"Please kill me now…"

Andrew stopped his eternal cleaning of the enchanted glass, and beheld his sort of daughter, as she laid, despondent, with one cheek on the bar counter looking into nothingness while radiating so much angst he would swear the flowers in the windows were turning black and humming sad songs.

He chuckled a little, remembering Taylor's attempt at being dark and mysterious when she was younger, then continued his cleaning.

"Anything wrong, Taylor?"

There was another groan, causing him to chuckle once again, while a sigh left Taylor akin to a great gust of wind. The very air in the inn moved with the sigh, and one of the flowers in the window was holding black nail polish.

He didn't really get magic, but when one of your wards was a powerful sorceress, then you get used to weird things happening…

No matter how bizarre…

"So?" he prompted, curious about what caused Taylor's state. And as Petra was not present to gleefully share whatever was causing this, he had to pry it out of the notoriously tightlipped Taylor.

"I fucked up…" came the short and quiet answer from Taylor.

"Hmm… where?" Acting as unflappable came with being a bartender, and it helped in this case too, as it allowed him to project a calm facade as he inwardly freaked out because when someone on Taylor's level fucked up, it meant bad things.

"In the battle with the idiot dragons…"

"Ahh…" He heard about that. Not that surprising, as everybody was talking about it.

Andrew waited for a little, hoping Taylor would continue, but when he saw she had no intention of doing so, he spoke up again, prompting the young woman.

"And?"

Taylor slowly raised her head, looked into his eyes with her own dead ones, then with a thud, laid her head back to the counter, this time on her other cheek, and let out another very angsty sigh.

He could swear one of the flowers was thrumming a guitar…

"The norns are praying to me…"

"What?"

There was another sigh.

"They call me the spirit of elements, destruction, and hope…"

"And they…"

"They pray to me. Yes. They haven't settled on what animal would best represent me yet, but…" she trailed off, and Andrew had to hold back the guffaw that threatened to escape his throat.

"And how is that bad?"

"You just don't get it, Andrew!" she exclaimed, then returned to her despondent sighing, supported by a chorus of black flowers.

Andrew looked at Taylor for a second, then he couldn't hold it back any longer.

Loud laughter erupted for him, causing Taylor to gaze at him with a venomous look, but he didn't really care. This was too precious!


Taimi gazed at the room, decorated in all manner of festive decorations. It was a room on the side of her laboratory that Taylor insisted on being used as some manner of relaxing room. Not that she used it much. There were just too much science and ideas to work on. Not to mention the universe's regular attempt to destroy Tyria and Taylor's attempt to prevent it. It was surprisingly exhausting dealing with both.

As she slowly limped further in the room, towards one of the most comfortable chairs she ever sat on (enchanted by Taylor), she glanced at the obnoxiously large box, wrapped in gaudy paper, with a giant pink bow on it, and couldn't help but be curious.

She understood it was a gift, probably for her, but seeing Taylor's face, as she smiled at her, hiding her worry behind that smile, Taimi suspected it was not a simple gift.

Based on her large friend's behavior, it must have been something to do with her illness, but she suspected it was not a cure as Taylor was not so frivolous to attempt to gift her the cure for what ailed her.

So Taimi simply took a seat in the sinfully comfortable chair and looked at Taylor expectantly.

"What is this, Taylor?"

Taylor smiled at her and simply snapped her finger without saying a word.

The gaudy wrapping paper instantly began unraveling, vanishing into the air with sparkles and glitter, leaving behind a silently hovering something. Something interesting.

Taimi couldn't really say what it was actually at first glance, but she recognized several parts immediately. Thrusters for balance, advanced haptic interfaces, some modules that blended in well into the oval shape, and so much more. It was an exquisite creation, and she would be happy to examine the machine in detail later.

She looked up from her inspection and posed a most important question.

"What is it?"

"A hover chair," explained Taylor. "I worked with a few other asuras to make it perfect…" Upon her betrayed eyes, Taylor held up her hands in surrender. "I know, I know. But I wanted it to be a surprise. I also enchanted it myself, for comfort and precision."

Taimi harrumphed a little, feeling insulted that her friend went to somebody else with technological help, but touched at the same time.

"I will have to go over the construction in detail to make sure they hadn't made a mistake…" she murmured, already standing up and beginning to go over the surface of the very shiny machine.

"The manual and design plans are in the box under it," spoke up Taylor.

Taimi absentmindedly thanked her friend, but her mind was already working on how to improve the device as she immediately spotted several very obvious errors. Those amateurs…

She bade goodbye to her friend, returning to her laboratory, new hover chair in tow, mind working a mile a second, leaving behind Taylor with a sad, forlorn look on her face.


"What are we?"

"The Iron Legion!"

"I can't hear you!"

"THE IRON LEG– gurk"

The charr enthusiastically, yelling his answers to the superior's rousing speech, collapsed unconscious, while the rest of the cohort took cover as harmless but still effective projectiles rained down on their position. They returned the gunfire, but the brutal takedown of their comrade rattled them, and their response wasn't the best.

Soon, all of them were laying on the ground unconscious while a woman dressed in dark armor carrying a rather big and lethal-looking gun strolled through their position.

Several other charrs observing the situation on the ground kept exclaiming.

"Why is she winning?"

"There is only one of her and at least a three hundred of us!"

"Come on, you pups! Can't you see she is baiting you into a tra… and they're mission killed. Wonderful…"

Rytlock looked on as the leadership of the Iron Legion observed the military exercise, as the legion practiced against a 'Singularly powerful enemy combatant' and couldn't help but sigh.

At least the bets he placed would net him enough gold that he could drink away the memories of the legion's disgrace…


Anise, sitting behind her comfortable desk, basking in the rays shining through the windowed wall (Taylor had some really great ideas about living spaces), opened her alnet device and began perusing the morning news, while she snacked on her expertly crafted morning breakfast, slipping high-quality tea.

Taylor's attempts to usurp her information-gathering abilities were rather cute, but even she had to admit that the alnet and the news organization she founded were marvelous. So much information at her pupil's fingertips, and through her, the Shining Blade's.

Still, respect must be due where it belonged, and Anise was rather happy that thanks to Taylor's invention, her own workload decreased significantly. So much, she was almost done weeding out the current trouble makers in the court and even had time to set up meetings between that thickheaded Logan and Jennah, which were definitely not dates.

Chuckling a little at what she was reading, she moved her finger, and with it the page she was looking at and with her other hand raised the teacup and took an elegant sip.

But for now, let's see the newest gossip…

She had bets to win, after all!

Then maybe she would test the security at her ever-busy pupil's company's headquarters, to see if the girl had learned anything…

Wasn't she the best teacher?


Emily walked toward the ominous warehouse surrounded by a veritable army of CSI, FBI, and police as they tried to deal with what happened to the temporary inhabitants.

She walked up to the police tape, waited until the officer in charge held it high enough that she could walk through without even bending her neck (she could do it, but goddammit she was the director, she won't be bending under some common police tape), then stepped through, quickly followed by the towering form of Armsmaster and the ever-elegant Weaver.

The area itself was one of the worst in Brockton Bay, where even gangs didn't really care to flex their powers, so lawlessness was everywhere, and having two of the strongest parahumans at her back, no matter her bad memories was rather reassuring. And it felt nice to see the people gape as the two parahumans, who went toe to toe with the Slaughterhouse Nine and won, following behind her without a word.

Due to the identity of the 'victims', after some deliberation, she gave up the case to the FBI, garnering some goodwill and getting rid of some much-hated paperwork. But despite that, she wanted to take at least one look, just to make sure she hadn't made a mistake.

Emily stepped into the crumbling building, dodging CSI people with all manner of devices and equipment, then took in the scene in front of her.

On the ground, neatly lined up, covered with sheets, were several bodies, while the hall she was in contained their belongings still in the middle of unpacking, but absolutely no sign of violence.

Ignoring the scowl of the FBI agent supervising the work in the warehouse, she spent a few minutes taking it all in, while the two parahumans stood silently behind them, occasionally waving at people or even giving out autographs.

Then steeling her shriveled-up heart, she turned towards Weaver and asked a question.

"So, how did you do it?"

Weaver simply tilted her head to the side in a manner that some would call cute, but it just raised Emily's already dangerously high blood pressure.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Director. I didn't do this," came the answer from the female parahuman, paired with a smile that told her everything she needed to know. "As it would be a gross breach of conduct to go out and simply eliminate, suspiciously acting civilians."

Emily ignored Armsmaster's cough and focused her eyes on Weaver.

"Right… But let's say, hypothetically, if one were to do this… How would they do it?"

Weaver looked back into her eyes, then over the dead bodies, the smile never leaving her face.

"Well, Director… Hypothetically, if one were to be careful after a Nine attack on the city, one would make sure to pay attention to the movements of organizations with some manner of cause, then one would be in a prime position to be informed when those organizations attempted to infiltrate this beautiful city."

And wasn't that a horrifying non-confession. How powerful was Weaver actually that she could specifically look out for the Fallen?

"And?" she prompted, starting to regret ever asking the question. She was also very aware that several people were in listening range.

Weaver's smile widened, and a shudder ran through Emily's spine.

"Hypothetically, after one would offer the enemy combatants a chance to surrender, they would, of course, deny it, citing religious reasons, which would necessitate one to remove them from amongst the living with precision plasma shots at their Gemma and-slash-or brain stems." She took a quick breath, and her grin changed to mischievous. "But I definitely didn't do it, and you can't prove anything."

"Of course," answered Emily with a dry voice. She glanced at Armsmaster, but he still stood there stoically. She sighed, then turned away from the annoying parahuman and began eyeing the dead bodies.

To be frank, she didn't care that the Fallen were dead. Nobody would. But nobody liked when parahumans, especially powerful parahumans, took justice into their own hands. That's why she let the FBI handle it so that nobody could accuse her of covering up misdeeds, even if there was no evidence that Weaver was behind it. No matter how obvious it was. After all, why would the Fallen come to the city that housed the only parahuman to ever kill an Endbringer?

Emily once again contemplated resigning right there, but then a rational and less sane part of her mind calmed her down, supplying her with the tasks she needed to do. With a quiet groan, she began walking towards the agent in charge, wanting to make sure things were running alright.

Behind her, Armsmaster and Weaver looked at each other and shrugged.

While watching as the Director discussed something with a sour-faced FBI agent, Armsmaster spoke up in a voice that was close to a whisper.

"Good job, Weaver. Very efficient."

Weaver said nothing, just began chuckling. Then they returned to standing around silently, looking out for dangers, and watching as the CSI guys began carting out the dead bodies one by one.

Then the Director shook the agent's hand, did an about-face, and began power walking towards them. She was only a few feet away from them when she began barking orders.

"Weaver. Transport to the helipad!"

Space twisted around them instantly, and they found themselves on the PRT helicopter landing pad, with the director still in motion. They immediately followed her while she continued to talk.

"Armsmaster, go over the data and write me up a very detailed report. Leave nothing out. Then have Dragon pretty it up with some fancy expressions and metaphors and whatnot, then send it over to me."

"Yes, Director."

Emily then turned her gaze to Weaver, who looked back nonchalantly.

"You go play with the Wards or something before I overcome the urge not to strangle you. I don't want to hear from you for the rest of the week. Understood?"

Weaver executed a sloppy salute and answered with a grin.

"Yes, Director. As you wish!" then the moment she finished she vanished into thin air, presumably to bother somebody else. Hopefully. A woman can hope…

She turned to Armsmaster, who was still walking next to her.

"Dismissed. I want the report within two hours."

Armsmaster nodded, and with surprising speed began walking away from her, leaving Emily alone with her thoughts on her way to her office.


Taylor swam around the Mist with even strokes, and couldn't help but frown.

After observing the tendrils enveloping her home planet, she did some more research and observation. In the end, she found that next to the thick and pulsing black tendrils there was another web of tendrils, slightly connected to the other one, but this one was much, much weaker, almost crumbling.

She had yet to touch them, or even interact with them in any meaningful way, as she was waiting for Taimi's analysis to make sure she didn't fuck up everything. She didn't much like Earth Bet, but she didn't want to be the cause of its destruction if she could help it…

Instead, she spent her free time mapping out the web of eldritch tendrils, looking for weak spots and hot spots for the eventual confrontation. As in her experience, beings like these were rarely with good intentions.

Flying over a patch of intricately connected and bound-together tendrils, Taylor spotted something new.

An unusually enormous hotspot surrounded with smaller but still gigantic hotspots. The unusual part wasn't that, as she saw several of those already, but that it was even more crumbling as the hidden secondary tendril web, and several tendrils leading to it and from it were snapped waving in the ether as if they were water hoses where somebody suddenly turned on the water pressure without grabbing them.

However, after examining carefully, she noticed a spotty tendril that still held together. And not because of something the eldritch being did, but because she saw her own magic on the tendril anchoring it to the hot spot, and on the other hand to something in her home.

"How interesting…" murmured Taylor, smiling wickedly.


Max fell back into his ergonomic chair, exhausted.

The meeting with the other parahuman members of the gang and the major lieutenants went not as he expected.

They were all clamoring for them to grab their weapons and take over the parts of the city that were left behind unowned after the defeat of Lung and the mysterious disappearance of Coil. But no matter what he had said, they wouldn't understand that they couldn't really do that. Not with the world's eyes on the city and with Weaver so close.

Granted, he could have used force to make them behave and follow his command, but Max knew, based on the look in Hookwolf's eye, who was still smarting from his defeat at Weaver's hands, that it would just splinter the group further. Maybe even causing it to dissolve into smaller gangs.

Which he mostly cared about, because of their overseas benefactors. They would be rather cross if he failed to uphold their deal, and they would be swift to express their displeasure.

Which meant, despite not caring one whiff for the superiority of their race that the gang preached to the masses (he was in it for the money), he had to buckle down and somehow keep the gang together, and make sure to not poke Weaver enough that she would take a detour and simply execute them.

The Fallen were a frightening example…

He was about to stand up and pour himself a fortifying drink when Nessa quietly opened the door to his office and stepped in. He admired for a second as her body filled out the two-piece woman's business suit, but then he looked at her face, and any and all thoughts about her body left his mind as he beheld her ashen face.

"What is it?"

She said nothing, just held out her hand, which held a letter.

Max looked at his assistant, then at the letter, and carefully took it from her hand. The moment the letter left Nessa's hand, she turned around and left the room with post-haste. He waited until the door was locked behind her, then turned his attention to the letter.

The paper it was made from was of high quality. He could feel it with his finger. Turning it over, he beheld an unfamiliar wax seal, a stick, maybe a staff over a stylized wave. Quickly grabbing a letter opener, he tore the letter open, disregarding the seal, and took out its content.

It was a thick, letter-sized white sheet.

Curiously turning it over, he beheld one word: NO.

And in the corner a cute ice-blue colored, cartoonish otter winking at him, somehow, despite being on paper, animated to move.

Max disregarded the glasses on the counter, took a bottle of bourbon, and began drinking.


Ethan looked at Armsmaster, who was looking over his equipment with measured motions and careful gaze.

"So, where is our wonder lady?"

"Weaver is staying back to make sure if Oni Lee escapes our encirclement, then she could respond immediately. And in case somebody else decides to strike at the PRT or some other part of the city while we are preoccupied, then she would be the one to respond."

Ethan eyed Colin, then nodded.

"That makes sense."

He left his superior to his preparations and turned his attention to the rest of the group.

His wife was talking with a few officers, while Velocity was seemingly warming up, a soft, white light diffusing over his body. Probably a Trump effect from Weaver…

The rest of them were at other points of the city, drawing a rather crude triangle around the supposed hiding place of Oni Lee.

Thanks to his teleportation powers, it was hard to pinpoint the villain, but even he had to rest and resupply. Ethan wondered for a moment why the cape didn't just simply leave the city, but then he realized he was thinking about Oni Lee behaving rationally.

He just hoped that they would be able to capture him before he decided to go on a suicide run.

Taking one last look around, Ethan decided he should also warm up.

A few minutes later, Armsmaster's clear voice rang out in the building they were hidden.

"Everyone, listen up. The operation is starting. Gather around!"

He abandoned his warm-up, which was definitely not playing on his phone, and headed for the big table that was set up in the middle.

Soon, one more villain would be off the streets! He couldn't wait! Maybe in the end Brockton Bay would become a proper city!


Dragon didn't even let the phone ring even once. The moment her system was informed that she had an incoming call from a specific number, she immediately picked it up.

"Hello!"

Spinning of a fork to deal with the infrastructure update she was dealing with, she dedicated her not so considerable main fork's attention to the caller.

"Yes, hello to you, Dragon. How have you been?" came the chuckling reply.

"I'm well. Thank you for asking. Incredibly busy, but loving it."

"Excellent. How are the talents I sent your way?"

Dragon couldn't help but chuckle, thinking back at the reaction of the people her benefactor sent her way to either help her in her job or for her and the Guild to help them.

"They are as safe and comfortable as I could make them. There were a few teething problems, but not everything is solved."

"Fantastic to hear. Thank you for the help, Dragon. I appreciate it…"

"No problem, no problem," she replied, and she meant it. Several people that her benefactor sent to her were providing invaluable help with a considerable number of projects. Having a sudden thought, she accessed a very encrypted file and hesitantly spoke up. "Listen, I have an issue that I think you could help with…"

"I'm listening…"

Dragon grinned and began explaining to the woman on the other end of the phone line.


Taylor sat in her room, her father already asleep, watching the full moon in all its splendor, drinking a simple tea and thinking and planning.

She already set into motion several plans that would have a considerable payoff in the not so near future for humanity on Earth Bet, but she still felt off.

She was powerful; she knew it. That meant she could have done much, much more for humanity or even for Brockton Bay. She could have captured all the parahumans belonging to a gang within minutes without any of them even noticing that she was acting.

But Taylor didn't do it.

On one hand, because of spite. After all, neither the city nor the people helped her when she needed it. On the other hand, it was not her problem. She had long ago given up thinking of herself as being from Earth Bet, Brockton Bay. She was just a simple visitor who was having fun.

But in the end, she was a hero, and heroes saved people. So she couldn't really leave the people of Earth Bet to the mercy of supervillains and Endbringers. Thus, Taylor acted according to this.

She poked here and there. Took care of a few pressing issues, set into motion a few forces that would continue her work after she left, and then sat back and watched as the chaos unfolded.

Even right now, there were numerous countries where the villains and the governments clashed due to the belief in the Truce failing, and she could have gone and set them straight in a second, but nobody asked her to do anything so she didn't move.

At the beginning of her heroic career she tried to help everyone and anyone, but a lot of time, even if she saved somebody, or helped them, the only thing she received was vitriol and hate. Therefore, over the years, she got used to waiting until her help was requested. Unless, of course, it was about something that would destroy Tyria.

If people wanted to suffer, then it wasn't up to her to convince them of the opposite. She was a hero, but she wasn't about to sacrifice her entire life just for people to spit in her face.

And she knew without of doubt that Earth Bet would be like that. Even now, the CUI was planning to acquire her, by all means necessary, or take her out because they couldn't stand someone so strong on the USA's side. Their paranoia didn't even entertain the option of asking for her help. Either they ordered, and she did their bidding, or she was useless.

She already had her hand full with the politics back in Tyria, Taylor had no need to also take Earth Bet on.

Taylor put down the teacup, planning to take a gander at mediation in lieu of sleeping, when the device on her arm began to vibrate. Curiously, she prodded it and a holographic screen immediately sprung up in front of her.

On the screen, she could see Taimi in the middle of her laboratory, with screens scrolling at extremely fast speeds with an incredible amount of data, with a giant grin on her tiny face.

She could even see Gram curiously looking at one of the lower screens. Over the years, the lovable spirit had truly made Taimi's laboratory his home. He even admitted to Taylor that he would have regretted going with Braham.

Which was fair, as a lot of people regretted going with Braham. Including Braham.

Taylor returned her attention to her excitable asuran friend and waited until her vibrating friend began talking. She didn't have to wait too long.

"Taylor! I did it! I broke the code! It was so exciting, I think I can use what I've learned to increase the security of the alnet connection by a major degree. Do you think people would like that? Several people were complaining about the Inquest trying to tap into the confidential data streams. Or maybe a concentrated digital attack? Hmm…"

A genuine smile appeared on Taylor's face as she listened to Taimi's stream of consciousness.

"That's great, Taimi! I knew you could do it!"

Taimi puffed up her chest in response while beaming at her.

"Of course I did it! Who do you think I'm?"

"The greatest inventor in Rata Sum and Tyria," stated Taylor with a smile.

"That's right! Suck it Phlunt, you miserable sack of bones!"

Taylor watched her friend dance for a while in her seat, insulting all manner of highly respected but truly annoying asuran scientists, before she cleared her throat.

"We can insult Phlunt later all you want, heck I will even help you TP his laboratory, but please tell me what you've found…"

Taimi snickered, then straightened out and with a somber look on her face brought up a screen touched a few virtual buttons and a new screen popped up on Taylor's desk, streaming data from Taimi's side.

"Very well, Taylor. But I want scented TP. Now, as you can see here, I found that…"


"We should approach her. She could be a great help!"

"Absolutely not. We don't know her goals, what her plans are. She is too powerful. I don't know if we could contain her if she turned against us."

"What do you think, Contessa?"

Everybody around the table turned to the suit-clad woman, whose fedora was on the table in front of her, and was chewing her lips in nervousness.

"I don't… know. I can't really see her. Or model her," came the hesitant answer.

"See?!" gesticulated Eidolon towards the nervous woman. "We don't know anything concrete about her. Even her backstory is suspect… Magical dimension? Please…"

"She seemed to believe it," argued Alexandria, but everybody could see she didn't really stand beside her own argument.

"Please, we have access to at least dozens of powers that could convince somebody they hail from a magical dimension," said Eidolon, waving the whole issue away.

Then Numberman, who watched the ensuing argument silently, spoke up.

"What about the Endbringers? The next one is soon. By my calculations, it will be either Leviathan or a new one."

"Watchdog says the same," added Alexandria.

Then Doctor Mother spoke up in a calm, measured tone.

"How about we shelf this argument about Weaver, and see how she reacts to the next one? If she was indeed a Simurgh plot, as Eidolon stated," Eidolon emphatically nodded, as he was rather unwilling to believe that a normal parahuman would be able to effortlessly defeat the Simurgh, so he had been advocating that Simurgh got bored with her body and created a human one to fuck with humanity. "Then she would be reacting to the Endbringer differently than to the Simurgh. Plus, if she defeats this one too, we will be one step closer to the goal."

The people around the table looked at each other, nodding in agreement, some more reluctant than the others.

"Contessa, you should start working Weaver into our plans," stated Alexandria while standing up. "I'll try to figure out more about the woman in person."

Numberman watched as the people one by one stood up and left the meeting room until finally he was left alone.

"I still think we should just ask her…" he murmured, then stood up, grabbed his laptop and coffee mug, and leisurely ambled back to his office.

If his calculations were telling him the truth, then he needed to do a few things…


Taylor once again stood in the Mist.

Below her was the Earth, in all its boring glory, while the Mist swirled around her with extra vigor, as if it was sensing the momentous occasion.

She could even glimpse a few things happening in the Mist as if something, or some things, were reaching out through the ether towards her, or her target.

Taylor didn't know what those things wanted, either to help or hinder her, but she had long ago learned how to isolate the local Mist where she operated from all the mysterious beings that called the Mist their home.

You can only be attacked by Mist-born clown monsters with tentacle faces and spider legs before you have enough…

Before her stood the fruit of her searches.

Behind her was a mass of tentacles, heading towards Earth and its infinite copies.

The tentacles originated from two doors, looking pretty weird as they spilled out of the open doors like some kind of nightmare.

Sometimes the forms that things took in the Mist were very confusing.

The two doors couldn't have been different.

One was silver-colored, but so tarnished it was almost impossible to make out the original color. The frame was barely held together with a few rusted nails, while the door itself was hanging on one hinge, and even that looked dicey.

It looked like it would crumble any minute, but despite its appearance, Taylor could feel the life flowing through it and its strength. Yes, it was close to death and limited, but it was still powerful.

The other one was a dull gold color. The Frame was matte gold-colored while the door was halfway covered with black spots that seemed to be originating from the doorknob that was so dark that it reminded her of the void of space.

But despite pulsing with life and power, it lacked purpose. Just as the color of the door was dull, so was the owner of the door. Taylor could practically feel the apathy radiating from the door.

She shook herself, then went over the information she unearthed and gained from Taimi, then ignoring the tendrils as they pulsated, wriggled around her, she girded her loins and began walking towards the world-sized golden door, intent to see what was on its other side.