A/N: Chap 18 Review Responses are in my forums as normal. Also, several readers noted an editing mistake in the last chapter. Toward the end, Taylor referenced killing a PRT agent. That scene was cut as unnecessary and a little gratuitous, but I missed that reference in the clean-up. While I don't generally go back and fix typoes, this fell under the same category as dead characters popping back up due to editorial errors. So it's been fixed. Thanks to those who pointed it out.
Chapter Nineteen: Second Chorus
"Agent down! Agent down!"
Militia's earpiece rang with the frantic calls of PRT agents in over their heads. Battery and Assault continued their desperate attempt to keep Cricket and Stormtiger busy in the run-down intersection deep within the Docks while the PRT agents tried to foam Victor. They managed to secure his legs with a foam grenade against the wall of the old Eastern Railroad depot building, and were about to secure him when the tide turned.
Hookwolf crashed through the depot wall amidst a shower of bricks and masonry, fully transformed into a four-legged, vaguely canine-shaped monster made of metal hooks and blades. He swept a tail like a massive chainsaw through Militia's team, killing one man instantly and grinding another man's leg into hamburger.
"Going weapons hot!" Militia declared into her mic. She didn't even have to think about what she wanted, the M134 GAU-17 Gatling Gun just appeared in her hands with her power supplying unlimited rounds and inherent stability.
Stormtiger shouted a warning to his Empire 88 comrade, but not before Militia laid into the Changer/Brute with over 5000 7.62×51mm NATO rounds a minute. The sound filled the air with continuous, grating whine. Steam billowed into the snow-choked air from her weapon, and from Hookwolf as well. He turned to attack, only to stumble back as Militia centered her aim with power-assisted precision.
That provided Battery the chance she needed to hit Assault with a full charge. Assault, a kinetic manipulator, took that blow and used it against Stormtiger, shooting like a red-suited missile through the aerokinetic's protective cushion. The Empire cape shot backward, striking the wall of the burning ABB warehouse with a dull thud.
Militia had to keep her fire on Hookwolf-he was powerful enough that he could bear sustained fire for several minutes. A regular military weapon would have overheated; hers did not. Which meant she could watch as Cricket somersaulted through the air with her razor-sharp kamas; she could scream a warning toward Assault; she could not, however, stop her without unleashing Hookwolf on them all.
The scythe-like blade slid right through Assault's back, piercing all the way through to his chest just as he punched Stormtiger out. Battery screamed in horror. The circuitry of her costume lit up like a Christmas tree as she blasted forward.
Her blow missed Cricket and instead shattered one of the last roof supports of the burning warehouse opposite the brick depot. The whole structure began to fall. Militia had a choice of saving her team, or taking down Hookwolf.
The choice was easy. She directed the chain of fire off Hookwolf, spraying bullets across the field. That forced Cricket to bound nimbly away from Assault. The Empire cape grabbed the unconscious Stormtiger as Hookwolf shredded the foam that held Victor through sheer, brute force, and the Four Empire capes fled.
"Console, this is Militia! Enemy capes withdrawing. Three agents down, one Protectorate down. Need immediate evac. Is Panacea on duty?"
"Copy, Miss M. Panacea's at Brockton General. Heavy civilian casualties. Evac is ten minutes out best case."
Battery heard. At Militia's nod, the young cape charged her power, picked up her larger husband in a bridal carry, and dashed off toward the hospital. Militia let her power take the chaingun and change it to her favored Desert Eagle to holster it as she jogged to her PRT support team. With the worst of the adrenaline fading, the cold took hold. The early winter storm that slammed into the city, the state, and the surrounding coast had left everyone flat-footed, especially when Lung and the ABB launched an all-out-blitz against the Empire 88.
As she feared, Gutierrez was gone, his head smashed into putty. White sat with her helmet off, her face pale lavender as she clutched at her bleeding stomach and panted. Doolittle's left leg was shredded to the knee. More importantly, their transport van lasted only three minutes into the fight. Its engine was still sending clouds of smoke and vapor into the snowy sky from where Hookwolf smashed it.
"White?"
"Gut," she gasped.
"Damned." Militia looked at the other five members of the crew. "Thomas, we've got to triage. Nothing else matters if we can get her to Panacea. Console says evac's ten minutes out, which means twenty at best. Panacea is five minutes away. You take my bike and get White to Brockton General. Doolittle, I hate to tell you this…"
"Just put a tourniquet on before I bleed out," the man said grimly. "And a fucking pain shot, if you don't mind, ma'am."
As Agent Thomas carried the bleeding Agent White to the bike for a quick evac, Militia pulled out one of Armsmaster's specials from her tac vest and plunged it into the man's good leg. He sighed within seconds. "Man, that's the stuff. Hey, think Armsy will give me a bionic leg? Would that make me a tinker, you think?"
"Shut up, Doolittle," the squad leader, Sterns, said without heat. Like all of them, he was filthy from nearly eight straight hours of deployment and running battles across the city. He pulled a stretch of cord from one of his own pockets and quickly tied a tourniquet around the injured man's thigh to help staunch the flow of blood.
He sat back and stared at Militia as snow began to fall. "Figures. Not even November yet, and we've got snow. What a fucking mess."
Militia could hear the unspoken comment; Taylor Hebert was responsible for this. It wasn't fair, though. Taylor didn't make Lung go on a rampage through Empire territory. She didn't cause the Empire to debut their newest, youngest cape by having her commit the execution of one of Lung's favored lieutenants.
That said, Militia couldn't deny that a sixteen-year-old Ward was dead. The Protectorate knew that Lung finally did find his target, but with Othala able to grant regeneration powers, it was likely that the real Rune would survive her injuries.
Possibly.
The snow, though? She couldn't help but shiver as a freezing breeze blew through the streets. The storm stretched from Maine to the Carolinas and emerged out of nowhere with a suddenness that left forecasters scratching their heads and the Protectorate Thinktank absolutely terrified.
No one doubted Taylor Hebert was responsible. Her rampage in the White Mountains left a ranger dead, ten square miles of forest flattened, and a record twenty tornadoes.
All Militia could find in herself was guilt. What happened to Taylor felt like her fault, or at least the fault of the PRT.
"Think she's getting a kill order?"
The question startled Militia out of her own thoughts. "Hebert?"
He nodded.
Militia shook her head. "She's not a villain, Sterns."
"After enough bodies, 'M, I'm not sure it matters."
The van that was ten minutes out took twenty long, cold minutes to reach them. Doolittle spent the time singing about Big Butts, and propositioning Militia. And Sterns, once. Armsmaster made surprisingly good painkillers, even if his tactical decisions left something to be desired.
She napped on the ride back. With Hookwolf's retreat and Lung's revenge against the Empire and Rune complete, the violence seemed to be dying down. The police could handle the mundane gangbangers; right now the Protectorate was stretched so tautly it felt like they would snap any second.
When they drove into the secured, underground motor pool of the PRT headquarters building, a medical team was waiting. She and Sterns lifted the stretcher out by hand until they got Doolittle onto the gurney. Doctor Mitra clicked his tongue. "I need the pants leg removed," he began.
Milita stepped to the man's side and with a thought converted her Desert Eagle to a razor-sharp K-Bar. She quickly, efficiently sliced away the fabric to show what remained of Doolittle's leg.
"Man, that looks horrible," Doolittle said. "Militia, would you shoot Hookwolf?"
"I did, Jamal. Lots. It doesn't seem to take."
"Yeah, too bad. He's an asshole…." Whatever else he was going to say was lost as the medical team whisked him away to the dedicated building infirmary. With Panacea handling civilians at Brockton General, they had no parahuman healing available at the PRT.
"Don't take this the wrong way, M, but you look like shit," Agent Sterns said. "What was this, your sixth sortie?"
"Seventh," Militia said.
Taylor Hebert fought and defeated Lung yesterday Morning. Milita had been fighting to keep the city from burning since then.
"Go get a bite to eat, maybe rest a bit."
"You too. And shower. I have a mask over my nose, and I can still smell you."
The man laughed.
"Sterns?"
"Yeah?"
What to say? What words could she voice that would make any of this okay? Failing that, she put a hand on his shoulder.
"Always a pleasure, ma'am."
She both heard and understood the bitterness, and could only pat the man's shoulder pad in sympathy. There was a reason why hazard pay was a standard part of every PRT agent's compensation package.
They parted ways. Technically, Militia should have returned to the Rig, but like the other Protectorate members, she also maintained an office in the PRT headquarters to coordinate with the Wards. She walked tiredly into the building, passed the various security checkpoints until she reached the cafeteria.
It wasn't until she saw the eggs that she remembered it was morning. She'd been out all night. The contract workers in the cafeteria looked nervously at her when she arrived. She realized only then that she had blood splatter over her tac vest and pants, but she was too tired to care.
"Eggs, bacon, toast," she said. "To go, please."
They wordlessly piled a respectable portion of eggs, three slices of bacon and a couple of triangles of toast into a styrofoam box. She grabbed a cold latte from the drink cabinet, a plastic utensil packet, then ran her badge to expense the food before making her way to her office.
The privileges of being a full Protectorate member meant a private shower in her small, private office and a spare costume even here in the PRT building. She lingered under the water a lot longer than she should have, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
The eggs were cold and her latte almost warm by the time she sat to eat. She glanced at the cot on the wall next to her desk longingly. While as a Noctis cape she didn't normally sleep at night, that didn't mean she didn't get tired. And right now, she wanted nothing more than to lay down and rest.
Her phone flashed a reminder of a debrief in half an hour. She could rest until then. A little cat nap was just what the doctor ordered. She'd just finished and laid down when her phone rang. With a tired sigh, she checked who was calling before smiling and accepting the call. "Militia."
"It's Chev. How are you holding up?"
"Tired and sore. Lost a squad member, may lose a second, and a third's probably going to lose what's left of his leg today. And now I'm going to have to fill out a 47-page report because I made the call to switch to live fire to save my team."
"I swear the PRT-5789 form was just made out of spite by Washington. I tried to lead a team up to help, but the Noise suddenly attacked the Asylum. Just now got that under control."
"I appreciate the thought. Any hurt?"
"Rime took a laser to the ass. You should have seen her. She was screaming, 'You shot me in the ass!' over and over again as she beat Concuss in the head with an ice spear. She'd just gotten approved to ship to LA, too."
Hannah summoned a weak laugh.
"There's video all over the news and PHO about that cape of yours. I think the PRT named her Maelstrom or something. That was some serious shit, M. I've never seen a cape fight like that outside of Endbringers. And this storm that's dumping snow all over us right now? The internal alerts are saying she caused it."
Militia closed her eyes. If Chevalier was talking about it, then every Protectorate office in the East Coast was. "I think she did, Chev," Militia admitted. "At the school, she was so mad at us. I don't know how, but she was making funnel clouds right over the school. If she hadn't left, I think a lot more people would have died."
"Like Armsy? I'm not kidding, M. There are memes of him hitting that car everywhere. I know I shouldn't be laughing, but it's funny as shit. That little Ford hatchback somehow survived Lung and Hebert. The rest of the parking lots reduced to slag except this one car. And she throws Armsmaster into it."
Militia didn't have the energy to force a smile. "It doesn't feel funny to us, Chev. She broke three of his ribs, his left collarbone, his left hip bone and collapsed his lung. If not for his armor, he'd be dead."
On the phone, she could almost see how Chev collected himself. "Yeah, I get it. Is he going to be okay?"
"He swung by the hospital where Panacea was working. He's a proud man, though. If you've seen the memes, he has too. I haven't talked to him since this latest blow-up."
"What are you going to do? This was the girl you rescued in Spain, right?"
"Yeah. And I just don't know. I have a feeling she's important, Chev. Not just for the city, either. I just have a hard time jiving what I saw with her killing Stalker to the girl I knew."
"Look at PHO. There's a video that just came out that shows the whole thing. I don't get why your PRT office hasn't made a statement about it yet. Anyway, let me know if I can help. If not me, I can have Mouse there in a few hours."
"Let's not go crazy, we're not to Mouse Protector levels yet," Hannah said. "Okay, I'll go look at the video. Thanks for calling, Chev."
"Anytime. Come down to Philly some time, we'll get lunch. Catch up."
"Sounds good."
She hung up, smiling sadly at what might have been. The moment lasted only as long as it took to bring up her PHO account and see what was happening on the world's largest forum related to all things parahuman.
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Topic: WE ARE IN ACTUAL HELL
In: Boards ► News ► Events ►America
Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Posted on October 16th, 2010:
Winged demon Nazis, homicidal Wards and Japanese rage dragons. I only wish I was kidding.
LINK-WARNING FOR GRAPHIC CONTENT.
The unmasked cape was reputed by witnesses to be Rune of the Empire 88.
What do you even say? What's worse? That the Brockton Bay PRT sent a fucking NAZI cape to a school with 69% minority enrollment and paraded her around so that everyone could see the tattooed Runes on her neck and hands? Or that she killed a Ward on her first fucking day?
All I can say is I hope to God the BB PRT director gets her incompetent ass fired. I hope whoever was supposed to be watching Rune gets their ass fired. I hope whoever was supposed to keep Shadow Stalker safe gets their ass fired.
And then I hope they all go to jail.
(Showing page 429 of 430)
► Dirlewanger
Replied on October 16th, 2010:
THIS IS AN OFFICIAL STATEMENT OF THE EMPIRE 88. OUR NEWEST FAMILY MEMBER, RUNE, [DELETED]
USER HAS BEEN BANNED AND REPORTED.
► Chrome
Replied on October 16th, 2010
Disavow? Really? Like she was some black-ops operation? She was covered in fucking Runes. Cry louder, I can't hear you over the sounds of all the lives you've ruined.
► XxVoice_CowboyxX
Replied on October 16th, 2010:
I saw her in the hall. She spoke Japanese. What kind of Nazi speaks Japanese?
► Chilldrizzle
Replied on October 16th, 2010:
Dude, I saw her too. She had runes on her neck and hands. She might as well been wearing a fucking sign that said, "I'm Rune with Empire 88. Please send Lung to fuck me in the ass."
► Ozzy Mandis
Replied on October 16th, 2010:
Who cares? The only thing that matters is Armsmaster getting creamed. Ford Fiesta 1, Armsmaster 0.
~~Theogony~~
~~Theogony~~
The video left her chilled. She never had a very high opinion of Sophia, but she didn't ever believe the girl would shoot someone in the back with the intent to kill. Even from the Uber and Leet-spliced video, it was clear that Stalker was using her banned, barbed crossbow bolts. By the time the video reached Stalker's death, Sophia had shot Taylor four times in the back.
She scrolled through page after page of similar comments, looking for an official PRT statement that Taylor was not Rune. The commentators were applauding Shadow Stalker's efforts, uncaring that she was shooting an unmasked cape in the back because of the assumption the victim was a Nazi. And without the PRT setting the record straight, the narrative just seemed to grow.
"Oh, Taylor," Hannah whispered. If the PRT wasn't willing to step up, then she was. She started typing a response, but a knock at the door made her jump.
She turned, crossed the office space, and opened the door to find Battery standing in the hall. Her costume looked filthy, with mud, blood and oil. She wore a tight mask over her eyes and nose in the same circuit-inspired blue as her form-fitting costume. And over that mask were tears.
"How is he?" Militia asked.
"He's...Panacea didn't have enough time to do it all, but he'll make it."
Militia pulled the much younger cape into a hug. Battery allowed herself one sob as she clung to her mentor and friend. When she backed away, she visibly fought to regain control. "Needed that, thanks," she whispered. "Long night."
"Yeah. He's going to be okay, Battery. He's too stubborn to die."
With a forced smile, she nodded and wiped her eyes with her gloved hands. "Debrief started a few minutes ago. Guess we should go?"
"Might as well," she said, PHO momentarily forgotten.
It took an elevator ride and two halls before they reached the debriefing room on the 12th floor. Even before they entered, they could hear loud, angry voices. Rachel Minton was on her feet literally screaming at Assistant Director Renick and the Senior Agent in Charge, a brutish-looking man named Stieger.
"...Whitmore? The woman was a bigot and a bully!" Minton had to stop to take a breath, she was so angry. "She despised parahumans and she hated children. Her file said she wasn't fit to ever work with Wards or a school. How could you put her there?"
Hanna almost tripped over her feet. She leaned toward Velocity, the first familiar face she saw in the room as she and Battery entered. The man looked as exhausted as the rest of them. "Renick sent Whitemore as Taylor's resource agent?"
"No, Steiger did," the cape said, before stifling a yawn. "Based on an email Renick sent. The Undersiders robbed the store Minton's mom owned, that's why she was out."
The two made their way around an oval conference table filled with angry heroes and PRT personnel. It was one of the most disorganized and raucous meetings Militia had ever seen. She looked for Piggot, but the obese director was missing.
In her normal chair at the end of the table sat a skeletal man with an expensive haircut that made him almost look like a walking cotton swab. "Where's Piggot?" Militia asked Battery as she found a seat.
It was the man in Piggot's seat who answered. "Director Piggot has been summoned to Washington," the newcomer said, cutting through the noise. "Since you've just now seen fit to join us, Miss Militia, I'll introduce myself again. My name is Thomas Calvert. I was asked to serve as Interim Director until Director Piggot's final status has been determined."
This didn't appear to be news to anyone but her and Battery. "Asked by whom?"
"Chief Director Costa-Brown," Calvert said with a dry, humorless smile on his narrow face. "Your newly signed Ward publicly executing another in a public school was bad enough. I understand she's made Armsmaster internet-famous and has embarrassing the entire Protectorate ENE. But open gang warfare in the street with body count now approaching almost two hundred? I'm a fixer, Miss Militia, and I'm here to fix things. Beginning with the point Agent Minton made."
Calvert looked at the Senior Agent in Charge. "Agent Steiger, did you order Agent Whitmore into the Resource Agent rotation?"
"I just relayed orders, sir. The orders came in an email from the Deputy Director."
"And like I've said, I sent no such email," Renick said with the air of a refrain oft spoken. The bags under the man's eyes looked almost bruised, he was so tired. "I'm the one who took her off that particular rotation two years ago and made the notes in her file, as Agent Minton well knows."
Minton sank down into her chair.
"Barry, did you take your laptop home at any point prior to that email?" Calvert asked.
"I haven't had a chance to work from home in two years," Renick snapped. "I haven't even been home in a week. I want to see the email Agent Steiger received, and I want it verified by Armsmaster."
Before Armsmaster could speak, Calvert firmly shook his head. "This is an internal PRT matter, Barry. We are the watchers of the Protectorate. Having a Protectorate member combing through PRT email is not appropriate. I do agree, though, that we have to start with the email. Agent Steiger, I want you to report with your phone to IA. I want that email tracked. Go, now."
The agent-a man scarred with fights and acne-nodded sharply as he stood. "I'll get it done."
Militia had served in the Protectorate her entire adult life, and spent several years of her younger life in the Wards. The exchange she just witnessed set off every bullshit detector she had.
She glanced at Armsmaster, who sat in a specially reinforced chair without any outward sign of discontent other than lips made pale by how firmly he kept them pressed closed. Others couldn't see it, but Militia knew the man was so angry it took all his will to keep his mouth shut.
Renick, too, looked intensely bothered by the exchange.
Calvert moved on quickly, wrapping his knuckles against the table. "What's done is done. We can't change it; we can only move forward. First priority is stopping the gang violence. Second is finding and neutralizing Taylor Hebert. Finally…"
The door banged open. Triumph limped in, still bearing injuries from his own encounters with the Empire 88. "Hebert's in New York," he announced to the room. "She's fighting the entire Protectorate there!"
As the room exploded in pandemonium, Militia ignored everyone and studied Calvert. Though it was only for the briefest moment, she was sure she saw the man smile.