Plans Unfold

18th June 2010

"I'm telling you, we need to secure and study each of these fragments," Tagg demanded, slamming his hands onto the arms of his chair.

"We will be following the standard protocols for collected Endbringer material," Costa-Brown answered in an icy tone, the other directors in the teleconference sounding their agreement.

"You don't understand the Simurgh like me," Tagg warned. "We have to determine if it is still conscious in some manner, what range her surviving power has."

"If that is the case, exposing the very researchers who could determine whether that is the case to the Simurghs remains would be a bad idea, and as such securing each fragment in a separate, no access facility is the best option."

"But think, if the power survived beyond the lifespan of the Endbringer, we could use it to make power armour or cybernetic upgrades for our forces, bring the villains to their knees before us."

There was something almost charismatic and persuasive about how Tagg spoke, and Costa-Brown found herself glancing at the 'Endbringer Power Armor Proposal' document on her desk.

"And if so much as a fraction of the Simurghs mind survives in even one fragment?"

"We shatter it further, get even more power for the program."

There was an almost pleading note in his voice.

Something wasn't right here, Tagg wasn't acting how he usually did.

"If there is a piece of the Simurgh surviving in one of her fragments, connecting it with others could allow her to rebuild," she noted, trying to analyse what felt wrong.

"That is why the project needs our best Tinkers. Rebecca, listen to me, you haven't seen the consequences of the Simurghs actions like I have, the quarantines, the people shot for trying to escape, this way we get something positive from its existence…"

Costa-Brown felt her blood run cold.

"Simurgh bomb," she muttered quietly.

"Exactly," Tagg exclaimed, missing her realisation. "With her power we can reprogram-"

"You have been compromised by your time in containment zones," Costa-Brown interrupted. "This is part of one last plan." A conclusion formed within her head. "She set you up to rebuild her if something like this happened!"

She slammed down on one of the override keys on her desk. "Security, immediate Master/Stranger protocols on Director Tagg! Maximum level precautions, suspected Simurgh influence!"

There was a moment of silence from both the teleconference and her 'red phone'.

"Are you serious? The Simurgh is dead, it's over!"

"She was a Thinker as well as a Master, most 'Simurgh bombs' were created through Thinker-level psychological manipulation rather than Master control! We need to stay on guard against her now more than ever! Do not let any of her still active plans succeed just because we let our guard down!"

"Rebecca, be reasonable," Tagg spluttered. "You can't possibly believe I'm one of hers?"

Costa-Brown sighed, even as she watched the agents burst into his office to secure him.

"I can only hope I'm wrong," she admitted, "but I can't take the risk…"

{}

The next hour was a confused mix of standard M/S screening and completing the Directors meeting, on the basis that they weren't deciding on policies to be initiated immediately.

Which resulted in her getting to Cauldron for their 'after Directors conference meeting' behind schedule.

Legend, Number Man and Doctor Mother were already present, as she'd expected, and Contessa was also just entering the room, as to be expected.

"The other shoe's starting to drop," she stated as an explanation. "Please tell me there's good news?"

"Not as such," Legend started. "There are a number of heroes who seem to think it's time to move against villains more strongly, now that there are only two Endbringers left, or try to recreate the incident on Behemoth or Leviathan, whichever emerges in a couple of months time."

"I highly doubt there would be any useful results," Number Man supplied. "I've done the calculations, and each Endbringer has been hit by a stronger impact to no result before now. There is some unknown factor at play."

"Could she have been in standby or still healing after her attack," Alexandria suggested. "Or maybe because she was outside the atmosphere?"

"Insufficient data," was Number Mans response.

"In which case we still need the Truce and I have to talk members of the Protectorate down from being heroes," Legend concluded.

The other members of Cauldron avoided anything that could hint at the other reasons for going soft on villains who avoided killing Capes.

"Any news on the Slaughterhouse," Alexandria finally asked Contessa. "It would be just like Slash to take advantage of the celebrations?"

"They entered a blindspot and have not yet left," Contessa answered.

Alexandria sighed, whether relief or despair it was hard to tell. "Fine. One thing that seems clear from the meeting is that the fragments cannot be safely brought together…"

{}

Brockton Bay

"I've just about reached my limit with them," Taylor complained to Zelda, having made sure to settle facing away from her.

Zelda seemed a lot more comfortable talking when they weren't looking at her.

"Why not leave?"

"I've tried! The secretary shredded the paperwork without doing anything with it."

"So apply directly."

Taylor sighed.

Her growing friendship with Zelda was helping her return to something similar to her previous self, but it didn't help with her grades.

"I might have been able to get into Arcadia at the start of the year, but Winslow has made sure my grades are too bad for them to even consider me without outside recommendations."

"What if you did independent study and showed them the difference between your possible grades and what you're getting at Winslow?"

Taylor hesitated.

"Maybe, but how do I tell dad? He knows I went to Winslow to be with Emma, how do I explain going to Arcadia instead?"

"She found new friends and you've drifted apart. Or you wanted to be able to support me if needed."

Taylor couldn't help but turn to look at Zelda at this comment.

"You're planning on going to Arcadia?"

"Supposed to be good," Zelda responded, slipping back into minimal speech.

Taylor got the message and looked away again.

"I'm not sure dad could afford it. Even if they brought back the offer…"

"I'm sure we can find a way," Zelda answered, a smile in her voice.

{}

"Alright, ownership of the warehouse has formally defaulted and the city has given us the job of clearing it out, 'for the new gentrification project'," Danny Hebert informed the gathered dockworkers. "Any questions?"

"Any idea when this gentrification is supposed to take place?"

There was laughter at the joke from all round.

"Does the city care what we do with everything?"

"Not as long as we follow safety procedures," Danny answered. "Ownership of the warehouse is a tangled mess and they gave up when they found a link to Medhall. On the other hand, nobody has been seen transporting anything to or from it since before the protests, so clearly nobody cares about the contents enough to cause a problem."

He glanced around, checking for more questions, but everything seemed settled.

"Alright, let's get to work."

The inside of the warehouse looked to be lined with crates, with only a few aisles to walk down.

It didn't take long for one of the workers to grab a crowbar and open the most convenient crate to see what they had.

"Wait a minute lads, I think this is gold."

The mention of gold drew everyones attention.

"I think I remember seeing that stuff on the 'Lost Nazi Plunder' show," one of the workers commented.

"I think we need to check the other crates."

"Hold on, how do we split this? Danny gets a finders fee for snagging the contract and then even split between the union?"

"Including everyone who didn't show up for the job?"

"Okay, finders fee, a share for everyone in the union plys a share for working the job or being unable to work, sound fair?"

"I don't think we'd get enough if we split it like-"

"Hey, I think this was considered priceless before the nazis stole it," one of the workers who had started opening more crates rather than join the discussion declared.

{}

"Ever wonder what happened to the German businesses donations," Max Anders asked Krieg as they looked down upon the city from his office, careful to use the customary alias for Gesselschaft.

"Not really. I just assumed they stopped sending money when Medhall was up and running properly, making a genuine profit. Unless you mean weapons."

"No, the weapons available in Europe were never as good as the ones we can buy. Our security would soon be overwhelmed by the gangs if we relied on such donations. On the other hand, they kept us supplied with donations up until the protests. But my father wasn't the trusting sort and kept it secret where they delivered."

"From what I heard, he must have died through sone kind of betrayal," Krieg noted, avoiding any indication of accusation.

"I believe I am close to locating the rest of the donations," Max responded, ignoring the fate of his father. "In mere days we should be able to double our funds for war against the gangs."

It was always important to keep enough plausible deniability outside a completely secure area while still communicating clearly, Max felt.

And it was never secure when facing a window.

{}

"Right, we should have the warehouse cleared by sunrise," Kurt reported. "Are you going to tell the mayor what you found?"

"He specifically asked me to clear the warehouse and not to tell him what we found," Danny answered, unable to help grinning slightly.

After all the trouble the mayor had given him about trying to clear the Boat Graveyard, being able to let the mans orders come back to bite him was golden.

{}

"Even if we can afford to both attend Arcadia, we still need the grades," Taylor reminded Zelda. "How do you expect to pass their entrance tests without any formal schooling?"

"We'll learn togethet!"

Taylor was about to protest, but reconsidered.

Some of the good times she remembered with Emma were study sessions.

It was one of those things she sometimes missed, when she hoped for her sister in all but blood back.

"Fine," she decided instead. "But I'm not sure how much help that would be for me…"

Behind her Zelda smiled.

{}

Palanquin

Faultline opened the door angrily.

Whoever it was had shown up at just the wrong time, as everyone else was busy.

"What is it?"

"Delivery for an… Elle?"

The delivery men appeared unbothered by her attitude, but Falutline felt she could forgive them considering the fact they were apparently here to deliver a crate taller and wider than any one of them. On both sides visible from the door she could make out a 'this way up at all times' warning.

"She stays here," Faultline acknowledged.

"Great, I wasn't looking forward to getting this back in the lorry if we got ut wrong. Where should we put it?"

"I am pretty sure Elle didn't order anything, let alone something that would need a crate this large."

"So somebody sent her sonething as a surprise," one of the delivery men shrugged. "Now, going to let us do our job or not?"

Faultline considered her options, and eventually came to the conclusion that taking the crate inside was the best option.

{}

19th June

"We need everyone possible to contain the Simurgh fragments," Costa-Brown declared. "Dragon, can I trust you to send your craft to these locations?"

"Of course, but I must ask, why have you waited for over two weeks to make the request?"

"There have been… delays in deciding how to deal with her remains. Not to mention smaller pieces that were overlooked in the original celebrations, such as the one in Kansas."

Dragons avatar was still for a moment.

"Alright, I will begin sending out what I can. Be aware, I haven't heard anything from-" static washed over the signal, replacing what she was saying with "Pellicks bunch of idiots", before returning to normal "-for a while, which from past experience indicates they are building up to something major. Can I trust the Triumvirate to back me up if needed?"

Costa-Brown couldn't help but appreciate her not saying 'Diumvirate', like some people were, after the disappearance of Eidolon.

"There was interference on the line," she said aloud, "I missed who you are worried about."

"Of course." Static interrupted again, this time turning into "Pellicks bunch of hypocrites". "Did you get it that time?"

Costa-Brown shook her head.

Chances were Dragon was talking about her nemesis, but best to be sure.

"Whatever you said was replaced first by 'Pellicks bunch of idiots' and then 'Pellicks bunch of hypocrites'. I'll assume you were talking about…"

{}

"A piece of the goddess has been tracked to nearby," Mama Mathers reported to her followers, her son by her side.

"You mean, she's really dead?"

"Fools!"

Her screech silenced the man foolish enough to utter such blasphemy in her presence.

"It is a sign! She has faked her death, and sent a part of herself down to us! We must not ignore her gift! We move to secure the piece immediately!"

The force of belief in her words drew cheers from the crowd, as everyone prepared to move.

{}

Palanquin

"Everybody ready?"

Faultline had first checked for any sign of a timer or similar mechanism in the crate, before setting it aside to be opened when the entire crew was present.

Just in case.

"Are you sure it was a good idea to lay it on its side," Newter asked. "I mean, it does say 'at all times'."

"And how would you suggest we get it open standing upright?"

"Well, your powers-"

"Might be just what it needs to trigger a trap," Faultline stated flatly.

Point accepted, they each placed their crowbar under the panel on top.

It came off with minimal fuss, revealing the contents.

Newter was tge first to look.

"Hey, Elle, any idea why someone would send you a wonan in a tube?"

"Can you give a better description," Faultline sighed.

"Brown hair."

Newter looked around at everyones unimpressed looks.

"Hey, it's not my fault she's face down."

Faultline motioned him out of they way and took a look herself.

There was indeed a brown haired girl in a tube, face down.

What Newter hadn't mentioned was the obvious Tinkertech at the base of the tube, with obvious ventillation or air exchange system.

She frowned, putting the pieces together.

"I think we're supposed to think that's Burnscar."

Elle moved forward to look, before she could ask why someone would send Elle Burnscar.

"Mimi?"

"You know her?"

"She was in the asylum. Thought we were friends. But she was always… different."

"So somebody knew there was a connection, but thought it was reciprocated more than it really was…"

{}

A warehouse in a city in America

There was a knock at the sidedoor.

The occupants of the warehouse shared a look, deciding who to send to answer.

Their theoretical leader ended up the one to sigh and head over.

As he opened the door, he was confronted by a worryingly white figure…

{}

20th June

The Warrior finally noticed the disruption in the host species normal behaviour, and tracked it back to one of the Conflict Engines changing its pattern of behaviour.

Deep within its consciousness a spark of hope emerged.

The Conflict Engines were always the Thinkers responsibility, and the Warrior had long assumed its counterpart had set up their directives before the disastrous approach, but for one to change its behaviour in such an unexpected manner was surely proof that the Thinker had survived, and was able to influence them.

The Warrior continued to act as a 'hero', but now, for the first time, it could see a point in continuing to act.


An: Yeah, I can't bring myself to give either of the names Pellick used. And I probably should have dealt with the Fallen in chapter one, but I kinda forgot about them. Oh well, Zis can't do everything herself.