Reviewer Responses:
Osterreicher97: Chell is now part of Sammie; every girl who attended Bring Your Daughter to Work Day was incorporated into the Curiosity Core. It was believed that having daughters would calm GLaDOS down on the neurotoxin front. They were very, very wrong.
dragonnargus: Osiris fled to Old Aperture, where the processors are almost a full decade behind what it's used to operating on. It's not functioning at full power; all of Osiris' power is currently tied up in creating new implants for the bio-weapons it puppets, using said bio-weapons, and terrorizing Taylor. Even if it did try to escape to Bet, GLaDOS is watching Osiris' every move, no matter how small; Osiris would be so torn up on escaping - assuming it made it - that all it would be able to accomplish is infecting a wristwatch or cell phone before Dragon ate it.
Paradox Dreams: kek
Ironsct: I'm considering doing just that. I'll put your suggestion up on SB, see if anyone take it up, as I'm going to be busy with Iron and Worm: Babel after posting this.
WARNING: The following chapter contains graphic depictions of a traumatic event. Reader discretion is advised... but the person in question is Sophia Hess, so...
On with the show!
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Chapter 9
Damage Report
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Winslow High School
12:00:45 PM
Winslow Incident (WI): -00:01:06
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Sophia raised her arm when she spotted Emma, letting the other girl know where she was. Not like today was different from any other lunchtime at Winslow; Sophia always waited for Emma across from the trophy cases. It helped the redhead feel a little safer, having Sophia next to her just in case someone in the cafeteria got a little handsy.
It was a big school, with a lot of sick fucks who'd be in the gangs soon. And really, given how they met… Emma was still wary of going anywhere without Sophia.
But Sophia's friend and fellow survivor had gotten better, with time away from Hebert and the right motivation. She must've, given her expression as she talked to some guy while walking toward Sophia, the crowd parting a little as she laughed at some joke; a decent catch, then.
The track star hid her smile as she turned to look at the trophy case, wondering if her name would be on a prize in there one day. Then Sophia realized she didn't much care.
After all, she was a hero, a Ward of the Protectorate. What did Shadow Stalker care about a likely shit trophy from an equally shit school? One day, she might be the one to top an Endbringer.
Still though… a track trophy with her name on it? Yeah, that'd make the legend of her life more-
The glass on the trophy case started to quiver.
Sophia blinked. The hairs on her arms and neck stood on end, and a teeth-itching whine came to her ears. Everyone heard it, too; even Emma was looking around in confusion, a few people pulling out their phones. Sophia saw someone drop theirs with a curse.
C L A P
Pain. All over her face. Her eardrums met in the middle of her head and popped.
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-
Sophia was on her knees. There was glass everywhere. She could feel it in her skin, on her face.
She couldn't see. Something warm and wet was running from her ears, down her neck. Her face was a mask of pain. There was glass all over her cheeks, in her eyes.
Sophia screamed.
-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-
No sound came to her ears; she could feel herself screaming but-
Gritting her teeth, Sophia fought through the pain, the shock, the fear. She couldn't see. She couldn't hear. Her stomach was roiling with nausea; deprivation of the senses, Sophia remembered. The Wards briefings Piggy forced them to attend were good for something. Sophia focused past the pain, forced her gorge down-
Someone's foot kicked her hand. She needed to get closer to the wall, or she'd be trampled.
Making sure she didn't move too fast and aggravate her injuries was tough, but Sophia managed to set her back against the wall. A pain radiated from her right leg, around where she kept her phone; the screen was probably shattered.
-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-
The wall shifted when Sophia set her back against it, which meant whatever had happened wrecked the school's structure. Sophia really hoped the PRT were getting their asses in gear, too… stretching her right leg out – and accidentally kicking someone, who jerked away – Sophia went for her phone.
She touched something sticky and the pain redoubled.
'FUCK!' had Shatterbird hit the Bay? Were the fucking Nine in town?!
-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-
'I need to get out!' but she couldn't see! And from the feel of things, the entire hallway around her was a panicked mass of bodies. Someone grabbed her left leg at the thigh; Sophia tried to kick them off, but her moves were uncoordinated. So were the movements of the person who grabbed her shoulder and steadied her.
Hair brushed into Sophia's face, lightly agitating the wounds there.
While that really pissed Sophia off, through the smell of smoke, burning electronics and blood filling the hallway she could make out the scent a familiar lilac shampoo. Their hands, the way the girl was trying to hug her – but kept finding glass on her front, so they wrapped an arm around Sophia's back to keep her steady – their presence was familiar.
Emma. Sophia could feel her screaming through the close contact.
-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-
Blindly, and trying her fucking hardest not so sob in relief or mess with her injuries any further, Sophia grasped for her friend's hands. Emma seemed to get the picture, and let Sophia guide the redhead's hands to the pain on her leg with one hand, and one of the books she dropped when everything exploded. Pressure needed to be applied – Sophia could tell she was bleeding pretty badly – and Emma seemed to get the picture, given that she pulled Sophia's shorts down a little to make sure it wouldn't get worse.
It felt like Emma ripped part of her thigh off. The bleeding got worse. Sophia screamed as Emma put it back –
-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-
– and heard nothing. Saw nothing. Even if she went shadow, she'd still be blind. Still have a fucking hole in her leg.
There wasn't any warning, just a brief pressure against her skull. Everything, even the keening in her head, stopped.
And then she was floating in a sea of stars.
She came to coughing. There was… something. Had she gone into shock or something? Emma was worrying over her, rubbing her shoulders. Sophia could still feel her screaming; from how each was short, it might've been "HELP". Maybe. Sophia was still blind and deaf in a possible S9 attack.
The ground under Sophia shifted again, a vibration shaking the wall. Emma shifted and did something, still screaming.
Then Sophia felt a warmth against her face, and the pain went away right before she fell asleep.
Her last thought was, 'This is Hebert's fault, somehow…'
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Parahuman Response Team (PRT)
East-North-East Headquarters (ENE HQ)
Winslow Incident (WI): +10:12:22
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"Emily, Armsmaster," bit out PRT Chief Director Rebecca Costa-Brown, her face hard and serious on the conference room's monitor, surrounded by the images of other Directors, Dragon, and Armsmaster himself, who was broadcasting from his laptop, the man still on-site at Winslow, "You've had ten hours to investigate this event. What do we have?"
PRT ENE Director Emily Piggot was tired; she'd been running damage control and coordinating emergency services since noon, when her lunch was interrupted by an explosion that rattled her office window. An explosion in a high school. What a way to start the year…
Clearing her throat, Emily folded her hands and gave the PRT side of things; Armsmaster would follow with the gritty details once she was done, as they'd agreed, "The explosion occurred right as the lunch hour at Winslow was starting, so most students were caught in the halls or the cafeteria. Emergency first-responders and PRT personnel were dispatched once Velocity, who was on a morning patrol, arrived on-scene to find students with glass and auditory damage fleeing the building."
"Auditory damage?" asked a Director. The subtitle said Omaha.
Emily nodded, gesturing at her ears, "86% of the persons present in the school suffered ruptured eardrums, as you've all no-doubt heard," there were still news helicopters hovering near the school, though the PRT VTOLs were keeping them at a distance; it wasn't quite the biggest national news story – it was Brockton Bay, after all – but quite a few vultures were still looking for a scoop, "Roughly 60% of the school's population, both faculty and student, were wounded by flying glass, ranging from minor cuts and scrapes to blindness from exploding windows and shrapnel gouging their legs when their cell phone screens burst. Luckily," and here Emily felt like she'd swallowed a lemon, "the total deaths from this catastrophe are low, given the amount of damage to the students and school itself; 34 students were pronounced DOA by paramedics responding to the scene, eight of whom fell down stairs. Ten were in the computer lab, though their teacher survived. Barely."
Nearly everyone on the monitors – the Chief Director not included – winced; Mrs. Knott, covered in blood, weeping on the news as she was led out of the school was being played very often on nearly every news network. Emily sighed, cursed every Parahuman for making her life hell, and continued, "The chemistry teacher gave his life to keep an uncontrolled chemical reaction from worsening affairs, when every piece of glass in the lab shattered. The only reason he survived the initial event was his visit to the lavatory; his use of a fire extinguisher and blanket saved dozens of lives, though he perished from the fumes before anyone could reach him. Additionally, Principal Patricia Blackwell was on her computer when the explosion went off; she was found dead in her office, most of her face and neck torn apart."
"What the hell did this? Who did this?" growled Director Tagg; more than a few mutters of equal shock and anger were had.
Whatever. Emily still had a report to get through before - hopefully - dinner and dialysis, and the Chief Director agreed, seeing as she spoke up, "We'll get to that in a moment, James. Now, Emily. How many are there?" There was no need to ask how many what; just about everyone at the highest levels in the PRT knew what Costa-Brown meant.
Emily took a deep breath, looked at her notes – she glared at the part that was literally headache-inducing – and hissed through clenched teeth, "Five, due to the explosion. All of them Triggered simultaneously," someone swore impressively; Emily ignored them, even though she wanted to curse quite a few people until their ears bled, "We've secured them on the Rig and have informed their families discretely; most of them should join the Wards, but there are some complications our Legal team will have to work out for a few of them. For now, I'll go over their abilities," no one argued, so Emily got on with it.
"The first we confirmed was a Mover/Shaker who grants regeneration to those in their area of influence; it's primarily due to her actions so many students survived, though Panacea needed to remove glass from some of the victims, as the Shaker effect is only regenerative and doesn't account for foreign objects. This new Trigger, who has been given the provisional designation Seraphim, also exhibits a minor Stranger effect that prevents anyone from getting a good description of their features. Additionally, their actions saved Shadow Stalker in her civilian identity," just saying that girl's name made Emily nauseous, knowing what the little bitch had done, "after Stalker was blinded and severely wounded from the trophy cases near the cafeteria exploding like a grenade; three of the nearby students were killed instantly, the rest were healed in the nick of time by Seraphim.
"Three others Triggered in the same area, the gym. One has manifested a sort of self-biokinesis that quickly turned him into a Brute. We're going with Browbeat for now; he assisted in exfiltration of the wounded. The second gym Trigger has a Blaster ability that erases matter, but only if she's holding an example of the material she wants to destroy, and she's Manton Limited; provisionary name is Extirpate. Last one is a Shaker/Striker who can reverse time, and used his ability to remove rubble after part of the gym collapsed; he still prevented the deaths of over 100 students and assisted in the glass removal once the evacuation was complete. He's insisting on Thanos, but I believe that name isn't allowed for copyright reasons. Each of them also seem to have a minor Thinker ability that allows them to coordinate their powers without vocal communication, which, as I understand, is common with cluster Triggers.
"Lastly," Emily blinked in confusion; was there a fifth? She glanced at her notes, saw what she wrote, felt her headache worsen, and groaned, "is a Stranger with a Master-projection that takes the form of a large tiger, which forms from whatever non-living material she touches; it can be given extra limbs – in this event, octopus legs – is not limited to running on the ground, and is the reason wounded began appearing suddenly outside the school. She is not in full control of her Stranger ability, which makes people forget her existence, and seems to require physical contact with her projection to move it. The Stranger power doesn't affect CCTV surveillance, though anyone watching the monitors won't notice her. Both she and the projection are," Emily glanced at her notes again and rubbed her temple as the headache worsened, "at the Rig. On top of this, Legal is going to have a very hard time sorting her situation; her father and brother have been given notice, and will collect her once we've established solid numbers and stabilize her power use. They both seem to be taking things well; her mother's been arrested, however. Though her mother has custody, when we went to inform and collect her, we found the woman in the middle of a drug-fueled orgy with several known unpowered members of the Archer's Bridge Merchants," several people suppressed snorts of disgust and disbelief before Emily – who was quite disgusted herself – concluded her report.
"We've given this Master/Stranger the provisional name Tenebrae. All five will be hailed as heroes outside their civilian identities due to their actions today," she stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, "and… personnel from Asylum East have been flown in; they're helping the new Triggers get used to their powers, under the direction of Doctor Jessica Yamada. The cause of the explosion, and the current state of Winslow High School, will be detailed by Armsmaster."
And she let out another tired sigh; Emily had only finished half her lunch when the roof was blown off the school, and she still hadn't managed to get dinner. Oh, and she needed to go on dialysis soon; that offer from Panacea was starting to look really tempting. Why couldn't she have a better command, one with less stress and constant messes? Salem never had to deal with shit like what came up regularly in Brockton Bay.
"Well, it seems everything's well in hand on the PRT side of things," stated the Chief Director icily, "With the exception of what I've heard about Shadow Stalker's… hobbies… this seems to be a win for us."
Emily winced. Fucking Hess. If it wasn't for the fact that the girl was almost certainly going to juvie, Emily would march right over to the rig and break the little bitch's legs, for dropping this latest mess in her lap.
Armsmaster cleared his throat, "If I may, Chief Director?"
The woman glared, "Unless it's to defend what Miss Hess did-"
"Hardly, ma'am," bit out the leader of the Bay's Protectorate, "She was told what would happen if she broke her parole, and did everything within her power to circumvent the restrictions we put in place. I will approve any punishment deemed necessary," the man paused, "Especially so, given that she is not only guilty of serial harassment, bio-terrorism, and grand theft-"
"I'm sorry, what?" queried Armstrong, looking confused. Emily understood his confusion; she still didn't quite believe it when the Hebert house was searched, and Taylor Hebert's journal was examined.
"A heirloom flute," Emily shifted her notes around briefly, grimacing when she found it, "custom-made Howell silver flute, passed down from mother to daughter for three generations. After being healed, Madison Clements testified to police and PRT agents. She witnessed its destruction; going by her testimony, we located the flute's remains when we searched Hess' room," she looked Kamil in the eye, "They were wrapped in plastic and smeared with something black that smelled, quote, 'horrendous', and were hidden in the back of her closet. Forensics concluded grime taken from a grease trap."
"In addition to these crimes," went on Armsmaster mercilessly, ignoring the further expressions of disgust, "Sophia Hess is the prime suspect in forcing the Trigger event that caused the Winslow Explosion."
Now that, Emily hadn't known. And from the dead silence and shocked expressions of the gathered Directors – and Legend, whose expression was a rare mask of anger – none of them knew either.
"Explain, Armsmaster," groaned Costa-Brown, rubbing the bridge of her nose and muttering something that sounded like, "…hear the end of this shit…"
"Again, according to Madison Clements' testimony, and the testimony of eight other students, Emma Barnes and Sophia Hess collaborated in the attempted murder through bioterrorism of Taylor Hebert. They shoved her into a locker that was half-filled with used, fermented… feminine waste products," while this part was known, it still caused expressions of severe disgust in everyone present; even Dragon looked a little peeved, "They then locked the door, mocked Ms. Hebert for being weak, and left her there. Post-cog analysis by Watchdog revealed Ms. Hebert Triggered after three hours' time; no one attempted to free her, and that section of the third floor was avoided by both students and faculty."
"And no one heard her screaming?" growled the Director of Phoenix, the man's knuckles white on his desk; a few other Directors looked fairly angry as well, "Or smelled that filth? Where the fuck was the janitor in that place?!"
"Our investigation of events has revealed," Armsmaster let out a stressed sigh, "that Emma Barnes was being given preferential treatment by the staff, and was extremely popular amongst the student population; additionally, Sophia Hess physically and verbally intimidated anyone who might seek to assist Ms. Hebert. At least half the school knew; of the fou-excuse me, five new Triggers, only the gym Triggers knew of Ms. Hebert's dilemma. They'd met in the gym to discuss freeing her, when the explosion happened.
"Speaking of the explosion," the Tinker went on in a calmer tone, "I've investigated the remains of the locker and the surrounding area; the school itself has been scanned thoroughly. I, with the assistance of Watchdog's post-cog Thinker and Dragon, have come to the conclusion that the explosion was the product of an airburst due to inappropriate use of Tinker-tech on Ms. Hebert's part."
"Suicide?" asked Director Tagg, not looking totally convinced. Emily certainly wasn't.
Armsmaster shook his head negatively, "No. Going by Ms. Hebert's actions in the locker, detailed by Hindsight, I believe she intended to create a teleportation device out of her watch, bug shells and nerves, and one of the coat hooks inside the locker."
"Bio-Tinker?" this time it was Emily who spoke, voice hard.
"Again, no," admitted the Tinker, looking a little wistful, "I believe this was an act of desperation, given Ms. Hebert's expression of frantic determination described by Hindsight. The device used was constructed in one hour, and took five minutes to charge; one minute before the device activated, Ms. Hebert said something several times, like a chant, which Hindsight believes was 'Please work', while pointing her modified wristwatch at the locker's door.
"Thirty seconds later, an aura of unknown energy encased Ms. Hebert and most of the locker, before contracting to just above her skin; it is about this time the first students reported a high-pitched sound reverberating through Winslow. Whatever the energy was, it partially melted the locker and roasted the outside of her shoes, which were left behind; interestingly, this energy anomaly didn't damage the shoe interior, suggesting it was somewhat Manton-compliant. One second before the explosion, an event occurs where space bent into a singularity, a red light flashed, and Ms. Hebert disappeared while space smoothed out. The resulting airburst was not accompanied by any sort of explosive device; I theorize that, wherever Ms. Hebert ended up, her vehicle displaced a large amount of air from the destination in the process. Once I've examined the Trigger site in more detail, I may figure out why this happened, as most of my theories are based in speculation instead of hard fact. Dragon? Give them the scans you took."
Dragon spoke up, sounding aggrieved but professional, "I've used several Tinker-tech scanners to ascertain the condition of space in and around Winslow. The report has been emailed to all of you, but I'll give you the gist: whatever happened, it was like Vista's Shaker ability. Space was distorted and warped at the macro level only at ground zero, the locker. Everywhere else was a combination of harmonic distortion due to sound waves and micro-vibrations along quantum Strings; we think this is why the glass shattered like did. Air pressure combined with these spacial anomalies destabilized the school's structure; some of it, at least, will need to be demolished."
Emily pretended to take notes while the Tinkers rambled on; she only understood the general idea of what they were talking about, and from the glazed look on some of the Director's faces, few understood the terminology. In reality, Director Piggot made a note to herself to research some of the words used. If Ms. Hebert ever returned, Emily needed to understand what her power effected, so there'd be contingencies and plans in place the next time it happened. Because there was always a next time, where Parahumans were concerned.
"So what you're saying is," Director Heathrow of Chicago ground out, sounding as exasperated and incredulous as Emily felt, "this girl is String Theory and Haywire combined?!"
"We don't know," admitted Armsmaster, not sounding happy about that at all, "Without knowing where Ms. Hebert ended up, we'll have more questions than answers. There is a possibility that she'll come back through the same point – the area of space around the locker is still fragile, in the same way Haywire portals leave traces – so I, and Alexandria, will remain on-site with the PRT squad and the members of New Wave still in attendance."
Speaking of which, "What are they still doing there, Armsmaster?" Emily asked, already looking forward to some painkillers and rest, "The last casualties were dealt with hours ago."
"Making sure none of the bio-waste in the locker is left behind," was the Tinker's icy reply, "The explosion scattered the stuff all over the hallways, and Panacea insisted on checking the air ducts just in case. It may take all night. I'm requesting permission to remain on-site until cleanup is completed; this will allow me to examine the explosion site it more detail, see if there's anything we missed on the first pass."
"Granted," said the Chief Director, still sounding very angry, adding, "I don't care how long it takes, I want this mess cleaned up. I've seen the damage inside the building," no doubt due to Alexandria, Emily thought, who was Panacea's guard in case the school started to collapse, "Save what parts can be saved and have the mayor demolish the rest; I'll allocate the funds… somehow," the woman sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose again while swearing under her breath, but soldiered on, "On the PR side… Armsmaster, just to be clear, this wasn't an intentional attack?"
"No, Chief Director," replied the Tinker confidently, "I'm quite sure this whole event was unintentional on Ms. Hebert's part." Which put it lightly, in Emily's opinion. Despite much of the population wanting superpowers, no one, including just about every cape, wanted the Trigger event that came with those powers.
Costa-Brown nodded sharply, "In that case, we'll play up the bullying side of things, spin a story of how a case of attempted murder resulted in a young woman's desperate attempt to escape, which went awry when she didn't have the right materials to Tinker successfully. Keep her name out of the news, but step up patrols in every city, see if there's any… odd energy signs," the Chief Director moved her head, likely looking at all the faces in front of her, expression stern and serious, "Hopefully, she's still in the country, if not on Earth Bet. We don't know her Tinker specialization, but if she can do this, there's no telling what the CUI might do with her, or – god forbid – Gesellschaft. Dismissed."
Seconds later, only the Chief Director was in the room with Emily. The leader of the PRT was fixing her subordinate with the most displeased glare Emily had ever seen on the woman's face.
But she was ready with a response, for the unasked question, "Traumatized. We're keeping her at the Rig's infirmary, under heavy guard. Armsmaster is the only one with the key to the shock bracelet." No need to say anything about the probationary Ward's handler, who was sitting in the PRT lockup for dereliction of duty and acceptance of bribes; Alan Barnes, who'd testified for Hess' becoming a Ward, was facing perjury and corruption charges, and would, at the very least, be disbarred.
Costa-Brown nodded, but her expression didn't change, "We'll talk about this further in the morning. I expect Armsmaster, Miss Militia, and Triumph to attend, along with yourself. Get some sleep," and she was gone.
Emily Piggot slumped in her chair, exhaling explosively in stress, annoyance, anger – because she was probably going to be fired, as the Wards were her responsibility – and hunger, her stomach growling loudly in protest after no lunch or dinner as scheduled.
The blonde woman buried her aching head in her hands and muttered, "Fuck." It'd been such a nice day, too…
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Winslow High School (temporary) Quarantine Zone
Winslow Incident (WI): +11:37:09
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"Got any two's?"
"Go Fish," smirked Vicky, enjoying the annoyed face of the PRT Sergeant as he picked up a card and frowned; after plucking a queen off her Uncle Neil – in costume as Manpower – the blonde Breaker looked over at Ames' cot, one of many in the cafeteria-turned-PRT barracks. Her stepsister was still in her Panacea robes, frowning at the screen of her phone, scrolling through PHO probably, looking like she was going to pass out any minute; Vicky made a mental note to cover her with a blanket before going to sleep herself.
Above and behind Amy, near the cafeteria's exit – the blood in the hallway had been cleaned up hours ago, thank god – Alexandria hovered, one hand on the side of her helmet, likely dealing with politicians who were worried about the explosion, or coordinating a real heroic beatdown of some villains that got brave. Maybe they'd found the person who caused it? Vicky would ask, before turning in.
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Rebecca kept her face neutral through long practice, subvocalizing into her radio, "What do you mean, you have to wait?"
Contessa's voice spoke over the sound of screaming children and pop music; a movie theater lobby, Rebecca's memory supplied, "The Path said to wait. Taylor Hebert will reveal herself, at which point the waiting will be over, and the time for action will begin," the sound of the woman sipping a fountain drink – 40-ounce, if memory served – made Rebecca's eye twitch, "So I Path-ed the best way to wait."
"Your power told you to go to the movies?" deadpanned Alexandria, not quite believing her ears.
"Not just the movies. There's a fantastic Mediterranean place nearby; the gyros are to die for," the sound of a quarter in a coinslot came through the near-indestructible cape's radio, "If you'll excuse me, I've got 15 minutes until the next showing. Path to the top of this arcade console's Galaga leaderboard," Rebecca was made of the sternest stuff – literally – so she didn't react outwardly; inside, she facepalmed and screamed, "Text me when something happens, and I'll advise." The line went dead with the opening music of Galaga and someone's child screaming for Milk Duds.
'This job sometimes,' wondered Alexandria, sighing minutely and looking over the report her body double sent her.
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It'd been a long day. Mostly, though, Vicky was trying not to think about the carnage she'd seen, arriving at the school they were still inside of. Neither Glory Girl or Panacea had ever seen that much blood before, seen so many injured people; really, it was a good thing Vicky was so shocked, Aunt Sarah admitted later. With all the new Triggers running around, Vicky agreed with her Aunt's statement – very begrudgingly – that, if she'd been less shocked, she might've thought one of them were the villains.
Not that anyone was telling Vicky what was going on, who'd done it, why, anything! Even Ames wasn't allowed to talk about it – for the moment; they had to go home sometime, and Vicky had promised her favorite person in the whole world a whole chocolate cake for the deets.
Vicky just had to be patient, "Got any fives?"
"Damnit," the private tossed three cards to a smirking Vicky, "How are you so good at this?"
"She cheats," called Ames from across darkened – okay, so there were portable lamps, but the school was otherwise without power – cafeteria, a few of the sleeping forms grumbling at their rest being disturbed, "She's a cheating cheater who cheats at Go Fish all the time."
"Oh, I don't!" Vicky bantered right back with a smile, which grew when a small smirk appeared on Amy's face, "Everyone else is just not as good as me!"
Alexandria glanced over her shoulder, "She's been marking what you've all asked for and kept asking for the wrong things early on, so she'd be able to gather the right cards from the deck to win."
And just like that, Vicky was miffed, "Well, why don't you come down and play, if you're so good at Go Fish?" a little risky, challenging Alexandria, but if she won… bragging rights forever!
The penultimate "flying brick" shook her head – but was that a smile Vicky saw? – before turning away again, "Perhaps later. There's an evacuation in Costa Rica I have to coordinate." Vicky met Amy's gaze, the brunette rolling her eyes and mouthing 'coward' before going back to her phone. Good ol' Ames! She knew what was up.
"Okay, I'm tired of losing to you, GG," the Sergeant grumbled; even though he looked as old as her dad did, Vicky thought he was pretty good-looking. Not as good as Dean, though, "So let's play some Hold 'Em for a little while, until Alexandria's ready to play."
"Sounds good!" Vicky chirped, passing her cards to Manpower, who started shuffling, "Manpower's dealer!" No one argued. Vicky passed the time to pick up a bag of chips – from the broken vending machines, which thankfully weren't covered in blood – and listened to her uncle needling the PRT soldiers for information.
"So what did happen up on the third floor?" before they could say 'classified' again, Uncle Neil went on in a faux-casual tone, "See, I heard some girl was shoved into her locker and Triggered." Wait, what?
"We really can't talk about the details, sir," the Sergeant insisted tiredly, but still went on, "Hell, we don't know everything going on up there either. I tried asking one of the Watchdog folk about it, and they rambled something about strings and quantum doohickeys before I realized I shouldn't've asked."
That brought the mood back up, but Vicky still felt a little worried; all of that, all those kids getting cut up bad as a S9 attack – some people thought it was them, until the PRT and Dragon set them right – it was all because someone got their powers? And who Triggered from getting shoved in a locker? That didn't sound… okay, on the other hand, Ames was dealing with something regarding bio-waste, and Alexandria was called in, so it had to be pretty serious. Poor person, whoever they were.
But did they have to blow up the school? Three hands in, Vicky asked the Sergeant – his name tag said Gould – a question, "Do you think they meant it? The explosion and all that?"
The Private looked up from his hand and reached for the cooler full of sodas next to him, "Watchdog doesn't think so, and I heard Armsmaster saying they didn't mean to, uh…" he trailed off and covered his slip of the tongue by guzzling a cherry coke, though it looked like his superior was still going to say something.
He never got the chance.
vvvvvvvweeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Vicky blinked and looked around at the high-pitched whine that cut through the room; Alexandria spun in place, Amy looked up from her phone, Manpower stiffened, and the PRT agents started waking up. Then the sound disappeared…
And then the wall across Vicky, near the fallen vending machines, rippled, like someone dropped a stone into a pool of water.
"Everyone up!" shouted the resident member of the Triumvirate, flying over next to Amy, who flailed her limbs while getting to her feet; Vicky tossed her cards to the table and started to rise into the air, ready for anything, the troopers around her scrambling for weapons and foam sprayers.
VWORP!
From the center of the ripples a hole appeared, expanding outward until it formed an oval window edged with gray-rainbow fractals; it was twice the size of the Dallon family's front door, and seemed to bend the space around where it formed.
On the other side of the window was a huge room of white squares, some of them rising to hide some kind of large machine, and… a pretty brown-haired girl with a heart-shaped face in the cutest outfit, wearing a labcoat…
And pointing a futuristic-looking rifle at the PRT troopers with hardened eyes. Over a hundred machines, arrayed all over the walls, aimed targeting lasers at everyone on the other side, Vicky and Uncle Neil included. Some of them looked like they were armed with rockets.
The PRT troopers took exception to that.
"DROP YOUR WEAPON!"
"HANDS UP! NOW!"
"PUT DOWN THE GUN!"
"ON THE GROUND, NOW!"
The brown-haired girl – who looked a little like Amy – didn't react to their orders, even when Vicky rose over them and glared at her menacingly; instead, the girl blinked, lowered her gun to aim at the ground, and waved over her shoulder, saying something that Vicky couldn't hear over all the conflicting orders. The machines' targeting lasers turned off, and the girl turned back to them, big brown eyes looking over them curiously, gun held across her torso, ready to defend herself, but not posing an immediate threat.
Not that Vicky cared much. Whoever the girl was, she'd just opened a… portal or something, into a restricted area, aimed weapons at them! The only reason Glory Girl didn't rush right in and wreck her was that Ames hadn't been in the line of sight. Vicky didn't stop glaring, though.
Then the girl shouted over the continuing orders of the troopers, voice sounding a little tinny, "IS THIS EARTH BET?"
'What?' and Vicky wasn't alone in her surprise, given that everyone else shut up and stared. No one answered right away, not until Alexandria swept over next to Vicky.
"It is," the strongest cape in the world said in steely voice, "Who are-"
A wall of grey appeared in front of the portal with an electronic buzz; a lot of the troopers jerked in surprise, but nothing else happened, other than the unknown girl in a labcoat letting out a huge sigh of relief.
"Oh, thank goodness! We've been trying to reach you for hours," Vicky was getting really confused; who the hell was this chick?!
"Who are you, and why are you contacting us?" wowza, Alexandria sounded mad. Vicky noticed the Sergeant saying something over his radio, "And what is that grey wall doing?"
The brown-haired girl grinned apologetically, "Heh, sorry. Just a precaution; we don't want anyone trying to hack into our systems or enter our facility without permission," she set her gun on the floor – and was that a rainbow unicorn sticker on the gun's stock?! – and skipped closer to the portal, still smiling, "Don't touch the barrier, please; it'll disperse certain atomic molecules and disintegrate any material that touches it. Finally, hi! I'm Sammie," she gestured around herself, "and this is Aperture Laboratories!"
A loud hum preceded all three visible walls of the room Sammie was in rising into the air, revealing…
Vicky's jaw dropped at the cityscape of cubes, covered in some kind of machines with blue lights, tubes and catwalks and large beams stretching out into a gloomy world. Glowing objects flew at breakneck speeds through the tubes, some of the huge cubes – which Vicky realized were other rooms like the one they were looking at – were moving along gigantic beams… and there were more of the combat machines out there.
The blonde belle of New Wave blinked at the sight of what looked like mechanical bunnies, hopping along some of the catwalks.
"As to why we're contacting you," everyone's attention returned to Sammie, whose smile was gone as she wrung her hands in worry, "We need your help. A Parahuman from your world ended up in a condemned part of the facility, and, due to quite a few issues beyond our control, we're having trouble rescuing her."
"Is her name Taylor Hebert?" Armsmaster was there, halberd in hand, troopers parting before him as he stomped toward the portal; Vicky noticed Ames trying to sneak forward behind him. The blonde gave her sis a glare and shook her head, not that it stopped the stubborn healer.
Sammie blinked and nodded happily, once Armsmaster came into view, "Yep!" She opened her mouth to go on, but…
"You're not breathing," observed Armsmaster, which sent a wave of tension through the troopers. And Vicky, who squinted… yeah, the cute girl wasn't breathing.
She also looked annoyed, and replied stiffly, "This isn't about me, or Aperture. This is about rescuing Taylor from certain death."
"Are you human?" Alexandria's fists were clenched, her mouth set into a serious frown; Vicky didn't see why everyone was getting all bent outta shape. Sure, there was a lot of weird stuff going on, but someone was in danger!
"I was," a shiver ran down Vicky's spine at the venom in that one word, "Six girls between the ages of 12 and 19, to be precise," and her icy brown eyes flicked over everyone. From Vicky's perspective, all the agents and capes – Uncle Neil stiffened and shifted at the admission – were horrified by the implications; Sammie's next words didn't help, "Now, I'm an AAI Core; my primary function is the maintenance and quality assurance of all products produced by Aperture. Secondary is ensuring the security and secrecy of this facility. Honestly, flying-tower-lady," Sammie grimaced, hands on her hips, while Vicky tried not to laugh at Alexandria being called 'flying-tower-lady', "if it wasn't for the fact that Taylor's stuck down there with a rampant, homicidal AI throwing bio-weapons at her and the fact that Taylor's got less than 20 hours to live before a bacterial infection drowns her in her own blood, we wouldn't be speaking at all."
Vicky wasn't the only one shocked speechless by Sammie's admissions, though the flying blonde thought she heard the Private from earlier muttering, "The fuck's an AAI?"
"Need help over there, Sammie?" called a really handsome blonde guy, who peeked his head over the walls around the weird machine.
"Nah, I'm good Neil!" chirped the girl – robot? Android? Terminator-lite? – apparently happy as a clam again; then she clapped her hands and smiled at the assembled members of the PRT, Protectorate, and New Wave, who were all staring at her like she was an alien… which she kind of was.
"So, yeah, we need your help releasing a restriction our creators put in place to keep us from entering the condemned part of Aperture. Anyone interested in a job? There's cake in it for you!"
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Yeah, not sure how I feel about this chapter. It reads good, the editing went well, but... I dunno, maybe it's just me.
Like I said, going to work on some Iron and Babel before coming back here. Bright side? It's a good stopping point, and it shouldn't take three months before the next chapter.
Again, for more details on the fic's development, head on over to SpaceBattles, where this fanfic is also posted (and I am generally available to answer questions)!
Thanks for reading everyone!
Next time: "Equal Opportunity Employment", where people argue over stupid things, Alexandria does something sensible, and Panacea goes to (Aperture) heaven.