AN: Well howdy there! Been a little while hasn't it? Well, here we are! Wyvern and the Warhawk are back to present you with the newest instalment of everyone's favorite slime girl adventure!

AtW: I apologize, this one is also my fault. Real life has gotten… rough for me. To the point I struggle to write anything sometimes. Thank Wyvern for pushing us through.

Wyvern: I do what I can, and love doing it!

AtW: Hopefully, this is entertaining enough to make up for it. And that it answers a few more questions.

Wyvern: Now, onto the show!


Brockton Asunder (Part 5)


Once more the wind cracked and whipped through the street. Sea salt and ash were an odd taste on Taylor's skin, especially when she was surrounded on both sides. Slowly extending and contracting out of the potential crossfire she kept an eye on as many things as possible. The heroes, who were rather confused at the man's appearance, the hospital security who had relaxed at the sight of the uniforms and tensed at the drawn weapons, the troopers who, even now, spread out in an ever wider semi circle.

And now that she was really looking at them… they really didn't look all that hot themselves.

The black man, Calvert, that was their leader wasn't carrying a gun and, Taylor noticed, that was because he probably wasn't wearing his own gear anymore. Underneath his pristine, and seemingly empty, tactical vest, something she was familiar with, having eaten a couple hundred all too recently, was a tattered, burned, muddy, blood spattered uniform.

His troops were about the same.

"Of course, Ms. Hebert, Assault, Battery, before I discuss anything else, can I bring my wounded in for treatment?"

"Wounded?"

Battery's statement wasn't mere repetition so, with a nod, Thomas elaborated.

"A couple dozen civilians and about half of my men. Most are walking wounded. Some are far more serious."

Taylor burbled and stopped rolling backwards.

"I'm not going to stop you and I don't want to start any fights. I just, please, I just want to help my friend. The Cage… is a death sentence."

Realizing that she'd formed mouths on every facing of her body, Taylor recalled some of her excess organs. The extra eyes, covering every possible approach, remained. Now she looked like a slightly less threatening mass of humanoid slime. Though some might argue that it made her even more eerie.

"Thank you, Ms. Hebert."

Calvert inclined his head.

Battery sighed, Assault giving her a confused look, before shrugging.

"Yeah. If Flask is promising not to do anything, let's get them inside."

At this, the battleworn commander waved his hand and another dozen shadows began to climb out of piles of debris, hidden positions, or come around corners. With these men, who Taylor immediately noticed were all hurt in some, many quite serious, ways. A broken arm here, burns across the face there, one man had seemingly bled through the side of his uniform, even if he was still on his feet and alert.

Every. Single. One.

More than that, though, their eyes were hard. They were alert, scanning their surroundings, weapons lowered but ready. And she could understand why when the line of people turned the corner.

Surprisingly, they were lead by a guy that was rather clearly a nazi. The shaved head and swastikas being something of a dead giveaway. Even more surprisingly was the asian guy he had slung over his shoulders in a fireman carry. Behind this rather hulking mass of a man came women and children, most walking some being carried, and then a line of men carrying people on makeshift stretchers, and then another group of grown men, these the healthiest and least wounded, carrying what looked like food and water and… weapons.

Fire axes, crow bars, baseball bats… things someone in a desperate, terrible situation might grab to defend themselves.

All in all there had to be sixty or seventy people, most scared and hurt, awkwardly making their way across the lines of men to reach the hospital. It wasn't lost on Taylor that Calvert's men had formed a crescent moon with her at the focal point of their formation. A thin human wall between her and the people they were sworn to protect.

Guilt, the knowledge she'd killed and damned others to death, twisted in her gut… but then the thought of Paige, alone, trapped in the Cage with people like Teacher, like Acidbath, like the other, more horrific people that'd been consigned to Hell on Earth.

Seeing a kid with a face, black and red from what looked like an explosion of some kind, whimpering into his mother's shoulder as they glanced at her with fear… that would stay with her thought.

"Once Paige is safe… I'm gonna see dad. And then turn myself back in." No one heard her and that was what Taylor wanted.

Eventually, the civilians filed into the hospital and Calvert stepped forward, clearly to the displeasure of his men, and waved them on.

"Ms. Hebert, Assault, Battery, I do think we have something to discuss." Looking over his shoulder, he nodded at his men. "Sweep the hospital, top to bottom, liaise with the local security, and then fall out. Get some food, if Panacea has the energy get her to look you over, then get some rest." The gun line hesitated. Calvert's eyes tightened.

"Aye, sir."

One of the men, probably his second in command, gave a deep sigh.

"You heard the boss! Get moving people! Henderson, get your ass to the doc, the rest of you, sort your shit and sweep the nice target rich environment. No telling what the damn junkies might be planning so we gotta make sure this beauty aint got no holes for 'em to fuck!"

The PRT's Special Response Team did as they were told, even if there were a few grumbles.

Taking a few tentative steps forward, Taylor waited until Calvert gave her a nod before she fully approached him.

It was more sad than funny that the heroes took longer to reach her than she did to reach the nice, intimidating man who commanded a small army of troopers willing to fight something they couldn't do more than tickle just to give him another second or two of life.

"I'm glad to see you all decided to have this discussion. Now, as this is classified information I'm about to discuss, is there anywhere we can privately speak?"

Sharing a look, Assault and Battery had a silent conversation until the electric blue heroine gave a sigh.

"There's a secure basement under the parking deck. It's not inside the hospital proper and it's completely empty. We can speak there."

So!

Two heroes, a police officer, and a ball of slime walk into a bar!

Or well… a hospital basement.

That sounded like the weirdest set up for a joke in the history of bad humor. But then again, Taylor's life had become a bit of a bad joke the last couple weeks. Sometimes it just seemed like the universe was out to get her for whatever reason it had.

She wisely decided not to dwell on every bad decision she's made since busting out of her locker. She'd done that enough the past hour as it stood.

Instead, she decided to get the ball rolling and break the tense, awkward silence which had been building up. Which again, was kinda her fault too. In hindsight, turning up with a group of villains hadn't done much to keep the hero duo calm, not when they had been part of the reason why the city was in chaos.

"All right Thomas, what do you want?"

Assault broke the silence first, sitting on the hood of an empty car as far away from Taylor, and as close to his wife and the Commander, as he could be.

Shrugging, he simply flopped onto the ground and leaned against the wall. Taking a moment, he peeled his arm out of the burned part of his jumpsuit and cleared a bit of debris from the blistered skin underneath.

"Lung took out my convoy. None of my men died, we were in MRAPs at that point, but the national guard humvees didn't do so well."

Battery hissed.

"How many died."

Prodding a few particularly ugly blisters, Calvert took his time to respond.

"Most of them." He shrugged. "The rest tried to engage Lung with rockets. I'm not sure what happened to them after that."

Grunting, Assault repeated his earlier question.

"So why are we here, instead of out there. What if Lung comes this way!"

Calvert's tone was dry enough to sting even Taylor.

"While I admire your willingness to throw yourself at the man, the Protectorate does have a plan. Dauntless, Miss Militia, and Armsmaster have been handling him. He's on a rampage, so to speak, and they've been wounding him enough to keep his attention. Right now, they've almost got him out of the North Western area of the city. Dragon is also enroute with multiple suits. Officially, he has a kill order. More practically, we're trying to limit the collateral."

Taylor, shifting a bit, spoke before she really thought about it.

"Can't he fly though?"

Assault, coming a bit closer, nodded.

"Yeah. He gets those big ass wings. How are they keeping him on the ground?"

Calvert shrugged.

"I assume with heavy weapons." His mouth… roughly approximated a gaunt, wan smile. "Like I said, he has a kill order. They aren't pulling their punches. And neither are we."

Pacing, Assault gave a jerky nod.

"Ok then." Battery gently rubbed her husband's shoulder, bringing him up short. "So what is it you wanted to discuss with us? We really do need to get back to the hospital."

"Not you two, per se, but Ms. Hebert. Quite simply, I wish to purchase her assistance."

Everyone froze.

"What?"

This time Battery was asking a question. Taylor still kept her mouth shut, feeling both awkward and confused, hoping Calvert would answer without prevaricating this time.

"As I mentioned earlier, my convoy was hit by Lung. Before then, we were en route to an ABB safehouse. Specifically because of a number of kidnappings they had conducted near the outbreak of the violence."

"What kidnapping needs an armored column to deal with it?"

Assault's question got a chuckle from the black man still brushing off the large, weeping blisters on his arm.

"The kind involving the Mayor's niece being a precog. Thinker 4 to Thinker 8. Her lowest provisional ratings, compiled by Dragon based on information we could acquire without contacting her, bely how unimaginably powerful she is. Thinker 8 is more likely than not, considering she can give percentage based chances on any question asked. While that's supposition, the Tinker was… very thorough in her reasoning. She's a VIP. And the ABB have her."

The slime girl felt her body crawl at the implications.

"Still." Battery interrupted. "Why is it necessary to hire a… known rogue Shouldn't we be attempting to resolve the issue ourselves?"

Calvert looked unphased.

"Normally the Protectorate would have dispatched any nearby capes to deal with the issue. However, with this many fires to put out, and the Rig on lockdown, our hands are tied. As a last resort, we would have requested assistance from the Wards… however, they are indisposed."

"Sorry." Taylor couldn't look any of them in the eyes with any of hers. "I tried to be… I panicked. I'm sorry."

She'd been saying that a lot lately. Yet continued making bad decisions.

If only she'd…

Calvert laughed, a raspy chuckle akin to a rusty door.

"Hardly. They'd probably still be on the Rig or at the headquarters downtown. The odds of them being killed or crippled in this… chaos is simply too high. Which is precisely why I want you, Ms. Hebert."

He pulled his uniform back into place.

"To be blunt, in exchange for giving you the location of Paige Mcabee I want you to recover Dinah Alcott, along with the other hostages, and deliver them to my custody so that I may ensure their safety, and neutralize any ABB holdouts still attacking the emergency service workers. In short, crush them. Do not kill anyone, but do what needs to be done."

Taylor felt her body stiffen, proverbial breath knocked out of her non-existent lung.

Paige?

He knew where Paige was?!

"This is absurd!" Battery was almost spitting. "Have you lost your mind Commander! She's a teenager, an escaped prisoner, and has no training! And you want to send her after another literal in the heart of the ABB's remaining territory!?"

"Love, to be fair, she did take out all the Wards at once. And she's bullet proof." Visor obscuring his eyes, Taylor could still how tense Assault was. And also how he was looking at her with pity. "The girl's gone through a lot of crap, if anyone can punch that deep in contested territory…."

The black man shrugged.

"Are you going to do it? Leave your post here at the hospital?"

"Well, I, why not ask for another hero or, Hell, the police to take care of this."

Ignoring Assault trying to calm his wife, the wounded commander held up his good hand.

"One-" He raised a finger. "There are no other heroes. Glory Girl is out of contact, the BBB is either engaging the Merchants or Lung, Velocity is attached to the fire department and is the only thing holding the ABB from attacking the rescue workers or the Endbringer shelters." Pausing, he quirked his head. "How much of the city was ordered to evacuate by the way? We were hit when the call went out over the radio."

Before Battery could snap again, Assault jumped in.

"They sent it out by text, radio message, the emergency alert system on the TV, and the police opened up the shelters city wide. Evacuation was offered for everyone, but mandatory for anyone north of Thirteenth Street."

"Two-" Clavert raised another finger. "The police are currently herding what, forty, fifty thousand civilians right now? And that's just those left in Lung's path. Add to that I know the local jails were filled to overflow and even the PRT cells had been topped up, that means all those people have to be monitored and controlled. Quite simply, the civil authorities can't help."

"Then we'll go! Assault and I can deal with this. At least we'd know what we're doing, instead of sending a child into a meat grinder. And both he and I can move fast. The damage to the city won't slow us down."

"Three. What about the Empire?"

"What about them? They haven't… done… anything. Crap."

Nodding at Assault, Calvert agreed with him.

"Leet is being brought to this hospital, while Uber has been taken into custody. From what I recall, at least two of the Empire capes need surgery. Possibly three. They'll be brought here and then the Nazis will wants to break them out. All they need to do is send Othalla and one or two more, never mind Kaiser himself coming for his toys, and they'd pin you down. Their thugs storm the hospital, they'd over run the security, and the only people who could stand up to them would be my team. If Cricket was recovered and healed, then we'd be slaughtered."

Giving another shrug, the commander silently ended the conversation. It went unspoken that the Nazis would be seething with rage and his point had been well made.

Uber and Leet had done quite a number on them. Physically, emotionally , perhaps even morally. One did not just get beaten by children's toys and walk out with their heads held high.

"You know where she is?"

Taylor's voice wasn't totally stable and she hadn't really been following the argument. She was just a bit… distracted. Her form seemed to shift and warp in impatience, humanoid features barely keeping themselves together.

Frankly, she was having a meltdown.

"I do."

His words were calm and low. Clear, of course, she was meant to hear, but it was soothing.

"All you have to do is save a scared little girl and I'll tell you how to find her. Deal?"

A jerky nod was her answer.

"Good." Calvert climbed to his feet. "Follow me then, I'll tell you how to get there. Not unless you want to stay here and fight more Nazis while those two go to save her?"

If it was possible to intimidate the man in front of her, Taylor didn't know. Because she'd just glared at him with more than a dozen eyes and Calvert hadn't flinched. Instead, he gave a small chuckle, and opened the door for her.

"That's the spirit. Let's get moving!"

"Wait!" Battery, despite Assault once more trying to hold her back, walked up to Taylor. "Hey, Flask. I… I just wanted you to know, I wasn't trying to insult or demean you. It's just, you're a kid. You should be at home, putting off your school work, and just…. Be careful, ok?"

Someone, especially an adult, expressing concern for her was new. But, Taylor had to admit, it wasn't as bad of a feeling as she thought it might be.

"I'll bring her and her family here. Safe and sound. Then I'm going to save my friend. It's what a hero is supposed to do. Right?"

The blue armored woman's lips twitched into a smile.

"Right. Don't blame me if there's a hundred troopers with foam sprayers and tasers waiting on you when you get back."

Warbling, the mass of pink slime laughed.

"No promises."

Walking out of the underground parking lot, she almost giggled at how absurd things were becoming.

"Puppy… did you just connect with a teenager!?"

Drawn in by the sheer absurdity of the non sequitur, Taylor formed an eye behind her and watched as the heroine stiffened, turning to pin her partner with a stare that could curdle milk.

"I connected with you, didn't I? Compared to that, it was easy."

The red hero put his hand over his heart, face drawn in mock pain.

"Oh the cruelty! Oh, the savagery! Whatever happened to the considered and kind Puppy that I knew?"

Taylor felt her lips twitch in amusement.

"I can be considerate and kind around… some people."

"Oh? Who?" He fake whispered.

"Anyone other than you."

It was funny, watching an adult man in full armor face planting. Taylor chuckled, stress leaving her body as she focused on the couple's antics. She appreciated what they were doing, her flesh calming down and roiling just a little bit less with every laugh, and she took a moment to just breathe.

"Paige, I'm coming. Just let me help a few people first!"


"Huff, huff."

Paige's feet were on fire. Prison slippers did not make good shoes for long distance travel. More than that, she and the good trooper had been trading off his wounded partner. And, frankly, her back was on fire. The shock of the earlier violence had helped her ignore the discomfort worming its way deep into her bones, but now that she had mostly accepted what had happened she could finally focus on how shitty she felt.

"I - huff - thought you said - huff,huff - that it was close?"

Sylvester huffed, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.

"It is. Should be just around this corner. Come on, trade off with me."

Johnny, the wounded trooper, grumbled as he was handed over to his buddy like a piece of meat.

"Let's just get somewhere we can sit down. I'm tired of hanging off of you people."

Snorting, Sylvester reached between his friend's legs and scooped him up into a fireman's carry.

"Quit bitching trooper. As for you, little miss convict, let's hope we don't get shot at again."

That was something the yellow haired girl could heartily agree with. The ugly, fist sized bruise spreading across her jaw was evidence enough that gunfights were not for her.

"Thanks for not leaving me in that muzzle at least." Shrugging, Paige pushed forward, drawing a burst of speed from her exhausted legs, and caught up with her escort. "I don't think I could have made it this far without it."

Wearing the metal contraption had been… uncomfortable to say the least.

It wasn't a torture device per say, it didn't hurt to wear or caused her pain in any way.

Rather, it had been uncomfortable because she'd had to wear it for hours, and didn't have a way to communicate with anyone beyond nodding and very basic sign language or the warped garbles that only Taylor really seemed to get.

Having the thing take a bullet for her and then fall to pieces had been cathartic.

Feet pounding tarmac again, the same rhythm they'd kept up for the last hour, filled the silence. No one really had the energy to talk and no one was willing to complain or groan either. Not so long as the other two held out. And eventually they did round that final corner, a brightly lit gas station no more than a hundred yards away. There were even a couple cars idling out in front of it!

It was only when they were about forty or fifty feet away that they noticed something was wrong.

One of the windows was broken, quite badly, and the door had what looked liked bullet holes in them. Even worse was the body lying prone outside of it. Bodies that very suspiciously had bandanas tied around their arms.

"Fucking Merchants!"

Sylvester hissed and swore, hunching over and gesturing for Canary to follow him behind some low scrub. Setting Johnny down, he checked his rifle, making sure a round was chambered, and started hashing out a plan.

"Ok, Johnny, I want you to stay back here. You've still got slugs right?"

The injured man ejected the shells from his shotgun before reloading them.

"Five, after that it's all buckshot."

Nodding, the senior trooper continued.

"All right then. Go prone on the edge of the road, keep those doors in sight. I'm gonna come around from the side and check the place out. Don't open up unless I really need it. If those ass holes have friends, we might be in for a bad time."

With Sylvester leading the way, the two of them approached the front door slowly, methodically.

Its entire front had been shattered, glass pieces littering the ground. Carefully, Paige followed the trooper until the two of them were crouching besides the wrecked door frame.

The trooper pushed it open, the creek of the door echoing on her ears.

BANG!

And then there was another bullet whistling past them, the loud bark of a handgun emptying itself into the door frame around them.

"Stay the fuck out you fucking junkies I'll kill every last one of you fuckers!"

"I'm not a Merch-"

Another bullet whizzed past them, the man inside screaming out again.

"Not gonna fall for that again! No fucking way!"

As Sylvester grunted and raised his rifle, Paige put her hand on his shoulder.

"Let me try?"

He understood what she was asking. Indecision warred in his eyes. Eventually, he nodded.

"I don't want to shoot a civy if I don't have to. Just… don't make me regret this?"

She nodded, nerves building.

"Can you just listen to us?!" She suddenly shouted. " We aren't Merchants!"

This time there weren't any shots fired.

"Oh yeah lady?! And how can I fucking tell?"

"We got attacked by some lunatics just outside of town, and they wrecked our car. We need to call for help."

There was a tense silence, though the blonde could hear the nervous bumping of the man's leg against the counter.

"Why come back? Shouldn't you be trying to get out of town? Things are a mess here!"

"One of us was hurt. It would take way too long to get to the next city with him like that. He needs medical attention. We don't want to hurt you, but you're gonna have to trust me on this."

The man didn't respond, only loaded his gun. Sylvester, for his part, looked ready to circle around and take advantage of the situation. Paise, for her part, felt her patience dwindle as she contemplated what else she could do. The man clearly was too frightened to listen to them, and would shoot anyone in a panic.

She had to find a way to calm him down.

'Come on, Paige. Think of something!'

She was a cape, wasn't she? What good were her powers if she only used them to sing at events?!

Wait a second…

That was it!

Her voice was rough, the bruise and mild swelling on her jaw making it hard for her to form the sounds she wanted. Instead of getting frustrated, Paige took a deep breath. Licking her lips she began to whistle, low and gentle and slow. Almost preternaturally heavy, the notes filled the air with a deep calm.

Paige knew her power was slow to act, especially with how agitated the man was, but even she was surprised when he quickly began to hum along.

Gently. Lightly. Paige hummed a random tune and switched to another, perfectly keeping harmony as her voice echoed across the station. With no words or commands, what she was relying on was intent, intent to calm down the panicky man inside the station, intent on letting them help him.

Of getting him help.

He must have been terrified, after all.

The city was likely falling apart as they spoke, and the place had already been ransacked by the Merchants, rabid madmen that they were.

So instead of dwelling on the doom hanging over them, she thought of good things, happy things. Of going on trips with her friends. Seeing sights, acting silly with her friends. She thought of the setting sun, of the warm light cascading over her body. Of doing what she loved to do most.

Making people happy.

That's why she took that deal for her powers.

Why she chose to perform. To make people forget the bad things, at least for a few moments.

Eventually, she stopped. Her jaw was still hurting and the trooper next to her was starting to look a little uncomfortable. When her music stopped, his shoulders relaxed. It was quite telling that they could still hear the man humming inside, even if she'd only used a sliver of her power.

Grunting, she stood up from where they'd been taking cover, gently stepping over the glass and dead body, and she found herself looking at… a kid.

He was young, maybe sixteen or seventeen, with a smattering of acne across both cheeks. Even his hairline was a little receding. But the rural, lower class boy, for what the farmer's tan, worn clothes, and bowl haircut suggested, was handling a large revolver like a pro. His grip was relaxed, the weapon held low and in an easy ready stance, as he closed his eyes and hummed along to a tune she hadn't started.

"My momma… used to sing me that lullaby."

Canary smiled at him.

"That's sweet. Is it ok if we come in? I mean, properly, I'm already obviously inside but-"

"I gotcha mam." The boy held up his hands. "How many of you, uh, extricated yourselves from a sticky situation."

It was clear he was eyeing her jumpsuit. Bright orange did have certain connotations.

Paige chuckled.

"All of us. But I'm the only convict. The other two are what's left of the squad that was taking me to the airport."

"What's left of the squad?"

"Empire, maybe. That's what they thought."

With a grim nod, the young man's confusion disappeared.

"Not sure if parasites like them are better or worse than the Merchants. Oh! Sorry mam, let me get a… sheet… for that. Or something. Think I've got a tarp in the back." Muttering to himself by the end, he returned with a large black dust cover.

"Don't get that dirty." Sylvestor's boots crunched on the glass, the trooper turning sideways as he eased Johnny past the destroyed doors. "I'll take care of it as soon as I've got him settled. You got anything for pain? Stronger than tylenol?"

"Yes sir! There's a first aid kit in the back, I'll grab it!"

Rather awed by the two fully armed and armored PRT troopers, their reflective helmets and black body armor cutting quite the striking figure, the cashier scurried into the employee's only area and returned with a large white box sporting green lettering.

"Here yah go. I, uh, I figure you know how to use this better than me. Anything I can do?"

Seeing that he was almost thrumming with nervous energy, Paige put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's all right. Let's go get them some water and something to eat. I'm sure the PRT will cover the costs. My name's Paige Mcabee, but you probably knew that. What's yours?"

Blushing, the young man almost seemed more astonished that a pretty woman was smiling at him than the two armed men performing first aid on his store floor.

"J-Jim! Jim Kalch, Miss Mcabee, I mean mam!"

Chuckling, Paige pulled him along.

"Well Jim, you can just call me Paige. And don't worry about calling me mam. Being raised with manners is a good thing, but it makes me feel old."

Now that she was paying attention, it was easy to detect the slight southern accent in the boy's voice. Maybe from the Carolinas or Virginia. She'd had clients and had performed there before. Still, they had work to do. Grabbing some trail mix, a tasty looking peanut butter thing, all the water they could carry, and anything they thought the troopers might want to eat the duo returned with a great bounty indeed.

"Honestly-" Jim began. "I hit the silent alarm an hour ago and my manager hasn't called me and the police aren't here. If I get shit for stealing from the store I'll sue. Might still have some hotdogs in the freezer. I can get those and some breakfast burritos on the rollers. Don't eat too many unless you wanna risk an accident, but they're hot and greasy."

As the lad stepped away, Sylvestor rolled Johnny back onto his side and handed the grumbling paramilitary officer a breakfast bar and a water bottle.

"Quit bitching Johnny, your back ain't broken." Turning to Canary, he elaborated. "He's bruised back there, and a piece of shrapnel is stuck in the side of his lower back, but the bleeding isn't bad and Johnny can still move his legs."

"Move them! They feel like they're on fire you son of a bitch!"

"Yeah, well, I wasn't the one that wanted to volunteer for this mission, hazard pay you understand." At Paige's accepting nod of his aside, he continued. "I left the shrapnel in there after making sure it hadn't nicked anything important, wrapped him up, and he should be fine. When the kid comes back we'll take care of the bodies."

They ate and drank in silence, Jim coming back and loading the electric grill down with as many sausages and hotdogs as he could fit on it.

"Kid?"

"Yes sir?"

"You got a working phone?"

"Yes sir. Store phone is right behind the register. Dial nine to call out."

The trooper grumped a half hearted thanks, and walked to the back. The phone was inside a separate office, likely where the manager worked if the scattered papers were anything to go by. The room seemed fairly secure, with a multitude of locks on the inside, likely because the owner designed it as a safe room.

Smart decision, all things considered.

He quickly dialed a number, eyes trained on the doorway, just in case.

The phone beeped once.

Twice.

Three times.

"Identification code?"
A voice rasped on the other end.

"Trooper S. Sylvestor, I.D. hash 0038781302, watchword 'Icepick'."

There was a pause.

"Checks out. Transfering call."

There was another round of beeping. This one being far longer than before, at least half a minute worth of waiting.

"Report, trooper."

Sylvester stiffened, spine going ramrod straight.

"There were… complications with our current assignment, sir."

The man on the other side didn't seem surprised. Rather, he seemed to have expected it. Collected, calm, unflappable.

He was always like that.

"And the target?"

Sylvester grimaced.

"Secured. There was a close call, but just a scare."

"Good, see to it that she remains that way. We are moving into phase three of the plan, and her continued well being is paramount to its success."

The implications were simple. Keep Canary alive.

"We were attack on our way out, Empire or Merchants, it doesn't matter. Right now we've taken shelter at a small gas station, but it ain't gonna be long before someone else comes around and sees her. If anyone else find out the girl is free, things are going to get complicated."

There was an amused chuckle from the other side of the line.

"I assure you, there are very few ways the situation could get any more complex, trooper. Brockton Bay is falling apart at the seams as we speak. Add anything else and they might quarantine it."

Which was bad.

As in, terribly bad.

Sylvester wasn't about to let it dissuade him, however.

"We need pick up. One of my men was injured." He started.

"I have a team ready. However, meeting you outside of town is too risky. They might draw too much attention. You will have to meet them on the way. Rendezvous Point Gamma."

But that was…!

"That's inside the Bay, sir."

"I am aware." A deadpan response cut him off.

"How are we supposed to get there with an injured man and Canary of all people?" He wanted to scream, to rage at the emotionless voice and its unreasonable demands.

But couldn't, not now at least.

"I trust you to make good use of your training, corporal. I assigned you to this mission with a clear purpose in mind. Make no mistake about it. If you try to jump ship and leave Brockton, I will know. Meet with the extraction team at Point Gamma in the next two hours. Those are your orders."

The "or else" went unsaid and fully understood.

"Yes sir. I'll find a way."

"Good. Should you succeed, I'm sure additional compensation will be forthcoming."

"Thank you sir. I'll pass it along."

"See that you do."

Sylvester sighed into the void, nothing left to do but figure out how he was going to get Paige out of this mess. The situation must have spiralled out of control, or perhaps, he'd been mistaken to think it was under control to begin with.

"Why the fuck did she have to save Johnny. Fuck." Grunting, he checked his sidearm and got up. "Time to take care of those bodies I suppose."

Paige was actually quite enjoying her second sausage, the hot meat popping and sizzling on her tongue. The onion was a little funky, but the fancy mustard they'd found was actually pretty good.

"Jim, you got any gloves?" Sylvester stepped out of the office, looking very frustrated.

"Yes sir."

"Go grab 'em for me. Let's see if we can get those bodies taken care of before they start stinking worse."

The two men did just that, clearing the front door out and even sweeping up most of the glass. Eventually, after washing their hands, they both sat back down. Jim finished eating while the trooper tore into his meal. And unfortunately, Paige wasn't sure how to ask the obvious question.

"So, what's the bad news boss?"

Johnny beat her to it.

"No pickup. We got to get to a rendezvous point in the city. There's just nothing unattached."

This was odd enough for the cape to question it.

"But why? Surely they'd want me to be secure as soon as possible?"

A grunt was her answer.

"Yeah." Sylvester answered. "I'd think that too. But I'm not sure just how bad it is. Why the hell they couldn't spare an unmarked car, I don't know. I guess… are those cars still idling out there?"

Sticking her head out the door, Paige shouted back.

"Yeah, there's two of them!"

Plopping back down, the trooper was finishing off his last few bites.

"Well then, guess we'll be taking a car ride. As far as we can get with them at least. Johnny, time to hit the head."

Sighing, the wounded man popped another two pain pills, thankfully just some generic ibuprofen, and held up his arms.

"I'd ask the pretty lady to be the one to wipe my ass, but I'm afraid she'll just shoot me."

"Oh no." Canary shook her head. "I'd just make you do it."

That got a grim laugh from the wounded man.

They'd taken thirty minutes to wrap things up. Between Paige signing an autograph for Jim and Johnny convincing them to buy him a package of expensive salted caramels, the highly dangerous operation was starting to sound more and more like a road trip.

The weirdest road trip she'd ever taken, sure. And it's not like it could get any worse.

Right?

Tossing a half dozen air fresheners into the cleaner of the two vehicles and topping it off with gas were the last things they did before heading. In the end, this pit stop was markedly less violent than the all too sudden stop earlier. Paige had even been able to get most of her own scrapes and bumps taken care of.

Things were surely on the up!


Taylor was swearing, the rubble coming loose and some not so tiny chunk were starting to hit her.

"Come on, keep running! This whole thing is coming down!"

Propped up in a makeshift doorway she'd eaten into the side of a collapsed building, it was all she could do to try to maintain a semblance of structural stability. Ultimately, however, she knew it was only a matter of time before the people within would be stuck or worse.

"We're the last ones!"

A tall, shaved headed man, sporting several very specific tattoos came running down the pink tunnel her body had formed. The reason that was so odd was the fact he had an asian woman bleeding from a bad leg wound in his arms, what seemed like her kid hanging onto his back, and he was leading a particularly "diverse" group of people out of the tunnel.

"Just a little longer, keep moving! I swear to God I'll knock your teeth in if you slow down! Every last one of you fuckers keep running!"

Her body wobbled, a large chunk of cement squishing about a third of her. Unpleasant, if mildly so, but more disturbing was the fact her elasticity was failing. There were still fifteen people inside of her, so to speak. So, with a frustrated, full body grunt she began to rapidly expel mass; trading density for volume. This propped the structure up enough that the civilians were able to escape, even if her now much weaker body began to give.

However many uncountable tons of car park came down straight on top of Taylor.

Once she'd recovered from the mild panic attack, the dark, cramped, very unpleasant space she'd been crushed into seeming far too much like the Locker, Taylor slithered out.

"-ank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

The crowd was cheering and celebrating the nazi, the easily 6' 5", 350 lb man simply standing there and looking confused. It was rather telling that he hadn't put the pretty woman down yet, at least as far as his racial convictions went.

"Hey, I've got a signal now, the police and EMTs are on the way!"

Some pink haired girl was crying into her phone, relief and happy tears obvious on her face. Taylor smiled and simply slithered off. From what little she'd heard and seen, this was their victory, not hers. And in the fifteen minutes she'd spent digging them out of the collapsed parking garage, there was no telling what had happened to Dinah or Paige. Obviously, either of them being harmed was unacceptable.

'It was nice though, helping for once.' Her thoughts turned dark. 'And if I hadn't… started… half of this, then there wouldn't be any need for me to have helped them.' Sighing, guilt and recrimination once more turning her stomach, Taylor pushed ahead. 'Nothing for it, I should just keep moving.'

Things had gotten bad. Right now, most of the actual fighting had died down, but the amount of damage was closer to an actual Endbringer attack than anything else. Whole neighborhoods had been gutted by flames, there were… bodies just lying in the middle of road sometimes, and even now there seemed to be dozens of emergencies and tragedies still playing out. Just like the group she'd rescued just now, there were others that needed help.

Most of them were hurt or bleeding or just panicking when Taylor found them. She'd spend thirty seconds or so to carry out basic triage, her flesh more than capable of sealing even the most horrific wounds and cleaning it of debris, before she found a phone and called 911.

Apparently, the emergency resources were scattered quite badly, most on call to deal with the aftermath of Lung. Even as she moved North, his lumbering, winged form rose and fell in the distance.

Between the thick haze of smoke lingering over the city and sea fog that had rolled in, visibility was shit. And that made the glimpses of his massive, scaled, alien form all the more terrifying. Distance and flickering, flashing light rendering what she knew to be a short, angry thug a terrifying eldritch monster.

Sirens echoed in the distance, closer than the others.

Diverting slightly, Taylor morphed her body until she could take a long, loping stride she'd found ate up the distance.

Clearing several blocks, she leapt up the side of a building, scaled it, leapt to the fire escape attached to its neighbor, and then clambered onto the roof. It was another fire. And a bad one.

There were two engines, desperately spraying down the blaze, and another dozen or so men in uniform trying to hold back the flames. The people who seemed to have lived there were standing outside, all dozen of them, as their apartment block went up in flames. Distressingly, there was a woman, who oddly seemed almost familiar, on the street screaming and crying.

"My babbbby! My baaaaby!"

It was nothing but an endless, keening wail. The grown men around her, the ones that weren't trying to deal with the flames at least, looked away in awkward shame.

Were they… just gonna leave someone to die?

Something cold warped and twisted inside of her. Not that she had organs of course, it was more like she still felt things the same way a human did, at least emotionally. So a vice clamping around her metaphorical heart still felt the same way. Taylor took a deep breath, a wave rippling through her body, as she took in the burning building.

She was a hero, right?

That's what she said she was going to be, to make up for helping this mess.

Taylor was painfully aware she'd already spent an hour running around what was left of the Docks. That was time she'd spent trying to fix every little emergency and crisis she saw. An urge to do something always building with each time there was a stranger in need. Half of it was guilt. Half of it was that same naive foolishness that made her squee a little when Armsmaster went into a short, half whispered monologue about some facet of her power. Or when Miss Militia had half apologized to her and then made an effort to treat her fairly. ...And it was the same part of her being that she knew still yearned to be the little girl wearing a blanket around her neck and playing Alexandria with Emma.

She had prayed for a hero, prayed that someone, anyone would help her. Help her father. And now she had powers, now she could be the Hero.

And this was the first time she saw someone in a truly desperate situation. The others were quiet or moaning or sobbing or blocked by mostly stable rubble and debris. If the city wasn't empty they'd have been saved right away.

But even with the few civilians standing around, there was no one there to help this woman.

If Taylor saw a scared woman screaming for her child as being more than a little too close to a scared teenage girl praying for the bullying to stop, well, that didn't change the fact she was on the clock.

But what kind of Hero was she if she turned away someone screaming for help?

All of this took two seconds to decide, her body moving before she could think.

What passed for Taylor's arms and legs tensed, literally coiling into thick springs as her mass concentrated itself into four powerful coils. When she launched, the ropey tendrils exploded, such was the raw energy that had been stored within them, droplets of pink goo being sent flying in a liquid back blast. The road under her was mostly intact. Mostly.

Having aimed high, Taylor tried to punch through a window that didn't have fire or smoke pouring out of it. Something about how a bunch of oxygen could cause a massive increase in the fire her father had mentioned wormed around the back of her mind. Of course, this was her first time, somehow, she assumed her power had responded to her desire, turned herself into a makeshift bubblegum torpedo.

So she punched straight through a wall, barrelled into the middle of the building, and had to literally pull herself back together.

Once she was ready to move, she pushed through a crack in the supply closet she'd ended up in and, well… the funny thing about being a blob of slime without tissue or muscles or any of those wonderfully squishy and often volatile components, is that despite not burning, Taylor could still feel the heat of the flames. She had no lungs yet she the air felt heavy, laden with smoke and ash from the swiftly collapsing structure.

Moving between gaps and openings, the slime girl felt her body liquify further as she pushed her way into the building.

There was no end to the possible entrances, after all.

What she couldn't do, however, was cause the whole thing to collapse. No, there was a civilian in the building and she had to find her! So, forming many, many, many mouths, she screamed with literally every fiber of her being.

"Hello! I'm here to help you!"

Even as the hallways reverberated with the crackle of flames and the echoes of her scream, no one responded.

So she burrowed down a floor, having come in near the so far unburned top.

"Hello! Is anyone there?!"

Again, she screamed. Again, no one responded. Again, she burrowed down another floor.

"I'm here to help you!"

And again she screamed, no one responded, and so she burrowed down another floor.

"Hello! Hello! Hello!"

Taylor was half way through the building before, vaguely, in the distance, there was a scream.

"I heard you! Scream again! I'm coming!"

This time, from somewhere in the sprawl of the apartments, she heard another scream, what sounded like a young girl, the kind that was full of nothing but panic and fear and the unthinking need for someone to save her.

Of course it was from the direction of the greatest amount of fire.

At first, Taylor had tried to eat through the cooler areas of the building, the places that weren't burning. However, as another scream, this one clear enough that she could hear the child pleading for help, managed to push past the roar of the inferno Taylor reformed her eyes deep, deep within her body.

The image was blurry, and predictably pink, but more than enough to help her navigate through the room.

Probing around the least burning part of the wall, even as her skin bubbled and popped, the fire licking at her body and leaving blackened kiss across her form, Taylor eventually found a spot that was less "raging hot" than the rest. Feeding more and more of her stored body into the tendrils closest to the wall, she started to snuff out as much of the external flames as she could.

The smell of burning sugar mixed with the charcoaled building and, making sure the blackened, charred, wilting edges of her body formed an airtight seal with the wall, Taylor pushed through.

Inside of the apartment was Hell. Literally nothing but a red-orange wall of fire. Somehow, it seemed to be leaning inwards, towards a small girl, maybe seven or eight, who was made of living flame. Her eyes were burning blue gems, pushing out into a flickering, waving yellow and red and orange and pink face, tear trails of bright white liquid heat trailing across her cheeks.

'She's a cape! But… the fire wasn't spreading, so is she… she's keeping it in check!'

"H-h-h-h-hey!" It took her several tries to actually form a mouth that didn't flash fry. "I'm here to help!"

It was so hot in the room that her outermost layers were popping and boiling.

"I-I-I can save you. But you have to trust me!"

Still weeping, the child gave a jerky nod, apparently noticing that Taylor wasn't screaming in agony. Tensing up again, though with far less force this time, the slime girl braced for the pain she knew was about to come.

Fire hurt. A little.

It was like a small bruise that was being pressed on. Even the burning ash was like itching powder, at least until the heat was ablated and her body absorbed any remaining mass.

But swallowing a living, moving being made of fire, letting the heat and fury inside of her?

That was agony.

For an infinitesimal second, when this child's powers were still pumping out at full strength, Taylor was containing enough heat to melt just about anything. That raw, undiluted energy was within her very core. Half of her stored mass was gone, just like that.

And Taylor held on. Touching the girl's body, the flames winked out of existence, her form reassembled itself, the blackened char being shifted to the outside, and then things got worse.

Rumbling, groaning, metal screeching on metal, the blaze rampaged through the apartment building. Just as she'd suspected, this child was holding it back even as she fed the blaze. But now there was nothing to stop the natural spread of the flames. Chunks of burning debris began to fall, the building's structure starting to warp and shift.

Taylor wrapped around the now silent child as many times as she could, filtering cool, clean oxygen into the small bubble within her, and she braced for the impact she knew was to come.

The world became a dull roar and everything became fire and darkness.