Director Piggot sat across the interview room table from the strange blonde girl. Sitting serenely, her hands neatly folded on her lap, exuding an air of regal confidence that automatically put Piggot's teeth on edge. Her skin was alabaster, her lips were pink, her hair was gold, her eyes sparkled like diamonds and her age was somewhere between fourteen and twenty four. Her dress was fairly ordinary if one ignored the wide, jewel encrusted belt she was wearing - and why had she been wearing something so obviously valuable in ABB territory at night, of all things? - and had been carrying a baton/scepter/wand thing, like it was the most normal thing in the world. A set of elegant, gold rimmed glasses were carefully placed on the table in front of her, as was a wide brimmed, floral decorated hat.
She cleared her throat. "Let me try this again: you were out for a walk? Alone? In one of the most dangerous parts of the city?"
The girl (woman? It was impossible to tell) raised an eyebrow a precise angle. "Yes, Madam Director. I was advised to talk a constitutional 'where the boats are not', and since the Docks are no longer in use ... until they start arriving again, after that nice Magnus fellow cleared the wreckage ... it seemed the most logical place to go."
"And who 'advised' you to do something so dangerous?"
Her perfect lips quirked. "A most reliable source, by the name of Glegg. In a way."
"In a way?"
"I've been told that your world has a somewhat ... mundane view of the multiverse. I have no wish to disrupt my stay here, or cause trouble for my team, simply because of a philosophical disagreement. In any case, I was minding my own business, when I was accosted by a group of terribly rough young men, led by a rather large man in a silver mask. I must say, his tattoos were quite spectacular, but he and his fellows were quite rude. They seemed to take offense to the hue of my skin and hair, for some reason."
"The ABB are a gang of asian supremacists, and their primary rivals are a white supremacist organisation called the Empire," offered Piggot, and the girl pursed her lips.
"Ah, yes. I had almost forgotten that your world has ... Nazis." The word seemed to leave a bad taste in her mouth.
Piggot's ire rose at the implied dissatisfaction with her native dimension, but fought it down automatically. "So you responded by somehow making the gang members fall asleep?"
"Powdered poppy extract: excellent for giving the obstreperous louts a good nights sleep in order to rethink their life's choices. Perfectly legal, as there is no actual opiates involved, as I explained to your redoubtable Armsmaster."
"We prefer not to have unregistered Tinker-based toxins used in our city," ground out Piggot, "No matter what their active ingrediants happen to be. Nevertheless, Lung was unaffected by your concoction?"
"Indeed: his constitution may even rival my army's."
"Your ... army?"
"Of course: he's quite resilient."
Piggot blinked. "He?"
"Certainly: I'm sure he will be along before long: he does worry so. When his men fell asleep, this 'Lung' - and may I say, tattoos aside, I have seen far more appropriately named dragons than he - started to become even ruder, and tried to grab me in a most uncouth manner, his hands alight with some kind of pyrokinesis.
"So I turned him into a hat, and called the police."
Piggot's eyes were drawn, against their will, towards the elegant headgear on the table. "You ... turned Lung, one of the most terrifying parahumans on the planet, a thug who fought an Endbringer to a standstill and has terrorised Brockton Bay for years ... into a lady's hat?"
Ozma, Princess of Oz and member of the Young Sentinels of Earth Sentinel, part of that world's delegation to Earth Bet, nodded serenely. "It seemed the most expeditious method of apprehending him. He should revert to normal at sunrise: you should probably have him in a holding cell by then."
As Piggot continued to make a good impression of a goldfish, Ozma tilted her head slightly. "Are you quite alright, Madam Director?"