(Three weeks later) [Low Earth Orbit]
The Simurgh tilted her head in interest as multiple fulcrums moved to the song she had sung many revolutions ago.
It was an old song of a bygone future, but fulcrums hardly ever changed.
And she watched as one of the largest of those fulcrums stirred and roused awake.
She could use this.
[Somewhere in Brockton Bay]
'The afterlife is France.'
That was Taylor Hebert's first cognizant thought as she came to her senses- a dull horror settling in her. They had stuffed her into that locker and sent her straight to baguette hell, it seems. It would explain why a french song was playing in the background: No Brocktonite would ever be caught dead with a french song in their playlist.
Ménilmontant, mais oui madame
C'est là que j'ai laissé mon cœur
And yet, when she blearily opened her eyes, she found herself staring at the white ceiling panels of a hospital. Her throat felt dry like a desert- each gulp of air feeling like it would flake her throat, and she was relieved beyond words: not that she wasn't dead...
"Turnitoff." She mumbled out loud as she tried to get out of her bed to do it herself. "And water."
...but that she could turn the damn french music off.
"Taylor! You're awake!"
"Dad?" She squinted for a moment before her glasses were handed back to her. With a well-practiced gesture of putting it on, she saw her father clearly again. He seemed... she didn't know how else to put it, but... her dad looked a lot less depressed.
The relieved smile on his face was pulled just a bit wider, the eyebags that his thick-rimmed glasses usually hid were gone, and even his dark thinning hair on top of his head seemed more vibrant. Ole Danny Hebert as her father's coworker
"Yeah, kiddo, it's me. I'm here." He reassured her as he held her in a hug. "Thank God, they were right about you waking up sometime today. You had me worried for a long time."
Taylor's lips tightened. He can never know what really happened- that she was shoved into that locker.
"When those Dragon mechs attacked the city, I couldn't get to you: there was panic everywhere, the roads were ruined from the fighting and I was-"
"Wait, when thewhatattacked the city?" She squawked, and her dad blinked confusedly behind his rectangular thin-rimmed glasses as he handed her a bottle of water.
"Right..." He muttered, nodding to himself, "The patrolling Chloes that pulled you out that locker said that you had likely been out cold since before the attack began... The gist of it is that a group of deranged supervillains called the Dragonslayers sabotaged the Endbringer Debrief and tricked the heroes into attacking Dragon and Magos. And when that didn't work, they hacked 44 of Dragon's mechs, armed them with lethal weapons and made them attack the city to try and kill her. They just set the mechs to go wild on the city. The bastards."
Her dad must have caught the horrified look on her face, because he immediately went about calming her down.
"But everything is alright now!" He reassured her with an optimistic smile, "The Protectorate made a big public apology, made up with Magos and even handed the Chloes a medal. The city has been rebuilt better than ever. Oh, Taylor, there's so much we have to bring you up to speed on- so much has happened in the past three weeks, and-"
"Three weeks?" She whispered weakly. "I've been in a coma for three weeks?"
"Yes, you were." Her dad replied suddenly hesitantly. "But don't worry, you didn't miss much of school, Winslow has been under reconstruction too. Classes have only restarted three days ago."
"How... how bad was that attack by the Dragonslayers?" She asked- a cold pit growing in her stomach as she dreaded the answer. And the way her father's lips drew into a tight line said most of what she needed to know.
"Really bad, almost a quarter of the city had seen damage by the end of it." He replied, "If it weren't for the charities and reconstruction aid, Brockton Bay would have been on its last legs. A lot of people would have be... including us. Even our house was destroyed."
The last part was just a whisper, but to Taylor, it may as well have been said the loudest part.
"But like I mentioned, things are a lot better now that things have been rebuilt." He claimed- putting on a smile, "We got a nice apartment near the beachfront. Even managed to salvage most of yours and your mother's things from the wreck."
"But in three weeks?" She asked with a very skeptical tone. "Our house got destroyed, a quarter of the city gets trashed- maybe a hundred or even a thousand buildings all in all, and it took only three weeks to rebuild?"
Her dad opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself. Then did it several times in a row, his mouth just opening and closing as he likely thought about the best way to explain it to her. Taylor was grateful for it, she needed time to process that their house was destroyed. Her room that she had spent all her life living in, the kitchen that her mother used to cook her best lasagne in, even the squeaky floorboards on the second step of the porch that reassured her that she was home safe from Winslow Hell. All of it, gone.
"I think..." Her dad finally spoke up with a small smile. "...I think it's better to just show you."
Standing up, he stepped around her hospital bed and to the window covered by those horizontal wooden slat blinds. With a long pull from his hands, the blinds were lifted up- revealing the cityscape beyond her hospital room window.
"This can't be Brockton Bay City..." She whispered to herself. Her voice tinged with a touch of confusion mixed with awe.
Brockton Bay City was a city on the decline, and it had been one for a long time. An endless sprawl of dilapidated apartment buildings running ragged from all the crime, half-finished skyscrapers from scared-off investors, and neglected suburbia hell populated by equally neglected souls.
Between the three major criminal gangs of the city, the immensely high crime rate and the trickling exodus of people escaping the increasingly run down city... the city seemed like it was in its death throes with no hope of ever getting back to its glory days. And that's why the city that stretched out from her hospital window couldn't be Brockton Bay City.
What was before her eyes was something out of a 1960s french postcard of Paris. Stately apartment buildings with golden sand-yellow bricks and royal blue roofs painted a city on the lap of luxury, the greenery of lush parks occasionally added ribbons of green across the cityscape, the once-unfinished skyscrapers were now neo-gothic wonders of glass and concrete.
Sculptures of eagles and gryphons and other avian creatures of myth decorated almost every floor with wings spread and crowned with flag-flying buttresses. And were those airplanes landing and taking off?! Brockton Bay didn't even have an airport!
But the elephant in the room.
In the distance, an incomprehensibly massive cathedral stood. No, she corrected herself, notacathedral- but a city of cathedrals. Stacked on top of each other almost as high as skyscrapers, sprawling wide that it looked like a mountain range in the horizon. If this city was Paris, then the mega-cathedral was its Notre Dame.
Grand and ornate like a French emperor at court, it dominated the cityscape- ensuring that even if you looked elsewhere you could still see it standing in the corner of your eye. A presence that cannot be ignored.
On and on, everywhere Taylor looked at it there was more to see.
Baroque stained glass windows the span of basketball courts. Grand colonnades over open air balconies that made Vatican City look like a mud hut town in comparison.
Colossal monuments of robed cyborg-angels embedded into the walls stood silent guard as they peered out into the city. Sharp, pointy spires atop massive bell towers as large as regular cathedrals. Flying buttresses and massive gothic-looking trains snaked around the circumference.
But what caught her eye the most was one symbol that recurred all across the structure: A metal cog.
The metal cogs adorned the cathedral-city like the crosses on churches or the crescents on mosques. And all together, they declared to Taylor and all who looked at the vast structure that it was a place of worship. One that was devoted not to any god in the heavens above, but to the God that lived in the machine.
"Where... where are we?" She muttered, utterly gobsmacked. She knew the answer, but she needed to hear it herself. And her father smiled wider as he indulged her.
"Welcome to the burgeoning hive city of Brockton Bay, Taylor."
(A few hours later)
After a thorough hours-long checkup, Taylor felt relieved that she could finally leave the hospital. Dressed up in a black hoodie and jeans that her dad had brought to her, she stared some more out of the hospital window and to a strange alien city that seemed to have replaced the one she grew up in.
"Well, kiddo." Her dad greeted her as he walked in and sat down across the table from her, "They'll officially discharge you in a few minutes after they handle the paperwork. Also, I've been holding onto this for the day you woke up."
Confusion settled on her features as her dad pulled out a box from his backpack, and shock replaced it as he placed said tin box on the wooden table between them. A tin box, thin and rectangular, around the same size as a casserole dish tray. Painted a leafy green. On the front, words were stamped and painted onto the metal.
Mechanicus Data-Slate
Mars Pattern Mark I
The Mars Pattern was the more high-end version of the Data-Slate. A tablet in all but name, but Magos took out a patent so everyone has to call it a 'Data-Slate' now.
Retaining all the rugged durability of the much-cheaper Terra Pattern, it was a clear upgrade- coming with all the bells and whistles like an 8k screen, a 48 megapixel camera, crisp speakers, a projector and an absurd amount of processing power and memory for all the applications that has been stuffed into it.
Even before she was put into a coma, this was the hottest item on the market- as much of a status symbol as a diamond-studded Rolex or a red Ferrari. The type of stuff that the 'cool kids' like Emma would (and did) flaunt in people's faces (mostly Taylor's).
Now, her father was giving her one.
"This… this is for me?" She tried and failed not to choke out.
"Yes." Her father smiled back.
"Can we even…" Taylor began to ask but cut herself off before asking such a stupid question. Instead, she hung her head low as she whispered, "Dad, we can't afford this."
"No, wecanafford it." Her dad insisted- his voice watery as if he had been waiting so long to be able to say that. "Things have been good these past few weeks. Very strange but good."
Taylor read between the lines- remembering the cape speculation before she went into a coma. Specifically, she recalled the statistics of how much power the local Rogue Tinker had gathered and was poised to gather in the coming weeks. Weeks that she had slept through.
"Magos has taken over the city, hasn't he?" She whispered, horrified.
"Yes and no?" he chuckled sheepishly- one of the few times she'd heard him laugh in the past year, "The mayor and the PRT stepped in after seeing how much stuff Magos has been mass-producing. Brockton Bay municipality slapped an industrial zone onto where his factory is. So, rather than have the jobs bleed out of the city with off-state truckers and workers clogging the city streets, they were looking for people with experience loading and unloading 40-foot containers, and the heavy machinery involved in them…"
"And that's where the Dockworkers' Association steps in."
"Right in one, kiddo." He nodded- a wistful smile coming to his face as he stared out into the city as well, "For the first time in over a decade, business has been… it's been good. It has been so long since we've been short-handed and needed to expand our workforce. And as both head of hiring and spokesperson of the Dockworkers' Association, I've never had my hands so full. The raise was a long time coming too!"
It was a clumsy attempt at humour, but Taylor appreciated it- smiling along, but still couldn't help the pinch of sadness in her chest.
"You didn't have to spend it on me though." She whispered in a small voice, but her father just smiled some more before continuing.
"There's a lot more to the negotiations between the city and Magos, but the gist is that Magos has a big say on how the city is run now. And one of the first things he did was require that every employee in his employ have a 'Data-Slate' on them at all times at work to help with communication and productivity. Handed them out for free a few weeks ago. I guess what I'm trying to say is... I didn't want you to feel left out so I bought one for you too, Taylor."
Her dad reached into his rucksack again, and he pulled out his own matching data-slate- matching her as he placed it on his lap.
"See?" He smiled, "Cadian Green, just like mine. Also, you can even pay for stuff using that new fangledcryptocurrencycalled the 'Omnissiah Coin' or 'Omnicoin' for short. And I loaded your Omnicoin Wallet with a few."
This was too much... she got up to hug her dad.
"Thanks, Dad. You're the best. I love you." she whispered.
"Love you too, kiddo." Her dad hugged her back, "Now let's get you home."
(A few minutes later)
The voice of a Chloe rang out throughout the space.
"By the Machine-God's Will, we are now arriving at Chinatown Station in T-minus 3 minutes."
"Arriving at Chinatown Station in T-minus 2 minutes and 57 seconds."
Brockton Bay had a subway now apparently. And like everything Magos managed, it was huge and gothic- like he had taken several churches, put wheels on them, armed and armoured them like tanks, chained them together before finally calling the finished product a train.
Each was fairly slow which wasn't surprising for something their size, but since each train had the capacity to comfortably seat more than five thousand souls at once, it wasn't much of a problem.
Taylor actually liked the guarantee that the train will be on time and the train will have seats. It even had cafes and shops and multiple wifi networks- practically a mall on wheels that rode underground. A mall that looked like a catholic church, but a mall all the same.
"Pretty nice, isn't it?" her dad mentioned with a smile as they sat down at an onboard cafe in the first class cabin. "You could get anywhere in the city on foot instead of contending with traffic. Some stations are so big they even allow cars and trucks on board!"
Taylor glanced out the window of the train, and into the unlit subway tunnels that were so expansive that you could fly a small plane through them.
The'Undercity'as PHO has taken to calling it according to her new data-slate..
Already online rumours of a shanty town with hostels, unregulated pubs, murderous fighting rings, degenerate whorehouses and a nascent black market somewhere in the depths of this tunnel network. She just knew that the Merchants, ABB and E88 were fighting in those tunnels somewhere under the city. And she was reminded that Brockton Bay didn't change; they just dumped all the rot in a hole and covered it with a nice French-looking carpet. Just waiting for someone to fall in. Couldn't be her.
"By Grace of the Machine-God, we have now arrived at Chinatown Station."
"We have now arrived at Chinatown Station."
"Mechanicus Translocation Services would like to remind all passengers that those that profane the Temple of the Machine-God with graffiti and litter will be answered with the righteous zeal and fury of the Omnissiah's Servants. Please mind the gap and thank you for riding with us."
Taylor could read between the lines though: The subway stations were Magos' territories. Taking territory, enforcing their own law, and rot spreading in the shadows... The more things stay the same, the more they change.
Wanting to distract herself, she booted up her data-slate and swiped through the videos- looking for things to get her up to speed before choosing to settle on a fairly recent PRT press conference. Up on a stage behind a podium, the PRT's Chief-Director Costa-Brown stood in front of a crowd of reporters as they barraged her with questions.
...
"Director Costa-Brown, the world is still clamouring to know the answer to this one question: Where are the Triumvirate?"
"That is still highly classified, but I can say one thing. The matter that they are handling is grave indeed, and requires their full attention..."
...
A tall, pretty latina waitress around her age walked up to their table, her dark hair done up in a ponytail. Her waitress outfit accentuating how fit she was. Taylor frowned, even the staff working here was high-class.
"Je suis Rebecca et je serai votre serveur aujourd'hui. Qu'auras-tu? (I'm Rebecca and I'll be your server today. What will you have?)" She greeted them, and Taylor was taken aback by the French, but even more so by how her dad responded.
"Pour moi, un café allongé, s'il vous plaît. (For me, a black coffee please.)" Her dad easily replied in straight french before looking over to her, "Pour elle... (For her...)"
Even without understanding a single word, Taylor could guess what he was meaning.
"Uh... I'll get the same." she took a stab in the dark, and the waitress nodded with a smile.
"Deux cafés allongés. Attendez-vous à votre café dans quelques minutes, monsieur, madame. (Two today's specials... Expect your coffee in a few minutes.)"
"Merci." her dad smiled and Taylor immediately rounded on him.
"When did you learn to speak french?"
"Oh, it's one of Dragon's culture programs in partnership with the Ministry of Culture of Quebec." He explained as if it was a forgotten item on a grocery shopping list, "Some stores and voice-activated vending machines give you a small discount if you order in comprehensible Canadian French. Last I heard, she's attempting to get partnerships with other countries, so there might be other languages to come."
So, Dragon was evil all along. Why else would she be working with Quebec?
...
"But ma'am, for them to be gone for three weeks? Isn't this excessive? What will happen if an S-ranked threat appears?"
"The PRT threat response for S-ranked threats have been temporarily filled in by Mechanicus Knights whose efficacy can be seen in the Behemoth battle last December. Suffice to say, we're ready for them."
...
Taylor tentatively agreed.
It was hard to argue the effectiveness of mega-lightsabers and black hole guns on a mech the size of an Endbringer... that had a pretty good record of fighting off an actual Endbringer.
Especially since the Director Costa-Brown said 'Knights' as in plural. Exactly how many mechs did Magos loan out to the PRT was still a matter of debate.
And PHO happily debated away. Anywhere from just two all the way to several dozen with the majority of people believing that the Endbringers were soon going to be a thing of the past.
She didn't want to hope, but... they had the chance.
...
"Ma'am! How will you address the Thinker-spurred rumours that they have faced off and subsequently lost to Magos and are recovering from their grievous wounds?"
"As I do with all ludicrous rumours and conspiracy theorists, please leave it to PHO conspiracy threads. The PRT has officially made peace and achieved close cooperation with the Tinker 12 known as Magos. The importance of the Triumvirate's current duties cannot be overstated."
...
"Keith, we need five specials, two potato gratins. Doctor, six french onions and two clam chowders. David, we need two americanos and three café au lait." Taylor faintly heard the waitress yell into the kitchen. "Also, leave the afternoon prep for the second shift, we have to meet the boss at lunch hour. Finish strong, crew. If we're lucky, we can arrange for our 'promotions' this week."
"Même dans la mort, nous servons toujours!"
(Even in death, we still serve!)
Taylor nodded. It was good that their order was being fulfilled, Magos sure knew how to motivate his employees. Then Another waitress stepped to their table. Yet another beautiful woman looking to be in her late twenties with dark wavy hair, blue eyes and stylish grey fedora. She poured some water in water goblets for them.
"Uh, merci?" Taylor tried to fit in, and her father smiled in approval. The waitress just smiled, gestured something with her hands- clearly mute- before walking away to serve water to other customers.
Taylor just felt like gargling mouthwash.
...
"Chief Director! Is it true that the PRT Department of Image is hard at work cooperating with Magos' EA Games in releasing a new title in the following weeks?"
"I cannot comment. But I would like to point out that the Director Chambers of the PRT Department of Image will be holding a press conference the day after tomorrow. I'm sure he can satisfy your curiosity about that particular subject matter."
...
Taylor frowned as she looked at her data-slate. Once again, she was made aware that it also came preinstalled with Magos' two games, Call 4 Duty and Fate Impact.
Thank you for your purchase of this Mechanicus Data-Slate Mars Pattern! Redeem this code at Call 4 Duty for C-bucks, and at Fate Impact for Saint Primogems!
She didn't like it.
She didn't like how everyone was glued to their tablets because of Magos' games, and how they made people act in absolutely bizarre ways. In the days before The Locker, the E88 and the ABB kids were practically holding C4D Versus and FI Arcade mode tournaments everyday in the morning before fragmenting into smaller 'Waifu Gangs' in the afternoon that worshipped one character or another.
The Knights of Seibah, the Sakura's Worms, the Cocogoat Milk Drinkers, the Drunk Bard's Followers and the myriad of other weird sounding ones… it was the only time she'd seen people from either gang actually hang out with one another and get into shouting matches with other gangs.
It was the first time she'd heard an E88 kid very passionately defend furious homosexual anal sex so long as- she quotes- 'he had a feminine penis and a virginlike bussy' (She didn't know what he meant, and she did not want to know. Ever.)
And also the first time she'd seen an entire group of ABB kids wore eyepatches and speak fluent German, ranting about a 'Prinzessin der Verurteilung aus dem äußeren domäne Immernachtreich.' And the less said about what Greg Veder had been turning into, the better.
The weird behaviour just reinforced in her mind not to touch either of those games. The world had been slowly growing mad due to Magos' influence even three weeks ago- sucked in by the black hole of his insanity; and Taylor dreaded finding out what kind of fresh hell and unspeakable degeneracy Winslow High had in store for now.
She checked if her PHO chat had any messages, and found something horrible: A long-forgotten chat that suddenly had a couple of dozen new ones while she was in a coma.
Emma Barnes: No, your dad can't possibly work for Magos' logistics division.
Emma Barnes: It's a lie, a mistake, a fluke! You're too pathetic to know someone with real power.
Emma Barnes: Taylor, I know we've had our differences. But I know what your dad does. I mean have you seen one of those dolls?! Who needs a boyfriend?
Emma Barnes: We could be really, really rich if we can just get our hands on just one or two.
Emma Barnes: You'll be the most popular girl in Winslow!
Emma Barnes: Please respond.
Emma Barnes: Taylor?
Emma Barnes: I admit it! You're in a position of strength now. Please, just help me out with this once.
Emma Barnes: ...Taylor?
Emma Barnes: Fuck you too!
Emma Barnes: Pretending to be in a coma to escape your chickenshit life!
Emma Barnes: Fuck you! Everyone's going to know how you're an Undercity whore that denied them all the good shit just because you wanto to play the saint.
No... it can't be.
The messages stretched some more, and the sheer vitriol in them didn't surprise her, but what did was her dad's apparent profession.
"Dad..." She looked across the cafe table at him, "When were you going to tell me that you were in charge of shipping Fate Impact merchandise... specifically their sex dolls?"
"SHHH!" Her dad immediately hushed her- his eyes wide in panic as he glanced around the cabin and his voice lowering into an urgent whisper, "I don't know how you found out, but don't let anyone know what I do. The last time that happened, I had to operate under a false name for a week."
But Taylor was still in shock- deep in the horrid realisation that, apparently, she really did get sent to baguette hell. A hell where her father was working in the sex industry- the backend of it which only made it sound worse when trying to explain it to someone.
And eve worse, it was likely everyone in Winslow also knew that fact. She was about to be the most popular kid in highschool where everyone attempted to curry favour with her... for all the terribly wrong reasons.
And she knew just who sent her here in sex doll hell.
"Fucking Magos."
[Dallon Residence]
At the sound of her door almost slamming open, Vicky tossed her blankets onto the bed with almost as much force as to break a person's bones. Bed-haired, wide-eyed and still clad in her half-buttoned light blue pajamas, she begged for mercy.
"MOM! It's not what it looks like! It's just-! Oh, it's just you, Amy.Thank god." Vicky sighed a deep sigh of relief before raising an amused blonde eyebrow as a blank-eyed adoptive sister wandering into her room like a zombie.
In response, Amy Dallon just groaned like a real zombie before flopping bonelessly onto her bed and mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like 'Fucking Magos.'
"You okay, Amy? You kinda look like shit." She pointed out.
"I feel like shit too." her brunette sister mumbled lifelessly, "I hate how my power can't affect myself."
"Er… you aren't going to ask what that was all about?"
"Whatever it is... Don't give a rat's ass." Amy muttered, "But I don't mind if you wanna rant, just let me crash here for a while."
"Alright!" Vicky grinned happily. "Feast your eyes on this beauty!"
And with a flourish, she pulled off the cream-coloured blanket of her bed to reveal another blanket. A green one, made of slips of paper and each slip printed with one of the most powerful written phrases in the entire world: "One Hundred Dollars The United States of America."
"Oh, that's a lot of moolah." Amy mumbled as she looked disinterestedly to the pile of cash almost covering the half of her bed then back to her Vicky, "Did you hit an Empire courier or something?"
Vicky glanced at the locked door before lowering her voice.
"Please don't tell, mom, but…" She pleaded, "I got this all from Magos."
"F'ckingMagosssssssssssss" Her sister immediately hissed like a snake- brown eyes staring at her pointedly, "I swear, if you tell me that he's your sugar daddy, I'm going to make your body hair grow like crazy. Right before I walk on over to his chapel and wreck his nuts and bolt."
"What? No! I've been working as a corpo cape for him." Vicky denied, wide-eyed, "And besides, he really isn't interested in anyone with 'meat' or maybe just girls in general. Depends if you trust the Cape gossip about him and Armsmaster. But whatever it is, it makes him easier to work with actually- knowing that he isn't and will not be attracted to me. Huh, now that I think about it, it's kinda insulting that heisn'tattracted to me."
"Fucker designs and sells sex dolls." Amy deadpanned, but Vicky just shrugged.
"Still kind of insulting. I'm hotter than lumps of silicon." She huffed- gathering her cash into wads.
"Much, muuuch hotter." her sister added, and Vicky grinned. She was so sweet when it came to cheering her up about her looks.
"But I can't say that I'm not loving being in Magos' payroll right now. I mean look at this place!" Vicky gestured around them, to her amazing room that was almost twice as large as her old one and with its own walk-in closet too. "This duplex is great. We should have gotten our house trashed by a robot dragon years earlier!"
"Don't let Carol hear that." Amy mumbled- burying her face into her pillow.
"Honestly, I don't get mom." Vicky sighed, "It's not like she has any trouble accepting Magos' money either. I've overheard her and Aunt Sarah excitedly talking about investing in a beachfront property with the money. Uh… so, I'm sensing some beef between you and Magos, what's up with that?"
"Hate 'im, soooo much."
"Yeah, but why?"
"Haaaaaaaaaateeeeee." Amy droned as long as she could be bothered, "The amount of shit he's piled onto my workload is unbelievable. I hate life, and I wish Magos had a lot less to do with it. There is epidemic of people walking into the hospital who chafed their genitals raw from fucking his sex dolls. Use the proper amount of lubrication, morons. How about you? What shady shit is he paying you to do anyway?"
"Less shady than I thought corpo work would be honestly." Victoria hummed as she flipped through a wad of cash- less counting it and more admiring how thick it was, "Most of the time, I work with other capes from out of town to keep away otherothercapes from out of town- mostly the Elite."
"I haven't heard of you getting into fights though."
"And neither have I actually asked you to get me patched up even after six missions." Vicky replied with a smug smile. "You can sort of tell from just that alone that corpo-versus-corpo cape fights are usually mild. They're more of a publicity stunt than anything- kinda like an advertisement war between Coke vs Pepsi. As for why you haven't heard of me getting into fights..."
Vicky darted into her closet to retrieve her helmet.
"That's because I have my own alternate capename: Antares!" she declared, striking a heroic pose which she knew would look impressive if she wasn't in her light-blue PJs, "It's actually really fun wearing a helmet and having a secret identity for once! It still gives me shivers- having this big secret."
"Cool." Amy said in the most uncommitted tone as she watched her stuff her money into a backpack. "Are you planning on doing something with all that dough?"
Vicky tossed her helmet back into the closet as she thought about her answer.
"I want to go on a vacation, honestly." She murmured- deep in thought, "The missions that I got outside of the Bay just reminded me that I can't remember the last time we even got out of Brockton Bay for leisure. There's an entire world out there just waiting for a superpowered girl with tons of cash like me to try out what it has to offer. Hey, you can even join me!"
Nowthatgot Amy's attention. Entire body stiff and brown eyes wide as she looked at her.
"Just you and me at a private island somewhere?" Amy whispered in a small voice, and Vicky just grinned.
"Uh, I don't know where you got that private island idea, but... Working on our tans, sipping mojitos on the beach, spa massages... Yeah, sounds like an amazing idea; and we'll even have enough cash to go elsewhere before or after."
"Vicky in bikini..." Amy continued to whisper with an almost reverent tone.
"You need one too!" Vicky insisted with a smile, "We should go shopping for a few sets!"
"Yessss..."
Then the sound of the front door slamming at someone's arrival echoed out the house.
"Mom's home already? And she sounds angry." Vicky gulped in alarm- hurriedly tossing her backpack full of cash into her closet and shutting the door. "Act natural, Amy!"
"Carol. Ugh."
"That's the spirit! C'mon." she cheered, pulling her sister off the bed and onto her feet. They tiptoed out of her room and down the stairs just in time to see their mother- still in her gray suit- sit down at the couch and pour herself a glass of wine.
Specifically the Pinot Noir. Not a good sign at all: Vicky knew her mother enough to know that was her go-to wine for when work at the firm was especially difficult, and on top of that, it was still morning. Likely a fight in the office.
"Hey, mom..." Vicky chirped in her 'I'm the perfect daughter' voice, "How about I order us some lunch... and dinner- my treat. You don't have to cook today."
"Yeah, whatever." Carol Dallon grumbled- tugging her blonde hair out of that terse bun and not even glancing at her as if she was still reliving the moment. Victoria's smile faltered a bit, but she didn't let it get to her personally.
"Did something happen with Mr. Barnes?" Vicky tried a different tactic.
"Barnesssss..." Carol hissed in a very familiar manner, and for a brief second, Vicky had to wonder if Amy was adopted at all, because that sounded like a one-to-one imitation of how she talked. More importantly, it was definitely a fight in the office.
"Mom, I-"
"I got this." Amy muttered with her impassive look before shuffling forward and sitting down on the armchair beside their mother. Amy and Carol met eyes before she whispered gentle words of encouragement to the older woman.
"I bet those shitsucking asshats at the firm don't know how fucking good they had it with you around."
Victoria's eyes flew wide open. Amy, what the hell?! And she held her breath as their mother's sharp blue eyes glanced at Amy. She didn't like it when Amy swore, Vicky couldn't help but feel sorry for her sister about to get both barrels right no-
"No they didn't." Her mother hissed, "Especially Mr. Alan 'High-and-mighty' Barnes. Goddamn milksop was the one to say 'If you want to take on the Magos job, then you do so without the backing and protection of the Barnes Law Firm.' But the moment he saw how much Magos was paying me, that carrot-topped clown had the sheer gall to think he was entitled to a percentage and demanded that I pay back the tens of thousands that the firm was owed. Let that greedy little ginger clear out my desk and put it in a box himself. I'm just going to stay home and wait for the inevitable call about him filing a civil case like corporate fraud against me."
Her stocking-clad foot lifted up to rest on the coffee table while she squeezed the tv remote to almost breaking. And Vicky was taken aback.
The fact that her mother was fired from the firm that she had been working for the past ten years didn't hit as hard as the sheer amount of vitriol her mother had for her colleague and once-good friend.
"Sucking-fucking Barnes and his sucking-fucking firm." Amy nodded slowly and emphatically- patting Carol's leg.
"Exactly." Her mother snorted- flicking through the channels and gulping at her wine.
"Just imagine the moment that shithead realises how much he fucked up by making you quit."
"I am, I really am."
"When his rinky-dink firm goes under, maybe you could buy the security footage of that exact moment when he does. Frame that shit and hang it off your bedroom wall."
"Don't tempt me."
"I'll... uh... go heat some sandwiches." Vicky hesitantly announced before glancing at Amy and gave her a half-hearted thumbs up to keep doing whatever she was doing. Floating to the kitchen, she began to prep the sandwiches- occasionally peeking over to the living room to see that her mother and sister were getting along with matching frowns of 'Fuck this shit, I'm out of here' energy. Amy always had this emotional distance from their mother, and this was the closest that the two of them had truly sat down and talked. Maybe not for the reasons that Vicky hoped and envisioned, but bonding over workplace revenge fantasies worked just as well.
"I've got the sandwiches." She announced, but by the time she got back- Amy had relocated to sit beside Carol- the white and red of her Panacea costume contrasting with her mother's gray attire as she helpfully poured their mother more wine whenever she extended out her wine glass.
It was almost sweet how her sister and mother were finally bridging the emotional gap...
"So, even without that cocksucker and his firm, you're afloat career-wise?" Amy asked.
... if not for her sister's devil-may-care attitude about talking with their mother. It was like whatever Magos had put her through had pushed her far past the point of caring anymore.
"Career-wise, yes." her mother hummed- taking a bite out of her toasted ham sandwich, "Magos has me on retainer and pays very handsomely. So I'll keep getting paid regardless of whether or not I'm in Alan Barnes' circus. I always wanted to strike out on my own career-wise, but never had the capital for it until now. But we've been colleagues for ten years, it still stings."
"Good fucking riddance." Amy sighed, "But now, we're hooked to the back ofMagos'circus."
"It can't be that bad!" Victoria piped up- panicking that if her family talked shit about their corpo boss, it might hurt their pay grade, "Right? Right?"
"I don't even know anymore." Her mother murmured right back- burying her face in her hands, "I'm getting paid more than I could ever have hoped to be, but on the other hand... I think my reputation as an attorney is shot because of him and his antics. I'm now getting emails from other even less respectable weirdos to represent their interests."
"Isn't that the sorry truth?"
"Honestly... He's starting so many bizarre talks in congress." Her mother sighed, "The legality of autonomous sex dolls? Gambling laws for games where the payout is virtual women? And don't get me started on his underage looking paraphernalia! Now he has state representatives giving presentations about how that scantily-clad 12 year old is actually a 300 year old spirit. And Europeans are screaming to have Magos charged with breaking some historical revisionism laws, because: No, Charlemagne the Great of the Holy Roman Empire did not in fact surround himself with miniskirt-wearing 'traps' as the Fate Impact character 'Astolfo' would suggest."
"I didn't know that Magos was so internationally... erm infamous?" Vicky murmured, and her mother just scoffed before downing her glass of wine in one gulp.
"The Earth-Bet timeline is getting really weird because of him."
"Fucking Magos." Amy nodded sagely, and their mother just snorted.
* Ding Dong*
Their new doorbell rang.
"I'll get it!" Vicky chirped- floating over to the front door to reveal... A lanky middle-aged man and his equally lanky daughter standing on their doorstep.
Taylor watched in astonishment as Glory Girl-THE Glory Girl-answered the door.
"Hey, Danny!" the blonde superheroine waved- already a first name basis with her dad, who only smiled back.
"Hey to you too, Victoria."
Brockton Bay's most famous flying brick looked at her with her baby blue eyes.
"And you must be Taylor." she grinned- catching her hand to shake it, "Glad to see you're awake. Sis would have waked you up if she could do brains."
For her part, Taylor just looked down to the hand which was shook by Glory Girl before looking over to her father.
"Dad, you know New Wave?" Taylor whispered in stark disbelief before the pieces clicked together in her head. "We're duplex neighbours with New Wave?!"
"Not until recently." her dad shrugged like it was no big deal working with one of the most famous cape families in Brockton Bay, "I work in logistics, Carol works part-time in legal while Victoria is unofficially working part-time security. Nothing special."
"Nothing special?" Taylor parroted incredulously- unimpressed by his attempt at humility. She'd been in a coma for the past three weeks, and only recently reconnected with the internet; but even she knew how disastrously big the Mechanicus has gotten. The 'logistics' that her dad worked in reached every country in the world and moved more goods than most countries. The 'legal' that Carol worked in was on a first name basis with the majority of US congress and the Canadian parliament. And the 'security' that Victoria worked part-time in included a relentless army of robotic warriors and towering Endbringer-slaying mechs.
"Full time legal now." the out-of-costume Brandish grunted from her place lazing on the couch- not looking away from the tv, "I was tolerant of the work sent my way, but now I can't even have that thanks to your friend Barnes."
"Alan..." Her dad muttered in a voice that made Taylor's hairs stand straight. "... what did he do?"
Taylor recognised that underlying tone of rage. She had seen it a grand total of eight times so far, and most of the times. Danny Hebert was a docks man through and through, and he was protective of his own. An exclusive club that- apparently- Carol could count herself in now.
This wasn't going to be pretty.
"What did he do?" Brandish whisper like she was unable to believe her dad asked such a stupid question before asking again with a rapidly climbing tone of pure rage, "What did Alan 'I'm the Lawyer-Saint of Brockton Bay' Barnes do?!"
"Sis and I are just going to treat Taylor to lunch at Fugly Bob!" Vicky announced as she grabbed the grumpy looking Panacea and her by the collars and out the door.
"Hey lemme go!" Taylor protested as she almost stumbled from being dropped.
"Sorry! Our mom's got a bit of a temper." Glory Girl apologised with a genuinely apologetic and panicked look as she slammed the front door of her house behind her, "Didn't want you to have a bad first impression of her, she's had a really bad day."
And right on cue, a furious voice echoed out from behind the door.
'Sucking-fucking Barnes and his sucking-fucking firm!'
Only that wasn't Brandish's voice, that was her dad's voice.
"My dad can out-shout anyone in Brockton Bay." Taylor revealed with a sigh, "Let's go to Fugly Bobs. I haven't eaten anything good in weeks."
"You still up for it, Amy?" Glory Girl asked her sister.
"Only if you carry me to the subway." the legendary healer replied, "Practically the only place I can lie down on velvet comfort while we travel. Can't be assed otherwise. But apart from that Fugly Bob's sounds great."
For a lot of proud Brocktonites, it was practically the go-to place for a good old fashioned stress-eating to numb the pain of having to live in Brockton Bay. And most importantly of all, there was no chance that Magos would be there, practically the last place he could ever be.
She'll be able to block her arteries in peace.
[Magos' Manufactorum]
I watched as Dragon wiggled into a pair of jeans- filling them out like a pair of juicy apples filled out their skin. The brunette tugged on a tight tee-shirt that only accentuated her hefty breasts- cotton practically hugging the soft globes.
"It's about that time of the week." She reminded me- her flawless light caramel face glancing over a slender and very naked shoulder. "You can't put it off anymore. You promised."
"Fine..." I relented with a sigh, "I'll put on a faux-meat suit and do that face reveal. Surprise the fleshy employees and you."
"It's so odd knowing that I've never seen your real face." Dragon wondered- her soft caramel-brown hand stroking my metal cheek.
"Thisismy real face."
"You know what I mean, Magos." She pouted for a moment before breaking out in a gentle smile, "Besides, I can't really say that I have kissed you if you don't have lips. I'd like to, if you don't mind."
"Well, time to put this coupon to good use."
"We're worth more than three hundred billion dollars, and you're still going to use a coupon?" Dragon asked as she put on a warm green jacket to complete the illusion of the human need for warmth, "Better yet, didn't you buy out that establishment?"
"Yes on both counts." I affirmed as I held the coupon high, "With this coupon alongside Alexandria's rank-smelling five dollar bill, I have just enough for a whole meal... and I can assure you: Nothing will ever taste as good as food that you earned by making heroes empty their pockets and look so pitiful."
Fugly Bob's Burgers
'Tis the season for big fat burgers promo!
'Half off on select burger meals!'