A/N: Yes, Taylor is STILL not optimized. Strong, but not optimized.

Yes, I know that they don't sound the sirens everywhere in the world when an Endbringer comes up. I know that's fanon. But it occurs to me there's a very good reason why they would, so I'm rolling with it. Yup. That's the reason, not just I'm too lazy to rewrite the last chapter.

I apologize to any Australians in the audience for the depiction of Australia. In my defense, other (alleged) Australians help me make this. Seriously, I was just going to have everyone be called Bruce, until I was told more…

….

Toaru Majutsu no Taylor-chan: A Certain Mythic Archmage

by Shadow Crystal Mage

Chapter 8: The Inevitable Endbringer Fight Chapters! Part 1 - Solomon Finally Sets Something On Fire (On Purpose! Heroically!)!

Disclaimer: Worm created by Wildbow. Pathfinder by Paizo. All hail Gygax!

….

Taylor Hebert's earliest memories of waking up to Endbringer sirens was not, as some would think, childhood fear and confusion. It was, quite sensibly, waking up to find her parents hugging her and being told she wouldn't have to go to school tomorrow. Sometimes, when the sirens had sounded, they'd get in the car, meet up with Emma and the Barnes' and go to this weird underground place. There they'd try to play, but quietly, because there wasn't much room and everyone was quiet. She eventually started bringing a book to read. Sometimes she'd read to Emma.

Nowadays, with knowledge of what the sirens meant, and the toll she knew was coming, they had been ground down to mean she didn't have to go to school that day, and if whichever Endbringer it was came close enough to Brockton to warrant people going to a shelter, her dad would wake her up.

Taylor Hebert turned over and went back to sleep, only vaguely aware of how her power was fully charged across all tiers and–

Her eyes snapped open.

Her power.

The Endbringer sirens continued to blare.

Taylor closed her eyes and allowed herself to remember those far-off, childhood memories of waking up with her parents holding her, of the simple happiness of playing with a friend. Growing up sucked.

Then she opened her eyes, got out of bed and stripped down to put on her costume. She'd eventually worked out how to put it on, saving her having to use a power on it. Once more she swore she'd make a Tinktertech thing that would put her whole costume and all her equipment on her with a push of a button. Maybe she'd mount it on her belt of something.

Boots that let her float up and down and increased her footspeed: check.

Armor-enhanced silk bodysuit able to take a blast from a shotgun: check.

Belt that boosted her strength, dexterity and staying power: check.

Tinkertech storage-slash-strengthening devices on said belt: check.

Scabbard containing weapons, of which she suddenly wished she had more of: check, but not as much as she suddenly realized she wanted.

Forcefield-projecting, strength-enhancing bracers: check

Self-fabricated but otherwise unremarkable leather gloves: check and she really needed to get better ones…

Golden cloak that lets her stick to walls: check.

Magnetic cloak pin that's currently ok even though it pops off when she sits down: check.

After a moment, she took the old cloak pin she used before she got magnets in case she needed to replace it due to circumstances.

Headband that gave her skills and increased her power-usage efficiency, allowing her to use her powers more times: check.

Helmet that let her shapeshift: check.

Taylor stared appreciatively at her reflection as the siren blared, before finally admitting she was stalling.

She headed downstairs. Her dad was already up, the TV on to check the news. Real news, not the network with the fat idiot dad cartoon. It had barely been five minutes, but they were already reporting that it was the Simurgh, who'd begun to descend from orbit. No sure destination yet, but there was a tentative prediction it was somewhere in the southern hemisphere.

Used to be, at that point her dad would tell her to go back to sleep. They'd wait in bed for the siren to stop blaring– it went on for a good twenty minutes no matter where the Endbringer was– then go back to sleep. The next day, there was no school, no work.

But things were different now.

Her dad looked up as she came down the stairs, mouth opening, and froze, his jaw hanging open. "No…" he breathed, not seeming to realize what he was saying.

"I have to go, dad," Taylor said.

"Taylor, no! You can't!" her dad said, sounding like someone was twisting his heart as she took the last steps down the stairs. He reached towards her and she allowed him to grip her by the shoulders. "You're not going!"

"Dad," she said gently. "I'm a hero. I got the little card and everything." She raised her arms, pulled him into a hug.

"You're my little girl," he said, muffled slightly from the side of her helmet. "This is an Endbringer, Taylor!"

"Every hero there is going to be someone's little girl, someone's little boy," Taylor said, despite the tears in her eyes, despite the screaming panic inside her that told her that maybe, just this once, she be a good girl and listen to her dad and stay at home. "They go anyway because they… because we know that if we don't, one day there won't be any little girls and boys anymore. Because you're my dad and I want you to be proud of me. Because I want you to live in a world where good people fight the monsters no matter how scary they are."

For a minute, they both stood like that as the siren outside abruptly cut off. The night became still again. She wondered why they did that every time. All it did was wake every one, let them know that somewhere, an Endbringer was going to kill a lot of people. What was the point?

Eventually, she said, "Dad? Please let me go now?"

For a moment, his grip tightened. It didn't hurt, not through her force fields, but she could feel it. There was a sob.

"Dad… ?" she said, trying not to sound like she was losing patience when she was, in fact, losing patience. "Look, I'm going to be fine. I turn into a dragon, remember? Even Leviathan couldn't mess with a dragon, and I turn into a way bigger dragon than that."

There was a choked sound like a laugh heard through a filter of crying. A beat. Then, gently, sadly, desperately, he let go.

She awkwardly pried up her helmet and gave him a brief, encouraging kiss on the cheek. Then she pulled away and ran down to the basement.

Down the steps, through the selectively permeable wall and darkness, into the portal hiding in the underground dirt beyond on the other side of the wall, into a large area where six of her projections slept in simple wooden beds. Through another portal, the brief jar as she crossed the order where time was moving eight times faster. Six of her projections where making paradrugs, while the remaining six were divided between using their powers to make bottles and materials. They all looked up as she entered, but none broke stride, continuing their work.

"You," she said, pointing at one of the projections that just finished turning a large piece of what had been glass full plate armor sized for something over 80 feet tall into a lot of bottles. "Stop what you're doing, I need the bags filled with every bottle of paradrug we have! Then I need one of you to teleport me to the PRT!"

….

Taylor had the constructs take turns boosting her while wearing the orange power enhancers before they teleported to the PRT. 20 hours of flight capability, performance enhancement on her weapons, slightly more capability to take a beating and an increase to her force field and three hours, 20 minutes of extra sharpness to her weapons, resistance to certain energies, reinforcement to her armors on top of the original hardening power she had applied to it when she first made it and the ability to deflect projectiles surrounded her as she and the projection teleporting her arrived at a roof two buildings away from the PRT building. The projection teleported back as Taylor adjusted the two bags over her shoulder. Both were identical backpacks, the kind with a central main portion and two side pouches. Simple flaps covered the drawstring openings. They'd both been dyed white with prominent red crosses, and a subtle border of red triangles at the edges.

She launched herself into the air, heading straight for the front doors of the PRT building. The lights were on and no one seemed to have gone home if the amount of people in front was any indicator. There was a crowd of people in lobby, so Taylor figured she had the right place. They were too far to make out, but there was the gleam of armor, at least one man without a shirt, and no one had much fleshtones visible at head height.

PRT troopers in front tensed when she floated down out of the night, but they didn't raise weapons as she raised her hard to show she wasn't armed and, more importantly, wasn't potentially pointing any Blaster powers at anything but sky. "Here to help. W-with the Endbringer," she said, then cursed herself for the stutter in her voice. Quickly, she took a breath, bringing Legend to mind. She had to remember that. She was a hero, like Legend. She was here to fight Endbringers and make it look easy.

There was no looking at each other, just a quick scan from head to toe, a nod, and they stepped out of the way. It wasn't that they were blocking the way before, but they made it clear she could pass. To the side, one of the troopers gave her a thumbs up. "Good luck kid," he said.

"Thanks," Solomon, heroic hero of heroism Solomon, said, nodding politely at the troopers, her head held high as she strode to the lobby.

Putting one hand on the glass, she pushed the lobby doors open.

At the same the large crowd in the middle of the lobby disappeared.

Taylor stared, half inside, at the sudden empty space.

Damn it, had she been late?!

Taylor twitched, closed her eyes, took a deep, calming breath, then entered all the way and made a beeline for the front desk. She focused on it to the exclusion of all else, because if she had to notice anyone who might have seen her arrive late for an Endbringer fight, she was pretty sure she'd… well, not die, that would be overreacting but would definitely be even more embarrassed.

She pasted a face smile on her face, remembered her helmet covered her whole head, and tried to put sincere politeness in her voice. "Excuse me," she said to the person manning the desk. "I'm here to help with the Endbringer fight?"

"Uh, they just left," the woman at the desk said. Her name tag helpfully read 'Tam'.

"I saw," Taylor said, and she was glad her voice managed to stay even and not take her annoyance out on the woman. "I need to know where they went so I can go myself."

The woman blinked. It had clearly been a long night. Most PRT people she met were usually more on the ball than this. "W-what?"

"The Endbringer," Taylor asked patiently. "What city is it attacking? Please, I need to know so I can help."

"Excuse me, can I help you?"

Taylor didn't sigh, instead turning to answer the most rote, asinine question that was a pretext to interrupt the modern world had invented. She found herself looking at one of her childhood heroes and local celebrity. Miss Militia stood there, looking relaxed but alert, but calm in a way that was obviously well-practiced.

"Yes, please," Taylor said. "I'm here to help with the Endbringer fight," wow, that seemed to get easier to say with repetition. The horror of the unknowable was starting to fade every time she forced the words through her mouth, replaced with the terror of the concrete reality, "and I need to know where it is so I can teleport there."

Taylor half-expected her to say something inane like "You're a teleporter?" or "I thought you were a photokinetic?". Instead, Miss Militia nodded decisively and said, "Canberra, Australia. The arrival point is the local PRT-affiliate headquarters, at the parking lot. Do you need a map?"

At that moment, Taylor decided Alexandria has serious competition as her favorite cape. She never realized how being competent made someone look so badass. "Yes, please. And thank you very much."

….

Taylor made sure to study the map very well before she expended a charge to teleport herself there. Charges regenerated hourly, after all. Energy for powers needed more time.

For the second time that year, Taylor Hebert illegally left the country and entered a different one without passing through customs or immigration. Heroically, of course. Totally heroically.

And that was how she found herself face to face with Nazis. Around them, Endbringer Sirens continued to blare.

The sun was up, but didn't look like it would be for long. Judging from the angle, it looked about mid-afternoon, but that wasn't important, because most of the Empire were staring at her for suddenly appearing before them.

Taylor hoped no one noticed how her knees locked in panic. She didn't even have time to–

Time seemed to freeze. Taylor recognized the sensation, the strange feeling of seemingly looking down at the situation from some outside metaphysical point as everything seemed to stop and become a tableau she could observe and consider. It would break the minute she actually made a move or used a power, but for now she had time to think. While her body was still physically keyed up, her mind calmed down, analyzing. No weapons out, guns or blades. No hands up. Their faces, what could be seen, didn't look angry. No one seemed about to blast her.

In that moment, she had a momentary flash of insight, totally unrelated to her powers. The rules of engagement had placed an emphasis on the truce with villains during Endbringer attacks and other Class-S threats. But how did they know to come? After all, it wasn't like they gave the PRT their number. If, however, one sounded the sirens…

After all, that was how Taylor knew to be here.

Taylor took a deep breath and time unfroze. "Excuse me," she said in her most diplomatic voice, "But is this Australia?" [1d20+24! 43!]

There was an awkward pause as everyone else took in what she'd been able to realize. Kaiser seemed the most unperturbed, but given how he was decked out in full plate armor, there wasn't much to emote and little way of telling if his knees had locked in surprise too. "Indeed it is," he said, sounding smooth, cultured, white and male. If he were old and dead he'd probably be made a literary canon writer. Or a Nazi officer, whichever. "Stand down everyone. No need to cause a scene."

"Thank you," Taylor said, managing to fall into the easy rhythms of social niceties.

She gave them a polite nod and deliberately turned her back, secure in the knowledge that her layered force fields, altogether, could protect her from being trampled by an elephant. So, now what?

Taylor had expected… she wasn't sure. A speech? Maybe a few minutes to socialize and see who else had shown up? An update on what they were supposed to do? Heck, a map and a power point presentation as to some kind of plan?

Nope, none of that. Apparently, everyone was to jump straight into the fray. Someone gave her an armband that she put on her upper arm since there was not WAY she was taking off one of her bracers, and she could still see the screen that way. There were instructions on a sticky sheet over the screen that you had to notice to peel the thing off. Taylor committed those to memory. There was an explanation about a bomb. Taylor tried very hard to forget that as she activated the device.

PRT agents, or whatever the Australian equivalent of the PRT was, were directing people to groups, who were already out in the field. The Protectorate, once she spotted them, and even the Empire moved like this was old hat to them, barely needing to know who they were supposed to report to and where to go before they were moving. Only two moved with any sort of hesitation. Triumph walked just a little too slow, seemed to follow more than actually knew what he was doing. The hooded Nazi girl, Rune if Taylor remembered her research right, looked actively confused, looking around like some girl getting lost on a field trip, and would have been left behind at least once if the taller woman, Othala, hadn't kept glancing back after her.

Taylor felt the same way, only she didn't know anyone and there was no one to take her hand. The day had definitely already gone downhill if she was feeling envious of a Nazi. Damn it, why did she think this was–

Taylor caught the thought in time and strangled it, keeping a firm grip on her power. Charges wasted on rhetorical questions were the LAST thing she needed right now.

"Hey," a familiar voice said.

Taylor turned to find Velocity . "Oh, thank God," she said, losing her composure for a moment.

"Stick with me," he said. "This is your first time, right? Don't worry, no one expects you to kill one of the Endbringers on your first fight. You come out of this alive and sane, you're already ahead of the game."

"Speaking of games," Taylor said, "where's first aid? I brought medical supplies. Tinkertech medical supplies."

Velocity glanced at her. "I thought you said you were an Eidolon-package?"

"Just because Eidolon doesn't seem to use his Tinktertech much is no reason for me not to," Taylor said.

Velocity seemed to pause at that, though his feet kept moving. "You think Eidolon makes Tinkertech?" he said, sounding like he'd never thought of it before.

"Wouldn't he?" Taylor said. "I mean, being a Tinker Trump is about the only way you can get more bullshit than a regular Trump or Tinker."

"You do have a point…" Velocity said. "All right, come on."

Taylor was already drawing handful of bottles from one of her backpacks. She checked the labels, smirked at the bag working the way it's supposed to, then handed them to Velocity. "Here," she said.

He took them without breaking stride. "What's this?" he asked.

"Tinkertech drugs," Taylor said.

"Thanks, but I'll be fine. I was taking a nap when the call came in," Velocity said, trying to hand them back.

Taylor shook her head. "Bullshit Trump Tinkertech drugs. Each of those bottles will give you a forcefield that ameliorates kinetic or directed energy for an hour. Not very strong, but it would turn a shotgun blast at pointblank range into something you'd live through, even if it hurts like hell."

Velocity nearly tripped. "That IS bullshit," he said. "Do you have more?"

Taylor patted her bag. "I bought all I had. I also have bullshit healing drugs. Not quite Panacea in a bottle, but if one doesn't get you up to fighting fit, take two."

"How idiot-proof is it?" Velocity asked, still staring at the bottles in his hand, all labeled 'Trump-MA11'.

"Drink straight or pour on injury for focused effect," Taylor said.

"Let's get you to the healers," Velocity said grimly. "That's complicated enough for some idiot to mess up. And give me the bag with the forcefield stuff."

"Yeah, about that…"

….

"This is Velocity to all non-Brutes in active combat positions, a new arrival just came in with a batch of I-shit-you-not Tinkertech Trump drugs. They come in bottle form and grant idiot-proof personal-forcefield generation for an hour. Movers will be delivering them to your positions. To all points, included with the batch are Tinkertech healing drugs described as 'almost Panacea in a bottle'. We have enough to give everyone three for emergency use. The rest will be sent to medical and high-tier movers for field use."

….

After giving a crash course on the highly convenient properties of her Tinkertech backpack, which Velocity had dutifully declared 'Convenient and totally bullshit', Taylor had been pointed towards one of the medical stationswhere the injured were to be brought in by Movers, several large tents set up in a parking lot. There were more civilians– doctors and nurses– there than capes. Othala was already there, helping set up beds. Victor was readying medical supplies, and had incongruously put on scrubs.

She recognized others from Brockton Bay. The man in camo-pattern overalls with a surplus army helmet modified to look like a hardhat washing his hands was The Stud. Mix Meyestro, whose costume made him look like a bartender from a western, complete with cowboy hat, ludicrously huge mustache and a strip of cloth with eye-holes for a mask (MUCH better looking than one the fallen and unlamented Skidmark had worn) was nervously drinking from a bottle of water. There were others she didn't recognize. A girl in a dark silk butterfly mask wearing an extremely filmy dark-purple dress was hastily pinning back her ribbons, bows and skirts. A thin, long-haired man in a white coat/robe combo and blank metal mask fingered the short sword at his side. A band even girlier-looking than her in pretty-boy-romance-novel-cover-pirate mode, wearing a open-chested ruffled shirt, head-covering bandanna mask, tight pants and a weapon belt with a gun and rapier was flirting with some nurses.

The backpack was now slung over one shoulder, its straps unlatched and connected together to form something like a messenger bag. Easier to reach in that way, exactly for that reason. She looked around and took off her cloak, stuffing it in her belt pouch. She was thankful one of the implanted skillsets she'd settled on for her headpiece was medical.

She snagged one of the more recognizably doctorly people there. "Excuse me," she said, then increasing her tempo at the woman's clearly impatient look. "I brought Tinkertech medical supplies. Velocity told me I needed to teach people how to use them while there's still time."

"Has it been approved?" the woman asked impatiently.

The woman was probably surprised when Taylor pulled out a copy of the power-testing paperwork from a few days ago. "Documented by PRT ENE," Taylor said, showing the sheet.

The doctor gave it a cursory examination with the look of a woman remembering who to pass the buck to, then stared at Taylor intently in a way that at Winslow would have involved the words 'I've got my eye on you [insert applicable non-politically correct term]' or 'You're dead!'. "Fine. Everyone, gather round!" the Doctor called. "Five minute orientation for last minute supplies." She gave Taylor a look and she realized that was all she was getting form the woman.

As people's eyes turned towards her, Taylor took a deep breath and skipped Legend, going for a drill sergeant in a movie she saw once. She needed to do this fast. She reached into her bag and held up a bottle. It was basically a one-ounce-and-a-bit tube with an aluminum screw cap, replicating medicine bottles she'd seen before, including the seal perforations to show it hadn't been opened yet. Her projections did good work. Unlike most medicine bottles, it was clear and filled with a vivid and recognizable green liquid with suspended silver particulates. "This is CLW11. It's a Tinkertech drug that heals soft tissue damage and accelerates regeneration. One bottle is one dose. You need the whole dose to be effective," she said, trying to sound like she was explaining what a gun was and how there were many like it. "It can be taken orally or applied directly to wounds for concentrated effect. Be advised it dries sticky. If there are fragments or embedded materials at consumption, the wound is going to heal around it. For life-threatening wounds, multiple doses will not result in overdose, although a single dose will be enough to prevent bleeding and likely stabilize a patient."

"Does it work?" someone asked.

For a moment, Taylor wondered if she should telekinetically shove the paperwork in his face. Then she considered it and stripped off her left glove.

There was a sudden reasonable rise in tension as Taylor drew her new dagger from her scabbard, its glowing blade bright blue and obvious in the light. "Lethal," Taylor murmured as she dropped her forcefield just before she plunged it towards her ungloved hand.

There was a surprising lack of pain as everyone recoiled. It throbbed, it hurt, but it felt disconnected, as if she was having the sensation described to her by someone else. Really, after going thought eh protective field her bracers generated and the forcefield trump power her projections had placed on her, there was practically no force behind it. The dagger had been sharp and she'd slit it neatly between her bones and blood was already welling up around it, though not much. While having a knife go straight through her palm and out the other side was visually impressive, it was barely a bother to her. She rose a few feet of the ground and showed her hand to every so they could see the extent of the observable damage, then pulled out the knife, allowing the blood to flow. Wow, that was a lot. Thank goodness her bodysuit was easy to clean. After showing everyone that, yes, the hole was real, she downed the dose in the bottle, keeping her left hand up and giving people a clear view of the hole sealing shut. The non-pain ended.

Taylor drifted down and idly began to clean the blood with one of her lowest-tier powers, the stain on her arm and drops on the floor slowly being cleaned. After a thought, she cleaned her dagger too. "So, yeah, like that. Any questions?"

"How many did you bring?" someone asked.

"I have fifteen hundred doses on me right now," Taylor said, holding up the white bag. "Velocity is distributing more to Search and Rescue."

Everyone stared at the small bag. It wasn't even bulging.

"Fuckin' Tinkers'," someone said. More than a few people nodded.

Looking at her pack, Taylor could hardly blame them.

….

For several tense minutes after Taylor had stacked a decent pile of three hundred paradrugs on the table as well as handed an emergency forcefield dose to everyone (even, regrettably, the Nazis and the German pretty-boy villain with the short sword. Who to his credit looked at the self-proclaimed Nazis with more disgust than a mere American could manage), they waited, tense. Canberra was not a 'towering buildings everywhere' city, with a lot of area being taken up by suburban houses and nature reserves, and so from where they were on the southern end of the city they could make out the flashing lights of powers and small cloud of debris that was the Simurgh.

"Conflux down, NC-7. Creepy Tayla down, MD-2. Fortuity down, MC-9. Nazo no Yuusha X deceased, FG-1. Firefight deceased, NC-4. Limelight down, Bruce down, NC-4."

The updates from the armbands were depressing as hell to listen to. Taylor resisted the urge to pace, play around with bottles or hurl. Instead, she stood to one side and kept an eye out for incoming wounded, and considered how to improve her paradrug. The honey and Mountain Dew had to go if it was going to function as a topical. Though it would be disgusting to choke down with just the beer. Perhaps two versions? But that would be silly, since it was essentially the same stuff. Ugh, what could she mix together that was safe to drink AND pour on your skin at the same time without becoming sticky? Nothing, that's what!

Clearly she'd have to use more power bullshit on this when she got back.

Eventually, wounded started coming in ferried by Movers. Bereft of buildings, the Simurgh had started throwing around rocks picked up from the barren lands she'd passed over, as well as trees and assorted violent wildlife. Since this was Australia, 'Still The Continent Where Everything Is Trying To Kill You But Now Escaped Biotinker Creations Die Horribly To The Sheep' and where the primary cause of parahuman death was STILL the extremely dangerous wildlife, the city now had maybe double the usual number of deadly animals roaming its streets. Animal control had been deployed, the only government branch authorized to carry Tinkertech heavy weaponry. Even the local PRT-affiliate was only allowed containment foam. The only ones who used more extreme measures were exterminators, who were regarded as total badasses, especially after a now-very-dead villain had tried to 'save' some endangered species and only managed to make them ten times more hellish and deadly. Apparently they'd once had a girl who could control bugs. The panic that had ensued only stopped when Leviathan had attacked Sydney and the country had confirmed she'd been one of the dead (no one asked too hard why her supposedly 'drowned' corpse had been riddle by bullets and energy burns). Taylor felt that was probably an extreme overreaction. What damage could one girl who could control bugs do?

Many of the injured had been attacked by sheep. Given the Brute that had needed Othala's regeneration to grow back his arms ("The sheep! The damned SHEEP!"), the use of the Tinkertech weaponry was apparently justified, even without whatever evil Tinkertech the Simurgh had used on them.

"No, that's perfectly ordinary sheep behavior," one of the nurses said as the Brute was led off to be given a stiff drink before going back to the field. "Damned sheep are classified as Brute 2."

Fuck.

"Curveball down, PD-3. Brisbane Shazza down, ER-2. Mitosis down, LB-2. Regalia deceased, NC-7. Brucington Mad Bruce down, FN-6. Nazo no Yuusha X deceased, FG-2. Dawnslight down, SK-6. Sydney Beer Bruce deceased, ME-4."

The fighting seemed to be all over the city as ground-bound heroes were deployed to keep violent animals away from civilians. The Simurgh had apparently roused all the local bees into homicidal violence, if the reports from the armbands were any indicator.

"No, that's perfectly ordinary bee behavior," one of the recovering heroes covered in bee stings, Exmouth Bruce, said before he downed on a double dose of paradrug. "Hmm, tastes like Mountain Dew!"

After that, Taylor started handing out more forcefield bottles to outgoing capes. That should be enough to protect them from bees, right?

Still, it seemed like they were doing okay.

So of course, everything went to hell unexpectedly. No one was surprised, not even the strange extradimensional entities voyeuristically learning about these events from strange notices on glass machines. Especially not them.

….

"Steel Reckoner Down, SH-1. Townsville Bubbles down, PG-1. Townswville Blossom down, PG-2. Townsville Buttercup down, PG3. Townsville Bunny deceased, PG-4. Nazo no Yuusha X deceased, GD-9."

"No, you can't have more just because it tastes like beer and Mountain Dew," Taylor said for the she'd-lost-track-of-how-many times as she helped one of the local heroes– Wollongong Beer Bruce, who apparently specialized in beer-related Tinkertech, not to be confused with Adelaide Beer Bruce, Warrnambool Beer Bruce, Maitland Beer Bruce and Wollongong Beer Johnny– off on his way. "Don't drink those doses unless you get injured I-MEAN-IT and I don't think I'm really the person you need to talk to for Mountain Dew-flavored beer." Also not the first time she'd said that. People around here seemed to have a weird and borderline unhealthy fixation on beer. They had a Beer Truce and bars were neutral ground. Bar chains fought like gangs, having turf fights and protection rackets.

The pretty-boy German villain whose name Taylor still hadn't picked up apparently thought this was all right and proper and Taylor could literally feel his disdain of Victor and Othala triple at their lack for respect for beer when the professed bemusement on hearing the local custom. It wasn't every day that someone gave actual Nazis a lesson in Nazi history and the importance of beer halls in it (in tones that grudgingly admitted that this was a mildly saving grace, on par with a cannibal remembering to wash their hands before eating their victims alive), and implying this made them even less than the originals, who at least had the decency to respect beer.

The first indicator something was wrong was when Wraith– the guy who was even prettier than her pretty boy mode- suddenly paused, tilting his head. "Does anyone else here that?" he said.

People stopped, many tilting their heads to listen. Taylor had to cup one hand and once more swore to herself to redesign her helmet so she could hear better. Thankfully they didn't have much wonded since between the paradrugs, Othala's regeneration and the doctors they been getting ahead of all the dismemberments, gorings and full-body stingings. Sheep were apparently much more dangerous than Taylor had thought. The few patients they had were either concussed unconscious or just waiting their turn with Othala to get their limbs back.

Taylor strained to hear… whatever it was. "Is that… sheep?"

At least one injured person on the beds started screaming.

"Someone give that man a beer," one of the older doctors said. "Bruce, go get the shotguns. You, Bruce, help him. You sure it's sheep, lass?"

"Pretty sure. Unless there's something else in this country that sounds like sheep but is bigger, meaner and crazier?" Taylor said.

"Guy named Sheeptinker Jones made some bigger sheep a few years back," one of the wounded on the beds said helpfully. "Too many Japanese cartoons from before it sank, you know."

"Not sure I do, and I don't want to," Taylor said, twitching slightly.

"Sensible of you," one of the nurses said. She was loading a shotgun.

"Which way are the sheep coming from?" another nurse asked. He also had a shotgun.

"Er, that way, I think?" Taylor said, pointing.

Everyone turned to stare in that direction, then looked the other way.

"But the Simurgh is that way…" the girl in the purple dress, Silence, said, sounding puzzled.

"I think we can safely considering this the Simurgh Plot everyone was waiting to drop on us and just roll with it," Victor said pragmatically. He did not have a shotgun, but the handgun he held certainly looked good enough.

And that was when the cow-sized, clearly mutated, vaguely sheeplike monsters plowed through a nearby building to charge at the medical station.

"Yup, that's definitely Sheeptinker Jones' work," one of the bedridden heroes said as he plucked a beer can labeled 'pineapple' from the bandoleer across his chest, pulled the tab and threw.

Taylor was only half-surprised it exploded in a huge pineapple-scented fireball as she drew her crossbow from the scabbard at her hip, disabling the nonlethal setting and adding her fire to the sudden chorus of shotguns, Blaster powers and cries of "Damn you, Sheeptinker Jones!" and "Barbie meat!" as they stepped forward to keep the injured safe and to not die horribly to mutated ovines.

….

"This is Othala! The our medical station is under attack by FUCKING biotinker sheep! Send backup, now!"

….

Taylor, of course, stopped time. She'd only have a few seconds, not the twenty hours she usually had, but that was al she needed.

In the unnatural deathly silence, she stared at the sheep hanging in midair about to headbutt her, and looked down. Ah, apparently it also had disturbingly hand-like claws. Taking a fastidious step back, she looked left and right. Ah, good, she'd timed it just in time. The sheep hadn't gotten to anyone yet, although they were close. She judged the distances, rolled her shoulders to make sure her armor gave her enough slack, and tapped a 6th tier power. A stone wall erupted between them and the sheep, 14 inches thick, and ten feet high, curving around to entrap the megasheep. Floating up to the top, she looked over the stone wall, making sure the wall curved to catch most of them.

She tapped a 5th tier power and a huge metal square 25 feet to a side and covered in spike appeared in midair twenty feet up. It hung in the air, waiting for time to pass so it could fall. Taylor compared the edges and felt satisfied that this would squash most of the sheep when it started moving towards the ground. She smiled and nodded at a job well done.

Time started moving again.

There were several sounds of impact as she slammed into the stone wall and rebounded back violently just in time to have a huge wall of spike metal fall down on them.

Reaching towards her belt, Taylor popped one of the storage containers and quickly fished out the end of a strand of beads. Plucking three from the low end, she took a minute to eye the sheep, then tossed the beads where there was still movement.

Three overlapping 40-foot wide spheres of fire exploded violently, immolating the sheep inside them and only mildly scorching things bend their diameter.

….

"This is Dingo Johhny, you know, the one from downtown Cairns, dated Blighter Abba from Bathurst? Anyway, we're ok now, that gel with the bullshit Tinkertech purse full of Mountain Dew beer squashed all of Sheeptinker Jones' sheep, may he rest in peace. They seemed more ornery than usual for ole Jones' work though, may he rest in peace. Looks like ole Simmy been messing with them, or something did. Careful out there, okay mates? Beer's on me when we're done! But just one round, I'm not made of money!"

….

That didn't finish off all the sheep, but between more fireballs and all the shotguns, they managed to get them cleared out. One of the nurses volunteered to keep watch from atop it for more sheep or whatever, and a hat was duly found for him, "Otherwise you'd catch your death of sunstroke!". That done, the remaining capes, bedridden and otherwise, called together an impromptu meeting.

"Do we have an ETA on support?" The Stud asked, demeanor professional, even vaguely military.

Silence shook her head, glaring at her armband. It did NOT go with her dress at all. "Everyone's already spread out all over the city. The other medical stations also go hit, and so did the Thinker group, so we're actually the best off out of anyone here. "

Everyone, even Taylor, glanced over at the new stone wall, from the other side of which came both the carbonized smell of charred flesh and the disturbingly pleasant smells of fire-cooked lamb. Despite surviving without anyone being injured, it was really taking a toll on morale. More than a few people had asked if anyone had barbecue sauce.

"Damn it, now I'm hungry," Wraith said. "And we can't go out for barbecue until we get rid of the Smurf."

"Stop reminding us," the German pretty-boy villain– Azoth, Taylor had finally learned– said testily. "I'm already missing breakfast."

Wordlessly, Taylor reached for a storage container, popped it open, poured a few candies into her hand and offered it out.

"Danke," Azoth said, moving his mask to the side so he could pop three into his mouth.

"Those sheep can't be from the Smurf," Victor said. "They came from the south."

One of the bedridden local capes called out, "Uh, has anyone seen Gijinka Charlie today?"

"Oh, him," another local cape said derisively as Othala began to regenerate her leg. Someone was already getting her a replacement sandal.

"Not popular?" Taylor ventured.

"Oh, nice enough bloke," the first one said. "Always stood his tab. But a bit strange in the head, ya know?"

"Kept trying to make a sheepgirl," the second one said, rolling her eyes.

"Biotinker?" Mix Meyestro asked sharply.

"Nah, just one of those blokes who came out vampy. Drink blood, turn to mist, strong, fast, regenerator, that sort of thinger," the first said. "Basic Brute/Breaker, nothin' special. Nah, he was just really into sheepgirls. I think he lived in Japan before it sank, that might have done it. Keeps tryin' to find someone to biotinker him one. Or a gel who'd dress up as one, at the least."

"Okay, too much information," Taylor said firmly. "You think the sheep are his? Why would he have any biontinkered megasheep made by a perve?"

"Well, he's flat mates with Bastard Alberto and Weird Alex, you know, the loony and the biokinetic? Fuckers never stand a round, don't know why Gijinka Charlie likes 'em. Bastard keeps making all these virus shit, and Weird Alex owns shares in a sheep farm. Maybe Bastard Alberto, Weird Alex and Ginjinka Charlie all got drunk and tried to make a harem of sheepgirls again."

"There are so many things wrong with that sentence," Silence muttered.

"Okay, we get it, please stop now," Taylor said desperately. She looked at the device on her arm and pressed for assistance. "Has Gijinka Charlie registered for today's Endbringer?"

"No Gijinka Charlie in database."

"Does anyone have his number or something?" Wraith said, looking at the other Australian capes. "Big spotlight with his logo on it? Anything?"

"His bar would have it, but they'd be closed. Endbringers, ya know?" the bedridden cape said.

"Someone should check it out," someone said. Taylor was surprised to realize it was her. "If we have mutant supersheep coming up behind us, we need to know how many and that if we need to move."

There was a brief exchange of looks before someone clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you for volunteering, little lady," someone said cheerfully at her. "Always nice to see someone with initiative."

And that was how Taylor found herself wandering a strange city alone in the middle of an Endbringer attack.

….

Alone with her thoughts, Taylor Hebert had to admit that her first Endbringer fight was something of a let-down.

She'd been expecting… well, more. Deadly life-and-death battles, being in over her head, fighting desperately to save people against overwhelming odds…

So far, she'd been handing out drugs, telling people they couldn't chug it like beer, and been attacked by sheep. Mutated, hyperviolent sheep, but apparently that was perfectly normal here, so sheep. Really, it didn't seem worth the drama with her dad.

And now she was looking for more sheep. She had a power for that, but honestly, she figured height would do for now.

And that was why she was sitting on the back of a flying horse-shaped charged projection, looking down on the city and looking for sheep. Although it really didn't match her expectations of a city. There there too many homes, lawns and wide green areas for it to be a city in her opinion. It looked like a suburb with delusions of grandeur. Where was the urban decay, the graffiti, the constant paving and cement that blocked the soil from view? Trees did NOT belong in a city!

She'd found the sheep quickly enough. There were signs of damage from where a few had rampaged, but surrpisingly few given how many sheep she saw. At first there were only a few, but as she kept going south there came more and more of them. Judging by the numbers she could see east and west, they seemed to be coming from the same location to the south. She dutifully relayed this through her armband and made sure to send a message to the medical station warning them to watch out for more.

Most were similar to the previous Sheeptinker Jones breed, but many had clearly been altered. Thick reds veins were visible on the parts not covered by wool, and even some of the wool was turning strange colors. Some had elongated or misshapen limbs, and a few seemed to be trying to walk on two legs. Unfortunately, most of these were pairs like both left feet, the front right and the back left, or both front. Others had grotesquely huge curling horns, curling horns that split into multiple curling points like antlers, horns that appear to have fused into some kind of biological helmet, horns that waved slowly like tentacles, HORNS THAT HAD EYEBALLS ON THEIR END…

And the further south she went, the more of the altered she found.

Fortunately, it seemed everyone had managed to evacuate. She saw nothing human as she rode, just more of the sheep. They were getting more deformed as she went, bodies becoming more disproportional, elongated. Some almost didn't look like sheep anymore, though it seemed unlikely even Gijinka Charlie would have thought them acceptable. Soon she was at an area where they were everywhere. Where had they come from? There should no way to get this many sheep into a city without someone noticing. She relayed this into the armband, and hoped the medical station hadn't been overrun yet.

In the distance, she could see a large building surrounded by the sheep. Her heart clenched as she saw sheep coming out through the door, and if it was possible to get her projection to move faster she'd have made it do so. As she got closer, the clenching intensified to something more urgent and almost physically painful.

The building was an Endbringer shelter. And the doors were open. Doors stained with what looked like blood and other unmentionable fluids.

"No," Taylor whispered. "No!"

When her horse got close enough to the entrance she leapt off, gently drifting the 20 feet to the ground thanks to her suit as she activated its impermeability. Ghost-like, she ran into the shelter, passing through the seemingly immaterial forms of heavily mutated sheep, their spindly, awkward forms not impeding her no matter how gross the looked or the creepiness of their slot-pupiled eyes. The people…! Please, she had to make it!

Vaguely, she heard screams, screams that had to come from a human throat. A desperate hope filled her as she readied one of her Blaster powers, hoping there would at least be people to save…

She reached the main chamber of the shelter.

….

"This is Solomon to everyone. Stay away from the Sheeptinker Jones sheep! Repeat, stay away from the Sheeptinker Jones sheep! I've found Endbringer shelter 28-14 breached and the mutant sheep everywhere, but no sign of any people. But the place stinks of blood and the sheep have blood all over them and… FUCK!"

Bzzt

"Marceau deceased, DD-7. Synesthesia deceased, SV-7. Banshee Wail deceased, BH-1. Nazo no Yuusha X deceased, JP-2. Shy Mari deceased, WM-1. Denial down, NL-1. Henshin down, SS-4. Geiz down, KR-2."

Bzzt

"To wave 3 within the Simurgh's affected area, you have 5 minutes to evacuate before you are out of time. Wave 4 is now rotating in. Repeat, to wave 3 within the Simurgh's affected area, you have 5 minutes to evacuate before you are out of time. Wave 4 is now rotating in."

Bzzt

"Silicavore down, GM-3. Velocity down, LM-2. Chaldean down, FG-1. Nameless down, SH-1"

Bzzt

"This is Ozma in medical station 3, we're running out of those Panacea bottles! Send more soon!"

Bzzt

"Light Ferry down, OH-7. Blackstone down, WC-1. Wavemaker deceased, YH-2. Songbird deceased, NG-1."

Bzzt

"This is Solomon! The sheep are people! The sheep are fucking people! Something is turning people into sheep! Blood and bodily fluids are contagious and do NOT use the meat for a barbecue! I'm fine right now, but it seems to affect people insanely fast! Zombie movie fast! Check for signs of infection! Body mass seems to appear ex nihilo, but I can't be sure!"

Bzzt

"Canberra is now under Biohazard Level 5 quarantine. Health and safety measures are advised. All civilians are to evacuate immediately. Animal Control tanks have been mobilized and incendiaries have been authorized to all Animal Control personnel. Please wait a moment for your updated emergency posting."

Bzzt

"Deck Stacker down, PS-4. Khepri Gloriosus down, ME-1. Buster Borr down, FS-3. Anosillus down, GM-1. Zegga deceased, SA-1. Kuro no Kenshi deceased, SA-3. Illusion Killer deceased, KT-1."

Bzzt

"This is Sever! The infected sheeple appear to be moving in herds down major roads. Avoid the roads!"

Bzzt

"Myrtenaster down, WS-1. Ember Celica down, YL-4. Black Gambol down, BB-5. Mistress Rose down, MC-1."

Bzzt

"This is Rocky Bruce, you know, from down south? The one that dated Loud Amy for about two months? Be warned, some of the rocks the Big White Sheila threw at us, well, they're uranium. Big bloody chunks of uranium. So yeah, stay away from any large hot rocks. If you can tell it's hot, you got too close. But on the bright side, now I don't need to get that vasectomy no more, 'ey?"

….

What had been an Endbringer shelter was on fire and it was all Taylor's doing. Beads. So useful. Taylor Hebert rode through the skies, trying not to hurl, trying to forget as behind her the pyre burned and below her things that used to be human roamed. She was tempted to drop another bead, to keep dropping all her beads until there was nothing left but fire.

….

- To be continued…

….

A/N: There you go, heroically set fires! Don't forget to contribute to the TvTropes page, okay?

Please review, C&C welcome.

Until next time, this is Shadow, signing off.