Everything afterwards felt like a dream, soft and misty. A dozen trucks drove out to meet them. The PRT troopers that had been… given powers were still unconscious. They loaded up the injured, packing into the vehicles in silence.
Victoria huddled down at the end of the truck. Vista was slumped against her arm, fast asleep. Her head rolled back as the truck started to move, pulling her mouth wide open. She snorted; Victoria could feel her snores rumbling faintly through her shoulder.
The truck rocked side to side, sand crunching underneath the wheels as they climbed the bumpy road. Victoria turned around, peering out over the quiet sands. If she closed her eyes, she could still see the lightning, the crackling wave of power pounding towards her.
She exhaled slowly. For a moment, she let herself sink into the roar of the engine, the stuttering steps of the gearbox as they picked up speed. The wind lapped against her face, kissing cool through the collar of her suit.
There was still a line of gold streaking through the sky. It cast a pale glimmer that ebbed over the desert, and over the smouldering pit that used to be Shining Top. Sand was already shifting in. They swept over the road and into the pit in glittering rivers, slowly burying the sins of the past.
Legend split off from them in Texas. A group of severe-looking men came to meet him, along with two Protectorate members that Victoria didn't recognize. They were all wearing the deepest frowns, their bodies tense as they flanked Legend.
For a second, it almost looked like there was going to be a fight — Legend reared back and the agents reached for their weapons. The two parahuman Protectorate stepped in closer.
Then, his shoulders slumped. He shook his head. More murmurs, hissing amongst their breaths; the group hurried away without another word.
Victoria just watched blankly. Something just happened, but she was too exhausted to even think about it.
"What's done is done," Taylor Prime said. And there was no great shift in the world, no big energy wave washing over them from history. But she needed to see her family first before she could truly rest.
They only returned to Brockton Bay at dawn, by way of teleporter-cape. The sun was just peeking out, the sky a tinge of red on the horizon. There was still a streak of gold across the sky. Victoria narrowed her eyes at it when they disembarked from the chinook; she couldn't tell if it was smaller or not.
Miss Militia managed to pull some strings for them. Victoria felt overwhelmed, like her heart could burst at the lightest touch when she shuffled into the confinement room and finally saw her family. She dashed forward, nearly bowling Amy over as she dragged her over to their mother for a group hug. The next part was a haze. Victoria only remembered beaming, swiping the tears off her face and letting her hair get tousled by her dad. Her cousins were there too; they were quizzing Missy about what happened.
"What in the world is going on, Victoria?" Carol asked. "These PRT… bureaucrats refuse to tell us anything."
Victoria shook her head with a tired chuckle, her eyes half-lidded. "That's a long story. I'm just happy you guys are okay."
Lisa folded her arms and leaned her head against the window pane. She ignored the Dallon/Pelham family reunion, looking out instead. There were multiple lines of people snaking out of the PRT building; a steady stream of cars coming in and out between them. Most people were still in their pajamas.
"Hey," a voice suddenly called out beside her. Lisa rolled her head against the glass to see Victoria settling in next to her.
"Already done with the parentals?" she drawled.
"Vista's telling them about everything that happened. Thought I'll check in with you," Victoria replied.
"Afraid I'm gonna escape?"
"Are you? Going to escape?"
Lisa was quiet. Her breath fogged against the window.
"You know, Coil's dead." Victoria looked sympathetic. "Whatever you used to do, you don't have to do it anymore."
"So what? Is this a pitch to get me to join New Wave?" Lisa scoffed. She wanted to say something harsher; her power had already conjured up several observations; but she held back. Somehow, it was easier now to not unleash the darker thoughts she had.
"You're gonna have to queue up behind the PRT," she continued. "Bet they're way more excited to get a thinker as good as me into their ranks."
"Mitigating circumstances. You know my mom's a lawyer, right?" Victoria bumped her shoulder lightly. "And no. I mean, just being a normal person for once. Do something else that's not robbing banks or thwarting villains."
Lisa chuckled, despite herself. "Or not trying to stop the end of the world?"
Victoria flashed a smile. "Yeah. Like Fugly Bob's. Man, I could go for their Challenger right now."
"And die of a heart attack after surviving all that bullshit?" Lisa blinked at her slowly, tiredly. Her body felt like a giant yawn. "When I crash, I'm gonna sleep for a week."
"Sure. I'll join you," Victoria agreed. Her voice had the kind of dull monotone that came with exhaustion. "If you can knock me out so my body gets the hint?"
Suddenly Missy appeared behind them, clapping them both on the back.
"Ouch!"
"What the hell?"
"Doctors are here," she said, jerking her head towards the door where a team of labcoats just walked in. "Time to get checked out."
"Right." Victoria started to shuffle forward but Missy tugged her back. The younger girl was looking around furtively. "What?"
"I heard something just now."
"What do you mean? You were in the room with us the entire time?"
"Not important," Missy shushed her. "I heard that Alexandria's been arrested."
"Arrested?" Lisa raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah. Apparently, under the mask—" she waved a hand over her face, "—Alexandria was the Chief Director.
"Rebecca Costa-Brown."
Rebecca sat alone in the interrogation cell, this time on the other seat, facing the mirror on the wall. They didn't bother to handcuff her.
She was still covered in grey dust. There was blood smeared over her, a red line running up her cheek. The back of her suit was a ragged mess, and she could feel the coldness of the metal chair pressing against her.
Her fingers raked across her chest. The dried blood piled up on her fingernails and stained them a dark red. She rubbed against her palm, watching them fall off into dust. Eidolon still weighed on her, a phantom sensation in her arms. Rebecca kept her eyes on the mirror, trying to forget the blank, hollow stare of her friend.
The door opened with a bang. Catherine Kim stepped in, her heels rapping sharply against the linoleum floor.
"It's fine, just stay outside."
"Ma'am, we can't advise that—"
"You remember who's in that chair, right? If she decides to get violent, no one here is stopping anything. Just stay outside," she drawled, striding forward and letting the door slam shut behind her.
She dropped into the other seat heavily, throwing a small notebook and a pen onto the table. The woman folded her arms, lounged back against the chair, and stared at Rebecca.
"Catherine."
"It's Chief Director Kim."
"Congratulations. Tagg must have been unhappy."
"Don't." Catherine snapped. "Don't sit there and talk like we're just having lunch in your office."
Rebecca spread her hands out. "I'm… sorry. Force of habit," she conceded.
"Is it really?" Catherine asked, her voice cool. She folded her arms. "Or is it a calculated attempt to ingratiate yourself? You know, I was the one who did your classification. Thinker 6. I should have put that one even higher. I didn't account for sociopathy."
There was a long exhale. Rebecca looked at her quietly without another word.
"Was it all just an act? Was anything even real?"
"It was all real." Exhaustion lined Rebecca's words. She leaned forward, palms down in front of her. "I never set out to deliberately manipulate you."
Catherine tapped a fingernail against the table, the sound rattling loud against the bare walls.
"Do you remember the night we worked late? You took out that bottle of bourbon in your lower left drawer and poured out two glasses." The woman continued tapping the table as she spoke. Tap, tap, tick. "I was complaining about my ex-husband. You were complaining about a date you had at a Mexican restaurant downtown.
She glanced up with a cool gaze, her expression inscrutable. "Tell me that was true."
Rebecca seemed to wince slightly. She spoke, slow and tentative. "I was… trying to make you feel better."
"You told me to divorce my husband."
"Your husband was an asshole."
Catherine clucked her tongue. "Yes he was. That's the problem. I can't trust what's true or not with you." She crossed her legs and let her head fall sideways, looking at Rebecca as if trying to figure her out from another angle.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why did you do it?"
Rebecca sighed tiredly. "You saw Scion. We were trying to save the world."
Catherine leaned back against the chair. The metal frame creaked, the sound like static pinpricks in the silence. The entire world had seen Scion, fighting against a mysterious woman in the sky. Mount Everest had reportedly split into two. Three dormant volcanoes erupted in Indonesia. Glenn almost quit on the spot when Catherine asked him to draft a response.
She picked up her notebook and clicked on her pen. "What happened in Shining Top? Scion was seen heading there last. Out of the 100 men you brought there, only 20 returned. 12 of them are now newly triggered parahumans."
"Scion was an unexpected development. I was trying to trap Cardinal. Taylor Hebert. Or any of her doppelgangers. We had no information on her then." Rebecca paused, rapping the table with her knuckles. "I doubt we have any new information now. I was trying to determine what exactly was going on with them."
Catherine wrote something in her notebook, circling it several times with a frown.
"You mean, trap her off-world. Legend said you disappeared into a portal," she said.
Rebecca worked her jaw for a moment. "Yes. It was clear that disabling her time technology alone was not sufficient to render her harmless. I took the necessary steps to protect the men and take her out of the equation."
"That's an interesting perspective." Catherine laughed humorlessly. "Do you just lie on instinct? You left your command and absconded with our target, and this is somehow you doing us the favour?"
"Any information I obtained would have been shared with the PRT." Rebecca took a moment to gather her words. "I'm not going to deny that I worked for two organizations. But our goals were aligned. We were both trying to build a safer world."
"Maybe you were," Catherine acknowledged. She flicked her pen against the paper. "We picked up your colleague, Number Man, in Houston. Also known as Harbinger, from the original Slaughterhouse 9. A designated villain, and also a key member of your group."
She curled a page over. "Then, Doctor Mother. The ringleader of your band, right? Legend told me about how you all got your powers from a vial." She glanced up for a moment. "Interesting how the rumours were true after all. He said that he was approached in a hospital when he was there for treatment. Was it the same for you?"
Rebecca narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
"This is an interrogation, Rebecca," Catherine reminded pointedly. "Yes or no, it's a simple question."
The other woman clenched her hands, hesitating with the answer on the tip of her tongue. Her brows furrowed.
"Yes."
"You were underage then," Catherine stated matter-of-factly. She continued without waiting. "Were you suffering from a terminal illness as well?"
"Stop," said Rebecca calmly, straightening up. Her expression shuttered. "I know what you're trying to do. I wasn't manipulated."
"Again." Catherine gave her a piercing look. "It's just yes or no."
"Yes." The word was forced out tersely.
"We have her isolated, by the way." Catherine uncrossed and recrossed her legs the other way. She changed the topic blithely. "Along with the other two hundred and forty-six case-53s that were found with you." She set her notebook down, creasing it flat. "Really, Rebecca? Human experimentation?"
"There are more than 6 billion lives on Earth Bet. The number goes into the trillions when you count the other Earths." The heroine shifted, her face like steel with lips pressed thin. Despite the blood and the tattered costume, she looked every bit the Alexandria the world believed in — steadfast and unrelenting.
"We needed an army. We needed a magic bullet. There was simply no choice at all."
Catherine steepled her fingers, pressing her hands against her forehead. "I don't really want to debate morality with you. Do you have their names at least, so we can identify these people? I know you have a perfect memory."
Rebecca leaned forward, her head bowed slightly. When she spoke, her voice was low, her expression serious. "I can try to match the ones I remember, but I can't promise I know them all."
"Whatever you can do is appreciated," was the cool reply.
"Catherine. I wouldn't be sitting here if I'm not willing to help. Whatever information you need, I'll give it to you. I'll tell you everything you want to know."
The other woman let out a heavy breath. She looked at Rebecca with a complicated expression, her lips parted mid-word as if she was still stuck on what to say.
"Alright," she finally spoke. "Thank you." She flipped a page back on her notebook, spinning it sideways to show what she wrote and circled earlier.
"Let's talk about the name you mentioned previously. Who is Taylor Hebert?"
The sound of curtains parting on the rail startled the crowd in the room, raising a few heads as a group of doctors stepped out.
"Anne Hebert?" the lead doctor, an older gentleman with scruffed grey hair called out.
"Here!" A tall lanky girl hurried forward clutching a crinkled pamphlet. "I–It's Taylor actually, never Anne," she said automatically before shaking her head. "Sorry, not important. Are my parents okay?!"
"Taylor," the doctor corrected himself. He swept back to let her see her parents. They were already sitting up in bed with two nurses replacing their IV bags. "As you can see, they're already awake. Just some mild dehydration. I've set them up with some fluids and they should be able to check out by this afternoon."
"MOM! DAD!" Taylor rushed at them, grabbing her mother in a tight hug.
"Oof," the older woman grunted with a weak smile. "Hey there, little owl."
"Go easy on your mother, Taylor," Daniel chimed in from the side. His eyes were shining as he looked at his wife and daughter. "She's still feeling a little woozy."
"What?" Taylor reared back, turning to the doctors again. There were three of them; two stood silently behind the scruffy-haired lead, a man and woman with masks covering their nose and mouths. He wore a pair of thick glasses, the lenses tinted pale blue while she had a dark, intense stare, her eyes glinting onyx on her tanned face.
"Is she going to be okay? Do you guys need to keep her under observation longer?"
"You guys!" Annette sounded exasperated as she waved her hands. "I'll be fine, I'm sure the doctors have more serious cases to attend to."
"It's nothing," the doctor smiled, his cheeks pushing out against his mask. He looked at Taylor seriously. "Don't worry, your mother just has a slightly more serious case of dehydration, but it's still nothing serious. She'll be fine after getting more fluids in her. If you prefer the added reassurance, we can definitely arrange for another night of observation here."
Taylor immediately turned to her mother. "Mom, I think you should—"
"Thank you doctor, but we'll be fine," said Annette, cutting her off. "I'm fine, Taylor," she huffed, but softened when she saw tears glistening in her eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Taylor pulled her sleeve down over her hand and wiped her face. "Just feel like I lost you for a while."
"Oh, darling." Annette pulled her daughter in. "I'm alright. I'm right here."
Daniel nodded at them in thanks as the doctors discreetly took their leave. They walked in silence, sliding past the overflow of patients stuck out in the hallway until they reached a small, quiet room.
Miss Militia closed the door behind them. "How is it?" she asked.
"Their scans are normal, and their bloodwork is normal. From all appearances, both Heberts are completely ordinary, healthy adults."
"Even Annette Hebert?"
"She's completely fine, just mildly dehydrated. No lasting damage." The doctor combed a hand through his hair, making it even scruffier. "Do I want to know more about this?"
Militia shook her head. "You probably don't."
The doctor shrugged. "Sure." He handed the files to her. "Do you need me to keep them in for more tests? I can create a reason."
"It's fine. Just discharge them normally when they've recovered."
"Alright. If there's nothing else, I got to get back to work."
Hannah watched as he left, the door clicking shut behind him, muting out the busy cacophony outside.
"How about you? Anything jog your memory?"
Colin pulled his mask down against his chin and leaned against the table. He fiddled with his glasses — the lens flickered and buzzed with a recording of what just happened.
He watched Hebert rush at her mother again before pausing the video.
"Nothing." His eyes peered through the frozen image. "You said this girl was the parahuman that caused everything last night?"
"You don't find her familiar at all?"
"No."
"You saw the recordings from last night."
"I know." Colin rolled his head backwards, pulling his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I see the resemblance. But that's just not what I remember."
"In your memories, what does she look like?"
Colin winced. "I can't— I see her face, but I can't describe it."
Hannah blew out a breath. "What now then? Should we continue monitoring her?"
"We could, but… if what you say is true then Taylor Hebert is already gone." Colin folded his glasses, sliding them into his coat. "Anne Hebert is a new person. I doubt shadowing her would give us any new insight."
He straightened off the desk. "Besides, we might not even have the manpower. Have you heard?"
Hannah glanced up. "Alexandria?" she asked, her voice bland and emotionless.
"Yes. Dragon sent me more information. And there are so many clips of her in Central Park with the case-53s. I expect the news will break by tonight. When that happens, who knows if the PRT will still be around."
"You still trust Dragon?" Hannah picked at a loose thread on her coat. "You know she showed up with Taylor Prime at the end."
"I know. But I've worked with Dragon long enough to trust her judgment. And to hear her out."
"Oh?"
"She'll be coming to Brockton next week after clearing up some things on her end. You can join our meeting if you want?"
"This is the address?" Narwhal looked at the electronic lock on the door. "Should I break it?"
"No need." Dragon stepped forward, waving a hand. She was in a lighter, leaner suit, more suitable for indoor use.
Gears whirred from within the door and echoed through the wood panels as a bolt slid open. Narwhal glanced at her with a raised eyebrow before pushing the door open. They stepped carefully into the apartment, ready (more so in Narwhal's case) for any hidden traps.
It was an ordinary apartment. A cramped studio, the bedroom door shut tight. The late afternoon sun came through the window panes in stalks of yellow, the evening slowly curling around its edges.
Boxes piled high against the walls, along the floor, trailing into the kitchenette area where it even covered the stovetops. The only furniture was a small table pushed against the wall, bare except for a few blank pieces of paper.
Narwhal flicked a box open and pulled out a random file. Her brows furrowed as she flipped through the contents.
"What is it?" Dragon pulled out a second file from the same box. "This is… almost 20 years ago."
Narwhal flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning rapidly over the words. "It's a report on the Birdcage. More specifically, it's advising against the construction of it."
Dragon took the file from her as Narwhal walked to another box. She wrenched the covers open, randomly tugging out several more files.
"It's all the same." Narwhal breathed out, tossing the last document onto the pile. "Reports on villains, sightings of mysterious portals, all curtailed or diverted. Cauldron really put in their work."
"Yeah." Dragon flipped around the file in her hand. "You're not gonna be any happier about this one."
"What?" Narwhal turned around, squinting. It only took a millisecond for her to recognize the letterhead on the top. She strode forward, snatching the file up. "The Guild?" she growled. "They fucked with us too?"
"It's safe to assume they had their fingers in every pie."
"If I see Alexandria again, I'm going to break her nose."
"She's invincible."
"It's the pain that counts," huffed Narwhal. She looked around at the boxes again as she walked to the closed bedroom door. "Your lover really left a treasure for you."
Dragon followed behind. "She's not my lover. It's a physical impossibility."
They stepped into the room, only to stop short when they saw a large glowing vat in the middle. Thick power cables spooled over the floor, the hum of electricity from them so audible it felt like a tangible field clogging the air. Murky green light spilled out from within the vat; inside, a dark shadow floated amid the glowing liquid.
Narwhal wiped a hand over the glass, breaking through the frost and condensation. Dragon — her human avatar — bobbed into view. Her eyes were closed.
"Wow. Physical impossibility huh?" Narwhal raised an eyebrow. "Guess the both of you had the same thoughts."
Dragon picked a note off the dusty computer next to it.
If you're seeing this note, it means I chickened out of giving this to you in person.
Sorry ;) —Taylor
"Damn," Narwhal said. "Did she really create an entire human body for you?"
"It's synthetic, not fully human." The computer creaked as it booted up. An intense blue light filled the monitor for a moment. "She must have created it with the Dragon in her timeline."
"Alright, hold on for a minute." Narwhal raised her hands. "Too many revelations and explanations in one day. You still owe me a drink for dropping that AI bomb. Dropping it, mind you, literally hours before you told me about this place."
A wry chuckle echoed from Dragon's suit. Lights flickered in her eyes. "Fine, point taken. I've already ordered you a nice bottle of wine."
"Not just me. We're splitting that bottle. Me, and you in this fancy new body."
Dragon slowly squeezed her hand shut. She looked away, at the rest of the room. The wall on the other side was filled with paper, photos, and a map, all clinging on timorously with pieces of tape. Underneath was a small desk, overflowing with notes where scribbles ran off the margins, onto the wood and wall.
"I—I'm not sure."
"Why not? It's a gift, take it." Narwhal knocked on the glass. Her smile fell off as she turned solemn.
"People are gonna attack you for being an AI. The PRT might even move against you.
"She's giving you leverage. The information outside, the human body here. She's trying to make you as bulletproof as possible."
Dragon walked closer to the wall. She traced the words winding through the pieces of paper and looked at the face that was not quite hers in the many photos of Infinite, Cardinal, the other Taylors. Thick marker lines dashed red on the maps, tracing a path between cities with timestamps neatly printed next to every step.
"I know. It's just…" she trailed off, picking up the first sheet on the desk. "...complicated."
"Welcome to humanity." Narwhal sidled up to her. "You know, learning that you were a robot wasn't as surprising as it should be. You were always so put together, it's scary."
She glanced over the maps and plans. "Do you think she's really gone?"
"From the time I had with her…" Dragon trailed off distractedly, her head lowered. The paper crinkled in her hand as she scanned through it. There was only a small paragraph of words, followed by strings of mathematical notations.
COIL's power. Straddling two timelines, then choosing one— WHERE IS CONSCIOUSNESS? Outside of dimension? With shard? How. Need to isolate component. Need to integrate power. IF treat erased timeline and new timeline as two separate worlds for COIL power. THEN possible to still jump back after death?
"She's not the type to walk into death without a plan."
That night, in Brockton Bay, a pale light flickers in the eaves of the Hebert residence. Underneath, the moonlight spills through the window over Anne Taylor as she tosses around, murmuring in her sleep.
