfy her, without saying too much, just in case. But what could she actually say? How could she talk about anything to do with Paige without giving away her own identity? It was so hard and dangerous, just talking about it at all. It felt as though every word she thought about saying was a potential minefield that could blow up in her face. She had to be so careful with this.
Finally, after a few seconds that felt like hours, she slowly started. “Awhile back, I noticed these guys abduct Paige Banners and put her in the back of a van at gunpoint.”
That was enough to make Flea snap her gaze that way, voice rising. “You noticed Paige get abducted at gunpoint? Why didn’t she--I mean why wasn’t it reported? This city may have a lot of criminal shit going on, but I'm pretty sure I would have noticed a report about the Banners kid getting thrown in the back of a van by guys with guns.”
“Yeah, she didn’t exactly report it afterward,” Cassidy muttered, shaking her head before pushing on. “I followed the van and it took her out to the woods by the river. The guys got her out and were about to--uh, you know, shoot her in the head.” She could see the woman look at her with what was obviously shock and incredulity even through the mask, but pushed on, gripping the armrest tightly as a rush of anxiety ran through her. “I mean, obviously I couldn’t let that happen. So I jumped in and stopped them. Then we had to run away because there were more of the guys. We took off into the woods.”
From there, Cassidy gave her a condensed and slightly sanitized version of that whole situation, explaining how they had ended up rushing through the woods, that Paige had told her about the man who could manipulate people’s memories through physical contact, their eventual escape on the boat, and the way Paige had gone into the internet cafe to upload the information she had apparently stolen from the bad guys that would make them leave her alone, then just completely disappeared.
All that was completely true. But from there, Cassidy embellished a little bit. She talked about how she had searched all over the place at different high schools before finally finding the one that Paige went to, trying to make sure the girl was okay after what happened with the gang she had apparently stolen enough blackmail information from to make them back off once it was safely uploaded.
“Hold on,” Flea finally interrupted. “What gang are you talking about? Which one?”
There was a very brief pause before Cassidy replied, “I’m not sure, just that they’re really dangerous and they don’t want people to know about them, or something. Anyway, that Paige girl knew about them, and the information she stole was pretty important. I didn’t--um, I didn’t believe they’d leave her alone forever, so I wanted to check on her. You know, just in case. I wanted her to know she could call for help if--um, if something bad happened. So I saw they were having a party over at the house and I umm, I sort of crashed it. I snuck in.”
Flea gave her another lingering look, gaze moving up and down before she spoke a bit doubtfully. “You snuck into a high schooler party and they didn’t notice?”
Okay, ouch, that one hurt for reasons Flea couldn’t possibly have known. Still, Cassidy pushed her reflexive feelings aside and gave a short nod. “I mean, they weren’t really paying a lot of attention past all the crazy stuff Paige had out for her birthday, you know? They were distracted and I just stayed in the group. I wanted to see what was going on and umm, maybe see what kind of person Paige was before I got closer to her.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
There was a brief pause before Flea gave a short nod. “I understand. Believe me, you wouldn’t be the first younger boy to have a crush on an older, pretty girl.”
Coughing violently, Cassidy forced back her first seven reflexive reactions to those words. God, God there was so much she wanted to say to that. But none of it was good. All of it would risk her identity. No, nope, couldn’t say any of that. She was a young boy, she was a young teenage boy, of course she would find Paige attractive. It made perfect sense, so arguing about it was--she wouldn’t--change the subject. She had to change the subject. This was entirely too dangerous. Not to mention uncomfortable.
Forcing those thoughts away, she pointedly continued. “I guess Paige noticed though, because um, she sort of led me into a room in the garage and trapped me there just before… something happened. I don’t know, exactly. I was unconscious for awhile, I think there was some sort of gas or something? Whatever, the point is, she left me a message about how her biological dad--she was adopted, about how he was forcing her to do some bad things, and the only way to stop him was for her to go, umm, k-kill all the people who work for him and then… and then kill herself. So I broke out and found that guy dead out there in the driveway, heard them mention the warehouse on the radio, and ran back into the garage to um, borrow this to wear. Then you showed up.” Once she got to that point, Cassidy turned, painting a squinting face across the front of the helmet to demonstrate her own expression. “Why did you show up?”
There was a very brief pause before the woman answered, “Mr. Banners donates a lot of money to help keep the Conservators and other Star-Touched groups in the state going. There are a few perks that come with that, and in this case he asked for someone to stop by to see his daughter on her birthday. I pulled in a little late and um, found several bodies.” She trailed off uncomfortably, gripping the wheel noticeably tighter for a moment before adding, “You're saying that those people all work for Paige’s father--her biological father, and she’s the one who… who killed them. You’re saying Paige killed those people and she’s killing more right now, as we speak. She did that, she killed them.” Repeating those words didn't seem to make it easier for the woman to accept.
Scrunching into the corner of the seat, not wanting to look at the woman for fear of giving more away than she wanted to, Cassidy gave a short nod. “I think so. I mean, it’s all just… a lot to take in, you know? I didn't know she was capable of anything like that. But she said her dad is going to make her do even worse things if she doesn’t… um, do this.”
“Kill herself,” Flea finished for her, voice blunt. “She thinks she has to kill herself. I don’t--why wouldn’t she just--I--” Cutting herself off, she stared straight ahead, lost in her own thoughts for a moment before abruptly pushing harder on the gas to send the car screaming down the street. “We’ll be there soon. We’ll ask her.”
“Maybe we should turn the siren off?” Cassidy pointed out a bit hesitantly. “You know, so they don't hear us coming from ten miles away. I know you’re like, a frontline superhero and all that, gotta be a beacon for the populace, but the element of surprise is vastly underrated sometimes.”
After the very briefest of pauses, Flea nodded and flipped the siren off. “Fair point,” she agreed before glancing that way, voice softening. “I can handle this myself, you know. If you want to get out, I wouldn't blame you. This isn’t your problem.” It sounded as though what she really wanted to do was tell Paintball to get out of the car and let her handle it, but didn't feel right about that.
Cassidy, for her part, shook her head quickly. “Like I said, I’ve been in this since I saw those guys grab Paige. I’ve gotta see it through.”
Both fell silent for a moment then, and soon the car was turning the corner and approaching the gate into the warehouse parking lot just in time to see the taillights of another car ahead of them pull in, moving so fast the vehicle caught a bit of air going over the driveway.
“Stay with me,” Flea ordered. “Do what I tell you to and don’t question it until we’re done. If I tell you to drop and hide, you drop and hide. I don't know what we’re about to run into in this place, but if I say it's too dangerous and you need to get the hell out, you do it.”
By the time she had finished saying that, they had already made it into the lot itself. The sedan ahead of them had stopped, and several men were getting out. They turned to face the incoming car, just as Flea brought it skidding to a halt, lunging out. The men reacted quickly, but she was faster. The instant her foot hit the ground, the woman launched herself fifteen feet in the air, while a hand sent one sword flying down to take the gun out of the nearest man’s hand. She flipped over, evading the shots from two more men before landing behind them with one hand raised. When they reacted by spinning toward her, she caught one of their guns with her second blade and knocked it aside while elbowing the other man.
Soon, they were on the ground, and Paintball had finished with the remaining two (including the one who had been disarmed by the hurled sword). Flea, taking a moment to ensure the area was clear, walked that way and plucked the weapon up from the ground, sheathing it once more while muttering, “That’s really weird.”
Rising up after using pink paint to yank a piece of asphalt up and over the two men she had hit, Paintball blinked. “What? The paint? Yeah, it’s pretty screwy, huh?”
“No, not--I mean yes, that’s weird too,” Flea allowed. “But my… draining power, it didn’t do anything to the men. They should have been unconscious before they even managed to turn around. But it was like they weren’t affected at all.” She had turned back, squinting in the direction of the unconscious figures, who were still jerking and struggling against the stay-down cuffs she had locked them into. “They should be unconscious right now. But… they’re not.” Her head shook. “Like I said, it’s weird. All of this is weird. Come on, I need answers. We need answers. And I’m pretty sure Paige Banners is the only one who can actually provide them.”
The two of them made their way inside. Not through the front door, but through a window on one of the upper levels. Soon, they were moving quickly through the office area of the warehouse, following what turned out to be the sound of many more men all heading for one location. It wasn’t hard to guess who those men were going after.
Furthering the feeling of confusion, as they went on, was the fact that all of the men the pair ran into on their way were equally unaffected by Flea’s stamina-draining power. One or two might have been some sort of Touched who were immune. But all of them being so made the Conservator suspect some sort of Touched-Tech was involved. Yet she could find nothing on the men on a brief search. This was all… very strange. And seemed to become stranger by the moment.
Their path led them in a winding way through the building, always following the sound of men who seemed to know where they were going. And the sound of gunshots. When they began to hear those, Flea picked up the pace, sprinting through the hall with Paintball right beside her.
Eventually, the trail led them to a room full of computer servers. They arrived just in time to see the girl in question drive a long knife in through the throat of one man, catching the back of his head to hold him steady as she forced the knife through the throat and into his brain as far as it would go before shoving the body away to fall to the ground.
“Paige!” Flea blurted before Cassidy could even open her mouth. There was shock in her voice, as she stood flatfooted, staring that way.
Paige, in turn, spun with the knife raised to throw. Seeing those two, however, she froze. If anything, she was just as surprised by their appearance as they were by what they had just seen. “Paintball? I--Flea? What… what?” There was more than mere surprise in her voice. Anxiety was there too.
Flea was shaking her head. “What--what did you--why… you’re not… what…” She walked forward very slowly, gaze dropping to stare at the body on the floor. “You killed him. Them. It was really you. You… what…” She raised her gaze from the body to the girl, staring that way. “Paintball told me you locked him in the room so you could run off and—”
She was interrupted by Paige’s abrupt, “Paintball told you?” Her own gaze had snapped over to look at Cassidy with new realization, eyes widening.
“Yes, and don’t be mad at him,” Flea put in, misinterpreting the look on the girl’s face. “It was—” she looked back-and-forth between them, a flood of emotions clearly running through the woman given her body language. “Paige, what is going on? You killed these people. You…”
“Stop, just stop!” Paige blurted while raising both hands. “I can’t— I can’t explain without saying things I shouldn’t say.” She was looking at Paintball, her meaning clear. Then, after taking a deep breath, she added, “You can trust her. She’s not one of them. One hundred percent. She’s not one of them.”
Flea echoed, “Not one of them? What are you talking about?”
“She’s telling me I can trust you,” Paintball explained without taking her eyes off of Paige. “But I don’t know if I can trust her.” Cassidy held that stare for a long moment before sighing. “But maybe I don’t have a choice right now, not if I want answers.”
Flea started to say that answers would be a damn good thing to have, but cut herself off as Paintball reached up to pull off the helmet.
“So,” Cassidy announced once the helmet and mask were off, “I might have fibbed a little bit about why I was at the party.”
“The Evans girl?” Flea blurted incredulously. “Okay, I’m not too proud to say I have no idea what the fuck is going on.” She kept snapping her head back and forth between the two of them, as though having no idea which would shock her more next.
“I’m telling her,” Paige informed the woman, with a nod toward Paintball. “She trusted you. More than you even know right now.” When she got no disagreement, Paige looked to Cassidy. “She’s… the Banners’ real daughter. Their older daughter. I know her. I know she’s not one of them.”
“Her sister,” Flea pointedly clarified. “She’s my adopted sister. And who the hell is this they you keep talking about? And… and when did you start killing people?!”
At that, Paige and Cassidy exchanged looks. The blonde girl abruptly broke the stare, reaching down to grab the fallen form of the man she had shoved the knife into. Before the other two could object, she drove the blade into the top of his head once more and cut it open to show them the metal orb within. “First, these things aren’t real. They’re cyborgs. My father makes them. And second, the they we keep talking about is a very long conversation.
“But if you both help me, maybe we’ll even survive long enough to have it.”