5.3

'We've yet to receive comment from official channels, but sources are saying that the recent attacks are indeed the work of the Ward designated as Ashburn. As it has been reported, Ashburn was a recent addition to the Brockton Bay Wards who has fallen sway to mind dominating powers, otherwise known as 'Master' abilities. I am standing here in what could pass as 'ground zero.' As you can see behind me there is massive fire damage in at least two buildings, the PRT has cordoned off the area so we can't go further, but you can see from here the torn up husk of a Tinker designed vehicle. One created by the Parahuman criminal known as Squealer, second in command of the Merchant gang. Who was captured just recently before these events in yet another attack by the Ward. Sources are that on this occasion the person driving the particular vehicle behind me was, infact, the Parahuman criminal known as Skidmark. As viewers will recall, Skidmark is the leader of the Merchant gang. It is, at this time, suspected that he managed to escape the altercation last night. The dozen other criminals in his employ, however, were not nearly so fortunate. There are reports of injuries that range from simple bruises, to lacerations and broken bones. Given her attack here and her attack just a few days ago on Squealer as well as the Undersiders it is clear that the Master that has taken control of the unfortunate Ward has found a very powerful weapon with which to use to attack his or her enemies. We can only hope that the PRT will soon be able to catch and help this poor young woman before she can unwillingly cause even further harm, especially in light of recent news-"

I clicked off the TV. "Is there a point to asking me to watch that?" I asked into the phone as I walked to the kitchen.

"Yes Taylor. I've told you repeatedly that I want to help you but that's gonna become more and more impossible if you keep making yourself infamous. Why the hell did you go after the Merchants? Twice!? I didn't ask you to do that!"

"Not my fault." I would have shrugged, but then I realized I was on the phone. "I went out, they ran into me."

"What the hell did you go out for?"

"A nightly walk." I answered blithely. It was the truth in a sense. I wanted to see where exactly I was, what was close by, who may have been close by. I knew where I was geographically speaking but little to nothing else.

"Teenage girl walking alone in the middle of the night in this neighborhood. Merchant's took the bait." I answered. "Didn't go out with that intention. Wasn't exactly gonna let them go afterwards though."

"And the base? What you're describing is an alleyway brawl, not you hitting a full on base and fighting Squealer. And going after Skidmark last night? There's poking the beehive lightly with a stick, and then there's bashing it like a goddamn piñata!"

"One ran." I didn't immediately realize I was smirking with the memory. "Figured he was running for his friends. Followed him straight to the base. Squealer just so happened to be inside…" I paused, going over the ensuing fight in my head. "Her first mistake was running me over. The second was turning around to try again."

A sigh on the other end of the line. "Goddamnit Taylor. We didn't need the Merchants now. Now that I do need you to hit someone this is just gonna look bad on you later."

"Didn't you hear." I laughed. High pitched, and almost unfamiliar really. "I'm being Mastered." More cover ups. More bullshit. More lies, always more lies...

"There's only so much that's gonna do before they see you as too fucking dangerous Taylor! You have to start taking this seriously! That explains Squealer. Now what happened with Skidmark?"

"Maybe I just went out for another walk. And maybe they just didn't learn their lesson the first time."

"...You're being too aggressive… and you need to stop going on walks… "

"Very enthusiastic walks…" I drawled. "Plus I didn't kill anyone. Those were your rules right? Never said anything about doing work on my own. Maybe I'll get Skidmark in a couple of days. Maybe finish the job on another moonlight stroll."

I heard a curse on the other end. I didn't catch the first part of what was said. Sounded vaguely like Running out of time.

"Look, I can't find Tattletale, it looks like you scared her pretty damn good and she's gone underground. What I have found are the spies Coil has in E-88. There's three of them. I don't have a location on two of them right now but I do have the location of one."

I raised an eyebrow. "Coil has spies in E-88?"

"They're the biggest gang in the bay, with guns, billions in revenue, and more Parahumans in their roster than small countries; you're saying you wouldn't have your ear to the ground there? Yeah he's got spies. I'm sending you a picture of the one whose location I have right now. His name is Frank Button."

I nearly dropped the pan I was washing. "Button?" I snorted.

"Heh. I know right. He prefers to go by his nickname for obvious reasons. Smiley"

"Frank 'Smiley' Button?" There's no way this was for real.

"...Hahaha. Ya know. I bet his E-88 friends named him that just to be able to introduce him to new recruits."

I felt a smile start at my lips. I had to admit, if it was true, it was funny.

I heard a breath across the line. "Okay, right, well enough of that. Word is 'Smiley Button' is working right now in one of the E-88's Gun warehouses. For their… how would one say every three months? Tri-monthly? Anyway. One of the shipments of guns that they get every three months. You know since they stockpile and sell guns for that fabled 'Race War.' You know, the one that will bring about the end times, gloom and doom, fire and brimstone. Where the righteous white man will stand against the tides of barbaric african tribesmen and chinese warlords and build a utopian-"

"I get it." I deadpanned. "Get to the point."

"Sorry, the stupid must be a bit contagious. Anywaaay. Yeah. I'll be sending you the address right now. Major word of warning though. E-88 has a cape there. My sources are unclear as to whether it is Victor and Othala or Stormtiger. Either way, be prepared to face any of them, or extra thugs due to increased security. He's going to be there for the next few hours. I suggest you move fast. You have money from your Merchant raid?

"No."

"Well I left some at the bottom of your lower drawer. I've got to go."

I heard a voice at the other end. Didn't catch what was said but it was a male.

Then the dial tone.

I brought up the messages, downloading the picture and finding a mugshot of the guy.

This guy was a full on Devotee. Shaved head with a Nazi tattoo plastered over the side of his skull with a graffiti wall's worth of tattoos across his arms. Mein-Kampf branded across his chest.

I turned off the stove, and before I moved to shower and get dressed, I picked up the phone and called the cab company for a car. I hung up and got ready. By the time I was fully dressed, the clock read 5:15 P.M. I grabbed my backpack. I no longer had a helmet to work as a frame, running from Legend had cost me that, but power-memory, like muscle memory, should serve well enough.

I shouldered the pack and walked out the door, locking it on my way out. I got down to the curb and waited for the taxi that was a few minutes out.

Five minutes, practically on the dot. I found a taxi driving down the street. I waved to the driver.

The man looked at the building, then at me. "You live here?"

I shrugged.

He scoffed.

I wasn't gonna disagree.

I opened the door and sat down, when I looked, I got a better look at the man. Big guy with a big red nose, like he had a cold. His beard covered the whole of the lower half of his face. He looked heavy set. "Where to?" I looked down at the address on my phone. I told him. He nodded and turned back around.

"Gonna be a long drive, got the cash for it?" He growled. I nodded.

"I do. Just drive." He shrugged and started the car and began to drive.

We arrived in under an hour, as the location was across the Bay, towards the south end near some suburbs. The site was apparently some no name dollar-store. One with a truck bay entrance for 'merchandise.'

The cab driver pulled over eight whole blocks past. Wouldn't do for the guy to put two and two together when he saw the news. I paid and got out, marching back after he was out of sight.

It was closed up front. On a Sunday at nearly seven that could pass as normal. I did hear some voices inside as I got closer though.

I reached behind me, unstrapping the backpack, marching around behind the store, searching for isolation, and the back entrance...

(X)

The crate was opened with the signature groan of strained wood, long wood nails popping free of where they'd been hammered in. That packaging that looked like synthetic straw nearly burst out of its confines. Smiley finished prying it fully open before he grabbed the bullshit hay and pulled it free, revealing rows and rows of rifles.

Smiley turned back to him with a thumbs up.

He talked into the phone again. "Yeah, shipments made it, you can tell the boss the merchandise looks all good for now, as usual." He added after a thought.

"Yeah sure. Any idea why he's not checking this crap himself?"

"Some kind of meeting. Fuck if I know what its about though." He answered.

A scoff on the other end. "Right, whatever. I'm gone the-"

There was a startling bang. The sound was so loud it echoed through the back of the store and made him jump, resonating through his ears. The light now coming in through the back door told him easily enough that someone had just knocked it down.

"The hell was that?!"

"Not sur-"

The next thing he saw, one of his soldiers was tossed like a rag-doll, clear across the warehouse to smash into a crate, smashing it to bits and scattering the contents all over the place.

He ran, moving to get line of sight and find out who the hell was stupid enough to come here. Around him he could hear his men cocking and loading their guns.

Then, the side of the warehouse closest to the door was on fire.

Brute? Fire?

"Huh. Didn't think she'd be this stupid."

"What the fuck is going on!"

"A rabid bitch that's gotta be put down. I'll call ya back when I'm done."

(X)

I stepped through the doorway, finding one of the skin-heads just to my left, turning to face me, hand reaching for a pistol at his waist. I stepped in close, hand lashing out to grab him by the face before tossing him across the warehouse. He hit a crate with a crash, scattering cans of something across the ground. I looked to the other crates around me, hearing the shouts and cocking of various guns all around.

I conjure a fireball in my hand, tossing it into the boxes closest to me.

Fire bloomed from the cardboard and packaging stuffing. Taking to the torch turning to more ash that I could use.

One of them rounds a corner, shotgun in hand, he shoots me dead in the chest, the full shotgun shell actually makes me cough, the air shoved out of my lungs before I let my hand lash out, smacking the gun out of his hands before grabbing him by the skull and slamming him into the crates right beside us with a bone jarring crack.

His whole body goes limp and slack, he would have collapsed if I hadn't grabbed him, holding him up by the scruff of his jacket and moving him ahead of me as a human shield.

I didn't need one, but it'd be easier to take two or three seconds to actually look around before I was getting shot at again.

I take two steps forward, around the edge of the boxes, and find at least six of the gangsters taking aim with guns or arming themselves.

That one there… towards the back, loading a rifle. Smiley Button.

Suddenly I felt something hit me. I didn't feel it per se, but it was strong enough to lift me off my feet and slam me onto my side.

I scramble up, recovering as I look in the direction the attack had come from.

Stormtiger.

The muscular tattooed chest, baggy jeans, chains, and white tiger mask. Yup, definitely him.

Aerokinetic with some enhanced smell if I recall correctly.

"Thought you were smart enough to stick to the small-fries." Snarled the villain. "You wanna fuck with the Empire now little girl? We're way out of your league..."

I open my mouth to speak, to tell him to get out of my way. I just want the one agent but… I stop.

Its not because he won't believe me, not because he won't get out of my way, or because it'll tip off the other two spies in the E-88.

No.

Those thoughts are secondary. A foot-note.

The chains around his wrists rattle as he thrusts his hands out, air blasts speeding my way. I rush to the side, a second before splinters and shredded remains of whatever pelt me in the back as I move, ducking in and around the maze of boxed up store supplies.

He rushed after me, I could hear his air blasts as they went off like explosions without the fire.

He rises up, high as he can, head nearly touching the overhead ceiling. What little cover the stacked boxes offered me is all but gone now, he's high enough to see me clear over them.

He thrusts out his hand and I toss a fireball.

Not at him, even so the razor blades of wind scatter the flames in an impossible pattern, tongues of fire dancing straight above me as some were blown to the side, tossed back down towards me, and some continued straight through the wind to continue on their original trajectory.

The tube light bulbs right next to him.

The man lets out a shout as sparks exploded across the roof, a shower of discharge that fell all over his shirtless torso before he could pull away.

His flight was thrown off, one hand covering his eyes as he wobbled in the air. I jump, moving to tackle him, get in close where my strength would give me the biggest advantage.

Stormtiger isn't as defenseless as I thought though. He swipes his hand, and I feel the wind battering me to the side, the currents of razor sharp wind and gravity throwing me off enough for my hands to miss him by inches. I hit the ground hard, I actually feel it even as I roll.

Then I'm under fire by a half dozen screaming Nazis.

One can never appreciate just how loud gunfire is. Movies have more gunshots in two hours than most people will hear in five lifetimes outside of a battlefield. Its honestly loud enough that it hurts, the vibrations of multiple assault rifles and handguns rattle my teeth and the impact of every bullet against my ash armor is felt like a paintball strike against bare flesh.

I'm on my feet and moving as I hear Stormtiger growl above me.

I don't hide behind the crates this time.

I tear them open.

Wood, packaging, paper-towels, foods, cleaning utilities, alcohol, aerosols.

I put them all to the torch.

The crates topple over as I rip through them and as I moved my hands lit up in flames, setting everything alight, tossing smoke and heat up in the air, giving me cover as the flames spread like they have a mind of their own. Taking to everything like they were soaked in gasoline. I hear Stormtiger's voice above me.

"Fuck! Keep her away from the shipments!"

The flames burned all around us now, spreading like a pool of quicksilver across the ground. The smoke was thick enough to affect even me.

I reach the wall, hugging it as the fires began to consume the entirety of the faux store's storage area.

I caught a glimpse of Stormtiger through the smog. I stepped forward to pounce when someone else stumbled right in front of me. Hacking and coughing as he placed his hand to the wall to guide him towards the exit.

He ran straight into me, grabbing me before he realized who exactly I was.

I laughed as he reeled.

"You don't smile much. Mr. Button. " I barely recognized my own voice, couldn't tell you if he heard it.

His eyes widened, when he moved his rifle to shoot I…

...Attacked.

Didn't even think about it honestly. I had an abundance of ash at my disposal and when I made it move it was a… reflex.

The ash swept up from the ground spinning and swirling around him, all grit and debris, the man screamed as he began to bleed.

Then I heard sirens.

PRT? Fire department?

Didn't matter, better not test my luck. I can't outrun Legend.

Could I beat him?

I shook my head. The fuck was wrong with me? It was Legend. A member of the Triumvirate. I…

...Could… beat him...

I shook my head and gave it no further thought as I moved to run. Can't get delusional.

I'm halfway to the door when I hear the squeal of tires and see some muscle-car screech to a stop just outside.

Someone steps out and before I can get a look at him through the glare of the setting sun

I just see the man replaced by a twisting mass of metal and clinking blades rushing straight towards me.

The thought barely hits me.

'Hookwolf.'

Then the wall between us is torn down by the mass of metal and I'm grappling with the fake beast as the metal screeches and howls. I'm shoved back into the burning storage area.

"I told you I'd deal with this!" Stormtiger shouted somewhere.

"Yeah- clearly its dealt with!" Hookwolf snarled, his voice hollow and echoing from wherever he was in the core of that monster. "Get whatever weapons you can salvage before the heroes show up!" I kept my eyes on the growing metal monster wolf in front of me. "Shoulda stuck to the Merchants bitch! No one fucks with the Empire and lives!"

Hookwolf's metal jaws opened with a screech, maw outstretched to bite me. I skirt to the side, a burst of flame smashing into his neck and staying there, the flames take to the surface but the blades simply grow back, blackened slag falling away with the fire to leave gleaming steel once again.

I growl and I'm grabbing two 'fangs' in my hand, holding a mouth full of razor blades that passed for teeth away from me, digging my heels in as harshly as I can, fires surging up from my hands to wreathe the snarling wolf's-head in dark red flame.

Its paw hits me with the force of a truck and I'm tossed aside, through the convenience store's back wall to crash into the aluminum cabinets that made up the aisles.

Hookwolf was pouncing straight through, tearing a bigger hole than I ever could, a living mass of slashing and stabbing blades. I could feel the force behind every blow. And they hurt. I punch, kick, and claw, shattering blades with every blow or melting them into slag only to see them simply reforge again.

I duck and weave, skirting past the attacks as I hear the E-88 goons still in the back, hear the pops and bangs as one of the weapon boxes has evidently caught on fire, shooting out unspent magazines as the flames ignited

The ash comes to me with barely a thought, the crack and snaps of bone, a familiar comfort to my ears before pillars of dark flame explodes right underneath him. Literally boring through the shifting metal.

I hear him snarl with anger, bull-rushing to the side, to get out from where he stood over the flames. The rear half of his body hitting the wall and shredding through it.

He spun me around. Grabbing me with what passed for his teeth as he spun and literally dragged my body across the concrete floor, scraping me across the rough surface before he tosses me away. I barely even know where I land. I guess it's behind one of the store's counters, just a dry wall away from the still burning warehouse.

I hear him tearing through more of the store, see the roof collapse as more and more of its architectural stability is lost to the fight. Plaster, cement, roofing, wires, and tubing falls into the store with a great crash and clatter. Pure debris snuff out the weakest of the flames.

I reach my feet and release a gout of fire at him. Only for something to hit my legs, making me fall flat on my face.

Stormtiger!

Hookwolf pounced, biting down, and I felt like I'd just been tossed into a woodchipper, dozens, maybe even hundreds of tiny blades trying to shred me to ribbons. The sheer volume of them was actually succeeding in thinning away the ash I used as armor before it could reform itself.

Ten seconds, maybe less.

The ash in the store moved like a living mass, flooding the entire area before it set on Hookwolf like locusts, stuffing itself into every crevice and space, every area of available room. I concentrated, able to focus on every speck of ash and feeling out the nooks and crannies of this alternate form of his and putting as much ash as I could in every single cleft of available space.

The E-88 cape kept changing, kept moving and shifting the blades, slowly keeping himself moving as best he could, though it was significantly slower.

I used all the force I could, pushing at the roof of his mouth with both hands, feeling the strain as I pushed with all my strength and focused on the ash around his mouth while keeping the ash around the rest of his limbs doing their job. The ash moved and formed a bar between his teeth, stretching upwards like a pair of the dentures dentists used to keep people from biting down. Every inch of hard won space was impossible to lose.

Then I was free. I pushed off with all of my strength, ducking away from a paw swipe as he tried to pursue.

I need to leave, now. The sirens are almost here. I need to get out, now. I turned tail and fled, hearing the most infamous E-88 lunatic cursing and straining to follow me with the ash between his joints slowing him down no matter how much he tried to shift and alter his form to keep moving.

"Get back here!"

I ignored him, bull-rushing straight through the side wall and continuing on my run.

I heard, and felt, the concussive force of an explosion somewhere behind me. I didn't do that. Did they have bombs in those shipments?

I heard the sirens, too close, way too close. When I looked down and found a sewer grate, my memories of all those books I liked to read came back.

This was a cliche even before 'Les Miserables.'

I ignored that part of my mind, which was now laughing hysterically somewhere. Lifting the manhole I reeled at the stink. I made a point to breathe through my mouth as I jumped down into it, pulling the covering back before I kept running.

I must have made it a city block before I heard the faintest sound behind me, the pop-pop of gunfire. Evidently some of the E-88 people didn't want to get taken in.

I felt the ash, still shifting and restraining Hookwolf. I'd managed to keep it so far and I could only imagine his diminished capacity against the heroes.

Maybe I should let him loose. Give those bastards a little surprise…

I shook my head, and kept the ash doing its job before continuing.

I didn't wade through sewage, thank god. Unlike most movies depictions sewers did have walkways and maintenance friendly markings for the people that had to work down here. I made damn sure I was standing on those nice places as I made my way through the underbelly of the bay.

My phone vibrated. I have signal down here?

I pulled it up. Three bars. Huh.

"Yeah?" I asked softly, coughing and gagging from the smell.

"Where are you?"

"Sewer."

"The hell are you doing down there?"

"Escaping." I snarled

"Alright well… look around, they should have street names down there similar to up here… I think. Never been in a sewer before.''

My free hand glowed with fire, giving me the light I needed to look around. On a wall, in bright yellow, it was painted. "Yeah. 40th avenue."

"Ok… ok go… anywhere and tell me when you find another street name so I can find you on the city map, more or less."

I walked in the same direction for who knows how many yards before getting the call. "Jefferson." I said.

"Corner of 40th and… Jefferson… ok… ok I got you on the map. Turn on Jefferson and keep going. Look for the sign that says… Washington and 25th avenue. It's a couple of miles down your right." I turned right and began walking down. It was quite a distance between 25th and 40th avenue. Then again, I needed as much distance between me and the PRT as possible.

"PRT is swarming the place and calling in fire department. Legend seems to be looking in every nook and cranny for you. Velocity is arriving within the minute."

I marched through the dark, my path lit by torchlight

As I walked I listened to the world above, the vibrations of cars passing overhead, the sirens of the police, the fire department, the ambulances. The sound of people going about their day to day just a few feet above me.

It was dark in this place… when did I snuff out the flame?

It didn't matter. I kept walking in the dark.

As I finally arrived, the sounds of the world bled away, becoming more and more distant til I realized it was gone entirely, leaving a sepulchral silence in its absence.

I called back as I finally reached 25th.

"You get there?"

"Yeah."

"Ok… turn right, six more blocks. You'll be at Roosevelt and Lexington..."

Roosevelt and Lexington… but that's-

"Winslow." I muttered.

"Its parking lot." Came the clarification. "One place I can think of with the least chance of people spotting you at this hour coming out of the sewer grates and the one place where PRT wouldn't think to look for you given your history."

…

…

"I'm sorry. If you really want… I guess I could try to search for another place, but you'll be down there for a while longer."

"Just forget it." I snarled, making my way forward. It was a place. One I had burned down to the ground. Smallest measure of justice I had ever gotten since my trigger. I'd done it myself. Not Militia, not the PRT. No one. Me.

"I'll call a cab to pick you up three blocks north of where you head out. Needless to say, lose the ash, ok? I'll call you in a few days. Lay low. Let me handle a few things on my end. Ok?"

"What things?" I asked.

"Keeping my ear to the ground. Finding out just how much you've pissed people off. If you've pissed them off. How close they might be to tracking you down. That sort of thing. Ok?"

"Fine." I said and hung up, the ash immediately falling away and back into the backpack as I pulled out my clothes and began to change.

When I finally pulled myself up and free, I was standing in Winslows' corpse.

There was very little left. The debris had been cleared long ago, what little remained of the building itself had been bulldozed and cleared out, a plastic tarp surrounded the lot. The state would build another school here eventually. That was the plan at any rate.

I marched out, navigating past the plastic tarp once I found the exit and making my way three blocks up where, as promised, there was a cab waiting for me.

I reached the cab, opened the door, and got inside.

"You Tally Herbert?" He asked.

I opened my mouth to speak, correct him when my brain caught up with my mouth.

"Yeah. That's me."

"Ride's paid for. Where ya headed?"

I thought. I didn't want to go back to that dive of an apartment. Didn't really feel like sitting around with four bare walls and a shitty TV.

"Know of any good places to eat?" I asked.

"That depends. We talkin' good but cheap eatin, good but expensive eatin', or just plain good?'

"Just plain good." I answered.

The man looked at me through the rear view mirror, I stared back.

"Yeah, I hear ya. Its a bit of a drive. I assume you want me to wait for you there?"

I shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

I saw a shadow pass overhead and felt my heart drop into my stomach I looked up through the rear windshield.

"Huh, Glory Girl must be off somewhere." He tuned the radio. Listening to the eight o'clock news.

"You know. Its kinda funny." He remarked as he turned on the car and pulled out. The news broadcasting the fire, and the current arrest of Hookwolf. "Gotta feel bad for that Ward that got herself Mastered but, shit, she's been doin more damage to the bad guys than the good guys have in months." He said.

I smirked…