Arc 6: Rapport

6.1

One Month Later...

It's dark in my dreams.

Endless dark.

I step on a floor that I can't see, move through places I don't recognize. A city of spires and white stone, torn open by a seething black.

A tower that pierces the skies like a lance from the earth to the heavens.

A castle wreathed in flame.

Another place beneath a poisoned, desiccated earth.

Another sinking into the ocean.

A great castle in the mountains over the hill and beyond the forest of graves and faux trees.

I see hands that are not my hands, with eyes that do not belong to me. Feel an alien laughter in my chest as I twirl and dance on bare feet through these dark realms. The dress I wear is rough, the fabric feels like sandpaper across my body and wisps around my limbs like smoke.

Smoke… smoke and ash.

I'm giggling as I move through this place… these… fragments searching for something… I'm searching for someone…

Without really knowing why.

I finally find it… find her. And this place she's made her own.

I feel the cold touch of fear over my face.

I see her, I see her and laugh, delighted.

I don't know her. I've never seen her before and yet the name still comes to me.

Alsanna.

She is speaking. Speaking but I can't hear the words, can't understand them.

It's a warning, a chastisement, a request, a demand, a plea, a wish. Is it anger to fuel bravery? Or anger to hide the fear?

I laugh and think words that are not mine.

"That is not your role sweet sister. The anger is not becoming. You are not the Wrath."

There is another emotion there, trailing from her but I do not sense it. That is to say, my mind wanders, somewhere else… another goal… another target to find in this place, these fragments of memor -

I woke with a start, my eyes flying open. I didn't gasp but I could feel my heart pounding beneath my chest. Its become a familiar feeling over the last few weeks. I calm, breathing slowly before I sit up. I look to the right of the bed, seeing the digital clock to my side

7:16 A.M.

Fifteen minutes before I have to officially get up.

I shrug, nothing for it now. Not like I'm gonna be able to get back to sleep now.

I sit up, my feet touching the cold steel floor as I walk across the room. My own little 'apartment' of over a month, such as it was.

Situated in the basement of PRT HQ, with all of my old things and gear transferred down here with me. A more 'permanent' version of the mobile holding cell/Hospital room Dragon made for me when I was initially captured. Filled with Tinker-tech motion sensors, hard light barriers, the ability to remove oxygen to snuff out the flames in a moment's notice, brute rated walls, the works.

Some days I was somewhat flattered at the extent of the effort. Most days I was only growing more and more annoyed, needing to remind myself of just how much damage I did and that I'd be in this for the long haul. This wasn't something people would get over in less than a month.

Funny thing that… I have to remind myself as to what I did.

Because it wasn't actually me… strictly speaking.

It was the other one. Not the woman who giggles, laughs and dances in fragments of memory in wistful aloofness. But the one that I've yet to find but the rest of the world already knows. That black armored monstrosity: Surtr.

Or as the woman in the memories recalls him, Raime.

Her 'knight.'

He did all that… or, at least, that's how it feels sometimes.

Maybe I did do it and just don't remember.

I find my clothes, stepping into the shower, and turning on the hot water.

Either way… it's difficult to feel 'guilty' enough about it such as to stay here in this role of 'prisoner' and yet not a prisoner.

Every now and again I have to turn on the news to remind myself as to my own infamy.

The 'Outcry' incident is what it's being called. The scream that had come out of my ash idols had been heard throughout nearly the whole city. The 'sickness' that had knocked Victoria, Legend, and even Eidolon flat on their asses had done the same for every living thing in a radius of nearly three miles or so. Small animals, insects, rodents and such had been killed outright.

The official word to the public was it couldn't happen to humans.

The unofficial word to everyone in the PRT was that the think-tank said not only could it happen to humans, but that the effects would be much more 'virulent'... whatever the hell that means.

Surtr, as the world knew him, was a cape who escaped in the confusion. The story was holding, so far. The 'Outcry' incident though, the world knew that was all me. My ash idols were too recognizable.

It was a 'side effect' of my breaking the Master's control, or so they said.

People were leery. But who the hell was gonna 'prove' otherwise.

When I chose to patrol, I was *supposed* to go with a Protectorate member. But out of the members in the PRT ENE, the only one that could have a chance of fighting me long enough for reinforcements to arrive if I chose to run was Dauntless and he wasn't always available. So, normally, I went out with either Weld, Flechette, or Vista, three capes that could potentially keep me in place until more showed up to help, usually I went with two at a time.

I can feel the trepidation from them. Like an oily filth over my skin. Like I was some kind of snake who would turn from non-venomous to venomous in an instant. Dauntless and Vista to a lesser extent… or perhaps they were just better at hiding it.

I stepped out of the shower, drying myself off with a new towel before putting my clothes on for the day.

When I stepped out it was 7:29 and I looked just in time to see it switch to 7:30.

At that precise moment I heard a knock on my door. Not a second early or late as usual.

"Ms. Hebert. I expect you awake and outside in fifteen."

I opened the door, and found myself staring up at my morning greeter for the last three weeks.

Sergeant Martin Sills-Jones.

The African-American man was tall, as tall as my dad, easily. But where dad was lanky and thin, Jones was all muscle, his head was shaved, the only hair he had was on his face with a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. Someone could have told me he was an olympic athlete and I wouldn't have been surprised.

Military suited him more though. I just don't see his face ever adopting anything more than the permanent scowl curling his lips.

He looked me up and down. "Woke up early today." He nodded. "Good. Come on."

With a sharp about face he turned down the hallway, marching away and up the stairs I followed, the door closing and locking automatically behind me.

We rose up through the walkways and passages of the PRT base and made our way to the cafeteria.

"The usual." He said as soon as we walked in. The man behind the counter nodded and in a few minutes we had our 'usual.'

Or at least the usual I had whenever I had a morning with Jones.

A chicken omelette with a side of grits, eggs, green peppers, and an apple wasn't exactly 'normal' in my book. I'd only ever heard of grits before meeting Jones. It wasn't exactly on mainstream menu this far north.

We sat down and ate.

"How did you sleep?" Came the routine question after the second bite.

"Well enough." I answered.

I wasn't much for killing silences.

We ate and finished at the same time. I had the feeling he paced himself to finish more or less at the same time I did. I was a fast eater. Two years of eating your lunch lightning fast tended to make that kind of thing a habit.

"Another uneventful patrol last night?" He asked even though he already knew the answer.

I nodded. "I'm honestly starting to wonder if they all decided to pick up and go."

I finished breakfast a bite or two before he did. He wiped his hands and mouth with a napkin, not commenting on my speed.

"An Endbringer attack is due in another three weeks at best." He answered. "The violence always tapers off beforehand."

I nodded. I'd heard about it, but never actually experienced it first hand. Hell, the Simurgh attacked Canberra just two or three weeks after my trigger.

A no-show for Scion. She came and went like she always did, completely unperturbed. At least five people had already gone completely insane inside the quarantine zone. More were expected. There were always more.

"Didn't think that by 'tapering off' you all actually meant 'non existent'." I replied.

"Getting bored, Hebert?" He asked, picking up the tray to throw out the remains. He nodded to the cashier, she nodded and went to get our second 'usual.'

"No." I answered. "Just making an observation." I lean back, sighing "So… More power testing and exercise today?"

He nodded, meeting the cashier and picking the cups from her hands. Two teas. Mine was green. He liked Chai.

Honestly, I couldn't blame them. My powers were far more extensive, versatile, and above all, dangerous, than what they had initially believed. They were not making the mistake of 'calling it a day.' Like they had before. This time around they wanted no surprises.

It was too bad my little head friend wasn't cooperating overmuch.

The woman of ashes only responded when I got hurt, and torturing a teenager was still beyond the PRT.

At least physically. Frankly the new Director might just be trying to torture me with work-sheets to catch up on the classes I missed at Arcadia. They were really going the distance to ensure I would get caught up. My summer was being sacrificed for that. Then again… what summer?

I sipped, enjoying the taste of my green tea as I looked at Jones. "So tell me something. Legend. What's up with him? It's like he's trying to run both the Bay and New York now."

Jones tossed me a look out of the corner of his eye.

I shrugged. At this point, I'd honestly be surprised if Legend was doing this run around of coming back to the Bay once a week on my behalf. The guy was barely an hour away given how fast he could fly. An hour was plenty of time for me to escape six out of the seven days. I could have taken my chances.

So the question was, why did he keep coming back?

"Why don't you try telling me?" He challenged. "Go ahead, name the factors, remove the improbabilities, and deduce the answer."

"Are… you being sarcastic?" I genuinely had to ask. His tone could be taken either way.

"Not at all. What reason would he have to keep coming back here? Sleep on it. I expect an answer by tomorrow evening at the latest."

I blinked. Oooookay. Somehow that got turned around on me.

Keeping an eye on me was a possibility, though I doubted it. He had Weld and Flechette for that. One could fight me, in theory, the other could rip straight through my armor to punch a hole through my gut, or my knee-cap. Or my skull.

Deterring crime? Maybe. But the only people he was 'deterring' would be the E-88, who had to do some posturing after losing Hookwolf, Stormtiger, Cricket, Krieg, and Purity. Those were at least four heavy hitters. If Lung wanted a fight, he'd go off and fight. He might even be amused by Legend arriving to fight him.

So what was it… hmmm...

I finish my tea and saw that Jones was finished as well. "Well. Let's get this over with… again."

"Right." He stood up and we left the cafeteria, going through the hallways.

As we walk, I notice it. Its not obvious. At least not terribly obvious. If I wasn't subjected to it every couple of days whenever someone new arrived to replace the dead people I might not have even made a note of it at all.

But it was there. The clerks, the Janitors, the guards.

They were afraid. Like they're staring at a bomb set to blow on an unknown timer.

I'm not sure what I feel about that. And I can sense that the utter lack of emotion is not entirely my own.

Its strange to consider that… strange that, as of now I can simply… know when things are not right in my own mind... Its like I become aware of the faintest hand on my shoulders.

I just don't know how I can get that hand to fuck off.

It's a cauldron of different feelings all competing with each other to get through the proverbial door. Anger, depression, fear, anxiety, and… amusement.

In the end… dismissal has to win out.

We get to the helipad, and as usual, the machine is ready and waiting for us. We sit ourselves down in the passenger bay.

It didn't take us long to take off, and I pan my eyes out the window to the city where the construction crews are continuing their work, new sites appearing every day as the older ones linger.

The damage of the 'Outcry' incident would take months to repair at best.

Soon enough we got to the rig, the both of us getting off and marching out.

Soon enough I made it to the iron door that led into the interior of the testing area of the facility.

"So." I sighed. "Who's gonna overlook my training today?" So far, Dauntless, Velocity, and Battery took turns, cycling through the testing days.

"Myself and Velocity."

The door hissed open and I stepped into the small elevator, Jones marched up the stairs as the door hissed closed and the elevator descended.

When I walked out, I heard Velocity's voice. While not full of enthusiasm, (because honestly, who in the hell could feel enthusiastic about this after doing it four times a week for the last month) he at least had the energy to sound pleased to see me. I'm not sure if it's entirely faked. Might be.

"Hey Taylor." He greeted. "You'll be happy to know we've got something new today."

That made me perk up. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Dragon supplied us with some combat drones based on the data gathered recently. Specially calibrated. We'll be sending em out once the usuals done with. That sound good?"

I nodded, now suddenly a bit more eager to get through the usual batch of tests to see if I'd finally get to do something at least marginally more interesting.

I saw that in the room were some scarecrows, old and ragged, all set up in a nice pile for me to get some ash. My hand glowed with flame and I sprayed fire onto the pile, and in under a minute I had my armor of ash on me.

"Armor's different from last time." I heard Velocity over the speaker. "You change it every time?"

I shrug. "Armor just… does it. I wouldn't say it's a subconscious change but it's like… putting on a white T shirt or something for when you're gonna be in the house. You can see which one it is but unless you're *really* looking for something distinctive, you're not gonna be able to tell one from the other. So the details change. I guess it can be based on mood." I shrugged again. "Don't really think about it much anymore. It just happens."

"Righty then… Lets start, cardio. Then we'll work on basic strengths and blaster tests. See if anything's changed before we start on the drones."

I sighed in mild frustration. The warm up was the most boring part "Right. Let's get it over with."

I stepped into the nearby side-room, changing into some workout clothes that had been washed and laid out there, waiting for me. I dropped away the armor and changed into them. I picked up some of the sensors and bits of monitoring equipment to patch them over my skin Then covered myself in ash again.

Two of them, the most important two in my opinion, went onto my temples to monitor brainwaves.

I stepped out of the room and made my way over to the treadmill. I got it hooked up and an oxygen mask to better track my fatigue before I started it up on its usual setting of a mile.

I ran in silence for the most part, the scientists in the monitoring room above occasionally broke the silence, though their voices were muted since they weren't really talking to me and were just going on at each other.

Twenty minutes later or so, I was done with the jog and we started on the Brute, reflex, and Blaster tests. The results were 'normal.' Nothing really changed. I could still bench press a car, my ash armor could still withstand impacts from most caliber bullets.

The fine ash control though… that was a surprise. A bit anyway. It always was a surprise now.

Before the Outcry incident my ash control had been… broad strokes I guess.

"We've got increased brainwave activity.'

'Is it within previous patterns?'

'So far, yes.'

'Keep monitoring.'

Now… Now I could feel everything about it. Where it was, how far it was, what was between it and me, if anything was weighing it down, its temperature.

When the bits of ash formed my armor it was like I could feel a thousand little pinpricks over my body, how they turned, twisted, broke, and reforged again as I moved. Every last fibre of ash as it moved and reinforced my blows and what it did to absorb impacts.

I tried to mimic it sometimes. Alone, away from the cameras and monitoring. Tried to see if I could… refine the subconscious movement into something more directed… more… powerful.

I could… do it… at least… in the same way someone who's seen a swordsman swing tries to mimic the movement but ends up getting all the nuances completely wrong.

I had to think. Before I did it. Had to time it. Aim it. I'm not sure if it'd just become second nature… a reflex… with enough practice. But I wasn't going to tell them about my little… experiments. They were jumpy enough as it was around me. Let them know that I was trying to min/max my powers to be even more effective and I don't know what they'd try to do.

Its a strange thing. To feel as if you're in complete control of a thousand digits. That you're able to feel a hundred surfaces at once, subject your mind to the feel of a million individual brush-strokes.

No wonder they always detected increased brain activity.

Before long though, the exercises were done, with my internal and external performance existing well within their established expectations.

Now, they brought out Dragon's drones.

"Taylor." I heard Velocity call through the intercoms as I heard the elevator start up.

Wonder how big they were if they needed the cargo elevator.

Or was it how many there were?

"Yeah?" I answer.

"Don't wanna alarm you kid. But Dragon designed these drones specifically to counter your abilities. Its meant for you to push yourself. But if at any time you wanna stop just ask, and we'll pull the plug immediately."

Now that was interesting.

Should I try to win? Or just let them win? Did I want them to know everything I could do?

In the end… I decided to fight. To try to win.

Not so much because of them though.

Because of Me.

I wanted to know what I could do… what Raime and the dancing woman could do. How I could… fight them.

How I could be ready for them.

That's what made me decide to try.

If I pushed, maybe they'd push back.

When the cargo elevator opened up, what rolled out… literally rolled.

It was three balls… well... spheres. All gleaming metal and polished chrome.

Shiny.

"Alright, starting protocols in five, four, three, two-"

The things came alive as the scientist's voice drifted off, the smooth, unbroken metal surface segmenting and folding away into tracks and compartments as everything uncoiled like perfect, beautiful clockwork. It was so mesmerizing I almost asked if they could get the older, clunkier models. It'd have to be some kind of crime to break these things….

The other staff members wheeled in some other things, a desk, a wooden wall, some papers and other types of flammable furniture and items for me to use. I didn't really pay it much mind as they littered the room with possible fuel sources.

The three drones unwound. Thin, gangly, almost insect like. If I had to liken it to anything it'd be a mantis pretending to be a human. Or a very thin man-cat skeleton.

Three cameras gleamed red on their faces which I noted as a potential weak point. Then the excess metals slid up, over and around, encasing the head in sloping curves of armor that managed to make up a vaguely reptilian shape.

Dragon really liked her motif didn't she?

At any rate, there goes their easy weakness...

"You know." Velocity's voice came over the intercom. "These are some of her latest prototype drones. If these work out here she'll be implementing this design into a few of her suits to act as shock troops and strike forces."

Huh… that was… something… a little flattering to be honest. Dragon thought me good enough to be a decent field test for her new prototypes.

A little alarming for lack of a better term too since she was probably testing their effectiveness as a possible contingency in case I went AWOL again… but a little flattering never the less.

"Alright Taylor. Make sure you're ready. Starting attack protocols in five, four, three, two-"

The second the countdown was done, the three little metal monsters rushed me, all speed and pure precision.

I got in a fighting stance and did the first thing I could think of, I punched the one coming at me from the middle.

Then, the one to my right was standing there, bringing its arm up under, hooking the bend of his arm over my bicep with a precision that could only be mechanical, and yanking my punch back, leaving me wide open to the jumping kick from the middle drone that planted both heels right into my face and sent me flying back with my brain rattling around in my head.

I hit the ground hard, and, before I could recover, I was slathered with containment foam by the third drone.

"Check." I heard Velocity above.

I laid down on the metal floor, waiting for the PRT agent to come around with the dissolving agent. "Well… that was embarrassing."

And again, more than a little alarming. Dragon had designed these things to fight me and they just knocked me on my ass and put me in containment foam in five seconds flat.

She built these things in a month.

Fucking Tinkers.

The guy with the dissolving agent finally showed up, spraying me with the acrid smelling liquid before I pulled myself free and stood.

Lets try round two…

"Dragon should build an army of these things." I muttered to myself

"Ready for another go?" I looked down at myself, seeing the stains of dissolving containment foam still on my armor.

I focus… feel. And a million little grains of ash and burnt remains move like a living skin and the rest of the foam is shaken right off.

I nodded. "Now I am."

"Okay, commencing in four, three, two-"

I moved to attack first, the fire coming to my hand in a second and I throw it at a stack of papers nearby, my other hand moving to launch another gout of flame at an old couch they'd rolled in here when I heard something curious. A strange, crackle.

My eyes snap forward to find one of the drones launching a freeze ray from a hand mounted launcher, snuffing out the flames and encasing the items in a layer of frost where it hit.

The other two circled around in the same direction, moving with a speed that was akin to a human track-star at full sprint.

One rushed to my side, I braced myself ready for the inevitable tackle, or kick, or punch, when the thing hit the floor, its claw like feet snapping closed around one ankle as I react too slow. It twists, my leg buckles, driving me down to one knee, the other one slams into my back, one arm twisting behind me as its other hand presses me forward, off balance, and one leg kicks into the bend of my other knee and pins it there on the ground.

My hands, both of them, ignite. I feel the heat of the flames at my back, my one free hand grabbing the drone beneath me by the face, bright orange flames burning at metal plates.

Only to feel it tighten its grip, its clawed hands grabbing at my wrist and holding me there, unhurt.

Not enough. This particular brand of tinker-tech alloy… my flames aren't enough to hurt it.

But they are… my fires burn hotter than this…

I try to think, try to focus.

Then… I realize my mistake.

I stop trying to do that.

Don't think… feel.

Emotion is what fuels my power. What the ash queen answers too.

The flame warps and cracks, the bright orange hue becoming a shade darker, its core deepening from a yellow to a red.

My hands are now claws, grabbing at its face, holding it there rather than him holding me. Its hands are trying to push me away, dislodge my grip.

I feel the twist in the arm at my back, the pain making me suck in a sharp hiss before we're hit by frost, the sudden cold nearly making me scream as I lose focus for a moment, my grip slackening enough for the drone that is grabbing my limbs to toss me away, the claws of my fingers screeching as it catches on a metal plate.

I hit a wooden prop wall, slamming through it, using the claws on my hands to bring me to a stop, shifting the position of the ash on my feet for more traction.

I bring my head up, ready to charge in again when I hear the intercom above-

"Check-"

I stop at the word, freezing.

"You okay Taylor?"

"I'm fine."

I can't push for more if you stop every five seconds.

I realize I spoke aloud when Velocity's voice hit me again. "We got some slight increase in your brain scan up here. Just making sure."

I took a deep breath, not saying anything.

"Starting again."

The drones eyes shift from blue to red, I see one of them now with a torn open face plate. The gleam of one of his cameras shining through the opening.

I have to think. Have to think about what to do. How to win. I'm fighting on their terms, the fight they excell at. They want close range, their precision and unnatural flexibility will always give them an edge there. I don't have to fight like them. Like Raime. Need to do something different. But what?

Before I could come up with a plan though, they were on top of me, two this time while the third hung back. I tossed fire down at the debris I was standing on, hoping they wouldn't be able to put it out while they were trying to fight me but no go. The third one fired its cold ray wherever he saw the flames, before I could get more than the barest hint of charred wood.

I fought, but my skills at hand to hand are nowhere near good enough and before long my focus shifts, stays too long on one when there are two enemies. It jumps off a wall with something I can only equate to a spin kick. Or perhaps a drop kick was a more apt term. Either way, it hits me in the face. And this time, either because of sheer momentum, physics, or whatever bullshit tech she managed to shove into that foot- I felt it. It cracked against my skull and sent me slamming into the ground with the whole right side of my face throbbing.

I remember taking bullets that hurt less than that.

I moved to stand… then I'm slathered by foam.

This… was gonna take a while…

"For what it's worth Taylor," said a familiar, mechanized voice. "You are doing the best you can do." I couldn't move thanks to the hardened foam, but I did hear the agent jogging towards me again.

Dragon?

I could sense my head was looser and I looked up, seeing one of the drones kneel down, it's camera visor glow now blue instead of red. "What are you doing here?"

"Sparring." The tone of the voice sounded… amused. If the drone had a face it would have smiled. "And testing how my prototypes are faring."

"Well they're kicking my ass… not letting me burn anything to make ash…" I felt my arm come free.

"Thanks to Ashburn's reputation, your opponents will know about your abilities by now. You can expect that they'll try to stop you from setting anything on fire."

I nod. Made sense.

As I felt the foam dissolve around me, I still felt pain over the whole side of my face.

Then I feel it moving. The ash. Moving… without me. Its a tug… like someone pulling a book free from your hand when it's time to put it down and go to sleep.

My control over some of it slips… like sand through my fingers. And my armor is made thinner as we hear the cracking of bones.

I follow it… or try to. Try to follow the tug. The hand that's pulling away my book. But I can't. The touch is a fleeting thing. But the lilt of laughter is from my dreams.

I snarled audibly. The ash woman was toying with me. Like how one would toy with a cat by using a laser pointer. I think I have it, but I don't.

"Taylor? Something the matter?" Asked Dragon through the drone.

"I felt it… I felt it come back but… when I tried to reach, it slipped away." I said.

"The… power you mean?" She ventured hesitantly.

"Yeah…" I sighed, hearing the whine that is so familiar. I look down, seeing an ash idol, about half the size of a normal one.

That was off. She had more ash to work with if she just pulled more from my armor.

"Odd. Why is it so small?" Velocity seemed to agree with my assessment.

"I might have an idea." Dragon spoke, this time using the speakers around us. "We already know your power responds to you getting hurt. It's reactive. But if the… theory… that your power can think on its own… that it has some limited self awareness, then it's not inconceivable it's just giving you the bare minimum… knowing that you're not in any real danger."

"But why would she?" I ask.

"She?"

I wince, noting my own slip of the tongue. That was slightly more information than I was comfortable giving them.

I shrug, trying to recover. "The idol's faces when they have them look more feminine. The whispers don't sound male either… and I am a girl."

They said nothing for a moment, and I immediately became nervous.

"Regardless" Dragon finally said, "whether it be a He, or a She, or an It, if it is indeed self aware and knows that these are just tests to try and draw it out it'll never let it happen. Its a theory, but I truly hope I'm wrong." Dragon mused. "Either way, would you like to continue Taylor? Or would you like a little more time to heal?"

I could feel the ache and pain fading away thanks to the warmth of the flames. A soothing balm to the place I'd been hit.

I will need to find some way to talk to her. To the dancing bride in my head. Confront her. Besides, it's not like they could KILL me by my dreams, right?

(X)

Five attempts, five times getting knocked down on my ass, making a sizeable dent in the wall (which was far sturdier than last time) I slumped to the ground, and felt the familiar sensation of foam being sprayed on me.

Seven tries. I still hadn't taken down any of the drones. But I was damaging them, my flames growing hot enough to warp the metals and cook the inner workings if they stayed close too long.

They were slowing down, and every time it became a little easier to catch them, a little easier to further damage them.

But the power itself… the surge we were looking for. The woman of ash wouldn't answer… like Dragon said. She was giving me just enough to win. Just, enough to wear them down.

She knew I wasn't in danger… so she wasn't answering.

No matter how much I push and struggle. She knows Dragon won't kill me.

"Yeah…" I lifted a free arm from the dissolving foam. "I don't think this is working… your bots need a chop shop and I'm getting tired of getting tossed around."

Dragon made the drone nod. "I understand. Still, if it makes you feel any better, I've managed to gather a good deal of potential combat data. I might very well be able to implement them in some of my larger suits. And I'll be keeping these here if you'd like to continue training your skills on them."

I wonder how much of that data she gathered was specifically for the combat protocols on me and how much she'd be refining it if I took her up on her offer. Improving and improving her drones so I'd never be able to beat them without the ash woman's help, which was spotty at best.

"Thanks." I answer, as neutrally as possible. I feel the foam dissolve off of me and I got to my feet. Soon enough a cart rolled up, pushed by a PRT agent. I flicked my hand and all of my ash flew off and settled inside. Not a grain left on me.

Soon enough, I turn back to the changing room. I need a shower, but I'd take it back in the relative privacy of my own room. I'd probably burn down yet another building if anyone tried to make me use a public shower. I made that abundantly clear on the first day back.

Soon enough, I'm stepping out of the training room, back to the main hallway and Sills is already there, waiting for me.

"You're ready to head back?" He asked. Nothing about the training itself, there never was after I walked out.

I nod. "Yeah."

He nodded, turning with a sharp about face.

Soon enough we're flying out of the Rig, the helicopter motor sending vibrations through my chest as the view gave yet another panorama of the Bay and its mass of various cranes, road spreaders, and scaffolding.

We made it back and when we stepped off the helipad and made it into the base, mercifully away from the noise of the chopper, I was given my second surprise of the day.

Sills rounded on me, face as serious as ever, not giving anything away with his expression. "You're getting a reprieve Hebert. No need for escort. Director Dollerant's orders."

I blinked, surprised. Ever since I'd come back, if I went anywhere in base I had some PRT officers with me, Sills, or another Ward. "Why? What gives?" I asked.

"Dollerant didn't say. I didn't ask. If you want to know about the leash coming off you'll have to ask her yourself when you see her."

I'll make a note to do that.

Without another word he turned and walked down a different hallway than the one headed to my room.

I looked about, wondering if this was some kind of weird PRT hidden camera thing or something. Probably was.

I turned and headed back to my room, eager for a proper shower.

Soon enough, I made it, passing through the locked door and the half dozen security measures before I was back in my proper privacy.

I plucked some clothes out of the drawers and made my way to the bathroom before peeling off my clothes and stepping into the hot water.

When I stepped out I still had another thirty minutes. I decided to head there anyway. Not much point in staying.

I made my way through the building, stepping into the elevator, still wondering if I'd see Sills or some of the other adequate 'escorts' just so happen to be nearby. I didn't.

Was it paranoid to think they were watching me from a room somewhere?

Maybe…

Probably.

I hoped it was paranoia at any rate.

Soon though, I made it to my destination, opening up the metal doors to the cherry-wood hard floors and long couch.

I was early. So I was surprised to see her already here.

"Taylor." She greeted, her tone showing her surprise, even if she managed to mostly keep it out of her face.

"Yamada." I answered back. "What're you doing here?"

"I found that I'd manage to finish some of my paperwork early. I came to prepare."

Prepare? I thought.

Prepare for what?

I realized I asked my question out-loud when she answered, leaning back in her chair. "For you."

My lips pursed. "Alright look. What exactly is the deal with you?"

"Would you mind specifying?" She asked.

"We meet each other every other day where I use this room as the most expensive private library in history. I say three words to you after 'Hi' while I find my next book and then you just sit there, as I read for a whole hour and not say a word."

"As I said during the first day. This is your hour Taylor for you to use it as you like. If you prefer to read than speak that is your choice."

"Why?" I stressed. "You're the assigned shrink; it's your job to get your bosses either the all clear to send me back out to fight again or tell them I'm a headcase that's gotta be locked up. You're hardly doing that by letting me ignore you."

Yamada gestured towards the long chair.

I felt like I'd just stepped over a trap that was rapidly springing shut.

Still. Curiosity killed the cat and satisfaction brought him back.

My lips set in a firm frown, I nevertheless did as asked and stepped forward to sit, (not lay) on the long chair.

Yamada stared at me dead in the eye as she spoke. "My main priority has always been one thing. To do everything in my power to assist in your recovery Taylor. If that means the requirement is for me to sit in a room for an hour as you read historical or medical books, then I will do just that."

I glared. "Right. I see the song and dance has changed from Evaluation to Recovery this time huh?"

As expected, she sidestepped that one.

"You said I was allowing you to ignore me. Why is it that you believe I can choose to allow you to do or not do anything? Have you not made the choice yourself?"

I rolled my eyes. "Look, lets just talk straight. Drop the circular wording." I glared. "I don't know you. You don't know me. You and I meet in this room three times a week and watch the clock til it runs out. Then, I'm escorted back to my room/cell and you run up to whoever's your boss and write up a report. This boss likes it, he doesn't like it, or he doesn't care and if he pushes you you're gonna push me. So lets not pretend my reading these books is anything more than an allowance until someone runs out of patience."

Her face remained blank for a long time.

Then she leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. "You're testing us." She observed, seeming to think for a moment. "You believe we are all lying and if you were to push us you will see the real faces of those that have interacted with you. This action has stemmed from the acts of betrayal that have plagued your lif-"

"You needed a doctor's degree for that?" I hissed, then… took a breath, calming down. "Look. Lets just cut the crap. Just tell me what the hell we have to talk about so you can go and give me a clean bill or put me in a straight jacket. At this point I'm just tired of all this dancing around each other. Show me some cards with ink stains on it or talk about children wanting their parents or something."

"We're not here for me or my questions." She said, once more leaning back in her lounge chair. "This is your hour Taylor… we can discuss whatever you wish to discuss."

Oh screw you.

I stood up, marched towards the nearest bookshelf, and yanked out a book. Not even bothering to read the title before I walked back to the chair and laid myself down, opening it on the first page.

It was in Spanish.

I refused to get back up and get another one.

I pretended not to notice Yamada's soft smile, or her scribbling notes.

It was a very long hour.