Planning my battles

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I had a horrible night. Now that I had the threat of brain surgery hanging over my head, it had proven a great addition to my nightly nightmares. But the dogs didn't wake until I sat up in bed and turned on the light, so apparently it all remained in my head. Which is good, because I didn't need to give Peter anything else to worry about.


I used that time before I could get back to sleep to apply some blunt-force logic to calm myself down. First of all, I am not without resources. I have money and I'm devious. Second, it's one thing to threaten somebody with brain-butchering surgery, and another thing entirely to find a doctor to perform it. My doctor had said that any surgery, if for example the organs started to fail or a tumor formed, was out of the question, even in the worst-case scenario, and that I'd find, shopping for a second opinion, that nobody would touch it. Then there was the forcing of everybody to join teams and work. Everybody who could help was helping, so why the press gang approach?  I fell asleep pondering these questions.

Over breakfast, I talked to Peter about some of this. "Honey, I'm concerned about this registration of all the supers. Do you know if there's an exclusion for those who are underage?"

He put down his spoon. "No, there isn't. And it's public."

I nodded. He wouldn't want everybody finding out about his alter ego. "May I suggest that you lie low for awhile? I've got some ideas."

"People out there need my help," he said mulishly.

"I'm not denying that. Just for a day or two."

"Well, we get to go back to the apartment today. I'm supposed to meet May there this afternoon."  He shook his head. "The damage to the city is weird. There are pockets where there's a huge amount of damage to the streets and buildings, then other big chunks aren't even touched, or the damage isn't structural."

"That's something to be grateful for," I agreed. "Listen, I need to get in touch with my lawyer, but I'd like to acquaint him with my situation before dropping in. Do you think that you could hand-deliver a letter for me?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, interested.

"He's not a hero, just a damned good lawyer," I said, smiling at him. "But if he doesn't feel comfortable working on these issues--he does corporate, mostly--he'd be able to research and find me names for lawyers I can trust." He looked curious. "One of those things concerns you. I don't think we're going to be able to carve out an exemption for underage heroes, if anything the argument will be that they need supervision. I think we can apply pressure to keep the names out of the public realm, though. For all heroes, but especially the minors. What do you think about that?"

"If I have to register, then that would be the best case outcome, I guess," he said. I patted his hand where it rested on the table.

"Times are changing," I said a little sadly. "I think what we need is an absolute asskicker of a civil rights lawyer. We get that, I think we'll get the best deal that we can." Peter picked up his spoon and poked at his cereal. In the end, he agreed to make himself scarce for a couple of days, and we left to get him a burner phone. Two actually; a backup in case something happened to the first one. I didn't want him to be without resources. To that end, I also gave him some cash for emergency purposes. Just in case he couldn't reach me and something happened. Then he took my letter and took off. I made myself go to the tower, picking a different route where I could see a different view of the damage.

A lot had gotten done, actually. People from all over the country had descended on Washington and New York to help. My recent outing made me both known and recognized; I got a lot of hails from people as I passed. I stopped frequently to ask how they were doing and to thank them for their help, hear their opinions. I felt like I had to explain why I hadn't been helping, but people were pretty easygoing. Apparently there had been a team of journalists who'd been trapped when we had to fall back to the tower who had filmed the battle and it was known that I'd been hit. Several people asked about Bucky, his heroics had featured in the film. I was glad to hear their concern for him, given that some people still seemed to think he was half a step away from being a psycho killer. Eventually, though, I reached the tower.

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