Taylor held the mug of warm mead between her stiff hands, and took a slow sip from the drink, letting it slowly warm her body up.

Staying up north, even if it was Hoelbrak, the center of the norn 'government' where they had access to all the comforts of the civilization, always caused discomfort to Taylor.

Granted, norns were on the opinion that if you survived, then you were comfortable, so that was understandable.

But she expected at least for the memorial they would make the hall insulated.

But nooo…

Instead, the snow was directly falling through the ceiling, and the icy chills of the Shiverpeaks were flowing through the building and probably freezing her very bones to ice. Casting one more warming spell on herself, she took another sip of her mead (which was at least the highest possible quality) and looked around.

Eir's memorial brought people from all over Tyria, as the woman's deeds affect a great many people.

The norns were boasting and toasting the dead, telling of her mighty deeds, reciting her legend, or simply telling personal stories while the few charrs that were present also joined those storytelling circles while the asura were sitting with small cups in the corner, afraid to be trampled by the boisterous norn (which Taylor witnessed many times in several taverns and it was always hilarious, especially after the hurt asura summoned some kind of golem to get revenge; the brawls were always great) while the humans, bundled into several layers of clothing, were congregated around the fires, trying to stay unfrozen.

And Braham was… Braham.

Honestly, the guy needed some relaxation and probably a few slaps and punches to the head. Maybe Taylor could find a spell that removed sticks from asses?

She looked down to her legs, where poor Gram was laying his head on her shoes, occasionally releasing a mourning sigh or a sad growl. Taylor reached down and ran her hand through the giant wolf's fur, trying to project reassurance and warmth to the animal.

While her relationship with the Spirits wasn't the greatest, at least she could communicate with them.

"What's your plan after this, Gram?"

The wolf raised his head and gave her a gimlet eye and a deep growl.

While no human words left the wolf's snout, she still understood.

"Retirement? Where?"

Another growl.

"Following Braham is not retirement, Gram."

A whine was her only answer.

"Yes, Eir would want you to look after her son, but I don't think you are in a shape to take care of the mess he had become."

Taylor's statement was followed by several growls, whines, and chuffs, followed by a very human sigh leaving the wolf's mouth.

She caressed the wolf's head, happy to see Gram lean into her hand, then spoke up.

"What about Taimi? She usually stays in a lab, so you can rest comfortably, but she is always in trouble with the others, so she could use someone threatening in her corner…"

Seeing the calculating look in the wolf's eyes, she smiled, took a sip of her drink, and continued to pet the giant wolf, letting the sounds of the hall wash over her.


The Spirits of the Wild.

What a fascinating phenomenon. They are like gods, yet they are not worshipped. But they still help.

I must say, I like their attitude. Some of them even like me back.

Raven was rather thankful that I shared with it the poem, The Raven, but otherwise, it was rather standoffish. At least Bear liked me and even had a sense of humor.

Learning the shape-shifting skill of the norns wasn't necessary, and it didn't really add too much to my arsenal, but it was still fascinating. And transforming into a ten-foot bear was always useful intimidating people…

Unfortunately, as of now, I have been unsuccessful in convincing the other Spirits to allow me to take on their form…

- Journal of Taylor 'Vaporblade' Hebert, date unknown


"No, Champion Taylor, you cannot simply summon the spirits because you crave…fluffy…"

- Spirit of Wolf to Taylor 'Vaporblade' Hebert


"…and ladies and gentlemen, it is my great honor to introduce the newest member of the Protectorate, Weaver!"

Danny watched through the giant, high-fidelity monitors as Armsmaster's speech was finished and the man began woodenly clap.

Both of them were already inducted into the Protectorate, but after some talking, and Taylor glaring at anyone who she could, it was decided that only Taylor would be introduced to the public. Which made sense, as his strategic impact would be less if the gangs knew about him. He still wished he could be there, next to his daughter, as she appeared on the podium in a shower of glitter and colorful sparkles in beautifully crafted clothing that she had pulled out of her seemingly inexhaustible pocket space.

It was a beautiful outfit, made of some kind of white material (he didn't ask, but he still suspected the answer would be a dragon), form-fitting, with some decorations, a knee-length jacket with oddly high collars. It was an amazing piece of clothing that looked great on Taylor, but his daughter went a little further and one part of the bottom of the jacket was on fire, one part was ice melting into water that vanished when it dripped from the clothing, while one shoulder was made of constantly shifting rock and the other was a literal storm of lightning. Her hands were clad in metal claws, while her vambraces were made of some ethereal material that reminded Danny of the mist that appeared when she came through the portal. Her usually immaculate black hair was put into an artistic bun that appeared messy on purpose, while she changed into a silver-white color, her eyes taking on rainbow color. Her face was covered by a simple half mask he knew operated as a communicator.

There was a silence as the present journalists and other people present took in Taylor, which was immediately ruined by Taylor exclaiming.

"Hello, Brockton Bay! I'm Weaver!"

And then she began throwing plushies around.

Apparently, they were based on a race back in Tyria, and predictably, the PR department loved the idea. It even managed to help smooth over a few bruised egos after Taylor refused any kind of help with her costume idea. Though seeing what she was wearing, he could understand. It was still weird seeing Glenn Chambers crying, curled into a ball after a meeting with Taylor.

Opposite of that, his costume was a simple PRT pants shirt with a bulletproof hooded jacket and a simple face mask. Because he would not go out and be seen, nobody bothered to dress him up, which he didn't really mind. Though Taylor still stole the entire ensemble for a night, and when she gave it back, it was decidedly more comfortable, and based on the hints she had dropped, much safer not that he wanted to experiment with that aspect.

While the change from being a Union worker to a Protectorate hero was big on paper, in reality, not much changed.

He still drove in to work every morning, he still spent the entire day in front of a screen or laboring over mountains of paperwork.

The difference was that his office was a giant room, filled with almost unpractically big screens of the highest quality that were streaming information twenty-four-seven, and his conclusions didn't result in another job for the Union but in the arrest of some gang members, or some kind of improvement of the PRT's and Protectorate's operations.

Currently, he was only going through past data, while at the same time organizing it. The first time he was shown the archive room, he went into some kind of Thinker fugue and spent almost an entire day cleaning and organizing the mountains of boxes, binders, and other implements of the bureaucracy.

Returning his attention to the screen, Danny watched while chuckling as Armsmaster slowly backed away from his daughter, letting her soak up all the attention.

She was waving with a big smile on her face, throwing plushies, ice roses, and some weird candy at the wildly clapping people.

When the time came to organize this debut, he was surprised that Taylor so readily agreed to appear in front of so many people and cameras. To his knowledge, she never enjoyed crowds. Her reply surprised him, and at the same time once again reaffirmed that the woman who returned from who knows where was not the same Taylor he had known.

Apparently. she had led a few armies and groups, and giving speeches was mandatory, so she had buckled down and learned how to deal with them…

Slowly, the clapping died down and Taylor stepped up to the microphone stand, grinned, and began talking.

"Well, now that we all have that out of our systems, how about a few questions?"

Instantly, the entire hall looked like it was filled with know-it-all first years trying to prove they knew what two plus two was.

Still grinning, Taylor theatrically swept her gaze through the crowd and finally pointed at a, to him random, journalist.

"You!"

The journalist looked like a deer in headlights for a second, then visibly steeled himself, and spoke up.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Danny was probably not alone with slapping his face in exasperation. Fortunately, or if you were Director Piggot, unfortunately, the question didn't even faze Taylor.

"Your mom," came the rebuttal instantly. "Next questions?" She looked around and pointed at another journalist. "How about you?"

While the first man was visibly shocked senseless, the woman who was chosen visibly gathered herself, unsure what to expect, and spoke up.

"Miss Weaver, could you tell us what your power is?"

"Why, of course!"

With that declaration, Taylor smirked and dramatically snapped her fingers, conjuring up a three feet wide icy mist ball in front of her. Before anyone could react, a fast-moving projectile shot out of the ball, coalescing into a shape.

The shape was a particularly slick otter, that began dancing around the air above the stage, amazing the audience. Then the otter began moving around the people present, and Danny could see through the screens that the icy aura wasn't just for show as several journalists who were too close to the beautiful ice and water otter were already shivering due to the cold it was giving off.

"I'm, as the name suggests, weaving the elements together to achieve different effects…" spoke up Taylor softly after allowing the people to gawk at the construct for half a minute.

She recalled the otter, which darted through the air, coming to rest on her shoulders.

"Any other questions?"


Dean watched as the other Wards sat around the common room (minus Shadow Stalker), dressed in their costume, with their masks, helmets off, visibly relaxing after a regular patrol.

"So, how are you doing with the hammer, Missy?" asked Dennis, with a smirk on his face.

Missy answered with a beaming smile while also summoning said terrifying hammer from somewhere that was given to her not so long ago by an equally terrifying parahuman. Dennis visibly recoiled at its appearance.

"It's cool, and I have been practicing. According to PR, they are ready for me to use it outside of the training room." Her beaming smile changed into a frankly adorable pout. "But only on Brutes…"

"That's great, Missy," said Dennis, still eyeing the physics-defying hammer, then continued. "At least your 'gift' was better than Carlos'!"

The hammer vanished, and Missy snorted. Even Chris, deep into something or else with some manner of a futuristic tool, chuckled quietly, and he could see and feel everyone's mood turn to cheer. He also couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

"Is he still out of it?"

Missy's answer was a simple snort, and Dean could understand.

Their fearsome leader, for some unfathomable reason, decided to ask the newest parahuman one afternoon how she intended to get around. Weaver, in turn, somehow summoned or conjured or whatever else the woman did (nobody could tell him what her actual powers were, and those who knew were keeping quiet), a giant velociraptor. It was a ghastly beast, with dark blue coloring with odd black and gray splashes and spikes everywhere. Everywhere.

Then the beast immediately roared at Aegis, probably trying to establish dominance, or just Weaver having fun, but the teeth and the size of the animal were enough to send Carlos into a brief shock.

They had only seen it over video, which not surprisingly circulated remarkably quickly through the PRT and the Protectorate, but that was enough to cause some tightening of buttholes.

Especially the last sentence said in the video by Weaver:

"And Gnawy here is one of my smallest mounts…"


"So, tell me nothing has been burned down yet, Armsmaster."

"Nothing is on fire, Director," replied Colin stoically.

Emily just sighed and swiveled around in her chair for a moment before posing another question.

"Okay, then please give me a report about Overwatch."

"Yes, Director," nodded the man, took a deep breath, then began talking. "Overwatch was led through testing, which confirmed his reports of his powers, but he somehow understated his need for organizing. When confronted with sizeable disorganized areas, he goes into some kind of Thinker fugue reminiscent of Tinker ones."

"Every time?"

"No, Director. After the first time, he can recognize the feelings and can rein his power back. But the researchers postulate that a big enough shock would cause him to drop into the fugue."

"I see…"

It wasn't the worst handicap Emily ever heard of, but it was still irritating. At least there the elder Hebert didn't want to murder anyone when they saw someone litter, or not put back the book into the correct place.

"On the upside," continued Armsmaster. "Overwatch went through Archive Beta and reorganized it to perfection. We found several 'lost' paperwork, a dozen dead rats, and one Tinkertech receiver."

She heard about that. The good news was it was definitively deactivated. The bad news was that it existed. An investigation was started, but she wasn't expecting much. At least she could report to her superior that she was doing something. Not that it would help with Costa-Brown. The woman was a hard-ass at the best of times.

"What about other bugs?"

Armsmaster frowned but answered.

"As you know our efforts to use Overwatch's power were hindered by the fact as a new parahuman that just recently joined he doesn't have enough clearance to see certain things so we had to be careful where he moved, lest he sees something he wasn't supposed."

"But?"

"But I'm happy to report that he found several unknown Tinker tech devices in the areas he was allowed in, not to mention the several dozen bugs and other kinds of listening devices. He also found all the ones the Counter Intelligence placed to test his powers, so they are both happy and unhappy."

Now that sounded much better. Emily was aware that her command was leaking information like a sieve, no matter what she did, so she hoped now that they had a bona fide Thinker on call, they could rectify those leaks. It seemed she would need to hasten the clearance process for Mr. Hebert if he was that good… Sadly, that would probably put her directly at odds with the Chief-Director.

She was also reluctant to make waves about her new parahumans, as she was afraid they would be transferred to other places which 'needed them more'. Or that Watchdog would snap Overwatch up before she could make use of his power. So, Emily was intentionally vague in her reports towards the outside, hoping to prevent other people from getting interested in her new parahumans.

"We also found the lower boundary of his power. He can't mark anything that is smaller than 0,5 mm. But somehow, computer screens are counted as one object so he can mark them and thus knows what's on them."

"Oh?"

Armsmaster nodded, then continued.

"Yes, sadly, his organization ability doesn't extend to programming, but if it is written on a screen or paper, he can read it without looking at it if they're within his range. So, as of now, I assigned one of the biggest meeting rooms to him as an office and outfitted it with as many screens as possible."

"Any other effects?"

"He is an excellent administrator, so I assigned several Protectorate paperwork to him. Efficiency increased by 237%."

"So, that's why the paperwork was on time…" murmured Emily, while going through everything Armsmaster said. "When are you going to add him to Monitor duty?"

"He is currently learning communication protocols and running through simulations in his office. I'm also working on setting up his office as an auxiliary Monitor station so he could work as efficiently as possible."

Emily wrote down a few ideas and things she wanted to bring up with other people, then sighed and asked about something she really didn't want.

"What about Weaver?"

There was a rather telling silence upon hearing her question. Finally, after a minute, Armsmaster reluctantly spoke up.

"Weaver is a… lot."

"Problems?"

Colin shook his head.

"No, but when she said she can do anything, she wasn't lying. We have found nothing yet that she couldn't do with her powers. Not to mention her 'mounts'.

"Please don't mention those nightmare fuels."

Emily had only seen a few pictures, but after that, her only interest was in ascertaining if they were biotinker creations. When the answer came back, how they were some kind of constructs, she put them out of her mind, relieved.

"Of course, Director," answered Armsmaster and Emily watched, satisfied that even he had to fight down shiver at the mention of those… things. Nothing should have that many teeth… "Weaver is currently working on her certification so she could go to the hospital to heal people, now that she is finished with her GED."

Healing was probably the biggest boon Weaver could provide them. If she could prove to be half as talented as Panacea, they would be able to say goodbye to dealing with the New Wave finally. Which would mean no more stupid meetings with Brandish for Emily.

"Well, as long as she isn't causing problems…"


Taylor watched her dad sit on the new sofa, a satisfied expression on his face after the pizza dinner. It seemed the new workplace was agreeing with him. She could already see the wrinkles disappearing from his face (though those might have been the elixirs she had been feeding him) and his entire body was radiating a kind of satisfaction that she had never seen while he worked for the Union.

"Say, Taylor," spoke up her father languidly, his eyes closed. "I heard from my friends that after I left the Union a new company came into the Bay and has been aggressively hiring from the Union…" He opened his eyes and gave her a look.

Taylor just smirked.

"How lucky!"

Danny sighed in exasperation.

"Taylor, what did you do?"

"Me? Why do you think I had anything to with it?" replied Taylor with an innocent look. Though the smirk didn't really help her.

"Taylor… The company's name is Dragon's Watch. I may be old, but I have a new shiny parahuman power and I remember your stories in excellent clarity." He paused, waiting for an answer, but Taylor refused to budge. Finally, he had had enough and spoke up. "How did you get the money?"

Taylor gave him a carefree shrug and reached for the last slightly cooling pizza slice.

"Several gentlemen decided to be generous and donate to the cause…"

Danny just sighed again, while Taylor began munching on the pizza, delight dancing in her eyes.


Max stopped the video playing on the projector and turned to James.

"What did you find out about her?"

James gave him a smirk, then began talking.

"That she is a smokescreen."

"Oh?"

"While she is shown off, another parahuman joined the protectorate. A Thinker. According to my sources, they are already on a bug hunt. The mole hunt hasn't started yet."

Now wasn't that surprising? Max thought for a second, then took in the beautiful woman smirking on the screen, then turned back to his lieutenant.

"So, she is nothing? Some kind of showpiece?"

The other man frowned.

"Most definitively not. Her exact powers are extremely secret, but everyone who talked agreed that she is amazingly powerful."

"They managed to keep it secret?"

"It was surprising. I had to put together a description of her power from several sources and even so, I'm sure it's not complete."

Max nodded, reached for a glass of brandy and a notepad.

"Tell me what you know."

"First of all, she can fly, then there is invisibility, and…"

As Max listened to James list more and more powers of the new parahuman, he couldn't help but feel a shiver go down his spine. There were grab-bag capes, but this was way beyond that. Maybe it was false?

Could the PRT be doing some counterintelligence and trying to make them believe that they have acquired the services of a discount Eidolon?

Maybe they were, after all, desperate enough, no thanks to them. It seems he would have to contact a few people if he wanted to sort this out. Maybe a small test for the newest arrival in Brockton Bay…

"James, what about the Thinker? Any way we could turn them?"

He was not happy to see the frown on James' face.

"The only thing I could get out of people, that the Thinker, Overwatch, came in at the same time as Weaver to join. There is a not-insignificant chance that they are related to each other."

Max sighed and had to agree with James' frown. If they were related, then they would be at least living near each other, or even in the same place. That way, Weaver could protect the Thinker if the worst happens. At least he would do that…

"So, first we need to figure out Weavers' power, then we could move onto the Thinker…"

"Yes, Sir."


He sat in his office, deep underground, and watched the video of Weaver's debut, slowed down and enhanced by software, some normal, some Tinker provided. He watched as the young woman appeared on the podium amidst a ludicrous amount of glitter and sparkles, then did some theatrics that he didn't care for, and walked to the microphone.

He pushed a button, and the video slowed down by another measure. He watched slowly as she stood there, gesticulating and speaking. Then Weaver simply turned around and winked, looking directly into the camera, exactly into his eyes.

He sat in his home, comfortable in some casual clothing, his personal laptop in his lap, a video of Weaver's debut playing on it slowed down on a popular video sharing site. He watched as the young woman appeared on the podium amidst a ludicrous amount of glitter and sparkles, then did some theatrics that he didn't care for, and walked to the microphone.

He slowed the video down using the site's own settings, and while it was not as good as the commercially available software, it still allowed some measure of control over the speed of the video. He watched slowly as she stood there, gesticulating and speaking. Then Weaver continued to speak and answer the questions of the journalists.

He repeated the exercise several times, using different encodings of the recording, different sharing websites, different devices, but every time he watched the video in his bunker, the video contained the parahuman turning towards the camera and winking, while any time he watched it outside it was as if nothing happened.

It was supremely frustrating.

Even his Tattletale could barely provide anything more than he already got from his source in the PRT. No matter how he asked, it seemed the new Protectorate parahuman seemed to be immune to his Tattletale's power. The information his pet gave him was either a garbled mess unrelated to anything or changed every time she looked at her. The only thing she could say with a hundred percent certainty was that Weaver was having immense fun. So he was thankful that she didn't seem to be immune to his power.

It would require extensive testing to see where the boundaries of the immunity lie, but he had nothing else but time.

He closed the video, the situation of Weaver set aside for a moment, then brought up a screen filled out with Overwatch's information and he began reviewing it again. Thankfully, the Thinker didn't seem to be a danger to him, but it always paid to be careful. Plus, it seems the PRT was planning to use him to hunt for bugs. So he needed to make sure none of the bugs he left behind or used regularly could lead back to him if found, or even set up a plan to remove some of them.

He also made a few notes about asking his little pet to look into the man, before turning towards some fascinating information one of his taps in the hospital provided him.

"Dinah Alcott, let's see what you can do…"


Dinah brushed her teeth dutifully, looking in the mirror and trying to deal with her mountain-shattering headache. After dinner, she got a feeling and tried to ask a few too more questions.

She spat, watching for a moment as it went down the drain, then continued, thinking about the information she got.

After finishing, and saying goodnight to her mommy, she lay in her bed awake, eyes open but unseeing, hugging her favorite teddy bear to herself in a death grip. She went over the questions and answers she asked and received.

Chances I will get hurt the next month?

15,78%

Too open-ended, which she realized too late after wasting a question on it.

Chances my parents will believe me I'm a parahuman?

17,98%

Not too encouraging. But she didn't really know how else could tell them she wasn't making up the numbers…

Chances that somebody else knows about my power?

100%

Now that one freaked her out. Yesterday it was around ten percent. And today when Dinah got the feeling, and she asked it changed to this number. Apparently, somebody knew about her… But how?

Chances that they want to hurt me?

87,54%

Those weren't the best odds, but at least it wasn't a hundred percent.

Chances that they will hurt me?

0%

The only reason she wasn't throwing a tantrum in front of her parents, so they would take her seriously, was this number. It was rather reassuring, even if she didn't really know how it was possible.

And now, as she lay in her bed, she felt she was up to at least one more question. After getting confirmation about somebody knowing about her power, she did some research on the family computer after dinner while her parents dealt with the dishes. And while the internet wasn't the most reliable source of information, according to her teachers, it wasn't like she could ask her parents. How she wished she could ask them…

And the internet in this case agreed unanimously. Thinkers usually got kidnapped and made to work for some mastermind, or enslaved by supervillains… And she didn't really want to do that.

What are the chances that the person who knows about my power will kidnap me?

0%

Dinah smiled, turned to the side, snuggled up to her favorite teddy bear, and slowly slipped into sleep, reassured by her power.


Assault officially loved Weaver. Not romantically, of course, as he was still in love with his lovely wife, but the new parahuman was exactly what he was praying for. A breath of fresh air in the dullness of Brockton Bay. Even if it was weird to call Brockton Bay dull.

She was funny, irreverent, and so powerful nobody could say no to her. Oh, they tried, but she would just smile, pat their head and go on about her business.

Like that awesome hammer she had given to Vista.

At first, everybody was against it, and they even took it away from the young girl.

The hammer reappeared next to the girl.

They tried harder. The hammer, however, always reappeared to the joy of Vista, and to his entertainment. Then Weaver simply walked into the PR department, and while he didn't know what was said behind closed doors, nobody tried to take it away again.

Interestingly, if Vista left it somewhere, it always stayed there. Then Weaver somehow taught Vista how to store the giant metal warhammer in one of her pockets and summon it into her hands at a moment's notice.

And now for the first time, after a lot of lessons on its use (and leaving enough time for the PR Department to churn out several figurines with hammers; apparently it tested really well with the focus groups), Vista was finally patrolling, with an enormous smile on her face and a gigantic warhammer on her shoulder.

Honestly, it was scary and funny at the same time.

Ethan was along as a senior parahuman, showing Weaver the ropes, and on her request, they were escorted by a pint-sized Lovecraftian horror and Kid Win, who was currently having an enthusiastic talk with Weaver about something that made no sense to him.

But he could see the kid was happy, so he was also happy.

They started in the Boardwalk, as they were with Wards, and after they fought themselves through the fans and several people propositioning Weaver, they left for the better part of the city. He didn't like to do it, as Ethan knew they only patrolled in the good part of the city because the moneybags paid for it someway, but for showing Weaver the ropes it was good enough.

Plus, there was also a chance that villains would see that it was her first time patrolling and would show up and try to put the young woman into her place.

He kinda wished it would happen, just to see their faces when they realized they were hopelessly outclassed.

So he preferred staying in a part of the city where reinforcement would be able to reach them fast, even if with Weaver there was no potential need for them. But he took responsibility for the kids, and he would die first before he let them get hurt.

They reached the unofficial border between the good part and the bad part, and he was about to stop and give a brief lesson to Weaver about borders, as the woman was new to the gang politics of the city when an explosion went off in the distance.

The space around them instantly warped, increasing the distance between them and anything that could be used to hide behind, while Kid Win's hoverboard began buzzing and his guns appearing in his hand, looking frantically around, trying to find something to fire at.

He instinctively ducked his head upon hearing the explosion, but he could see in the corner of his eye that Weaver barely even reacted. As if hearing random explosions was an everyday thing to the young woman.

Granted, they lived in Brockton Bay, but still…

Ethan was about to call out and calm the kids down, and maybe report to the HQ, but between two blinks the surrounding scenery changed.

It took him several seconds, and some cries of surprise from the Wards, to realize what happened. They were teleported from their last stop in their patrol route, basically next to a road junction strewn with debris.

He didn't even have time to figure out who or what did the teleportation (his money was on Weaver) before he realized what he was seeing.

Several cars, either on fire, overturned or simply sagged to the road with windows blown in, and behind them hiding ABB members, aiming their guns at Empire skinheads on the other side of the road, where the aforementioned skinheads were hiding in several shop fronts, their weapons peaking out of giant windows that were either boarded up or empty of any covering.

On top of a car, crouching, was Oni Lee, his customary grenade belt visible, with one of his hands holding an oriental sword and the other grasping a grenade. His red mask visibly turned in their direction.

On the Empire's side was half transformed Hookwolf and a pasty white Alabaster out in the open, with comically giant guns in his hands, which were slowly lowering as stared at them in surprise and with an open mouth.

The only good thing he could say about the situation was that the gangs were just as surprised by what happened as they were. Making use of this surprise, and making a note to have a talk about Weaver about appropriate action when hearing an explosion, he stepped in front of the kinds and glanced at her.

Weaver was looking around with a smirk, her eyes behind her mask alight with an emotion Ethan couldn't really place. Before anyone could say or do anything, the woman stepped forward.

Then she reached behind her back with one of her hands and retrieved an unbelievable giant broadsword from her invisible backpack (or pocket space, but he preferred thinking about it as an invisible backpack). The handle was gold with some black accents, with a giant crystal at the end swirling with colors. The guard was three wings made of the same material and same coloring. The oddest thing, however, was the blade itself.

If someone asked Ethan and he was sure if they survived this, people would be asking a lot of questions, he would tell them that the closest he could come to describe the blade as a piece of a sky. Reflecting the setting sun, yet still having a little bluish-white in it.

It was fascinating, and Ethan wondered where Weaver got it.

And as she continued to walk forward, he could see that the ground under her began shining the same way as the blade, reflecting the same sky as the blade in the shape of her footprints. Then she stopped in front of the gathered gang members and villains, cocked her hips, hefted her sword onto her shoulder, and exclaimed.

"Mind if I cut in boys?"


A/N: Raptor mount: Canyon Spiketail

Taylor's clothing: Frostfire Outfit but instead of fire and ice it contained earth and air too.

The greatsword Taylor summons: The Eternity