Well, here we are, the curtain is starting to part. Special thanks to geas for helping on the last two scenes, especially in translating a certain characters speech into something a lot more acceptable.

Resurfaced 1.3

As his elevator descended into the depths of the PRT Headquarters, Peter DeVries took the opportunity to review his data slate one final time. As the man in charge of intelligence for the Parahuman Response Team ENE, it was his part of his job to interview and process capes, and he prided himself in his job, even if more often than not, it rarely amounted to nothing more than a request for a lawyer. It was a game of chess that he thoroughly enjoyed, testing his mettle and wits as he tried to get as much as he could before they clammed up.

Nonetheless, there was that occasional diamond in the rough that provided information for the various attached Protectorate Thinkers whose job was to sift through the interviews and extract information that may not have initially been observed or collected. In the past there had been some breakthroughs that had made the stress worth it.

The only frustrations there were with his job was how he was barred from interrogating the rank and file gang members. It was a limitation of the charter that established both the PRT and Protectorate. While they had carte blanche in handling capes, they were required by charter to turn over all unpowered criminals to the local authorities for processing with an almost zealous haste. They were not even allowed to ask any questions of them, because doing so would be an overreach of their departmental powers.

It vexed him, because obviously the asshole who wrote the charter either didn't understand the outright insane understanding that the wall of separation that existed between various law enforcement agencies also equaled a wall of silence in which agencies defended their turf with almost psychotic verve. Any attempts at coordination, or even information exchange, was akin to pulling teeth without anesthesia that largely ended up being worth less than the effort expended by being filtered or aged out of relevance.

Then there were the other rules that set his teeth on edge. But the one that drove him spare was the fact that any information or theories that could lead to the identification of any non-Protecorate aligned capes was to be immediately dropped and the data destroyed. It didn't matter the crime, unless they were bound for the Birdcage they were to be treated as whatever cape they were and not the person wearing a mask.

There were a few exceptions to this rule, and one so happened to be the subject he was on his way down to interview.

The elevator coming to a stop pulled him from his thoughts, giving him a moment to collect himself as the doors opened to reveal his accompaniment for this session.

"Miss Militia," he greeted the camo-clad hero as he stepped off the elevator, striding past her and not bothering to look back, knowing that she had fallen in step behind her.

One exception to the rule was the violation of the Landry Act. When a cape violated it, they not only lost almost all their rights and protections under their cape persona, but even worse, they also lost several of their constitutional rights for a period of time as they were treated as an enemy combatant of the United States government. More than once, the PRT had found it necessary to 'rescue' capes that fell on the wrong side of other government agencies due to violations of the Landry Act. The CIA and NSA in particular were especially unkind to those few capes that were unlucky enough to temporarily fall into their jurisdiction before the PRT could officially take custody of them.

DeVries still got chills when he thought of one particular story from the early days about a Mara Salvatrucha cape who had been missing fingers and toes by the time that the PRT finally took him off of the CIA's hands… digits that the poor bastard had still possessed when he had originally been arrested. Of course, when the public caught wind of what happened, the resultant scandal ended with a canned CIA Director and a rapid addendum to the Landry Act affording some human rights to the offender.

Still, DeVries had to hand it to the assholes in Congress; they could be pretty damn self-serving when they wanted to be, but on occasions like this it also benefited the work of PRT agents and officers such as himself.

"Any last second directions from the Director," he asked, as he came to a stop at the security desk, supplying his ID badge to the officer on duty, taking the clipboard and writing his details into the check-in. There was something to be said in the merging of old and new technology for the security measures.

"The Director, Armsmaster, and Dragon will be on Channel 314. Armsmaster and Dragon will be fielding an upgrade on his lie detection software to offer assistance."

"Hunh," he grunted. That was certainly different. Then again, this was his first Landry, and if his memory wasn't wrong, Taylor Hebert had become a kind of local mystery since her disappearance. It made sense that the Director would take personal interest considering the particulars not being made known to the public.

Finishing his sign-in he retrieved the offered earpiece from the desk guard, replacing the piece already in his ear and changing the channel to one outlined by Miss Militia.

"Comms check. Devries on Three-One-Four."

"We have you on Three-One-Four, Agent Devries. You may proceed at your leisure," Dragon's voice filled his ear and he hummed quietly. Retrieving his ID badge and replacing it before heading to the door.

Stopping at the door, he deeply inhaled through his nose, clearing his thoughts and refocusing solely upon his job ahead. Once he was satisfied, he turned his head and nodded to the guard, who hit the release for the door, and allowed him to open and step through the door and into the interrogation room.

It was already set up as he had specified. While it would certainly make more sense in the event of dealing with a Master/Stranger that he would not interview the subject in the same room, he preferred it that way. There was no better way to get the read of a target unless he was in the same room as them and was able read the small cues that may develop in the process of his interrogation.

That still didn't mean he was going to be incredibly stupid about it. He was not only wearing tinker-grade reflective contact lenses that allowed him to still see through them, but up until he had changed it, both of his ears had an earbud that would filter, process, and repeat what he heard at an eyeblink's delay.

Taking his seat, he settled into his pre-interrogation preparation, ensuring that all the implements of his trade were in their rightful places. Once he was satisfied, he then went through the last steps before he truly got to work.

"Ready for the prisoner."

As the only interrogation room on the lowest level, it was designed to be in close proximity to the secure holding cells. Both to reduce the chance of escape, but also make it easy to interrogate the subject and return them to the cells without minimal risk to the PRT.

Still, it was almost ten minutes before the door on the other end of the room opened, and she was frogmarched in.

Immediately, he was reminded of the Bad Canary case. Oh, he knew perfectly well the farce that had been inflicted upon the populace in order to manipulate the verdict, but there was a stark difference between that, and the extremes they were going with Azure. There was no way a master or a stranger would have the ability to break restraints rated for Brutes, yet she was secured in them.

Releasing a sigh as they moved her to the chair, he decided that it would be better to manipulate Azure by appearing to be concerned for her well-being.

"Release her restraints," he declared, looking at both of her guards, "leave on the handcuffs and secure her to the table, but there's no reason for her to be in those."

He knew Piggot was going to give him an earful after this was over, but he had Miss Militia here, and he had a rapid response team nearby, also there were several defenses in place to detain Azure if she were to attempt to react. By removing her restraints, it may just cause a bit of rapport to develop between them. Still, it was a credit to the Director that she didn't countermand him or say anything over the headset.

He watched as they followed his order, removing her restraints, but leaving the handcuffs on. They were then chained to the anchor point on the table. That was when he added his next command.

"Remove her blindfold and the gag."

"Are you sure about this, DeVries," Piggot's voice this time did sound in his ear. It was a stark difference between removing the brute restraints on a possible master, and removing her gag and blindfold.

Instead, he merely nodded, knowing that the cameras were watching him. It was better that he kept the fact that he had people in his ear from the possible knowledge of Azure, it'd play just a bit better.

Piggot must have accepted his request, as the two guards then removed her gag and her blindfold, finally letting him see Subject Azure with his own eyes.

He had to admit, the one photo he had of her did not convey the brilliance of her eyes. The molten blue that begged you to focus upon their unearthliness over everything else. It only made sense she would wear sunglasses, because there was no way she would not help but stand out.

Then there was her confidence. In spite of all the restraints and everything she had obviously experienced since she had been detained, it seemed to have not diminished since the afternoon she had walked into the lobby. If anything, she seemed even more confident, and that was worrying.

It also lent more credence to a theory that was starting to build in his mind. But first, he was going to at least probe at her to see if it fit.

So with that in mind, he began.

"Agent Peter DeVries, interviewing Subject Azure. It is currently 2006 Hours, May 16th, 2011. May I ask your name for the record?"

"Taylor Hebert."

"Still keeping up this charade, Azure," he asked, deciding that it was an excellent opening for his first probe, to see just how she reacted, "Taylor Hebert is fifteen years old. It's rather evident you are not her."

If he expected any faltering, which he wasn't, he wasn't rewarded with it. Instead, her lips curled up into a small smirk, "I expect by now all of your results, short of the telomeric test, have come back all telling you the same thing," she then leaned forward slightly, her hands folding despite the difficulty of their restraints.

He could feel his eyes narrow at her statement. That suggested a level of knowledge of their procedures that went beyond what was publicly available. Then again, she could also be pulling a bluff as well. Regardless of the results, even if they were right or not, they did not absolve her for violating the Landry Act.

"Certainly, they tell us that you share the same genetic profile with Taylor Hebert," he agreed, keeping his eyes locked on her, before shrugging, "for all that we know is that you are the product of some new tinker who just happened to get his hands upon her."

"Frankly, it doesn't matter what the results would be, at least for you. The PRT, and the Protectorate for that matter, are perfectly fine, Taylor Hebert or not, with throwing your ass in the Birdcage for violating the Landry Act. So it is in your best interest to answer my questions if you want to avoid that."

He doubted that the statement would be enough to kowtow her, but he certainly expected there to be a reaction more than her settling back into her chair with that same confidence she started with. There hadn't even been a reaction at the threat of the Birdcage. Something that would bother many a cape, there was enough information out there to know that the Birdcage was not only a death sentence, but it was a life of hell until it eventually killed you, inmate-induced or otherwise.

If she was so confident that Birdcage didn't phase her, just what exactly was it that gave her the confidence. It could come back that she was a clone of some sort of Hebert, and this was some sort of test, but that didn't make sense, even from a cape perspective as twisted as they could be. You didn't waste resources or show your hand like this unless there was something larger at play, but according to every source, this was the only incursion so far.

That was unless whoever was pulling the strings was a Striker and Master, able to create and possibly control their creations from afar, but even that made even less sense considering you did not test-run something like this against an organization that once it would become aware would hunt them down to the ends of the Earth. So both theories seemed unlikely, but he wasn't willing to dismiss them out of hand. He had read and heard of capes doing shit even more illogical than this.

So what did that leave him with the highest probability? That the person before him was Taylor Hebert? It was possible, he was willing to admit, but that didn't explain the fact that she appeared around a decade older than four months ago, even leaving out the eyes.

"But for the sake of brevity, let's say that you are Taylor Hebert. Where have you been for the last five months?"

"Oh, I've been around."

"Could you be a bit more specific?"

For a moment, she tilted her head just slightly, before the smirk slowly morphed into a small smile.

"Oh, a little bit here, a little bit there. It really became a Cauldron of experiences that it just gels into one ornate tapestry. Still, you really didn't need eyes where I was to experience the sights. Miss Militia back there probably understands."

That certainly wasn't what he expected, as he distinctly heard Miss Militia shuffle behind him. But before he could stop her, thereby changing the dynamics of the interview, one which he was starting to suspect was something else entirely, she spoke.

"What do you mean," Miss Militia demanded, her tone flat, but even Peter could hear the edge that promised violence if Hebert pushed the wrong button.

"You know what I'm talking about," Hebert responded, a trace of smugness in her tone, before her expression flattened, "it's something all of us share on that unfortunate day when everything falls to shit. When there's no way out and you just want to give in. Then bam, we're rewarded with a nonsensical vision of nebulous masses in space and surprise, we have powers now."

Crisis points, Peter filled in, immediately figuring out what Hebert was entailing. It at least firmly confirmed that Azure was a parahuman, but they were derailing from the purpose of all of this, and he had to intervene to also prevent Miss Militia from acting rashly. Part of his job was to read the psychological analysis of all Protectorate members, and he knew that Miss Militia's crisis point was a very raw subject matter.

"Why did you come here today," he demanded, even as he reorganized his thoughts. He was going to have to attack this entirely differently, discarding almost every single analysis or theory, this wasn't any of that. No, this was all deliberately done, Azure wanted all of this, that was the only damn conclusion he could come to, "why demand to see the Director?"

"Well, I figured being the victim of someone who is nominally supposed to be under her control that I have the right to air my grievances," was her response, before her eyes turned up towards the camera that was watching them, "tell me, Director, did the punishments you have to hand out for my journals sting?"

"And how do you know about this," he asked, even as Piggot was growling demanding that he find out how she knew. He knew he was going to again have to adjust his read on Azure, because now there was a significant chance of her having Thinker capabilities, not Master or Stranger. There was no doubt in his mind judging the conviction in which Azure was making her accusations, that she somehow knew, though the means of it were still unknown.

However, instead of answering, the smirk was back, before she turned her gaze back towards Miss Militia.

"Do you want to know what you saw, Miss Militia?"

Ignore her, Miss Militia, Piggot's voice rang in his ear, DeVries, either get this under control immediately or end it. This will not become a game for Azure.

"How do you know," he once again demanded, knowing that Militia would follow Piggot's order. It seemed that Azure had also realized that, as her eyes snapped back to him, expression stilling slightly.

"Because that's the only option available to Piggot. If she admitted that one of her projects were out there bullying teenagers to the point of triggering and sticking random criminals like pigs off the clock, the scandal would be—Oh," she fake gasped, her mouth opening, before morphing back to the smile, "I'm sorry, you didn't know that, did you? Very unprofessional look there. Do you not know where your children are?"

Truth, Armsmaster rang in his ear, and it felt like everything became still in that moment. As the world had took a breath to process just what had been said, at least for everyone that wasn't Subject Azure, instead, she looked quite pleased with herself.

"Still, I am surprised, you'd think Piggot would have dragged my father into this to ramp up the manipulation by—," her expression flattened completely, gone was the smirk, replaced by something akin to cold realization.

LtT

Taylor.

She stared forward, processing the information, requesting it again, even as she knew that it would change nothing. The source wasn't necessarily incapable of deception, but there was no point to it in this case. It served no purpose.

Even as she reviewed the information again, her tightly controlled emotions began to erode, being replaced by something else. Something inherently more primal.

However, before it consumed her, it died, as a pair of hands clasped themselves on her cheeks, she could only close her eyes as she felt coolness against her own forehead, extinguishing the rage that only moments before had threatened to break loose.

The coolness was then gone, as she felt both the hands and the pressure against her forehead disappear as their owner extricated herself. She was no longer in the interrogation room, instead she was in a crystalline room, and the one who had calmed her was now standing across from her.

She was a giant in comparison to her, easily two and a half feet taller than her. Clad in a midnight black dress that was cut in a way that screamed royalty, olive white skin revealed with a plunging neckline that ended midchest. An angular face with high cheekbones, shimmering black hair that fell down her back, and blazing blue eyes stared down on her with both exasperation, but also tenderness. Like an older sister looking upon a misbehaving younger sibling.

"Reina," Taylor croaked, "I—"

"It is fine," 'Reina' cut her off, her voice cool, yet somehow melodic at the same time.

"But I—"

"Initial progress is satisfactory by a factor of eighty-two point nine percent, Taylor. Deviating now to ascertain the status of your progenitor will not cause an appreciable negative impact."

"But—"

"What are we, Taylor? We are partners." It was rare for Reina to speak so clearly; she had yet to fully grasp that she didn't need to pack into a conversation as much information as possible. "Your progenitor has sustained significant injuries. Go to him."

For a moment she said nothing, instead searching Reina's face for any indication that what she was about to do was the wrong thing to do. But all she was met with the same expression as before.

"Okay."

LtT

Peter shot to his feet as Subject Azure yanked up with her arms, suddenly snapping her restraints like they were nothing, her eyes suddenly glowing as she contorted the handcuffs off her hands.

"Prisoner attempting escape," Miss Militia barked out, her powers leaping into action as it struck out, reforming into the familiar shape of an Armsel Striker. She was already bringing it up and to bear when suddenly it began fizzling out, to both his and her surprise.

"Engaging confoam systems," Dragon's voice sounded, "What the—I'm being overridden! How is she—?! Hawking radiation detected! "

"Miss Militia. Lethal force authorized," Piggot's command filled the waves, and Miss Militia instantly responded, her powers manifesting into an M4 Carbine, only for the green and black energy to sputter and disintegrate before the weapon was fully formed in her grasp, motes of energy shedding up and out away from it.

Both PRT interrogator and veteran Protectorate Heroine watched as the motes ended up around Subject Azure, growing to embrace her body, glowing brighter for a few moments, before dimming and sloughing off of her onto the floor, disappearing into the ether. In its place was the same suit ensemble that she had worn this morning.

Behind her a glowing blue portal appeared and began expanding, growing until it matched her height. For a moment she stared at them, and he could have sworn she may have wanted to say more, but instead she turned and stepped into the portal, which then slid shut behind her.

Then the confoam launchers fired.