Allegro 1
Taylor hummed idly as she scribbled away, adding dots and swirls to her desk. She was currently sitting in World Issues, only half-listening to Gladly and totally ignoring the enraged look on Madison's face as she defaced the... decidedly less than flattering facsimile of herself she'd found waiting for her.
It had been two days since the event that was rapidly becoming known as 'The Party', and things had been surprisingly calm. No big crimes, no raids, things had been nice, quiet and calm.
Suddenly, her attention was drawn back to the teacher as the topic of his discussion caught her attention.
"Well Mark, while those are certainly good examples, the fact is that there's simply no evidence. People have suspected the Yangban of abducting Parahumans on the Eurasian continent for several years now, but no one has ever been capable of confirming anything. Even if it were proven that the Yangban were guilty, there's no actual guarantee that they'd actually let their abductees go. After all, I doubt that any nation would be willing to go to war with a literal army of Parahumans for the sake of a single one. Still though, you bring up a good point. See-"
SLAM!
All noise in the classroom was cut off by the door banging open. Taylor glanced at it, then sat up when she noticed the visibly distressed Aisha standing in the doorway.
"Miss Laborne!" Gladly protested fiercely. "Class is in session, you can't-!"
"Can it, poser-man!" Aisha snapped before shooting Taylor a desperate look. "Taylor! Principle Bi-Blackwell just sent me to get you! She got a call, your aunt in Chicago has a fever, something about red pus."
The pencil in Taylor's hand almost snapped in half from the pressure she exerted on it.
"Aisha!" Gladly was now on his feet and glaring at her angrily. "Listen here, I-!"
"Actually Mr. Gladly," Taylor was on her feet and heading for the door before he could answer. "I know what Aisha is talking about, and it is very serious. I'm sorry, I have to go, family emergency!"
"Taylor, wait-!"
Taylor ignored him, running out alongside Aisha and down the hall before he could stop either of them.
They stopped about a minute later on the second floor of the school. Taylor wheeled on Aisha, looking her firmly in the eyes. "How bad is it?" She demanded firmly.
Aisha held her phone up in response. A text from Chicago with a video included was prominently displayed. One click, and the video played from the start.
"-Reporting to you live from the PRT Headquarters, where an inside source has just confirmed that the identities released earlier today are indeed the civilian personas of the standing forces of the Empire Eighty-Eight, and that warrants for their arrest have been put out by none other than Director Costa-Brown herself. This will be a tremendous-!"
Aisha clicked the phone off, her face set in borderline panic.
The Composer fought to keep her breathing steady, trying to stay calm. Her mind flew through several facts for a moment before her fists scrunched up in fury. She wheeled around and began marching towards the room. "Give me the rundown." She ordered frigidly.
Gangsta nodded hastily as she followed behind her. "Chicago says that the information is legit. It's gone national, it's in-depth and it's thorough. The E88 are totally blown. What's worse, Kaiser's called a meeting of everyone he can gather. A war meeting. Boss..." She sped up to look her friend in the eyes. "Some of their goons suspect Chicago, suspect the Reapers. And word is that the rest of the Empire do too."
The Composer growled angrily. "That's what the real culprit most likely wants. We need to diffuse this situation before things go nuclear. Anything else I should know?"
"Uh..." A buzzing drew Gangsta's attention to her phone. She glanced at it... then froze in her tracks. "Purity has a daughter." She breathed in horror.
The Composer whipped around and stared at her in disbelief.
The phone buzzed again and Gangsta's hand whipped to her forehead. "And Child Services just took her, fuck!"
A moment of silence, then the Composer turned around and started to run, Gangsta hot on her heels. "Call Chicago, tell him to get as many Reapers together as he can and get that girl back to her mother! Everyone else, high alert and ready to rumble at the drop of a hat."
"And what about us?" Gangsta panted.
The Composer turned up a flight of stairs, running up them two at a time before reaching a door and shouldering her way out unto the roof.
Her hands clamped down on her clothes, and suddenly the fabric shifted.
Unseen folds moved up and out, covering her arms, leg and face. Colors flowed and shifted, until the Composer was left wearing a muddy brown balaclava and tactical vest over what appeared to be a completely casual set of civilian clothes.
Behid her, Gangsta's clothes underwent a similar shift, decking her out in her usual camo/beanie outfit.
Waltz's work had definitely been a sound investment.
"We're going to stop a war."
And with that, their shoulder blades erupted in static and the pair took off towards downtown as fast as their wings would allow.
-o-
"ShitshitshitshitSHIT!" Brandish cursed as she yanked her costume's gloves on, stumbling a bit as she hopped around and tried to force her feet into her boots. "Damn it all... MARK, HURRY UP!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Her husband called back as he struggled into his padded chestpiece. "What are you so worked up about? Isn't this a good thing? E88 gets taken down, Fleur finally gets justice..."
"I'd accept that if the information release had been covert!" She shouted back in frustration. "With things as public as this, the Empire is going to panic! Cornered rats bite the hardest. God alone knows what they'll do once the PRT starts cracking down. And if Child Services goes so far as to take Purity's daughter..." She shuddered at the mere thought. "No, we need to get out there and help keep the peace as much as we can, now!"
Brandish finished yanking her uniform on, darted down the hallway towards her front door, threw it open...
"CAROL!"
And was almost bowled over by the glowing woman who plowed into her on her doorstep.
It took Brandish a minute to realize who the sobbing person clutching at her was. And when she did...
"Purity!?" She gaped in shock.
The Parahuman was a shell of her usual self, sobbing and shaking miserably.
"Please..." She gulped. "You need to help me... they took her... they took Aster, I-I don't know where else to go, please..."
Brandish stared at her stupidly for a second before bringing a hand up to pat her on the back hesitantly. "Uh... there there?"
The light illuminating Purity slowly flickered out as she looked up at her old foe, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Child Services. They... they came and took her... I c-couldn't do anything... I don't know where Aster is, where my baby is... p-please, you're a lawyer, I'll pay you whatever you want, just please... help me get my daughter back..."
Brandish's mind was a mess. Here she was, holding one of her most prominent enemies helpless in her arms. Logic dictated that she should strike now, take her out while she was weak so that she wouldn't hurt anyone else ever again.
Emotion, on the other hand... emotion reminded her of the night they'd spent drinking tea and exchanging war stories.
Emotion reminded her what she would have done if someone had taken Victoria when she was younger. What she would have done if she'd been taken today.
Emotion won.
Slowly, Carol brought her other arm up and gently hugged the hysterical woman. "There there..." She reassured gently. "It's alright. I'll get Aster back, I promise... First, you have to tell me: how did that information get out?"
Suddenly, the light was back and more vicious than ever. "The Reapers..." Purity growled furiously, her misery burned away by pure, unadulterated rage. "One of them, Chicago, is an informant, and a good one at that. He could have easily gotten the information somehow. They ruined my life, they took my-!"
FWOOSH!
Her tirade was cut off by a gout of flames next to both her and Brandish that caught their attention.
Brandish blinked in shock before identifying the hooded figure standing there. "A Reaper?!"
Purity focused on the bundle in his arms. "ASTER!?"
Before either of them could react, Psycho hastily shoved the baby into her arms, tossed an envelope at Brandish and warped away again in another burst of flames.
Brandish fumbled with the envelope for a second before she tore it open and hastily scanned the contents of the letter within. "'We are not responsible for this, we are so sorry for your pain, consider these actions as a peace offering, please please please don't kill us...' Well, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that they didn't do this. You?"
Purity didn't hear her, far too engrossed with clutching her daughter gratefully. "Shh... shh... it's alright, it's alright, you're safe now, baby, you're safe... Mommy's never going to let anyone take you again, you're safe..."
Brandish stared at her silently for a moment before groaning as the situation's full implications hit her, causing her to groan and knead her forehead miserably. "Yeah, you're both safe, but now I have to deal with the political mess this is going to cause..."
'How the hell am I going to break it to her that she's going to need to give Aster back until I can get things sorted out without her killing me!?'
-o-
The air was tense in the Empire's warehouse was tense. Everyone, from the highest of lieutenants to the lowest of thugs and dealers could feel it. The very air was still enough that you could cut it with a knife.
Worst of all... were the capes. Night, Fog, Crusader, Cricket, Stormtiger, Krieg, Rune, Alabaster, Victor, Othala. All of the Empire's standing forces, bar five, were scattered along the border of the crowd. None of them moved, none of them said anything. They didn't need to. Their stances and general demeanors said it all.
They were livid. And they wanted blood.
Suddenly, all attention was drawn to the stage at the front of the warehouse as Kaiser marched up, flanked by Fenja, Menja and Hookwolf.
The leader of the Empire was deathly quiet as he slowly swept his gaze over the assembled forces. Finally, he drew himself up to his full height, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Today," Kaiser started imperiously, his voice resonating throughout the building, "A grave injustice has been inflicted upon us. Today, the lives of myself and my parahuman colleagues have been stolen from us, in their entirety. Us, the vanguards who safeguard our fine nation and way of life, have been unjustly assaulted. Our homes, our livelihoods, our families are now in jeopardy. I will willingly admit..." He bowed his head darkly. "I have my doubts that the Empire will last through the month. If at all. But..." His gauntlets squealed as he clenched his fists darkly. "I swear to you... If we must go? We will not go quietly. No... we will go violently. Very, very violently. In our death throes, we will lash out at those who injured us, and we will do our utmost best to make. Them. Suffer."
Kaiser crossed his arms definitively as he watched the reactions of his followers.
"And I think that we all know who is responsible."
"No you don't Kaiser!"
Little under a hundred heads turned simultaneously to watch as someone flew through the warehouse's doors and above the crowd before alighting on the stage across from Kaiser.
"And I think you know it, too." The Composer stated flatly, crossing her arms and dismissing her wings in a swift burst of static.
Kaiser crossed his arms and slowly turned to face her. "Composer. You've come alone?"
"I don't need any backup." She responded quietly.
"Oh? You think you can fight the entirety of Empire Eighty-Eight simultaneously?" Kaiser took a menacing step towards her, the sound of his boot reverberating throughout the warehouse. "How arrogant of you."
The Reaper shook her head in denial. "No, not arrogant. Trusting. Because I trust that we can easily resolve this situation without needing to resort to violence."
Kaiser scoffed exaggeratedly. "No violence? No violence!?"
Without rhyme or reason, a wave of blades erupted around the Composer, all halting mere inches from her neck. She didn't flinch, not even as Kaiser marched up to her and towered over her menacingly.
"No. Violence," He repeated in quiet disbelief. "You believe, that after all you and yours have done to us, that the situation can be resolved without violence. Tell me, little girl..."
He leaned forwards, so that they were eye to eye. "Why would I ever let you leave this building alive?"
The Composed craned her neck as far as she could, her neck straining against the blades holding her captive. "Because we. Didn't. Do this."
Kaiser bit out a harsh laugh as he stepped back from her. "So you claim innocence? And what! Pray tell, is your evidence?"
"I don't need evidence, Kaiser," the Composer responded flatly. "All I need is what you lack."
"And that would be?"
"Logic."
SHINK!
Once anew, the Composer refused to flinch, even as Kaiser held a blade he'd summoned from his gauntlet's palm right between her eyes. "Choose your next words very carefully."
The teenage Parahuman tilted her head just enough to look Kaiser in the eye. "If you're going to convict us, then do it properly. You need two things: means and motive. Both of which you would know and have by now if you stopped and actually thought for a second," The look in her eyes softened slightly. "Kaiser. Max. I might not like who you are and I certainly don't like what you do... but I can respect the fact that you're a human being. I can respect that you've lost everything and that it's the reason why you're forgoing due process. But when you come after my people? That's where I draw the line. So try and go about this rationally, will you? For both your sake and for mine."
"You have means, Composer," Kaiser snarled viciously. "That arrogant bastard informant of yours."
"And what about motive, huh?" The Composer tilted her head accusingly. "Kaiser, we hosted a party promoting peace and freedom not two days ago! We fought together to stop a war that was hurting everyone! I'm alright with insulting you, taunting you, even defying you and yours when you step out of line. That, I'm alright with. But outright attacking you like this, destroying you?" She shook her head definitively. "No. Not today, not ever. The Reapers have no motive to harm the Empire."
Kaiser was silent, his head bowed as he thought on the Reaper's words. Finally... He lowered his arm, both the blade in his hand and the ones in the ground slowly receding into oblivion.
"Do you know who the real culprit is?" He asked quietly.
The Composer nodded. "I do."
"How?"
"Process of elimination. Let's start with the heroes: The Protectorate might have enough Thinkers for means, but they prefer the status quo, so they have no motive; they're merely pawns with no choice but to act on the information given to them. New Wave has neither means nor motive, so they're out. And as for the villains? With the Undersiders, Tattletale might be a possibility, but I can't think of any immediate issues they might have with you."
"That dog-fucker, Bitch-!" Hookwolf started darkly.
"Allow me to make myself clear: issues pressing enough to kill over." The Composer cut him off harshly. The two glared at each other firmly until Hookwolf finally relented and backed down.
"Anyways, as I was saying..." She continued. "Faultline might have motive from someone paying her, but she has no means. And the Merchants?" She snorted derogatorily. "I think their reputation speaks for itself. Uber, Leet, Circus Trainwreck, the Travelers... all too small-time and too independent, none with both means and motive."
The Composer crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly. "There's only one real option present, and I think we both know who it is, don't we?"
Kaiser needed only think for a second before his entire body tensed with untold fury. Judging by the curses of anger that sounded out from the crowd, the rest of his faction had come to the exact same conclusion.
The Empire's ruler wheeled around and started to stride away. "I thank you for your aid, Composer," He growled darkly. "We will handle this matter... personally."
He was stopped before he could get very far by a hand clamping down on his shoulder. Kaiser slowly turned his head to stare at the Composer in disbelief.
"No," she stated definitively. "you won't."
"If you think that I'm going to let this matter go-!" Kaiser started tersely.
"Oh hell no, I'm with you. That slimy snake's head needs to be crushed, once and for all," The Composer cut him off hastily, "But I want in."
"... elaborate."
"Coil broke the rules. The unwritten rules, that not even I would dare to break. There's only one punishment for that. If you're going to do this... I suggest you do this right. Oh, and don't worry about the details..."
A spark of determination glinted in her eyes.
"I've got them handled."
-o-
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
A moment of silence, followed by the door unlatching and swinging back a bit, allowing Gregor the Snail's pasty green face to peer through the gap.
He contemplated Chicago's form for a moment before grunting in the negative. "We're closed for business. Come back when we're open."
The Case 53 closed the door definitively.
Chicago instantly whipped his phone out and flicked it on in less than a minute. "Shamrock. 19 years old, red hair, six foot three, 160-odd pounds. Can manipulate probability, allows for inhumane luck. She has a stylized tattoo of a sideways U on her shoulder blade, and she still has her memory!"
The door swung open, and Gregor stared at Chicago in shock.
"She has all of her memory," The Reaper repeated firmly. "She showed up out of nowhere and started to act autonomously with absolutely no help from anyone. She managed to get back on her feet with ease. She has her memory, I guarantee it. I can tell you where she is. What state, what city, what address, hell, I can get you the name of the salad bar she gets lunch from every. Damn. Tuesday. But you're going to have to earn it."
Gregor was silent before replying. "Name your price."
The Reaper nodded definitively. "Get Faultline and the rest of your crew ready. The Composer has a job for you. We move in ten or less."
Gregor nodded in understanding before turning around and reentering the club.
-o-
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
Armsmaster grunted darkly as he marched towards the door to his lab, gesturing for it to open.
"I thought that I told everyone that I wasn't to be dis-!"
He trailed off as he caught sight of the person standing in his doorway.
Grunge tipped his hat respectfully. "The Composer sent me. She says she's calling on the Protectorate to do their duty."
Armsmaster scowled in exasperation. "You tell your Composer two things: first, we do not act according to her will, and second, we couldn't if we wanted to. We're on thin ice for the party with the Director as is. We can't be involved with this."
He turned around and started to walk away. "I'll do you the professional courtesy of not calling security so long as you leave right now." He gestured with his hand, prompting the doors to slide shut...
CRUNCH!
And turned around at the sound of crunching metal, staring as Grunge held the two doors open with his claws.
"I'm afraid I wrongly expressed myself," Grunge grunted. "The Composer wasn't talking about your duty as a hero. She was talking about your duty as a Parahuman."
Armsmaster blinked in surprise. He stood silent for a moment before gesturing again, causing the doors to slide back as far as their damaged frames would allow.
"Elaborate." He ordered firmly.
Grunge nodded thankfully, grinning beneath his bandanna.
-o-
It was an average day for the guards patrolling Coil's base. For most of the mercenaries and soldiers, the totality of their job description was to stand guard on the varying corridors and entrances to the supervillain's expansive base. In the eyes of most of the grunts, this was a futile task.
Perhaps the most boring job of all was guarding the thick metal doors that acted as the hideout's front door. After all, the base was totally secure. No one knew its location and so no one who wasn't meant to be there ever came.
At least... until today.
There was no sign, no word of warning, no chance to react.
All anyone knew was that the vault-like doors suddenly buckled inwards before outright exploding, sending chunks of metal and a wave of smoke and dust hurtling into the room.
Though momentarily shellshocked, the mercenaries hastily rallied with professional practice, lining up and pointing their weapons at the gaping breach in their security.
Slowly, second after second ticked by, and the smoke settled down, allowing the mercenaries to reclaim some of their visibility.
As the dust settled, several figures became apparent as they stepped out of the smoke...
"Hello, soldiers."
And the mercenaries all suddenly knew the extent to which they were screwed.
The Composer strode forwards casually, one hand in her pocket, the other tapping her P90 paintball gun against her leg.
"I suspect that you'll all be wanting an explanation for this incursion, won't you? Well honestly, it seems to me..."
Hookwolf snarled furiously as his bladed form trode forwards, each heavy step digging furrows into the cement ground.
"Like that would be rather obvious. But nevertheless, allow me to enlighten you."
A gout of flame flickered out of Spitfire's gasmask, illuminating the soulless lenses menacingly.
"Your boss, Coil? He broke one of the rules. One of the very, very important rules we Parahumans play by."
Miss Militia racked her shotgun threateningly, her eyes filled with bloody murder.
"He exposed the identities of other Parahumans. Now, it doesn't matter who they were, or why, but the end result is always the same."
The nigh-demonic scrap-heap of a monster truck rumbled and roared furiously as its driver revved its engines.
"When that happens, everyone comes after the perpetrator with everything they've got, no holds barred. Be they heroes..."
Glory Girl popped her knuckles as she floated up above, cracking her neck back and forth in savage anticipation.
"Villains..."
Grue was silent as he marched forwards, darkness spilling off of him like an unholy inferno.
"Or even people who are usually neutral." The Composer brought her gun up and clicked its safety off. "Like me."
The Composer turned her head to glare venomously at a nearby security camera.
"Congratulations, Coil."
She hefted the gun and pointed it at the camera lens.
"You fucked up. Now you're going to have to live with it for the rest of your life."
One bang, and the feed went dark.
"However long that might be."