Chapter Text
Glenn Chambers had been in the Public Relations game for years. Working his way up through the ranks as first an intern writing talking points about Vikare. Then as a supervisor throwing together copy about the Endbringers. Then as the assistant to the poor schmuck who had to spin the death of Hero. Which led to his promotion and position that had remained stable ever since. The Protectorate was a hungry beast, so he had spent years helping to craft the modern heroic persona, while also keeping the general population as calm as possible. Given the personalities involved with Triggering, that could lead to some pretty dark places, so it took a lot to make him panic.
The latest out of Brockton Bay did not quite reach those levels, but it came damn close. Enough to make him redirect the Bastion Incident to the intern pool for the moment before doing his own dirty work. Some people just got annoying to reach around the holidays, departmental regulations or no.
It took the guru nearly an hour to properly review the various reports, habits and contract details associated with his latest problem child. Then, as was his habit, he reviewed said official and unofficial reports VERY carefully over a rather dangerous energy drink. Mentally compared it against the materials that brought said problem child to his attention. After all of that, he had only one option left to get the truth before escalating. Therefore, he abused his administrative powers in a way that drove various directors nuts and got a name, phone number and security credentials. Sometimes the News Cycle acted fast, and thus so did he.
Dialing the contact number, he noted the absolutely abysmal number of rings for his report. An emergency contact required an immediate answer, not four whole beats! "Hi there, is this Agent Bloom? Security Clearance HT43BB? Yes, that's right, under Sub Director Green? This is Glenn Chambers, and I need to have a quick chat with you, off the record. Why? Because your little redemption story has gone biblical and I need to know how long it's been happening. Yes, I'll hold." As the moron on the line proceeded to scramble for some privacy, he idly checked his manicure. If this was going to be as bad as he expected, a quick appointment was in order.
Finally, the agent found a relatively private area and started regurgitating a lot of boiler plate. As ass coverings went, Glenn gave it a solid four out of ten. If this woman was any greener, she might be mistaken for a Case Fifty Three! "Yes, yes, that's all very nice and cute. Loyalty unto disgrace and all that. Now, let's get to the truth. No, I have read your reports and as far as snow jobs go you get at least an A for effort. Honey, I've been running damage control around Protectorate heroes since you were in diapers. Don't insult my intelligence and just tell me how bad is it going to be when I bring your local caped crusader in for a personal evaluation."
The resulting stream of rapid fire dialogue began to get colorful at the point. The PR master just raised an eyebrow. "Yes, that is VERY creative and I'll have to work the one about the pineapple into casual conversation sometime. Agent, I think you need to realize something. This isn't me being unprofessional or overreaching. This is me being NICE. I know that Shadow Stalker's your first personal charge. Something I will be having WORDS about with your supervisor in the morning, mind you. Anyways, in this business of Capes and capitalism, there are three people you do not lie to. Your doctor, your priest and your Public Relations guy. I might be in New York City, but as far as the Wards in general and your ass in particular are concerned, I'm ALWAYS the Public Relations guy. Right now, I'm saying Shadow Stalker, your personal responsibility, has become a problem. I have some options if you come clean right now. Otherwise, I have to get creative. Given what I've found so far, something tells me you would not like my creative side. Understood?"
An angry curse and dial tone was his only reply.
Glenn Chambers had not lied about how long he had been in the business. But, no matter how often he heard it there was something rather unique about watching an idiot destroy their professional career. After all, if he could manage Parahumans like the Triumvirate then some third year Special Agent had no chance. Especially after he got done recommending a transfer to a smaller, quieter placement to her boss before arranging her own termination. Based on the material he had accumulated so far, SOMEONE was definitely asleep on the job over there.
Still, better to hedge his bets. Hitting his speed dial this time, the best spin doctor in the business smiled at the rapid pickup. This was someone who knew better than to waste his time! "Appraiser! How is my favorite Watchdog official? Yes, I know it's the holidays and I also know that you drew the short straw for the holiday coverage. What can I say? Eleventh Hour threatened a boycott if they got divorced again this year. Yes, yes I'll make sure to send you some of the better samples from our edible lines, Happy Holidays and all that. Yeah, I need an emergency evaluation. In words you might understand, signs are pointing to a baby hero going off the reservation and I might need to ruffle some feathers. Yes, it really is that bad. I'll email you the details. An evaluation about the long term effects on the Wards program please. Yes, you are lucky you skipped dinner. Please and thank you!"
Hanging up much more politely than the earlier Agent Bloom, it took Glenn a matter of minutes to consolidate his data on the Shadow Stalker case for official consumption. Based upon how often he sent projects to Watchdog, the whole thing was practically routine by now!
Idly beginning his background on the target of Shadow Stalker's ire, the rather colorful man was surprised by a fax from Appraiser only ten minutes later. It usually took the bastard an hour to settle on an official sounding reply to one of his little pokes, scheduling being a bitch. So getting something official to wave around the idiots to nip this building disaster in the bud was a welcome surprise.
Discovering that the response was Navy Blue, three steps below the aftermath of an Endbringer battle and two beneath the Slaughterhouse Nine was much more unpleasant.
With a crisp hiss of carbonated air, he opened a fresh beverage before getting serious.
-----
Nearly an hour later, yet another call rocked his phone. Being knee deep in the sob story behind one little three quarters orphan, Glenn's tolerance for bullshit was fairly low. "Hello Director Piggot. How many I help you today?" It was hardly the first time the two had worked together or against each other over the years. Brockton Bay was a cesspit on a good day, and it did not generally have a lot of good days. Then again, neither did it's PRT Director.
Although, judging from her restrained fury voice, today was going to be filled with some rather harsh words. So... typical Piggot really. "Yes, I did speak with Agent Bloom. Yes, I did bypass the chain of command to do so. Yes, I didn't give you a heads-up. Why? Because the only way someone that stupid got put in charge of a dumpster fire like Shadow Stalker was if she was banging the boss or related to someone with clout. So I had to make sure that you weren't on her dance card." Which had been confirmed, hence the honesty. Renick on the other hand...well someone was going to be asked a few fairly harsh questions about nepotism when it came out that his niece allowed this disaster.
Thankfully, for all her bullheaded tunnel vision, Emily was a realist. So she did not waste time getting offended. "Yes, it's that bad. Certified Navy Blue for the National Wards program bad. Yes, I have Appraiser on speed dial and no I can't show you the evidence yet. I need to coordinate with the appropriate federal authorities about taking her into custody. Oh honey, get your dialysis machine checked out by someone you trust. Why? Because, in the words of my generation, you must be tripping if you think we can keep this quiet and in-house."
Double clicking another report about an absentee father, who also had a disturbing amount of soft power and ties to the local media, Chambers frowned. "Yeah, funny thing. I don't care what hoops you would have to jump through to keep the Youth Guard off your back while investigating the problem child. I have all the authority I need to use that handy dandy spyware text logger all Ward phones have by default for emergency evidence gathering. Oh yes, completely legal and almost always overlooked by those in question. Because it takes someone with very specific credentials to open an active case about the mess and lucky for me I qualify. Yes, it's lucky for you too because there are plenty of cutouts to keep you from being fired. Play nice or I'll strongly suggest that you require Parahuman healing in order to do your job and will insist on either arranging a session with Panacea or Scapegoat. Try me."
Aaaannnnnddddd....there was already a police report in the works. Fuck.
Glenn waited for the rant to cycle through the third time before breaking in with a vengeance. "Yeah, Emily? I'm going to do you a favor if you shut your mouth right the fuck now. Long story short, she's fucked. I can't fix this. What I CAN do, is try to be surgical and suggest a settlement amount that won't comprise of thirty five percent of your gross budget for the next five years. Yes it IS that bad, and I've seen some shit. Fine, I'll try to keep your house of cards from catching on fire but no promises. Always a pleasure, Director. We WILL be talking later. Okay, bye!"
Leaning back in his chair, the PR wizard began looking into what would be involved for a transfer to Arcadia... possibly two years ago. Plucky little sob story almost skipped a grade after all...
-----
With a perfectly trained knock, Legend stuck his head into the most third most dangerous office in the New York Protectorate. "Hey, Glenn? Do you have a second? The Chief Director called and was wondering why you were screening her messages. Something about pinging the FBI behind her back?" Which was not really Glenn's style, hence the personal visit.
Said mastermind behind the Protectorate's image did not even bother looking up from his screen. Given the number of energy drink cans covering his desk, it was questionable if the man could even stand without having multiple organ failure. "Sorry, Legend but I was dealing with something time sensitive. Please tell the Chief Director that an information packet explaining what I'm doing should be in her email within the next hour. Just dotting the eyes and crossing the tees at this point."
North America's strongest Blaster entered the room before closing the door behind him. "Glenn? What the hell is actually going on? It's not like you to farm anything out to another agency like this. Talk to me already. Tell me what has you spooked enough to call Watchdog during the holidays. Maybe we can brainstorm something together instead of finally giving you a heart attack."
The fat, exhausted looking man behind the scenes just looked at the iconic Protectorate leader before shifting away from his screen. The resulting number of joint cracks echoed in the room. "Right now, I'm working on saving the Wards program from a scandal that might just manage what the Youth Guard case failed to accomplish. Honestly, I involved the FBI because we need the plausible deniability."
Legend looked at the man before groaning. "Damn it, this is the Cincinnati Incident all over again, isn't it? Rip the band-aid off and give me details already." That particular headache had involved nearly a hundred man hours and two point three million dollars in reparations. He still could not look at caramelized onions without flinching.
A few clicks brought up a vaguely familiar mask to the screen. "Meet Shadow Stalker, a low level vigilante from Brockton Bay. Had a lengthy suspected body count, with confirmed cases of manslaughter and assault. Mostly amongst the local Nazis and drug addicts she liked to roll for cash. Got picked up a few months back, but managed to get enough testimonies, along with a good enough lawyer to broker a plea agreement. Said agreement involved a Probationary Wards membership, along with a stint in Alexandria's boot camp."
Keith actually felt his mind jogging a bit at that. Given the side effects of his Breaker state, it was not an unfamiliar sensation. "Wait, I remember now. Their PR team did this whole blitz campaign about safely integrating teenaged vigilantes into the Wards. Sort of like what Chicago did two years back or San Antonio before that? Just with a fresh coat of paint, right?"
Glenn waved off the comment. "We rotate the campaign around the larger geographic and geopolitical areas when general recruitment is low. Given the fact that Armsmaster STILL hasn't managed to lure the miracle healer into the fold, Brockton Bay needed all the help they could get. Problem was, they chose a lemon to launch the push this time around. One who happened to know just enough tidbits of Parahuman and regular law to be dangerous."
A new image of an attractive red headed teenager joined Shadow Stalker. "Miss Emma Barnes, an amateur model and daughter of a social climbing divorce lawyer. The little brat was caught in a shakedown about a year and a half ago. Shadow Stalker ended up saving her and they became friends. The girl desperately needed a therapist. Instead, Daddy helped enable her relationship with a Parahuman teen addicted to violence. She wanted to hurt someone to feel like she was in control. So Shadow Stalker helped encourage this behavior in the worst way. I've seen social media posts from the Fallen that are less psychotic."
Finally, a third picture of a pale girl with glasses and curly black hair joined the other two. "As near as I can determine, after many, MANY hours of research mind you, Emma and our Ward decided to treat the red head's childhood friend as their personal chew toy. Her name is Taylor Hebert, and based upon what I can discover, they have made her life absolute hell. No one in charge of the cesspit of a school could be bothered to do their jobs, and other than a few weeks near the beginning of Shadow Stalker's recruitment, they have done everything from spreading rumors to physically assaulting her. That cumulated into THIS little incident on the last day of classes. Watch very closely and pay attention. I know I did."
Grainy video images, probably from a cell phone, replaced the images. The previously mentioned Taylor Hebert was pinned against a wall by an athletic black girl while several other teenagers looked on and laughed. Emma Barnes approached, a plastic bottle in her hands and a unhinged smile on her face. Words were exchanged, too soft to pick up, before the bottle was dumped over the taller girl's head, splattering yellow paint all over the place. She shrieked in despair while everyone else, including her assailants laughed even harder. It was like something out of a horror show.
Pausing the playback, Glenn turned to face a pailing Legend. "To be clear, that was Shadow Stalker's civilian identity holding the girl. This video was picked up by the Empire Eighty Eight and plastered all over their message boards as a form of propaganda. We're pretty sure that Victor is in charge of their media machine and he framed things beautifully for the Nazi masses. Right now, half the skinheads on the east coast want to corner both Barnes and Stalker before stringing then up by their toenails. Not to mention the fact that both their identities leaked on the more sketchy platforms within an hour, which in turn flagged the whole mess for my personal review. As you can see, we have a problem that needs a fast solution."
Legend had dealt with some pretty nasty shit over the years, but he was no fool. A highschool bullying campaign alone was not enough to make the head of PR pull out all his best moves. "So, again I'm curious about why this is worth such a big splash? We could scoop up Shadow Stalker and send her to Juvenile Hall in order to keep this quiet. Arrange a settlement for the poor girl, of course, and make sure someone in Piggot's office and the school are fired. Yet, you seem to be preparing for a slash and burn operation. What gives?"
Flipping back to the images on the screen, the PR guru highlighted Taylor Hebert's picture. "Well, we have to make it public or the Empire will be able to milk this incident for YEARS. It checks multiple boxes for their dogma, and Shadow Stalker could not have played the part of a psychotic bully better unless she was cast in an eighties highschool movie. But even worse is the victim. Miss Hebert has had her life slowly and surely wrecked by degrees since the year before highschool. Her mother passed when she was twelve, her childhood friend turned into a psychotic bitch, her father is distant at best and her academic and personal futures have been poisoned by too many people to count. She is the perfect victim to tug at the heart strings and, if used properly, could bring the National News Media down to the Bay."
With yet another click, a skinny man with thinning hair and glasses took her place. "It also doesn't help that her father is tied into the local unions. He gets pissed off enough and the school will have picket lines all over the place. Which will, in turn, set every investigative journalist and tabloid shill on the hunt for dirt about Emma Barnes and her crazy, abusive friend. The Wards connection will leak because someone will decide it would be worth it. Which would tie her to our necks like an anchor. At which point we can expect an audit of every branch, starting in Brockton Bay which will probably lead to a round of resignations and further poisoning the attempts to integrate Parahumans with mere mortals. It fits so beautifully that I'd almost suspect a Simurgh plot." Which, given the threat rating involved, was not an idle concern.
Returning to his previous document, Glenn smiles the smile of the triumphant. "No, to deal with this mess requires something a bit more agressive. Get the FBI involved because some of this can definitely fall under their umbrella. Arrest the crazy bitches publicly with an agency that is clearly not in the Empire's pocket. Use the opportunity to clean house at said highschool, which has an absolutely abysmal reputation by the way, which will make the gangs back off. Then escalate up the chain, painting the local school administration into the most incompetent group of authority figures outside of a Dickens Novel. Sure, day one will be about bullying, but by day three everyone will view them as merely a symptom of a more ingrained overall problem. By day five they won't even be worth a byline and we can squash follow up articles if we're careful."
Finally hitting send on his report, the PR guru stood up. "We get everyone focused on the absolute LACK of Parahuman involvement, which keeps any chance of this leaking to a minimum. We gag the idiots who allowed this with so much red tape they'll probably suffocate before making it to trial. We work on plea deals that send the little monsters to prison and disbar the Lawyer daddy to keep them from being a threat. Finally, we encourage and contribute towards an overly generous settlement agreement for Miss Hebert and their other playmates before arranging academic help in order to prepare her for a transfer to Arcadia in the Fall. Especially after a whole butt load of tutoring and therapy. Thus, the Wards program is squeaky clean and PRT internal discipline can remain out of the media. Now then, if you'll excuse me I need a power nap before trying to make something useful out of the plan our intern pool came up with for Bastion. Ciao."
-----
Roughly a week later, Glenn was in a secure site just outside of Brockton Bay. Across the table was an Agent Andrews, one of the various members of the Federal Bureau of Investigation who could be called upon in times of need. Since most of those involved Parahumans on either side of the law, he had become an unofficial liaison and connection that the PRT was happy to have. Especially when one of their plans went so thoroughly up in flames. "Jonas, what the ABSOLUTE FUCK HAPPENED?! I gave you everything you needed to put this to bed properly without getting near a Protectorate hero! By the book all the way! So, why the HELL is Taylor Hebert in the HOSPITAL?!"
The Agent at least had the decency to look embarrassed. "Mister Chambers, I agree that it's horrible the girl was hurt. However, in our meagre defense, this case was nowhere near as cut and dry as you seem to believe. There were... unforseen complications. Several unforseen complications. Real life is just not like a photoshoot."
Desperately wishing he had some sort of chemical cocktail in front of him, the fat man glared at the Agent. "Summarize. QUICKLY."
Fidgeting slightly, the federal officer made his report. "The materials you provided gave us enough probable cause to go after Hess. Several of her actions indicated a level of violence and systematic abuse that did not go over well. Most of it should have been handled by the local authorities, but we have a fairly good history of extracting possible assets before they get taken out by compromised law enforcement. Of course the arresting agents were not idiots, and figured she was probably a dirty Cape. However, those guys would walk barefoot across Siberia to screw over the PRT with official sanction. So we had her bagged and tagged two days ago before moving her family into protective custody. The problems happened when dealing with Barnes and the school administration."
Glenn groaned at the memory of those after action reports. "What the hell happened there? Why didn't you sweep up the whole bunch before school started?"
Andrews snorted. "Glenn, we might be able to get away with one kid due to extreme circumstances and concerns about personal safety. But if you think I could coordinate enough agents to pull off a city wide purge without involving the local police you need to check the expiration date on your hairspray. We reached out and arranged a joint task force with some relatively clean precincts. Our agents managed to ghost Barnes using Hess's cellphone, while both the Principal and her Secretary were taken in the night before school started. But we also decided to coordinate a sting operation on the first day of class to sweep up everyone at once. It was seen as the best way to manage the situation without letting details leak ahead of time. Not to mention that we wanted to ensure that the school officials didn't have a chance to destroy any evidence. Which was a good step to take given just what was found."
The overweight media mogul just groaned. "Again, how exactly did this lead to the primary witness getting hospitalized?"
Again, the Agent flinched. "Our plan was to use the in-school announcements as cover to have people escorted to the office for processing. What we didn't know, and hadn't had a chance to discover, was that the little psychopaths had planned to trap Miss Hebert in her locker after filling it with medical waste from the girls bathrooms. They had already prepared the supposed prank before Hess was taken into custody, and she certainly didn't warn us. So Barnes was able to arrange for a couple of jocks to push her in. When Miss Hebert did not show up to class, no one was surprised simply because we thought she was skipping after the earlier attack. Instead, it turned out that she came in because her father had an appointment with the Principal that morning to remove her from the school and didn't want to provide the faculty with any leverage. An appointment that the secretary did not bother to write down. We only discovered the situation after sending people to check her locker when the father showed up. Poor bastard got delayed because of a Cape fight blocked traffic on his way in."
Just done with the situation, Glenn started to rub his temples. "Goddamn it. I thought this was handled! Alright, here's what is going to happen. Come down like the wrath of God on anyone you can. Try to get video because teenagers are assholes and someone would have been filming. I don't care who has to promise what, because I want every single idiot in that place terrified of opening their mouths until their great grandchildren are born! Meanwhile, I'm calling in a favor to try and lower some of our liability by just a little bit. Chop chop, Agent. Time is a wasting!"
The FBI official just stared at the PR man. "Since when do I take orders from the PRT? I mean, really Mister Chambers. You're not even in my chain of command!"
Flashing a piece of paper in front of his contact, Glenn smirked as he went bone white. "I give the orders while trying to resolve a certified National Security issue. Right now the only person who can tell me to screw off is the President, and even he would have to do so politely. Now chop FUCKING chop!"
The PRT Public Relations wizard just watched Jonas scurry off with a sigh. Then he pulled out his phone and prepared to burn yet ANOTHER favor over this mess. "Lady Photon? Yes, it's Glenn. Yes I know it's been a while. Oh, I'm afraid I'm calling in that marker from the mess in Boston. Yes that one. An emergency healing via Panacea at a local hospital. Sting operation went wrong and someone got hurt. I don't know the full details, but I know enough to call you. I'll tell you what. If you make this happen, I'll sweeten the pot. Oh, I just thought you might want to tell your sister to lose a colleague's number. Yes, Alan Barnes has been a bad little boy, and New Wave does not want to get caught up in his shit. As a heart attack, Sarah. As a heart attack."