A/N: Chap 18 review responses are in my forums as normal. Following is a short but very important chapter.

Chapter Nineteen: The Exalt Protocol

On the last day of January, just twenty-six days after Sophia Hess stuffed Taylor into a locker filled with rotting, used tampons, she woke in her own home to the weight of Yuki draped over her.

That night was a struggle not to ask about what her uncle said. The previous night Taylor had convinced Yuki that she wasn't…in the mood. And Yuki herself was shaken enough from what happened to be content just with being held. Taylor couldn't help but feel guilty for the relief she felt for that.

She realized that Yuki lied about having a sister. But she didn't lie about being sold to the Russians. One of those things mattered a hell of a lot more than the other, Taylor determined. And so, as she held the tiny form in her arms, she decided it didn't matter if Yuki had a sister or not. All that mattered was that she not be alone.

She couldn't handle it if she were alone.

~~Quintessence~~

~~Quintessence~~

It was a busy day since they had to close in time for Taylor make it to Longview, which was more than a two-hour drive south. Yuki called their last three appointments and had them come in early. Perhaps because of how much practice she'd had lately, Taylor was able to take care of all of her appointments by two.

Though Yuki wasn't thrilled by it, Taylor put her foot down when it came to fighting. "Until you have your own lightsabers and know how to use them, no combat for you."

"But…"

Taylor won the argument by cheating. "Yuki, you're all I have. I don't want you to be hurt."

"But…you're all I have too."

"Difference is, if I'm hurt, you can go to the Protectorate and join the Wards. You, Yuki, are it for me. You're my team, my family…you're everything. I need you to stay here, and if I'm late or injured, keep working with Jorge to finish the house and watch the clinic. Please?"

The kiss felt awkward, but Taylor didn't care because of how happy it made the other girl feel. It was that kiss, more than any words, that convinced her to stay behind. Dressed in her dark, armored costume with her lightsabers at her waist, Taylor drove south to Longview.

~~Quintessence~~

~~Quintessence~~

It might have been the line of PRT transport trucks, or the two Tinker-tech inspired helicopters. It might have even been the giant flying robot in the shape of a dragon. Regardless, Taylor had absolutely zero doubt she was in the right place when she reached Longview Junction. The various elements had taken over what looked like an abandoned car dealership near where the Coweeman and Cowlitz Rivers met.

She quickly slipped her helmet and mask on when she saw uniformed PRT agents guiding a pair of beefy, bearded motorcyclists into the lot. She fell in behind them, whishing she had a swoop bike, or even just an ordinarily motorcycle.

She stopped when one of the agents held out his hand and approached her window. She slid it down to allow in a blast of cold hair heavy with the promise of snow.

"Name?"

"Quintessence."

The agent typed her name into a tablet. "Villain or hero?"

"Rogue. I'm a healer with some…uh, combat abilities."

"Right. Park away from the transports. The PRT is offering transportation into the city to ensure coordination. Briefing is inside."

"Right. Thank you."

She found a spot, parked her car and then slipped her keys into the little armored case where she kept her emergency cash. In the Force, she could feel dozens of capes making their way toward the old dealership building and fell in behind them.

She recognized a few from the parley the previous night—the Uwibami from the Tekiya was joined by two other capes wearing bright dragon masks similar to his own. But where his was red, the lithe, feminine figure on his right wore orange, while the stocky one on his left wore a green one.

The two beefy motorcyclists proved to be Grizzly and another man who, while standing half a head shorter, was still taller than anyone else.

Nueva Familia was represented by El Matador and a tall, lanky figure in a gaudy feathered suit with a vulture-like beak hanging off a feathered headdress over the man's face.

All three major gangs only had two or three capes to contribute to the fight.

No wonder the Empire 88 back in the Bay was such a big deal, if the typical gang here only has two or three parahumans. The Empire had a dozen or more.

The villains walked into the building without hesitation, as if they weren't surrounded by their enemies. Taylor found it difficult to match that feeling, but she stepped through anyway. She noted that, unlike the entrance to the parking area, there were no PRT agents at the doors.

What she did find inside was a large projector screen set up against the largest of the interior walls, set far enough inside the glass-walled structure to provide some darkness for the projector. A few rows of folding seats were set out the attending capes, along with a buffet of sandwiches.

Taylor's heart stopped; her breath froze in her lungs. It took an eternity for her mind to force her body to continue breathing and beating.

Standing in a tight group by the buffet stood Narwhal, resplendent and beautiful in her strategically placed shards of forcefields; Mouse Protector, who stood strong, whole and unaffected by the fact that less than a month ago she was a quadriplegic; Chevalier, whom she recognized because of the massive Mad Max-style sword-cannon strapped across his back; and finally Alexandria herself, arms crossed over the Library of Alexandria tower on her costume and long, dark gray cape hanging heavily from her shoulders.

Gasconade was there, along with a ridiculous-looking figure in a bright yellow hazmat suit but exposed hands; a walking tank in the shape of a bipedal rhino, and a nine-foot tall mech suit that looked faintly reminiscent of an old Japanese cartoon. That must of have been Raul's friend.

There were other heroes around the room that she didn't recognize, but those she did left her shaking.

What in the hell am I doing here?

"Quintessence?"

She fought down an urge to jump. Instead, she took a deep breath and turned to see a hatefully familiar figure that made her stomach drop even worse than the heroes around Alexandria.

Armsmaster—Brockton Bay's own Armsmaster—stood two feet away looking right at her expectantly. For not the first time, she felt thankful for the lenses in her mask that hid her eyes.

Her first instinct was to demand to know what a New Hampshire based hero was doing in Washington. Her second instinct was to run. Instead, she took a deep breath, held onto the Force like a long-lost friend, and met his gaze as evenly as she could through her helmet. Like her own helmet, his covered his eyes and nose, revealing a well-trimmed beard on a strong chin. He towered over her, but she suspected it was more because of the heavy, polished steel-blue of his power armor than anything else.

"Yes?"

"Good, Gasconade said you had volunteered. Will you come with me, please?" Though he said the word 'please' it sounded very much like a command.

Desperate to regain control both of herself and the situation, Taylor took another deep breath. "If you can tell me why, perhaps."

He'd already started to turn to lead her wherever they were going but stopped mid-stride and turned to look back. "I beg your pardon?"

I can do this. I can do this. I am ELITE! "With respect, I'm a rogue for a reason. When a member of the Protectorate walks up to me without introduction and then issues an order, my first instinct is to walk out and leave you to your adventures. I have a clinic to run, and frankly tomorrow I was originally scheduled to work on healing a young Ward. I don't deal with authority well, and because I'm independent, I don't have to."

She could feel El Matador and even the Buwami watching the exchange intently. The famous hero tinker himself appeared frozen for a moment before slowly nodding and turning to face her wholly.

"You are correct, I apologize." His tone abruptly shifted, to something approaching a self-deprecating jest. It felt to Taylor almost like Masquerade putting on a role in the play he constantly performed. "I've not had a good month, and it has made me short tempered. My name is Armsmaster, from the Protectorate ENE. Dragon asked me to attend today. And I'm here, speaking to you, because I was specifically instructed by Alexandria to ask for your help in assessing one of Overmind's victims. We need to know if the victim can be saved; and if so, that will have a direct impact on our tactics when we move against her."

"Why me?"

"Because you are the only healer in the entire northwest quarter of the country," Armsmaster noted. "Most healers are actually villains, and uncooperative. The Marquis, Hemorrhagia of the Teeth; Bonesaw—they could be incredibly effective healers. Instead, they're murderers or monsters. Your power makes you a unique asset, and if you are willing, we need your power to determine if the thousands of people Overmind has subsumed can be saved."

"I…I see. Very well." There wasn't much else she could think to say; the man had a point. She followed him out of what was probably the show-room of the old dealership and into a series of back offices. The door they approached had a pair of PRT agents standing on either side.

"Armsmaster, thank you for grabbing her," a strong, feminine voice said. Taylor fought an urge to squeal and run in terror as the strongest, fastest flying brute in the country walked toward her. "Quintessence, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Alexandria. Um, likewise."

"This way, please."

Alexandria opened the door and led both Armsmaster and Taylor into a cramped room. The place obviously had been converted to its current use, as witnessed by the free-standing lights, exposed wiring, and the ugly steel bolts holding the fully articulated examination table to the floor. Taylor almost stumbled when she saw the figure.

In a startling turn of events from her past experiences, it wasn't a pretty girl laying naked on a table. It was a naked boy. His body looked almost anorexic, ribs clearly visible. Multiple metal straps held him secured to the table over his arms, legs and torso.

She forced herself not to look down; instead she drifted closer to his head. The boy's eyes were covered by a felt mask, and his ears by heavy-duty ear muffs. His head was shaven down so close she could see only traces of black fuzz just starting to grow again. His head, like the rest of him, was secured by metal straps, although these at least were cushioned.

"I picked him up this morning," Alexandria said. "His name is DeMontae Poole, a sophomore at Hudson's Bay High School. He's fifteen. He has one older sister and two younger brothers, and they live with their mother. We can't locate any of them, so we have to assume his whole family has been taken or killed. What we need you to do, Quintessence, is to determine if there is anything left of DeMontae that we can save."

The famous heroine took the corner of the table and then flipped it over slowly enough not to cause the victim to be too disoriented. By her doing so, Taylor got her first good look at the back of Damontae's head.

She drifted closer even as her stomach clenched and her instincts told her to leave.

The entire back of DeMontae's skull was covered in what looked like a slip-shod metal plate bristling with exposed wiring and circuitry. She could see blood and pus around the edges of the plate, as if whoever installed it had no concern about the boy's health.

"What is that?"

"Tinker-tech," Armsmaster said, stating the obvious. "I can't examine it too closely without risking the victim, but the end results are well known. Overmind has complete control of every one of her 'enhanced' victims. Not so much in the sense that they do what she tells them to do; but rather they react to her will as if it were their own. Dragon's reconnaissance flight reveals her minions moving like ants attending a queen. This implies that the device contains some type of emitter, a receiver, and whatever mechanism is controlling them."

Taylor placed a hand on the edge of the plate. The Force throbbed from the pain emanating from the boy's head. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to sink deep into her power as she reached into his mind.

"There you are," she whispered aloud. He was there, screaming in horror and pain from deep within his own mind. She sent waves of hope to him before withdrawing and concentrating solely on the physical—on the plate that…

"It doesn't actually penetrate his skull?"

Armsmaster shifted on his feet and looked to Alexandria for only a moment. "No, the plate is embedded in his skin. What extends past the skull are filaments that..."

As he spoke, Taylor suddenly visualized how the plates worked.

"There are six filaments. Two in the cerebrum, two in the cerebellum, and two in the brain stem."

"That's correct," Armsmaster said.

"Right. Two to intercept all neutral activity in each section, and two to supplant it with the induced activity, and two to receive outside neural impulses. That…step back."

"What are you doing…?" Alexandria never finished her words.

Taylor took one of her sabers, set it on low training mode, and then brought it against the plate. The low shock of plasma-based energy easily shorted out the slap-dash wiring of the tinker-tech. A split second later, DeMontae Poole started screaming.

Extinguishing her blade, Taylor spun the table back upright, ripped off the earmuffs and mask, and took DeMontae's face in her hands. His eyes were so bloodshot he looked almost vampiric; he wept as he screamed. She responded with waves of the Force, soaking into his mind gently. And with her voice, crooning to him.

"It's okay, Monte," she whispered, using his childhood nickname that she'd easily gleaned from his thoughts. "It's over. You're safe. It's over."

He started shivering violently. Though she felt tempted to do it herself, Taylor felt a very real fear in exposing all of her power in front of current company. She glanced over to where Alexandria stood, her lips pursed tightly. "Release his restraints."

"Are you sure he's not a danger to anyone?"

"Only to himself. Release him, please."

Alexandria nodded to someone Taylor couldn't see, and suddenly all the cuffs were released. DeMontae surged forward, but not to attack. His arms wrapped around her even as his knees buckled. She knelt down with him, holding him tightly, as he screams turned into horrid, bowel-shaking sobs of grief and pain. Someone draped a blanket over his shoulders even as Taylor continued to hold him and soothe him in the Force.

Over his shoulder, Taylor looked at Armsmaster.

"The control is only surface deep. As long as the plates aren't embedded, a simple shock should knock them out. Hell, you could probably taser these people and that might be enough. If she'd done anything more intrusive, I'd have to look at them again."

"Well done," Armsmaster said. In the face of the young teen's obvious anguish, he sounded somehow muted. "Well done. You may have just saved thousands of lives. Dragon, have you been monitoring?"

Taylor stiffened when she felt a familiar voice answering. "I have. I agree, Quintessence what you've done may have saved thousands. I've sent a transport for an order for stun batons from my warehouse in Vancouver. They should be here within three hours. However, based on this new information I'm not sure a night attack is the best approach anymore."

Meanwhile, the shivering DeMantae had stopped screaming. He looked into Taylor's mask, his eyes still horribly blood-shot and red. She expected him to comment on being naked or how much he heard. Instead, he whispered something else entirely.

"My brothers. She has my brothers."

"We'll save them," Taylor promised. "We'll do everything we can to save them."

"It hurts. It hurts so bad."

"I know." She gently brushed his cheek. "I'm going to make you sleep, okay? We'll get you better, I promise. Just be patient, and know we'll take care of you."

He nodded, weeping again, as Taylor sent a suggestion that had him slumping into her arms.

"I think the plate can be surgically removed without risking his health," she said when he was out.

"He's sleeping?" Alexandria asked.

"Yes, probably for a day or so. He was so exhausted his body was eating itself."

The hero easily lifted DeMontae from Taylor's arms and carried him back to the table while looking at one of the PRT techs. "Arrange transport to the triage site at Providence."

"Yes, ma'am," came the immediate response.

"The rest of you, if we could have a moment? You too, Armsmaster. And Dragon."

Taylor tensed and let her arms rest near her sabers as she suddenly found herself alone in a room with Alexandria.

This close, Taylor could see the stone tower on her chest symbolizing the Library of Alexandria, which is what inspired her name. Aside from being able to fly to Japan in minutes and being strong enough to knock Behemoth down with a single blow, even if she couldn't quite hurt him, Alexandria was also reputed to be a powerful thinker, with near superhuman intelligence. The Force around her screamed danger like nothing Taylor had ever seen before.

"Ten years ago," the older heroine began, abruptly, "a young man survived a vicious attack by a villain group in Phoenix, Arizona. His parents and sister were killed in the attack, along with twelve other shoppers at the local mall. He triggered with an aerokinetic and mild telekinetic power. In his rage and shock, he killed the villains who murdered his family, and anyone else around him within reach of his power. The villains killed a total of fifteen people, including his family. In his revenge, he killed over two hundred. Though he was never captured, he was found guilty of hundreds of counts of murder with a parahuman power and was sentenced in absencia to the Birdcage, with an accompanying kill order."

Taylor felt her arms trembling as she fought back an urge to grab her lightsabers. "What does that have to do with me?"

Alexandria tilted her head as she studied Taylor. "Five years later, an independent hero calling himself Exalt joined the fight at Newfoundland against Leviathan. We lost that fight—Newfoundland sank. But Exalt was credited with saving over five hundred people in a shelter by using his power to build up sufficient air pressure to keep it from flooding, even though it was submerged. He exhausted himself into a three-day coma keeping those people alive until Eidolon could reach him. When he woke up, he joined the Houston Protectorate team under Eidolon. To this day he's a decorated, beloved Protectorate hero."

She knows. Holy fuck, she knows. "Why are you telling me this?" It took every ounce of will she had not to sob.

The heroine stared at her calmly through her mask, not moving at all as she spoke. "Trigger events can be horrible. Narwhal accidently killed a fellow soldier when she experienced her second trigger—she served time before she was released for good behavior and joined the Guild. Those who have gone through bad triggers understand that we are not at our best when we first get our powers. The true test of whether someone is a villain or a hero comes when they are able to make their own choices; and what those choices are."

She stepped close enough that Taylor could almost feel her breath.

"I don't know anything about what may have happened to bring you where you are." It was a blatant lie, and both knew it. "But I can see that you've chosen to heal, and to defend. You've chosen to be a hero. I have a very good memory, and I will remember those choices when it matters."

She turned and started walking toward the door. "Although I'm sure it has nothing to do with you, understand that there are very powerful political figures who want the Winslow Simurgh in the Birdcage. If she is ever caught, it would be a challenge for the Protectorate to save her no matter how valuable her powers are. But in three or four years, the Protectorate might be very happy to accept a healer. Happy enough to provide a new identity if necessary."

Alexandria opened the door and started out. "Oh, by the way. Give Gabriella my regards when next you speak to her," she said over her shoulder. "Meanwhile, we have a briefing to attend."