Chapter Three

Amelia sat on the bed, watching as Norah unpacked her bag of clothes, placing each item neatly in her assigned wardrobe space. Warren was bringing her other bag from the car.

"Norah," Amelia said softly. How was she doing this? Letting her baby go...what was she thinking? The kids were only ten. Why was the bureau doing this to children? Why were they allowing this to happen?

Norah stopped what she was doing and sat next to her mother. The mattress of the bed was hard, and the blanket covering it seemed scratchy. She instinctively reached over and hugged her mother.

"Baby," Amelia said. She wiped her eyes gently, and tilted Norah's head up. Her daughter winced slightly at the look in her mother's eyes. She'd only seen that look given to villains...and Warren when he broke the glass dinner table.

"Mom," Norah whispered. "What, um, what..."

"Go down stairs. Get in the jeep."

"Mom?" Mother and daughter turned in unison to see Warren in the doorway. Amelia stood, and grabbed Norah's hand, and put it in Warren's.

"Both of you go. To the jeep, now." Her tone was level now, emotions shoved far to the back: this was Psy-Saver taking over. "Go." Both kids left the room, moving quietly down the empty hallway, checking for signs of the Agents they knew were in the building.

Amelia stood for a moment, her eyes closed. There would be no going back if she did this. She would never see her husband again, even behind the protective glass of a jail booth. She would be unable to see her parents or her brother. But she had said made her peace with her family when she wed Barron, putting him and their family first, and Barron...she had said her goodbyes to him. He would understand. Keeping Warren and Norah together was of the utmost importance—Warren, though only three minutes older, was his sister's protector, and she his comforter. They were each other's other halves, and they needed each other as much as Amelia needed them.

This was what she had to do.

Her hand closed on the car keys in her pocket, and her mind was made up. She turned, and walked confidently down the corridor. Out of the dormitory building. Through the carpark, to their car. Warren and Norah sat in the back, already buckled up. She slid into the driver's seat, and glanced into the rearview mirror. Agent Foley was coming towards the car...

She started it up, and sped off the school's property.

They made one stop before their destination, and only for Amelia to run into their house, pick up her bag with their passports in, and call Filedus from his room. The old man got into the car, and they were off again. Amelia flipped open her cell phone and dialled, making a call as she sped along the highway.

"Shauna, hey, I'm glad I reached you before you left home. Look, don't come in today...no, we won't be home...I have to go. I have to go... I can't say where, I'm sorry. The less you know... I know...I'm going to miss you... Yes. Yes, I'll tell them... Goodbye."

There was silence in the car.

"Mom?"

"What?"

"Where are we going?"

"To the airport."

"...Oh."

It was only once they had landed in Germany that Filedus commented on how it was odd that the Bureau had not tried to stop them yet.

"Bad press tactic, perhaps?" he said softly to Amelia as the kids slept in between them in the taxi they took up to the Battle Mansion. "Do you think they'll paint this all in a negative light and try to make you and Barron look even more inherently evil?"

"They can do what they want, apparently," Amelia muttered bitterly. "They care nothing for the justice we've fought so hard for."

"Stop that," Filedus said sharply. "Now is not the time for self pity or loathing. Now we plan, and we find evidence against Barron's incarceration. We plan this battle, and we win this damned war."

Amelia was silent.

The Battle family did not believe that Barron was guilty. They welcomed Amelia and her children into the mansion, and it was then that Amelia and Filedus discovered that every last Battle hero was in the mansion, and none of them were prepared to go out to aid the bureau in whatever villains now appeared.

"It's ridiculous that they think they can get away with this," Filedus' brother Darren snorted as the adults gathered in the smoky drawing room to discuss what was to be done, and what plans were to be carried out.

"They're Americans, what do you think!?" Naiomi, his wife retorted. She then glanced at Amelia, and apologized, but the other woman seemed not to have noticed. She was sitting in an overstuffed armchair, martini glass in one hand, and a long, slender cigarette holder, cigarette itself lit, her posture completely relaxed as she gazed blankly at a bookshelf. It was this that worried the Battles. Amelia did not, to their knowledge, smoke or drink, or gaze absently into space. She was a level headed, sober, proper, upright woman of outstanding moral character... everything they admired in a heroine.

"Alright then..." Benjamin, the eldest brother to Filedus and Darren, spoke from his position where he sat, perched on the arm of a chair, cane lending him extra balance, half glaring at the family over his spectacles. "Our plan of action must then be decided. You are all here," he said in his clear voice that belied his age. "Barron has been accused wrongly of these atrocities: we at current cannot prove his innocence. The accusers hold the upper hand, and are using their allies and powers to keep it that way. It's our word against theirs, and as Barron has been tried on American soil by American heroes, it seems they are content with the outcome."

"Perhaps the time to abandon honour has finally come, then," a dark voice came from the other end of the room. Howard, Benjamin's son was a dark and brooding character, solemn since his mother's death, and alienating his father because of the man's numerous lovers and wives. Howard held to the family motto starkly as any other Battle though: Loyalty, Honour and Strength were ingrained into him, and he was not resentful of it. He was simply a questioning man by nature, always wanting to know people's motives, and why this or that was wrong or right. He constantly held morals and values under inspection, and had extensively spoken to his uncle Darren about Barron's incarceration.

He saw this action against the family fit to abandon their moral heroics and react—before they were wiped out.

"We hold by what we have always held by, Howard," Filedus said, not unkindly. "If we give in to our inner demons, even for something as justified as this, we are no better than those who accuse us."

"This has struck us to the core," Benjamin continued, glaring at Howard, willing him to sit down and shut up. "We have always protected on the global scale, not saving our powers for a specific country, though we dwell here in Germany. When Barron and Amelia moved to the Americas, they did not limit themselves, either, and perhaps, because of that, the people have not grown to trust them as they trust the fools whom have now betrayed them."

"Father, I just don't think I can go out there and fight for humanity anymore," the petit blonde, Ella, said softly. "It simply hurts to aid the Bureau when they've done..." she waved her hand in the air, searching for the correct word, and failing. She sighed and looked away.

"I know what she means," Marlene said sadly. "All we've worked for: they turn on us, both humans and the heroes we work beside. Everyone is taking sides, and there appears to be no middle ground, even for those who wish it. I do not think that I can take it much longer. Three days since the incident...and still, harsh intent rings on the streets. They're still baying for blood." Marlene shut her eyes, and Ella, her elder sister by two years and nine months, placed her hand on her shoulder, offering small comfort. The sisters were polar opposites, yet so similar: Ella, a small figure, with her late mother's gold tresses, and her clear, startling blue eyes; Marlene with dark chocolate hair, and deep eyes that only got darker when she was upset or distressed. She, too, though younger, was taller.

"What are you saying?" Benjamin demanded, his authoritive tone causing several of the family to snap out of their own reveries.

"We've spoken about it, father," Ella said. "We both agree that for now, at least, it's best."

"What is best?" Benjamin demanded.

"Ella and I are no longer working with the International Superhero Agency. We've gotten undetermined leave, or whatever." Marlene bit her lip as their father's eyes narrowed.

"Are you two—"

"Do you think that's wise, Marlene, Ella?" Amelia's voice was thin, reedy, almost, nothing at all what she normally sounded like. The sisters shared a glance, then looked to the older woman, and nodded solemnly.

"We cannot simply abandon our posts! Regardless of our inner turmoil and hurt, we have a duty. An obligation."

Benjamin's words were cold, but the truth in them struck a chord in the hearts of the Battle family.

Filedus looked away, to the window, trying to see beyond the darkness that had settled outside. He wanted nothing more than to forget this, to have his life of four days ago back. If he had the opportunity, he would warn his son, tell him not to leave to aid the heroes that day.

Darren sighed, and studied his hands carefully. He hated these family gatherings: they provided too much anger and talk. While those were both good for getting things out in the open, they were hellishly bad, in a pyro, too. If they couldn't be controlled...Darren shuddered to think that perhaps he would not be able to teach the newly developed Warren and Norah about that control as he had taught their father. Why the feeling of foreboding settled on him, he knew not, and brushed it off with another sigh.

Naiomi stood, and poured herself another drink, carefully sifting through her feelings. She had never been particularly close to Barron or his family, but she could easily put herself in their shoes: the injustice, the tragedy, the loss... she did not wish it on anyone, and yet here it was, its putrid evil head rearing in their home, threatening the balance the family had etched so long ago. The line between good and evil was clear, and yet they were falling like this.

Crystel, Benjamin's current wife, had been silent up until this point. "Perhaps," she began, "perhaps it would be wise to indeed take some time away. Regroup. Re-evaluate. We need to ensure we are well guarded: also, we have the children here. This disobeys direct court order—no, no, Amelia, I am not rebuking you. I am merely stating the facts. We need to think clearly, about how we will handle this. We need to ensure that the remaining family is kept together." She smiled sadly at Amelia, and looked away again.

"So, is that agreed on, then?" Benjamin asked harshly, and swore. "We will give them the satisfaction of having pushed us into a hole—"

"No, brother," Filedus said, his voice firm and strong, only his eyes giving away the pain inside of him. "We give them no such satisfaction. We have the most superheroes—in our employment, and our family. Pull everyone out. They will see what it is to do this to the Battle family."

"Can we win this?" Amelia murmured from her place, so softly that no one was certain if she spoke to herself or the members of the room. "Can we win this war that has been heaped upon our heads?"