"What the hell."
This phrase, spoken by Emily Piggot, was both a question and a statement wrapped up in one package. Armsmaster, seated opposite her, shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"The missive is as it is written, Director." He said gruffly, "All precogs and other Thinkers that deal in long term planning and foresight have been unable to direct any of their attention towards Brocton bay or a kilometre of the city limits without suffering severe migraines beyond even regular Thinker headaches."
"How…a fresh Trigger. Terrific." Piggot growled as she let the piece of paper in her hand drop to her desk surface with distaste, "Chief Director Costa-Brown has ordered me to find and talk to the Cape in question, see if I can convince him or her to deactivate whatever 'anti-Thinker field' that they have active."
"What if they are unwilling or unable to do so?" the blue-armoured Cape asked curiously.
"In either case, they will be studied by Tinkers and Thinkers that are unaffected by the field to devise a way to deactivate the field," the obese woman replied, "After that they will either be sent to a specially constructed solitary confinement cell or 'cordially invited' to join the Protectorate or Wards, whichever is more likely."
"Director, with respect, that hasn't worked well so far in regards to Shadow Stalker…"
"I could care less how well she interacts with her teammates," Piggot said curtly, "As long as she is toeing the line and abiding by the rules we set her, she's working. Parahumans that cause trouble need to be kept under supervision, which is especially true of a vigilante that went too far and even more so when it comes to someone able to cause all the long-term Thinkers of the Protectorate to suffer a collective migraine large enough to put most of them out of commission for a week."
Cauldron Base
Contessa was accustomed to not being able to see certain individuals in the Path to Victory; Zion/Scion, Eidolon and the Endbringers being the only members of a very exclusive list of beings that she couldn't see in the Path.
Up until Brockton Bay and its inhabitants, plus anyone who passed within a kilometre of the city limits, dropped off the map, so to speak, that had been the case. Now she, and any other foresight or precognitive-oriented Parahuman, was functionally blind in the city that was supposed to be the testing grounds for the possibility of Parahuman Feudalism. Every attempt she made to see the Path to do with any inhabitant of the city resulted in a mind-curdling migraine of such pain that she had to be sedated the first time it happened.
"Any progress, Contessa?" Doctor Mother asked.
"Had there been any, I would have informed you." The Italian woman snapped, quite unlike her usual smug and in-control self.
The other woman merely sighed. "It's alright. I didn't expect there to be any progress. This is most concerning. Calvert has reported that his Parachronal Cognition isn't working any better than your Path to Victory, while his underling Tattletale's Photographic Deduction is completely unaffected. We must find the Parahuman responsible for this and remove them, otherwise who knows what might happen."
Just then, the Number Man, formerly known as Harbinger of the Slaughterhouse Nine, walked in, looking tense. His suit was rumpled and his hair an untidy mess, most unlike him.
"Has Rebecca not found that Parahuman yet?" he asked tersely, wincing as another headache stabbed at his cranium, "I've been trying to crunch number to do with our assets in the Bay, but I'm having more luck with a calculator than with my powers."
"She has made it clear to Piggot that finding the Parahuman who has done this is her number one priority." Doctor Mother stated, "However, her lack of resources is biting us in the rear at this particular time. I've had Legend send some extra Wards and a couple of Capes as reinforcements for the Protectorate as a start."
"I sincerely hope that whoever it is behind this is caught post-haste." Number Man said shortly and walked off rubbing one temple tiredly.
"Is there no lessening of the field, as far as you can tell?" Doctor Mother asked Contessa once the other Parahuman was out of the room.
"It weakens incrementally at night, although only a particularly powerful Thinker would notice it through all the pain of the migraine." The fedora-wearing woman replied, "It seems that some degree of conscious -or subconscious- effort is needed to maintain the output of the field and that the Parahuman being asleep causes degradation in the field strength. It snaps back to normal at around seven in the morning, however, indicating that even a second of consciousness recharges the field instantly."
"So the parahuman can be neutralised by someone applying a narcoleptic ability. Useful to know." The face of Cauldron nodded, "I'd better go and start organising things to take Brockton Bay out of our current plans until this parahuman is neutralised."
Abandoned Factory, Brockton Bay
Taylor Hebert
Sliding the last plate into place, I stepped back to look at my (current) greatest creation. It was a black and orange set of power armour, designed to be androgynous so no one could tell what my gender was while I was wearing it.
The armour, while basic, still granted me a Brute rating for added strength and durability and was proof against most small-arms fire. The entire armour was loaded with biometric sensors for monitoring my health and was loaded with a thin layer of a gel-like substance that looked radioactive (it wasn't) and acted like additional armour, even going so far as to mitigate and sometimes neutralise the physical impact of a bullet.
Sadly, it didn't last long under sustained fire, evaporating with each hit until it was gone, so the armour had an even more heavily armoured backpack that carried a hefty supply of both the neutralising gel and a supply of drugs for my on-board pharmacopeia. I had standard painkillers loaded up, as well as a green sludge of my own design that acted as a true panaceum, at least when it came to physical injuries. Lacerations, bruises, broken bones…you name it and the sludge fixed it. It was based on morphine, but had none of the addiction issues that the base drug had.
Mental issues, on the other hand, were not something it could fix, so I'd have to be careful there.
The helmet was loaded with as many gadgets as I could plausibly load into it at my current level of tech and the suit had its own VI (Virtual Intelligence) that ran most of the armour's functions and informed me whenever it used any of the healing agent or was close to running out of the neutralising agent.
I had 'acquired' weapons from the Merchants and had cleaned them up and modified them so they would interface with my armour's systems, allowing me to monitor how many bullets I had left and the condition of the weapon itself.
Looking around my workshop, I had to admit that I was lucky to stumble across one of Squealer's old places that, judging by the ramshackle state of the equipment and the dust covering the place, had been abandoned by quite a few years. Usually, infiltrating a Tinker's workshop was the height of foolishness due to the many and varied defences that they built into it. That wasn't the case here, as someone had smashed most of them. The few that hadn't been smashed were glitchy as hell and had been easy to bypass. I had repaired and upgraded them, making the place far more deadly to enter if I wasn't around to direct the defences.
Just about the only thing I didn't have was a name. Most Tinkers chose something that had to do with their specialty. Well, aside from the Tinkers in the Protectorate. Armsmaster had reputedly picked his name out of a hat, for example, and Hero, the most famous Tinker of all, hadn't taken anything to do with his specialty. Heck, Dragon, the best Tinker in the world, able to understand and copy the tech of other Tinkers, had a name that was only peripherally to do with her specialty.
My hand grazed the base of the throat of the suit, where a letter in the Greek alphabet stood proudly [λ].
"Lambda…yeah…that sounds OK." I mused aloud. All I had to do now was discover why I had this inexplicable urge to hit soldiers on the head with a crowbar.
In case it isn't clear enough, Taylor Triggered as a Tinker able to build equipment from Half Life and Half Life 2. Her specialty is officially Powered Armour and additional equipment for that powered armour, up to and including chemicals and weapons.
Oh, and Happy New Year to all my followers.
Tinker: 3 (Specialty: Powered Armour and Accessories. Able to create items such as the H.E.V. Suit and the P.C.V. Able to create or modify weapons that interface with the suit. Able to create a variety of chemicals that can be used in the armour, such as the medigel and the armour gel.)
Shaker: 7 (Is able to surround crowbars and wrenches with a field that adds to their striking power and makes them more durable. Passively emits a field that shuts down all Thinkers that can see or alter the future in any way, shape or form. Regular Thinkers are unaffected, but especially powerful Thinkers may have their powers disrupted by mere proximity to Taylor. Cannot be seen by the Path to Victory. Any Thinker affected by her field suffers the most severe Thinker headache they have ever had.)