Heieienej Chapter 19: T1, an academy 7 fanfic

A Young Girl's Criminal Record (Youjo Senki/Worm)

Summary: Tanya & friends enjoy a well-earned early retirement in scenic, peaceful Brockton Bay. Well, relative to the Eastern Front, anyway. Returned to a modern world and freed from her military obligations, will Tanya finally achieve the peaceful life for which she's always strove? No. No, she will not.

CW: Major Character Death, Grief, Very Bad Coping Strategies

A\N: This is my first attempt at long-form writing. Constructive criticism welcome. I've got a decent amount planned out, and most of chapter 2 written, but no promises at all as to update rate since I'm still figuring this sort of writing out. I'm taking some liberties with YS's magic system, inspired by the excellent work done by jacobk and Gremlin Jack, since it's not very well fleshed out in canon, and what's there isn't that great. Italics for Germanian dialogue, for communication formula dialogue.

AU Notes: On the Worm side, the divergence point is a slightly different Leviathan fight. Dauntless avoided the time stop effect. Several of the Travelers died, setting Echidna off early. More details will come out as the story progresses. On the YS side... Well, you'll figure it out.

1.1

-- Tanya von Degurechaff --

A flash of white, a muted pop, and I was somewhere else. Biting chill winds replaced with a subtle coastal breeze. Artillery-pocked Russy hellscape replaced with a city that to all appearances had hardly been shelled at all. A kilometer of altitude reduced to a mere 50 meters. No gunsmoke in the air. Less blood and rot steeping in stagnant water, though not none.

I took quick stock of the situation. My command platoon except-- My command platoon had made the transition with me (due to proximity?). A brief inspection of our surroundings bore out my initial assessment: some damaged buildings, some flooding, and... an area a few blocks north where the street, a street sign, most of a restaurant, several people, and a hideous centaur abomination looked to have been replaced with glass replicas? What? Shelving that, a quick spin revealed unfamiliar terrain in all directions. Ocean to the east, which could be Ildoa, Ispagna, Dacia, Albion, Asia, Africa, Australia, or the Americas, but certainly couldn't be anywhere within a thousand kilometers of the Eastern Front.

The crack of a gunshot below caught my attention. I was moving before I properly registered the sound, spinning in an unpredictable corkscrew while a pair of decoys broke out in other directions, inlays on my own rifle lighting with magic as I prepared an explosive formula. The gunshot itself was nothing impressive, tinny and quiet, pistol caliber most likely. No threat to an aerial mage unless the shooter was themselves a mage, but no point in taking chances. I noted with displeasure that my men had only just started to move, nearly a quarter second after the shot, which meant they hadn't yet spun up full reflex enhancement a full 3 seconds after our mysterious transposition. Below me, I caught sight of the shooter, fortunately not aiming at me.

A girl in a purple catsuit, of an age with-- a couple years older than me, gunning down a... naked, deformed teenage boy, half covered in bugs? Zombies, Being X? Are you truly so bereft of imagination? She took a second shot as I observed, then a third, though the first would have killed a normal man in half a minute. Next to her stood a tall teenage boy in some ridiculous jester's outfit, and another girl all covered in black and gray and more bugs was jogging in towards the pair from a couple blocks east. I came to a snap decision.

"Maintain overwatch, but do not fire unless fired upon. This is not the Federation, and you are not to open a new front without a damn good reason." I hesitated. "But if you are fired upon, don't hold back. You are not to die while the Fatherland still has need of your services. Lieu-- Major Weiss, with me."

We swept down towards the girl in purple (she had the gun, and so was presumably the most important), rifles slung but mage shells at full power, stopping at a hover a couple feet above the ground.

"Hello? Miss?"

She startled badly, turning quickly and raising her pistol. I felt no building magic, so I remained stoic. The boy, on the other hand, pointed a scepter of some sort at me and did start forming a weak spell, but the girl stopped him before I had to. Interestingly, both wore concealing masks, a custom I couldn't recall ever hearing about.

"Wait! They're real people, not clones or projections."

Well, that certainly raised more questions than it answered. Albish, which could be awkward. I really should have checked the street signs before approaching potential citizens of an enemy nation. Though, I thought the accent sounded more American than Albish proper. A port city on the East Coast of the Unified States? Even I'd recognize New Amsterdam, so... Baltimore? Boston? Probably not the right names in this world. No real reason to speculate when I could just ask, I suppose. Fortunately, I had studied English diligently in my first life -- it's an important business skill, especially for those coveted executive positions -- and I had even taken a course on it at the war college in this life, so no need to dissemble. As for the words themselves: Clones? Projections? Better than zombies, at least.

"Also, they'd kick our asses," she continued while I reflected.

"Yeah, they look it," the boy replied. "You really pull off the child soldier aesthetic. Nice touch on the makeup."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Makeup? Aesthetic?"

"Yeah, uh, Regent, that's not makeup. You've got a bit of dried blood kind of all over the right side of your face. And your costume. And your rifle."

"Ah. Well, I'm fine. It's not my blood."

I ignored Regent's muttered "didn't think it was."

"Hopefully I'll have a chance to clean up soon. As for my 'child soldier aesthetic'," I continued, a little acerbically. "I am Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff, commander of the Salamander Kampfgruppe of the Imperial military. This is my subordinate Major Matheus Johan Weiss, of the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion."

Her eyes had widened at first sight of my face -- because I wasn't wearing a mask? -- and continued to widen through my introduction. In the end, they were comically wide, almost like--

"We were just transported here from our station on the Eastern Front by unknown means. Perhaps you could shed some light on the situation? Or at least tell us our present location?"

She hesitated for long enough I nearly turned to the boy, but finally replied "I'm Tattletale, and this is Regent. And that's Skitter coming in."

Sobriquets, to go with the masks?

"This is Brockton Bay in Massachusetts on Earth Bet... which means nothing to you."

Brockton Bay didn't ring a bell, but I hadn't had much time in this life to spend on geography a continent away. If this is Massachusetts, this city is probably Boston. She was smirking a little now.

"Well, I don't think you'd want it sugarcoated. This isn't your Earth. As for how you got here..." She tapped her chin. "Ah, this guy. Wondered why his power didn't do anything." She gave the deformed corpse a little kick. "He was a clone of a cape named Scrub, whose power let him swap out regions of space for their dimensional alternates. Clones get variations on the original's powers, and this one got the power to pluck capes from alternate dimensions. Probably some nuance to it, but that's the basic rundown."

OK...

"Cape?"

"You know, person with superpowers, like you and me? 'Mages' in your parlance, I guess, though that terminology is going to get you laughed at here. Powers aren't magic."

That almost made sense, weird semantic quibbles aside, but I certainly didn't know of any spells like the ones ascribed to this Scrub. And Tattletale hadn't used any formulae that I could detect, even when shooting the clone. Skitter was doing something, probably related to the swarm of bugs following her around. Oh, and attacking that clone, probably. Nonetheless, I nodded my understanding. I glanced at Weiss to check how he was taking all this. Lips a little thin, but stoic on the whole. Good. Better than I took my first dimension hop, though the circumstances were a little different.

"Sad to say I don't know of any way to get you guys home. Don't think any variant on Scrub's power would do it, and I think we got them all now anyway."

My nascent smile died without me having to suppress it. To my surprise, I felt pretty conflicted about my sudden retirement from military life. Losing out on my pension and saved wages stung, naturally, but my personal safety is paramount. Can't spend a pfennig of it if I'm shot dead defending some shit hole village while our useless nationalist 'allies' failed to even distract-- I blinked a couple times. Ah, that's it: I just regret missing out on the opportunity to kill communists. I'd fulfilled my promise already, but killing communists is its own reward. Not that I hadn't killed... rather a lot of them, recently, but I'd hardly run out. Not when you factored in my functional range as an aerial mage of several hundred kilometers, at least. And it hurts my professional pride to leave a job half done, especially one so noble as the total destruction of... as that. Well, going back wasn't an option at the moment, anyway, so I could examine the pros and cons later. But of course, the Argent Silver couldn't just leave it at that.

"And abandon my duty to the Fatherland in its hour--" A cough from behind and to the right. "decade of greatest need? But I suppose I can leave that discussion to the proper authorities. Do you know..."

It was only then that it occurred to me that I should not have heard a cough from behind and to the right. I glanced back and saw... Weiss. Obviously. Though that was not where he was supposed to be hovering. I barely restrained myself from snapping at him. Not the time.

"Excuse me. Do you know who involuntary dimensional travelers are supposed to report to? A 'Bet' implies an 'Aleph', so I assume there's a process in place. Oh, and there isn't a mask-wearing custom on our Earth. Could you please explain--"

Explosion above me, then another in close succession. Not aimed at me, clearly, so no need for immediate need for evasion. I sent out a couple decoys regardless as I rapidly accelerated towards Granz, mage shell broken by the second attack. Koenig had already primed an explosive spell and fired by the time I saw the attacker: a helicopter. I... really should have noticed the modern cars. Barely been on this world for a minute and I'm already making mistakes. But this one wouldn't doom me. The helicopter exploded without any further fuss, fragments raining down onto the street below. The bulk of the fuselage hit a gas station, which at least didn't immediately go up in flames. But that wasn't the end of the attack: a mage charged straight at Granz's decoy. He was dressed as appears to be custom in this world, in a ridiculous Ancient Greek getup, boots, shield, and spear writhing with white lightning. He stabbed the decoy without hesitation but seemed taken aback when it flickered and faded. Is aerial mage training truly so lacking even in the 21st century? Well, I can't really complain about my enemy courteously waiting for me to kill him. I sent my own decoy charging in while I slipped around behind him, priming both an explosive spell and a mage blade. I made my decoy juke his stab (So slow! Surely no one would send an aerial mage incapable of full reflex enhancement into combat?) only for him to manifest an active barrier from his shield. What? It was a strong barrier, I'll admit, certainly better than I could manage when I was just starting out, but mage blades are made to break barriers. If I had just gone in the decoy's place, he'd already be dead. Hope he enjoys his bonus 4 seconds, I guess.

I fire the explosive spell first, timed such that it barely impacts my own mage shell as I rush in behind it and bisect the... mutilated corpse? He... didn't even have a mage shell up, did he? I can't even enjoy this victory. I feel like I just beat up a little kid playing with Dad's boxing gloves. Then again, he, a grown man, showed no hesitation in trying to kill me, to all appearances a little kid. You reap what you sow, I suppose. Well, no further threats were presenting themselves, and it looked like Tattletale and Skitter were getting into a heated argument. Better square things away here before my convenient information source gets too distracted. Regent was looking up at me and clapping, so there was that.

"Good job, everyone. Granz, status?"

"I'm fine, ma'am. Shell back up in 3. Careful of the rocket artillery, though. They're guided somehow, and have proximity fuses; I'd be dead if they'd had a third."

"Noted. No attempt at communication before engagement?"

"No ma'am. I attempted to hail the aircraft as soon as I saw it, and they responded with artillery."

"Very well. You're free to destroy any artillery platforms, anti-air guns, aircraft, or aerial mages you spot. As for the shells, you ought to be able to take them out with optical formulae if you see them coming. And you will see them coming, now that you're aware of the threat. I will not accept any excuses on the matter. Same rules of engagement for other ground targets, for now. I'm going to try to get more intel out of the locals. Weiss, stay here to provide support in case of further attacks. Oh, and fill the others in on what we've already gotten out of Tattletale."

"Ma'am, what if you're attacked on the ground? Shouldn't someone be in place to provide direct support?" Granz chipped in.

I hesitated. It was the right tactical call. It was the call I'd made in the first place. But... No buts. I can't let... recent events throw me off my game.

"Very well. How's your Albish, Granz?"

"Not good, Ma'am."

"Well, it looks like we're stuck here, so you'll need some practice. Come on down."

If I was taking anyone, it would be Granz. If there'd been a third... Well, there wasn't. I briefed him on the situation as Tattletale had explained it as we came down. I caught the tail end of Tattletale's argument before they noticed us.

"... but they're also soldiers, Skitter! Of course they shoot back! It's on the PRT for not checking first!"

I coughed to gain their attention. "You know why we were attacked without warning?"

Skitter glared and the bugs around her buzzed ominously. Not that they could anything at all to a properly trained aerial mage, but it was still a little creepy. She didn't deign to respond.

Tattletale did: "They assumed you were projections, almost certainly. One of the Genesis clones can make several weak Alexandria packages, though they don't look quite human and the uniforms and guns would be new." She took a long breath. "Not that that matters anymore since you killed Dauntless and wrecked a helicopter containing 3 PRT agents."

I tried to restrain myself. I really did. Skitter looked angry enough as is, and she constituted a full third of people I met on this world who hadn't attacked on sight. I blame stress and sleep deprivation.

"Dauntless?" I snorted. "Dauntless is the name of a battlecruiser, not a mage so incompetent he'd compare unfavorably to a Free Francois colonial conscript."

Well, it got a laugh out of Regent at least, though I'm getting the impression that's not too hard. Skitter had a hand on her knife and the bugs were getting distractingly loud. Tattletale just looked put upon. I tried to pivot back to a productive line of conversation.

"But I suppose it's not my place to question your customs, at least until I fully understand them. Who was Dauntless? Who are the PRT? And what sort of follow-up should I expect?"

This time Skitter did respond. "Dauntless was a hero. He protected this city for years. He survived Leviathan and Echidna and he would only have gotten stronger if you hadn't killed him for no reason! And then you come down here to mock him for it!"

By the end, she was nearly shouting. The bugs 'speaking' in time was a nice touch. Nonetheless, I shot her an unimpressed look.

"No reason? He tried to kill Granz. He might even have succeeded if not for the decoy. Oh, and he tried to kill me too, but there was never any chance of that. You can't go into battle and expect your enemies to spare you when you won't grant them the same privilege." I paused, then forced myself to continue. "I... apologize for the mockery. I've been under a lot of stress lately, and I was unaware of his service to the city."

Her response was less appeased and more deflated, but close enough.

Tattletale jumped back in: "Well, what's done is done. What's important going forward is that you've permanently burned your bridges with the heroes. Lucky you met us, right?"

I turned my unimpressed look on her.

"You still haven't answered my other questions. And 'heroes'?"

A suspicion was sneaking up on me.

"The local cape scene is divided into heroes, basically cape police, and villains, those of us who don't get along with the heroes for one reason or another. Oh, and Parian, who's neutral. The PRT is the heroes' unpowered support. As for follow-up, the local Protectorate, the government hero team, is out of fliers, and it'll take a while for them to get in touch with New Wave, the local independent team. Getting anywhere fast via ground transport in this city is a dicey proposition right now. They've got one more helicopter, but they're not going to send it out alone after what you did to the last one, and they're not going to pack a bunch of vulnerable capes onto it for you to take out all at once either. So long as you find somewhere to hunker down within the next hour or so, you're good short term."

...Suspicion confirmed. I live in a comic book world. I can't leave. This is my life now. Being X, I thought you were going to torment me with trials, not cliches! Oh, and three minutes in and I've already killed Superman, permanently estranging myself from law-abiding society. I glanced at Dauntless's top half, which had landed in a bush nearby, ridiculous crested Greek helmet still poking up proudly. Well, not Superman. Maybe Spiderman? No one too important. But fuck, why didn't I at least try to capture him alive? Sure, he could have detonated his orb, but that's hardly a serious threat if you know to watch for the signs. And this is a modern world, presumably built on the principles of reason and prosperity through free exchange like that of my first life. There's no reason to assume my enemies here would be possessed of the same insane fanaticism with which I've become so familiar. Not killing an enemy just... didn't occur to me. I suppose even a rational, peace-loving person like myself can develop some bad habits after half a decade of war. Just another step in Being X's plot, in the end. Well, as Tattletale said, what's done is done, and as much as I wish I could just stop taking this absurd situation seriously, the danger was real enough.

"And the reason you 'don't get along with' law enforcement is crime, presumably?"

She shrugged.

"Maybe. Never killed a hero, though."

Well, fair enough. If I couldn't integrate into law-abiding society, criminal society will have to do. I'm not happy about it, but I've borne greater insults to my dignity and principles for the sake of security.

"Anti-air assets? Magic detectors? Missile platforms? And couldn't they just bring in reinforcements from outside the city?"

She narrowed her eyes at me for some reason.

"No anti-air the way you're thinking, though maybe Kid Win could put something together. Nothing too impressive, and it'll be nonlethal. I don't know what a magic detector is, but I'm certain they don't have any. As for reinforcements, they just don't do that too often. I have a few ideas about that, but they'd take a while to get into. For now, just assume they're stuck with local capes and maybe 3 or 4 permanent transfers to replace their losses unless you really piss them off. I think the only platform they have for those small air to air missiles is the other helicopter, which can only carry two, which isn't enough, apparently. They had some cruise missiles at the rig, not sure whether they survived Leviathan. They can call in a strike from another city if it comes to it, though, and they will if you make too much of nuisance of yourselves."

I hid my wince, but Tattletale's eyes still narrowed further. I almost asked about helicopters and cruise missiles, since Tanya had never encountered those concepts, but I sensed that would be a mistake. Instead, I went on the offense.

"You claim to be a mage, but I've yet to sense you cast a single spell through two fights. What can you do, exactly?"

That was met with a wide smirk for a second, as though to let me know she knew what I was doing.

"'Parahuman' or 'cape,' never 'mage.' No one casts spells, because magic doesn't exist."

"Oh, sorry." I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her. "What can you do with your superpowers, then, because that's so much less ridiculous than magic?"

Another snort from Regent, another piercing look from Tattletale.

"Enhanced intuition. You know, like superpowered Nancy Drew."

"Who?" I asked, a beat late.

Last edited: Jun 1, 2022

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#24

1.2

-- Lisa Wilbourne --

"Who?" she asked, already knowing she was caught out, rising panic obvious.

Oh, she had a good poker face, but not good enough to fool my power. Not nearly. I capitalized on the moment of weakness.

"Cut the crap. You're not what you pretend to be."

My power charted the panic as it peaked and fell, subsiding into resignation. I started to slip into a predatory smile when my power finally elected to fill me in on her thoughts instead of her feelings.

Willing to murder you and your team to silence you. Certain she can kill you before you say anything too incriminating. Will not allow you outside of her effective range alive unless she's certain of your silence.

What the fuck, power? What the fuck, Tanya? Who thinks like that?

Alexandria, Coil, Kaiser, T--

OK, not a productive line. What great company you keep, Tanya! Well, fuck. I glanced at her silent compatriot.

Very poor grasp on English. Grieving. Intensely loyal to Tanya. Will back Tanya's play without question.

Double fuck. Why'd I have to poke at her? It's not like I didn't already know how dangerous and unstable she is.

Chronic need to prove intellectual superiority via--

That's enough of that. Not the time to retread old ground. This isn't working. I need a new direction to send my power in. I let in a trickle of insight. Why is she willing to kill me to protect this secret? Haven't I been helpful?

Clinging to military hierarchy as a source of stability and security. Believes secret threatens subordinates' loyalty.

OK, orphan, adoptive family(?), abandonment issues, recent loss, basic stuff. Still a bit extreme, though, but I guess that fit neatly into the whole Tanya package. I glanced at the 'intensely loyal' subordinate. Probably not even true, but it's not a rational judgment. Not going to convince her here and now.

Noticed your panic. Surmised that you understand her intentions. Impressed by your power. Considering what assurances she'd need to let you live. Considering how to secure your loyalty.

OK, definite improvement.

"Pretend to be?" she asked, giving me an out.

I didn't miss the way her hand tightened on her rifle stock.

"You know, the soldierly professionalism thing. Let out that sassy bitch we both know is your true self."

That actually offended her. Really? Miss 'Dauntless is the name of a battlecruiser' doesn't like being called sassy? But she didn't kill me, so good enough. Now, to arrange a private conversation. I reduce the trickle of insight to the barest drip-feed. Need to conserve as much as possible for that conversation.

"Well, no reason to hang around here. How about we all come back to my hideout, maybe get something to eat?"

Taylor didn't like that.

"What the fuck, Tattletale? She murdered Dauntless right in front of us!"

Now is not the time for your issues, Taylor!

"Self defense, not murder. I'd happily turn myself in and await my vindication in court, but unfortunately the Empire maintains exclusive jurisdiction over its soldiers even in foreign nations in absence of a Status of Forces Agreement, so the local justice system has no legal authority to prosecute me."

Taylor scoffed. I gave that line all the attention it deserved.

"They get kidnapped from their world and immediately get attacked with lethal force. What were they supposed to do?" I sighed. "Look, it's a fucked up situation, I get that. But they're about to get screwed over by the system for something that isn't really their fault. Besides, we need all the friends we can get if we're going to succeed in our plans."

Was that laying it on a bit too thick? Nah, not for Taylor. Her resigned "fine" confirmed my judgment.

"And why your hideout? We finally find a fun one and you're just going to steal her away? I want the sassy Nazi magical girl."

I flinched away from anticipated blood splatter, but none came. OK, her fuse isn't quite that short. Still, Alec, don't test the landmine by stepping on it!

I glance back at Tanya. Yeah she does not look happy. But she's... yeah, pretending not to know what a 'Nazi' and/or 'magical girl' is. Actually, her need to keep that secret might be what actually saved Alec's life. Eh, I need every drop of my power for myself right now. Good luck, Alec.

"I'd be happy to, Tattletale."

She muttered a few sentences in German. Tinker tech radios? That'd be a huge deal in World War 1. (Or whatever the equivalent and her world is. The rifles are distinctive, and limit the 203rd's origin to a pretty narrow window in time if firearm development continued in their world as in ours.) And her battalion got 4? The dead one probably had one too. Lot of a very limited resource to spend on one unit. Elite unit? I involuntarily glance at Dauntless's upper torso, intestines spilling out of the bush and onto the street. God, I hope they're the elites. If not, I don't want to meet them.

"I have things to do. We'll talk later."

Yeah, Taylor would need some handling later. If there was a later. Well, maybe it will work out on its own. Best I point them at Coil before he realizes they're in play, and Taylor will forgive a lot for Dinah's saviors.

We start walking and I realize Matheus and the other one aren't planning on coming down.

"Uh, Tanya? Are your men not coming?"

"Oh, I told them to follow."

"In the air?"

"Obviously. I'm not going to just cede local air superiority without a fight." Seeing my continued confusion, she elaborated "A mage in the air has a far greater capacity to observe and target both air and ground assets, and in turn makes a much harder target due to their speed and additional axis of movement. Further, I've instructed them to fly low enough they should be able to sense any grounded mages spinning up their mage shells, flight spells, or reflex enhancement formulae and with a little luck eliminate the threat before they're ready. Grounded aircraft are even more vulnerable."

Excellent tactical reasoning, Tanya... for a war zone.

"Eliminate? Look, the heroes are going to figure out Dauntless's death was mostly their fuck up sooner or later. You kill another hero, though, and they're not going to hold back."

"Oh? You think they're reasonable enough to forgive that misunderstanding so long as I don't exacerbate it?"

Yes. They wouldn't be happy about it, but they'd give up more than that for you four.

I snorted. "Would you forgive someone who killed one of your comrades, whatever the circumstance?"

Her rifle stock creaked. Loudly. I was a little afraid it would shatter in her hand. OK, that was the right lever, but let's not pull it any further just yet.

Who was this girl? Well, 80% sure it was a girl. It's an important question. More important in her absence than she ever was in life, for sure. Through all my interactions with the 203rd I've been building a profile, a portrait painted in negative space. It wasn't enough, not yet. I let up on my power, just a bit. Who was she to Tanya? Love interest? Favorite pet human? The first killing machine she assembled with her own hands, and took pride in maintaining ever since?

Her friend.

Ouch. Way to make me feel like a heel, power. Back into the dark with you. I glanced over at Tanya, still lost elsewhere, and then over to the silent one, who still had no clue what we were talking about. A step behind and to the left, this time. Matheus probably clued him in on his fuck up so he wouldn't repeat it. Had I misjudged her? I had Tanya pegged as a sociopath from her second sentence. Exceptional self-possession and remarkable charisma, (even, as when she mentioned her duty to her 'Fatherland,' she in fact cared not a whit about the subject,) all combined with a frankly frightening intellect for a 12 or 13 year old, but the kind of person who cracked an economics textbook when she wanted to learn how to understand people, and stunningly ruthless in a fight. And disturbingly casual about it, too. She went from civil conversation to murder and back in about 20 seconds, and nearly half that was updating her team's orders. Oh, and she's still half planning to murder me over some secret. Definite mark against her.

But she was taking this loss hard. It didn't fit. Perhaps she was simply damaged by years of war? Toss an 8 or 9 year old into the trenches, and what comes out? Probably a corpse most of the time, cape or not. A lot of parahuman researchers like to reduce a cape's personality to their trigger event, but I really doubt that was her greatest trauma. And then there was the secret. Knowledge she shouldn't have. Important things, like cruise missiles and Nazis, but also trivia, like kids' detective novels published most of a decade after her time and translated into German who knows when and the magical girl genre, which had only really existed for a few years in the 90s. Precognition, on top of all her other powers? Maybe something subtler, like a thinker power that allowed her to learn about things from the behavior of nearby people? A decent ace in the hole, but why would that bother her men? Maybe something wilder, like time travel? But why send a child back to fight in a war? I really couldn't afford to burn more of my power on the question, not while my life depended on the outcome of our next conversation, and possibly on whether I could convince her I didn't know the details. The curiosity still burned in me.

By the time she responded, voice flat, I'd nearly forgotten where I'd left the conversation.

"I take your point."

More German muttering, then silence. I let it sit.

A\N: So, uh, sorry if you didn't pick up on those hints about Visha last chapter. Lisa's not going to dance around the issue in her own head. But don't worry! Soon the 203rd will be holding auditions for a substitute Visha! I'm certain the resulting relationship will be completely healthy for all involved!

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-- Tanya von Degurechaff --

We soon arrived at Tattletale's 'hideout.'

"A disaster relief shelter? Not very hidden, is it?"

She startled at the sound of my voice. She'd been kind enough to let me stew in silence the last several minutes of our walk, despite not knowing the reason for it. Well, maybe she guessed. No secret that soldiers die in war, after all.

"Ah, but that's what makes it perfect. What sort of supervillain spends her off hours providing shelter to the dispossessed?"

I again reflected that I didn't want to live in a world where that sort of reasoning made sense, but since when has that mattered?

"Very well. One moment."

"Weiss, Koenig, we've arrived. Come down discreetly a couple blocks away, then walk over. Everyone, disguise your uniforms with illusions. Don't drop your mage shells and maintain low level reflex enhancement."

Of course, if Tattletale was lying about the lack of magic detectors, these 'disguises' would in fact draw a great deal more attention. If so, better to learn that now. If she was lying about that, she was probably lying about other things, but the authorities almost certainly wouldn't move straight to shelling a relief camp, and, if Dauntless was indicative of the quality of the local 'heroes,' we could deal with whatever else they might send.

If it came to that I resolved to kill Tattletale first. If she can truly read my intentions, the one bright spot was the ease of making credible threats. I looked over at her and noted a gratifyingly wide eyed stare. Well, gratifying in the moment. The implications were disturbing. How could I negotiate with someone who could effectively read my mind? If I depended on her for information, how could I ever be sure she wasn't just telling me what she needed to get me to do what she wanted? Maybe she wasn't worth the--

"Let's eat! The cafeteria here is nothing special, but I get the impression 'nothing special' would be an improvement for you."

Well, I could always kill her after lunch. Soon enough the five of us entered the campus. Tattletale lead us past the reception area into a sparsely occupied outdoor cafeteria. I immediately noted a pair of... ugh, I guess I have to call them 'henchmen.' Henchmen with slung assault rifles. No masks, so probably not mages. Rapid fire, even from the relatively piddly intermediate cartridge those guns fired, certainly could break a mage shell. It would take 2 seconds, maybe? I had to interpolate because guns of that sort hadn't yet been invented on my previous world. Regardless, plenty of time to react.

Of course, hiding your mages as normal soldiers to stage an ambush is an obvious tactic. I felt no magic from them, which at this distance meant they could at most be hiding only some very light internal spells. Given that we're keeping our spells up, we should have a decisive advantage if they began any serious casting. I watched my men and made sure they noted the threat and came to the correct conclusions regarding it. They wouldn't know the particulars of those guns, but they should still be able to draw the right answer. Thankfully, I could practically see the same thoughts pass behind each of their eyes. I gave them a nod and a smile.

From the regular patrons, we attracted some glances, but really not too many. I'd disguised my uniform as a nondescript, somewhat grimy hoodie and a pair of similarly grimy jeans, as appeared to be the dominant local fashion. The rifles were a little unusual, but not too much; most of the people here were armed in some fashion.

The food was about what you'd expect: dry cereal, gruel, canned goods. And Tattletale was right, it was incredible. If I never see another sausage in my life it'll be too soon. They even had coffee, though it turned out to be so abysmal I couldn't finish my cup. And to my muted surprise, I discovered I was famished. When had I last ate? The recent past was a bit of a blur. Not the complete blank I'd expected, but little details and the precise chronology were hard to pin down. I suppose I'll have to keep closer track myself, now that-- now that no one's going to do it for me.

After we'd taken the edge off, I restarted the conversation.

"If we're to integrate into this community, we need to know more about the local distribution of forces. Tell me about these 'heroes' and 'villains.' Who is Leviathan, and who is growing these clones?"

And so she launched into a frankly bizarre series of explanations. Mages dressing up in silly costumes and calling themselves things like 'Miss Militia' and 'Laser Dream?' Well, it's a comic book world, I suppose there's no way out of the basic conventions of the genre. Though even if Being X had arranged for our kidnapping to the most absurd world he could find, surely there must still be some internal logic to its absurdity? I couldn't bring myself to care enough to ask.

More odd was how she described their 'superpowers,' as though each mage could cast only one or two spells. And most of these spells I'd have no idea how to recreate. I'm no expert in magical theory, but I like to think I have a good grasp on the fundamentals. And on the practical application of magical violence I can claim without too much boasting to have been among the very best on my previous world. But turning dogs into elephant sized monsters, and then turning them back? I hadn't the faintest clue how to accomplish that.

Well, this world has had several additional decades to research obscure spells, I guess. But why would you even want to? If you can perform complicated biological transformations at range, surely it would be easier to just turn your enemies into corpses directly? Or outside of combat, wouldn't an animal more used to labor, like a horse or donkey, make more sense? Though, frankly, a modern world shouldn't have much use for beasts of burden of any sort. And these 'Undersiders' used them as their principal means of transport? Why not just fly? Well, I had an idea about that. I cut off Tattletale's meandering digression into the Pelhams' relative capabilities with the four simple spells that apparently comprised their whole repertoire.

"Oh, I think I get it. All the A and B rank mages are conscripted, right? You're talking about the dregs, who are forced to specialize and practice intensely to manage a couple combat viable spells? Perhaps you have specialized orbs, too?"

It made a lot of sense. It explained the deplorable state of training I'd observed in the local mages, the variety in their 'powers,' and the comparatively tiny amount of magic I'd felt from Regent and Skitter. Well, I'm still not sure why someone would choose to specialize in some of these spells, but I guess people make odd choices sometimes. In a capitalist society, it's naturally up to the customer to decide what they want, and the magical researchers and orb developers simply provide in return for a tidy profit.

The expense would have been exorbitant in my last life, but perhaps computers could streamline the process into something manageable for a wealthy individual or small organization to sponsor a promising young C rank mage or two. Tattletale had said something about corporate teams, hadn't she? All and all I felt pretty pleased with my deduction. Weiss's increasingly baffled expression had also morphed into understanding. Koenig still looked confused, but I think his Albish just wasn't good enough to keep up. Granz wasn't even trying, electing instead to focus on our surroundings. I approved, though we'd really need to all master the local language sooner or later.

But surely they could leave a few true mages behind to maintain order? The quantity and relative success of magical criminals Tattletale had described to me couldn't be good for the war effort. Well, Dauntless was probably B rank. Absolute bottom of the barrel in terms of skill, but shuffling off the worst of the lot to man the home front made some sense. Of course, it'd make more sense to do the opposite: award some tiny number of safe peacekeeping roles to the best of the best. You lose some aces that way, but the bulk of your conscripts will work their hardest in training, instead of slacking off for a chance to get out of the war they want no part in, only to find themselves thrust onto the front lines anyway. But I know better than anyone that military bureaucracy simply doesn't think that way, so it wasn't evidence against this theory. Oh, and this could solve my Tattletale issue neatly, too. I obviously couldn't trust her not to use her 'power' on me, but if she could surrender her orb while we spoke, I wouldn't have to trust. Actually, if I can get that specialized orb and learn to use it, I wouldn't really need Tattletale at all.

Tattletale just stared at me while I mentally patted myself on the back.

Finally, she responded "No, I think you actually don't get it. I'm not sure what a lot of what you just said means, but I'm still sure it was wrong in every particular."

Hmm. Perhaps she picked up on my last thought and now wanted to dissemble. I quirked an eyebrow and waited for her to elaborate.

She took a few seconds to put her thoughts together, then continued "OK, I'm going to walk you through the absolute basics so we can figure out where we lost common ground."

And so she did. Scion, the triumvirate, the endbringers, the (virtually nonexistent) role of parahumans in the military, trigger events, and prt power classifications. A lot of it was incredible, but a lot of it was also easily verified.

"Ser-- Weiss, go speak to some of these people. Try to confirm some of these details. Maintain your cover as a local, but it's fine to let them think you're weird or dumb."

Weiss gave me a put upon look. Koenig clapped him on the back.

"No need for that look, my friend. You were going to do it anyway, so it's good to get permission."

Weiss shook his head and got up as Granz guffawed and I suppressed a smile at the familiar antics. Good to see them in high spirits, after all the grim seriousness lately. I guess the prospect of a whole new world to put their mark on had the lovable war maniacs fired up. Tattletale just rolled her eyes.

"Why would I lie about things you could easily check?"

I snorted "You wouldn't, but only because you knew I would check. Therefore I have to check, even knowing your story will be confirmed."

Was that a bit of frustration I saw on her face? Confirmation my strategies to limit her advantage were working? I was considering the possibility of a double bluff when she interjected, now just looking irritated.

"You know we're not enemies, right? I want things from you, and you want things from me. Why not just collaborate for our mutual benefit?"

I considered her words while Koenig interjected this time, accent thick.

"Clearly. You are too lively to be enemy to the colonel."

The reply was essentially automatic while I continued to think.

"Thank you, Lieutenant, but I assure you I can handle threatening Tattletale myself."

"Yes ma'am."

It was... disturbing that Tattletale had to be the one to propose the commonsense arrangement. I put my suspicions aside for the moment. When had I begun to default to violence and threats to solve my all problems? Of course, there's no place for that sort of thinking in war. War is a matter of mutual detriment, not benefit, and my job as a soldier was just to ensure the enemy hurt worse. It's the role of diplomats to try to extract something of value out of the whole sordid mess, and the Empire didn't send A rank children off to become diplomats. But I'm free of the war now, and I'm not truly this child, who's known little else. Of course, Being X would not just allow me to put aside this persona and return to living in accordance with my principles, my first minutes on this world had already proven that, but... when did I stop trying?

I let that thought sit in my mind for a moment as I finally collected myself... and turned towards the cause of this little identity crisis. I could practically feel the smugness radiating off her. Oh, her poker face wasn't bad, but I'd played cards with-- Well, the smugness faded rapidly as she took in my expression. I'd known she was dangerous. I mean, obviously, I'd be an utter failure of an officer if I didn't understand how you could exploit intel to hurt someone. But this... even knowing she planned it, even knowing her words were a tool to control me, I couldn't make myself dismiss my realization.

We'd exchanged what, a hundred words? And she'd found a fault line in my mind I didn't know about, that I'm certain no one knew about. And was this the only one she found, which just so happened to work out to her benefit? Doubtful. What would the others do? I almost killed her then, before she could say another word, reflex enhancement rapidly building from the low level I was maintaining constantly to full combat readiness, little mage blades appearing over my fingernails.

Was I overreacting? Was I falling back on violence because it had become comfortable? Probably, but could I trust that judgment? To what extent could she plot out the course of my thoughts? Granz and Koenig, ever faithful, followed suit an instant later, not understanding the threat but trusting my judgment. But even so, something made me hesitate. Was I really going to kill some civilian, some kid because of how she spoke to me? I'd... killed civilians and kids before, but I'd had orders. My own back was to the wall. Well, maybe not always on orders. Things got chaotic in battle, and I can't guarantee there was never any collateral. Especially recently... the pursuit was a confusing mess, whole units turning on their commissars and fleeing into the Russy night. But I couldn't regret that, could I?

Still, this? No orders, no ambiguity, no promise, no noble cause to wipe away all stains. Just murdering a teenager over words. No, not yet. My safety and personal autonomy comes before my principles, always, but I could afford her one more chance to let me have both. I let my mage blades fade and slowly relaxed my reflex enhancement, causing Granz and Koenig to do the same. But I kept enough enhancement to watch Tattletale's poker face break in slow motion, only speaking to interrupt her as she tried to correct course.

"Every parahuman power is a weapon, isn't that what you said? Do that again and I will kill you. No more chances. Now, I think we need to have a brief conversation in private."

"I-"

"Don't speak. Just lead the way."

"Koenig, Granz, gather Weiss and position yourselves around the main building. If you feel me spin up my full combat suite, kill the guards and fly. I'll join you shortly. This shouldn't take long either way."

Last edited: May 28, 2022

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May 29, 2022

#102

1.4

A\N: This is kind of too short for a full chapter, though I think the ending is in the natural place. I split this off from 1.3 initially because I planned to write this from Lisa's perspective, and I have a loose 1-viewpoint-per-chapter rule, so the first person doesn't get too confusing, but I just could not make it work. Obviously she has her power going full bore, and keeping up with that level of insight was exhausting to think through and tedious to read through. I guess I get now why she's not a common viewpoint character. Think I should edit it into 1.3?

-- Tanya von Degurechaff --

She led me through a room stuffed to the brim with computers and henchmen (are they still henchmen if they're just doing office work for the supervillain?) and then into a bedroom. Actually, it was quite nice. I imagine the shelter's other residents were unaware of this luxury behind closed doors. Well, not my concern.

She turned to me and started, "W--"

Still reacting inhumanly fast, I immediately cut her off.

"I will let you know when you may speak."

She stopped, and for the next several seconds we just stared at each other. This isn't working. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, reaching for my lost equanimity. In half a minute I had found it, and half a minute later, I had the right line, the single way to thread this needle. I agonized over the choice for another half minute. It was worrying that despite it all, despite how very close her words had brought her to death, they had in the end been just the right thing to say. Was I still dancing to her tune?

Surely not, right? There was no way someone who could do that would waste their time scrabbling over territory in a disaster area. No way she would need to rely on me for her schemes when she could have suborned any of the local powers with a few minutes conversation. Being X may hate me personally, but Tattletale was just picking on me because I'm convenient. Well, it was probably Being X who had dropped me right in front of her. Still... I like to think I'm not the kind of person to jump at shadows, but she'd rattled me. And the matter was so easily resolved! All she can do is talk, and I can make sure she could never speak again. It wouldn't take a quarter second. I suppose in the end the only way to be certain whether this threat actually existed was to kill her, which would prove it to be simple paranoia, and wouldn't that be pathetic? One way forward, then.

"Mutual benefit, right? Very well. But the transactional relationship you seem to want is untenable. War is the continuation of diplomacy by other means, right? It follows that diplomacy is itself combat, and it's an arena in which I can't beat you, and why should I take a fight I know I'll lose? But if I move the fight to the grounds favorable to me, you die and neither of us benefit. So, let's not fight at all. Tie your fortunes to mine. Join my team."

I extend my hand. She did not move immediately to take it.

"You may speak."

"Tanya, what the hell? That's insane. You're insane. You can't go from promising my death with abso-fucking-lute conviction to offering to take me on as your protégé in 2 minutes."

I quirked an eyebrow, hand still extended.

"Perhaps you can't."

She reached up and rubbed her temples, eyes closing.

"Look, I see the logic. Ensure our incentives align and we both know we can trust each other's motives. But that's not enough. The position you're offering me is as a subordinate, not an equal partner. How can I trust you'll make the right calls?"

Well, fair enough.

"A major world power entrusted me with a battalion each of infantry, artillery, and aerial mages, plus a medium tank company. I did not disappoint them. My former command, the 203rd, enjoyed the lowest casualty rate per engagement of any mage unit in the war. On all sides, I'm told, but take Imperial Intelligence with a big grain of salt. I assure you I am more than qualified to manage a five person cape team."

She did not look impressed.

"New world, new threats. Even you can make mistakes in unfamiliar situations. What if the next person you decide is basically the Simurgh is Gallant? You kill him without provocation and we all get kill orders."

"Good reason to recruit a thinker, wouldn't you say? If I know I can trust you, I'll take your advice seriously."

"And the other option? I can refuse, right?"

"Of course. If you say no, we go our separate ways. You will not contact us and I won't hurt you. Simple. If I enslaved you, you'd naturally work against me, undermining me in subtle ways I can't counter. Exactly the situation I'm trying to avoid." I shook my head. "What sort of idiot would I have to be to put myself in that situation?"

Strangely, that was what did it. She grabbed my hand and gave it a good shake with a chuckle.

"Yeah, what sort of idiot?"

"So, first order of business, who is it that you need me to kill?"

She gave me an exasperated look.

"When did I say I needed you to kill someone?"

This time I allowed myself to roll my eyes at her.

"You said you wanted something from me. You know where my talents lie. Unless you wanted me to do your taxes?"

"No, you're completely right. But that's not the first order of business, boss."

"Oh?"

"I've got a working shower in here. All the hot water you could want."

My eyes narrowed. Now, this was serious.

"Where?"

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May 31, 2022

#138

1.5

-- Lisa Wilbourne --

An hour later, I sat at my desk, taking notes on my laptop as Tanya paced and dictated. I'd changed into my civvies while she washed up, surmising she wouldn't appreciate me making a big deal about unmasking. I'd offered my real (fake) name, and gotten a distracted nod in return.

Freshly scrubbed and swimming in some of my clothes, rifle propped up by the wall, she looked a lot less Bonesaw, thank God. Though her attitude had always kept that association mostly in check. She looked kind of adorable, almost, if you ignored the calluses on her hands, her coarse, gravelly voice, and the pitiless, unnatural intellect lighting her ice blue eyes. Well, maybe she'd look adorable if I didn't know what she'd done, what she was ready to do at any moment. And only saw her from a distance. And didn't use my power. Oh well. She at least didn't bother pretending to not know what the computer was, which I appreciated. Even if she wasn't willing to talk about it, she knew I knew something, and that made things go much more smoothly.

"... weight and recoil aren't nearly as important for aerial mages but don't overdo it. But the most important factors are sturdiness and reliability. Even with a mage blade formula to ease the passage and a good cleaning afterward, circumstances permitting, getting shoved through a rib cage or skull at a relative speed of several hundred kilometers per hour is rough on a gun. All steel construction, ideally, with a hefty bayonet lug. Even then, buy extras. You'll also need to find someone capable of performing a silver inlay from the top of the grip up to a half-circle over where the projectile sits in the chamber and all down the sides of the barrel. In the meantime, get a couple thousand rounds of 7.9257mm Mauser to tide us over."

Thousand? Tide us over? Just how many people are you planning to kill, Tanya?

"That many, boss?"

"Ammo is cheap, but running out of ammo is not. And you go through far more rounds in training than you ever will in combat. Well, off the Front, anyway. And we'll want submachine guns for inside work. Same considerations, just smaller and smaller caliber. Get yourself one, too. A handgun is fine if you need something concealable in your civilian persona, but the cape costume already marks you as dangerous. Might as well have the firepower to go with it."

That's... not how that works. I'd already considered and rejected the notion of trying to explain the role of guns in cape culture, and how I can only really get away with the pistol because I'm a squishy thinker. I didn't need my power to tell me there was just no possible way to convince this little girl to give up her security blanket/murder implement. Which was lucky, because I'm just about tapped out, pain already making it a little hard to focus. Because I spent all my reserves on a 'conversation' that, it turned out, for the most part, neither required nor permitted my participation. And somehow emerged from the experience with even less understanding of the thinker headache in human form than when I started. And an agreement to follow the orders of the insane tween literal fucking gun-wizard from another dimension. But hey, Coil is so fucking dead. Got to take my wins where I can find them. My old plan of just tossing Taylor at him seems kind of anemic in retrospect.

Well, I guess if I'm going to be running around with a team loaded down with all the highly illegal military hardware I can afford, I really might as well have some myself. And how had I ended up on the hook for all this, again? Oh, right: "What, you're willing to bet your life on this team, but not your money? Insanity. Or is that you think I'm trying to rob you? Naturally not. You'll receive a double share of all team dividends until your outlay is made whole, plus some reasonable compensation for the use of your capital."

"Language tutors for Granz and Koenig. We need them up to speed as soon as possible, at least on the basics. Trying to give orders in multiple languages during a firefight is a recipe for disaster."

Where had the orphan child soldier developed her fixation on economics? I think I had a good theory on the why and the how of it: poor little Tanya must have found people so confusing, reptile that she is, and economics purports to describe human behavior in terms that cold reptile brain can understand. She'd have jumped in with both feet, and rapidly built her whole world view around it. But she didn't just reinvent it from whole cloth. She's hardly that smart, and, anyway, she uses all the right terminology. In English, no less. So where? Did the orphanage that couldn't afford to properly feed her stock a copy of The Wealth of Nations in their extensive library? Was civilian economics a focus at the Kaiserreich's militarized Hogwarts knockoff? Or, as I was beginning to strongly suspect, did it come with her mysterious future knowledge? If so, that was an important clue. It implied she had some control over the knowledge she'd received. But fuck, for all I know she just disemboweled a chicken and used her no-shit actual magical powers to just divine the secrets of Market Capitalism from its innards.

"A harness for you, with handles by the neck and lower back. Though, make sure either one can take twice your full weight in an emergency."

I winced. My new look was going to be a recipe for disaster.

"And see about acquiring some of those bottled superpowers you mentioned."

"What? Why would you need... Oh."

"Right. The four of us are not parahumans. And if we ever get to the point of mass testing for magical potential, any mages we find probably won't be parahumans, either."

If there's anyone who doesn't need more powers...

"Well, I don't really have any clue how to get in touch with the evil shadow conspiracy that sells them. Unless you want me to shoot Alexandria an email, I guess."

Her silence made me glance over. Oh, uh, should not have offered that. Not even as a joke.

Fortunately, she eventually responded, "Not just yet. I'd rather remain below her notice until I've worked out a counter."

I breathed a sigh of relief. A counter to Alexandria? Good luck with that, Tanya.

"Probably outside our budget, anyway."

"Hmm. What about stealing them from other groups? Foolish to keep a stockpile around, but even one could be a big help. Look for highly profitable organizations with commensurately many strong, loyal capes."

So, groups we definitely don't want to steal from? Sure, I'll get right on that.

"Spare uniforms are a must. I understand it'll be hard to replicate them exactly, but do your best."

Er, what?

"Uh, boss? Why do you need uniforms? You... are planning on getting a real costume, right?"

If anything, she seemed more confused than me.

"No? Oh, you can keep yours, of course. You are not an Imperial soldier and it would be inappropriate to dress you as one. Though I still don't really understand why you'd want to keep dressing up as an eggplant."

Bitch, eggplant? Oh, God, purple bodysuit plus blonde hair... Well, I'm certainly not shaped like an eggplant, thank you very much! But, no costumes? I gave her a closer look. Blank expression, so something she doesn't want me to see. No power, but I shouldn't need to cheat on this. Well, not any more than I already have. Still 'clinging to military hierarchy as a source of stability and security' perhaps? The uniforms don't matter, Tanya! There's no war here to give it meaning, no military police to back your authority, and no treaties between the Empire and any Bet nation to protect you. But I've learned my lesson about prodding her issues directly.

"Will you wear masks, at least? If you don't at least make a token effort towards anonymity no one will hesitate to bother you over cape business whenever they like. It's an important custom."

Now her expression morphed to a more natural distaste.

"I suppose it's a reasonable compromise."

"And you need cape names to go with them, or there's no point."

Full on disgust now, but still not the fear(?) she'd been hiding earlier.

"Very well. I'll be 'Argent,' I suppose. I'll let the men pick their own, though I'm already regretting it."

As if on queue, the sounds of the shower cut off and Weiss emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. He gave us a nod and moved over to the couch on the other side of the room, replacing Granz as he got up for his own turn, and joining Koenig in playing with the TV remote. They'd worked out how to keep the volume down pretty fast, at least, after a single pointed look from Tanya.

("You know the hot water isn't actually unlimited, right? It's actually quite expensive to get all the clean water and butane shipped in."

"Nonetheless, you will share it freely with your new comrades. Or do you want their first interaction with you as a teammate to be marred by denying them this simple comfort?")

"We'll need a watchmaker or precision machinist of some sort for replacement orb parts or whole new orbs. Not soon, but it might take a while. I have... a spare."

She produced an elaborate device, a glass half sphere filled with clockwork set in a metal ring, but did not look eager to hand it over. She must have taken it from her uniform pocket before changing.

"Bear in mind this is irreplaceable. For the moment, I mean. I expect you to find someone capable of documenting and replicating each part before returning it in perfect order."

She still was not letting it go. I was very careful to keep my thoughts off my face.

"Don't you have two? Perhaps we could use one of those instead."

"Ah, no. My second orb is something else. I need both."

Her voice was firm and inflectionless, leaving no room for questions. Did I really manage to stumble over some brand new issue while dodging the last? Damn, Tanya, you think someone needs a thinker power to get to you? Maybe they need one not to! Well, let's leave this minefield of a topic as gracefully as possible.

"I'll look into it. I don't need the orb right now."

She put it away quickly and continued as if nothing had happened.

"Well, that's all I can think of right now. Longer term, we'll have to see about reinventing magic detectors. I can guess at the principles by which they operate, but I've never tried taking one apart. But it can wait."

I nodded, beginning to review the list.

"Oh, and one last thing. If you've been holding things back or lying to me about anything important, now's the time to say. I won't blame you for acting in your own interests while you were a free agent, but for all our sakes I need an accurate picture of the world now."

OK, that sounds very reasonable and all, but will she actually let it go if she figures out I exploited her loss to manipulate her? And there really isn't anyway to clue her in without her figuring that out. Well, she managed to reason her way out of her little paranoia fit earlier, right? Excellent self control. Then again, that wasn't this. I get the sense that self control hasn't been doing the Red Army much good, poor bastards. Well, it's going to come out sooner or later. The heroes might even reach out themselves, once they see what she can do. Nothing for it...

"Well, I couldn't tell you about Coil until I knew you'd help. I may have exaggerated a bit how hard a time you'd have making up with the PRT. Dauntless was well liked and the other heroes will probably hold a grudge, but the organization as a whole can be pretty cold and pragmatic. Also, I know a ton of little things about most of the capes in the city, like, Armsmaster let Merchandising print his face on kids' underwear for a while. And Panacea totally wants to bang her--"

She raised a hand. I shut up. She just stayed like that, staring at me, motionless. It would have been super awkward if it wasn't terrifying. I was really tempted to let up on my power, pain or not, but what good would it do? Finally, she just turned and left, grabbing her rifle on the way out.

A\N: I struggled with this one a bit. No scenes I was really excited for, just a checklist of things to address before the Coil mini-arc, plus some details on Lisa's perspective on recent events. Does it read as awkward as it felt to write?

Last edited: Jun 6, 2022

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#163

1.6

-- Tanya von Degurechaff --

I touched back down some 40 minutes later. I felt... frustrated and restless. Even in flight I couldn't relax. Which I suppose shouldn't be surprising; I've rarely had the opportunity to fly without the threat of attack. As wonderful as it is, I must have conditioned myself to view flight as a prelude to combat. Even as I'd slowly ascended in a lazy spiral, my eyes had automatically scanned the peaceful city, on the lookout for nonexistent anti-air guns, aerial mages, fighter planes, tanks, even just a hint of a Federation uniform. Hell, I'd nearly shot a man going about his day in a brown hat and drab green coat with a couple unfortunately placed stripes before my conscious mind reminded my hands that he couldn't possibly be Russy infantry.

There was another moment of excitement when I felt a flare of magic over in the more intact section of the city and saw a figure ascend into its own aimless flight. My lips drew into a snarl as I charted out a course that would allow me to approach the figure with the sun at my back. My speed tripled as I poured manna into the flight spell, simultaneously pushing my reflex enhancement just that little bit passed the standard combat level. Expensive, both in concentration and manna, but when you're fighting for your life, an edge is an edge. I'd nearly committed to the attack run, the poor dead fool somehow having completely failed to notice me, when I forced myself to at least ascertain their identity first. An annoyed flick of thought shaped the air just inside my aerodynamic mage shell into a pair of lenses.

It took a couple accelerated moments, but I finally recognized Glory Girl from Lisa's description. A 'hero,' though not one of the government ones. A sanctioned vigilante. I... wasn't supposed to kill heroes. Even the independent ones. It'd alienate the others. Turn cold distaste into unrelenting antipathy. I found myself struggling to care. These local heroes, by Lisa's descriptions, were decidedly unimpressive. My 203rd could take them all at once, no problem. Hell, I could take them all at once, and the 'villains' too, prove my strength and skill to this ignorant world with the corpses of the 'protectors' they loved and the 'monsters' they feared. They didn't understand yet that I wasn't someone they could fuck with, could take from. I had to show them before they got any ideas because afterward, no consequences would ever be enough. I discovered that I was crying.

I broke off and ascended at top speed, blowing right past my operational ceiling, the height at which my flight spell could no longer reach the Earth below to push against. Momentum carried me upwards as my flight spell sputtered and failed. I dropped my mage shell, letting the wind hit me at full force, the thinness of the air balanced against my high speed. Immediately, I began to tumble, my body decidedly un-aerodynamic compared to my mage shell. Body reinforcement and reflex enhancement let me experience the wildly spinning view and the utter confusion of my inner ear in relative comfort. A mental 'chime' from my altimeter formula alerted me when I had fallen back below my operational ceiling, a modification to the spell I'd been quite proud of in training, before even that fateful day in Norden.

A long moment later, I held my rifle close to my chest, elbows in, legs together, and reformed my mage shell, manifesting magical fins to slow and finally stop my tumble. To my shock I saw Glory Girl rushing up towards me, arms spread. Was she... trying to catch me? How'd she think I got up here if she thought I couldn't get down? And if she actually caught me at our relative speed, absent body reinforcement, she'd in fact just splatter my body across her forcefield. But I guess it's the thought that counts.

I let out a wild laugh as I finally spun my flight spell back up, allowing me to dodge her without any real effort, and continue to accelerate down passed her. I leveled out just above the tallest buildings, slowing down just enough to let her think she might be able to catch up to me. She obliged, and I briefly amused myself by staying 'just barely' outside her grasp, appearing to not even notice her as I relied purely on my magic sense, able to clearly map out her forcefield at this minuscule range. Then she started trying to talk, shouting into the wind. Ugh. I accelerated again, half again then double her max speed. After another minute of fruitless chasing, she gave up and went home, evidently frustrated. A couple minutes later, I did the same.

I stared at Lisa.

"Seriously? I mean, I appreciate your faith in me, but what made you think a few soldiers could deal with that?"

"Oh, give it up. There's hardly a point to false modesty after you told me you think you can 'work out a counter' to Alexandria. You already have ideas."

My stare briefly transitioned into a glare, from which she gratifyingly quailed. I'll instill discipline in you yet, just you wait.

"Fine. Can't he use his power to get around Dinah's question limit?"

"No. Her thinker headaches transfer over from the dropped timeline, somehow."

"Does she have to observe the outcome with her own senses in the future to report on it?"

"No."

"Around when does he ask Dinah about the next week? Is there a gap?"

"No, he's smart enough to overlap it a bit, every six days. Well, I say 'he,' but I suspect he tortured the idea out of me or Skitter in a dropped timeline."

"Does he ask about Dinah's continued captivity, or just whether his base will be attacked?"

"The latter."

"Who decides what counts as an attack? Dinah?"

"Not consciously, maybe not at all. Powers have to make that kind of determination all the time and no one's really sure how they go about it. A rescue mission without any fighting or major damage probably wouldn't count."

"Hmm. Well, that still wouldn't be easy, and it doesn't get us Coil himself. If we take Dinah in both timelines and prove he can't beat us in the one where he tries to fight it out, what does he do? Go to ground?"

"Yes, but not forever. He'll try to gather strength and strike back from ambush, using his power to try as many times as he needs. I think he has a cordial relationship with Accord. Maybe he could convince him to lend him some heavy hitters."

"And we'd have no way to track him down or otherwise respond proactively. You don't know his civilian identity, and he'll close any timelines where his attack fails."

"Yeah, pretty much. If you can get me onto the base's intranet during the rescue mission, maybe I can figure it out from there, but don't bet on it."

"if Dinah tells him his base will be attacked, what does he ask next?"

"Whether his forces will succeed in the defense, and then he tries to figure out who. Shows Dinah pictures and asks her if the people in them are involved."

"So her power does sometimes depend on her knowledge?"

"I think her power is visual. She or maybe just her power actually watches the futures to determine the answer to the question. Either way, she can't remember anything about them afterward but the number. She doesn't have to actually see something with her own eyes in that future, but it does have to be visibly recognizable."

"That's something. So if I wear an illusion of Alexandria while I break down his door?"

"Dinah will report that Alexandria is responsible for the attack. I think. But don't do Alexandria. His PRT informant is high up. High enough they might be able to figure out she actually has other things to do. Maybe Dragon? Lot harder to get someone in the Guild, and he's never hinted he has anyone there. And she can effectively be in multiple places at once. And he'd probably blow a lot of questions narrowing it down since there's really no reason to suspect her."

"OK, so Dinah tells him Dragon will break down his door tomorrow. He clears out, presumably? If he can't win the fight, no reason to leave assets in place to be seized."

"Yes."

"How about this: we plan to break down his door disguised as Dragon tomorrow, but we also stake out the base today. If nothing unusual happens, we do nothing until tomorrow, but if he tries to clear out, we attack immediately."

"That's... Yeah, that's the one. And I do know where all the exits are for his secondary base. You'd have to do the attack tomorrow too, even if we already won, but that strategy works. Dinah doesn't see the results of her own predictions, so he'd have to ask again about earlier attacks. Which he wouldn't, because he's an idiot when he can't torture good ideas out of other people. And you said you couldn't do it."

"I said no such thing. And we're not quite there. That gets us Dinah and the rest of his stuff, but if he stays away from the evacuation in one timeline, we're back to the last scenario."

"He won't. He'll feel secure 'knowing' the attack isn't coming until tomorrow. He'll sit in his base organizing the evacuation while he spams his power trying to find just the right approach to get Accord to send help or something like that."

"If you're certain... The scenario where he gets away seems very annoying. And probably fatal for you, sooner or later."

"I'm certain."

Her grin was positively feral.

I gave her one of my own. Somehow, I felt a lot better.

Last edited: Jun 1, 2022

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Jun 6, 2022

#197

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-- Tanya von Degurechaff --

"Mr. Calvert." I gave him a nod. "We did meet briefly yesterday, but circumstances precluded a proper introduction. You may call me Argent, or warden."

After a little more refinement, the plan had gone off without a hitch the next day. Not that that should be a surprise. With the Travelers out of the picture and the Undersiders turning coat, his combat assets totaled a bare couple hundred unpowered mercenaries, few true combat vets, and Trainwreck, who hadn't even arrived yet when we went in. And Tattletale had managed to suborn nearly a third of the mercs, too. Intelligence is, at the end of the day, a force multiplier, and we had him so utterly outgunned that it was easy to force open the smallest gap in his panopticon into total victory.

In the end, it was hardly even a fight. At the speeds experienced combat mages reacted and moved, we'd bulled our way through all impediments and hasty resistance to secure Coil before the alarm had even truly been raised. Only 11 dead, most of whom were just cut down when they proved too slow to get out of the way. The other 4 had died when one of their platoon managed to wing Weiss with their tinkertech lasers and I'd immediately retaliated with an underpowered artillery spell. Not that he'd actually hurt Weiss, of course. Mage shells were designed to efficiently deflect optical formulae, to which those lasers were pretty comparable. And naturally, the rest of the mercenaries had folded when we'd marched their employer out in front of them and explained that he wasn't in any position to pay them anymore.

Thomas Calvert, stripped of his costume and mask (affectations I remained unable to perceive as anything other than ridiculous, my own new domino mask aside), was an unassuming, wiry man. Believable as a former cop and current consultant, rather less so as a cackling mastermind. Not that I'm sure any real person could match my expectations for that caricature, but he was supposedly as close as I'd find on this world. Currently, he was regarding me in silence with an icy, hostile stare. I didn't mind.

And why was the man alive to stare? Lisa had wanted the man dead. She'd wanted it badly. Still did, probably, though she'd accepted she'd been overruled. She watched on from the doorway, arms crossed, intense frown on her face. A bit irrational, but I didn't blame her, really. He'd kidnapped and enslaved her, forced her to effectively torture herself through overuse of her power, done who knows what to her in discarded timelines. And through it all he'd maintained an aura of nigh omniscience and untouchability, such that even now when she held all the cards she couldn't accept he wouldn't eventually turn the tables. It was hard not to notice parallels to my own situation, and I can't imagine a scenario in which I'd allow Being X to live had I the power not to. But that power! If I'd had access to that power just last week... Well, all I could do was ensure I had access to it going forward. And I would, whatever it cost. And it wouldn't cost too much, really, not practically. Just another small step in line with a hundred I'd already taken.

"You know your crimes. I won't bother enumerating them. It's beneath your dignity and mine to pretend what's happening here is truly in line with the rule of law. Nonetheless, your actions have harmed society and I will collect on that debt on its behalf."

You'd hardly have known I'd spoken, looking at his face. And it was not like I was truly acting against Lisa's interests. She stood to gain as much as me from the exploitation of his power. She'd admitted his power had already saved her and her team several times, though perhaps she wouldn't have found herself in those situations at all if not for him. And it was her idea to bring in Skitter, who, in spite of all her natural ruthlessness, had a bizarre aversion to killing. (Naturally, we'd had the base cleaned up a bit in the past day, in between other preparations for this conversation. Not like she'd notice a few missing faceless mercenaries.) She stood next to Tattletale, body language similar, though with different reasons.

"That monitor will instruct you on how and when to use your power. It will convey messages, checksummed and encrypted with one-time pads, for you to pass to your other timeline. Behave and you will be treated well. Simple comforts and entertainment. And in 10 years you will have served your sentence and you will be free. What do you say?"

I extended my hand.

Had to leave him some hope, not that I really expected it to ever come to fruition. I hadn't really expected to live another full year at any point since I graduated from the war college, and while this new world may not be at war, it was chock full of new threats, several of them far more dangerous than simple armies. Alexandria, had she been dropped on my previous world as I have been on this, could have done as she pleased. Mowed down armies simply by flying through earth and trench alike at Mach 20 with her arms spread. Assassinated every commander and politician who stood in her way with total impunity. Won the war for Dacia, even. And there were a dozen things here more dangerous than her.

He took my hand with a very strained smile.

"I suppose I don't have much choice."

My own smile was more relaxed, if no more pleasant.

"Ah, but Mr. Calvert, there are always choices. Of course, you understand that I have to be sure I can trust you to make the right one."

As Tattletale had so eloquently reminded me, trust is just a matter of providing proper incentives. I did not release his hand even as he tried to pull back. In a move I imagine he had trouble following with his unaugmented perception, I pinned his hand to the desk with mine while I detached my bayonet with the other. I activated the intercom with a knuckle while he fruitlessly struggled.

"Dinah, what is the chance that Mr. Calvert here will betray me in the next 30 days?"

Tattletale said it wouldn't work. That there was no training a scorpion not to sting. And if it came to that, she'd get her way. But with this method, there was no real risk to trying. Because, in a way, Coil's power was closer to Dinah's than Tattletale's. Dinah had to answer questions, and answer them truthfully. It was almost like it was designed to be exploited. On the other hand, Tattletale was impossible to control because the only way to make use of her was to give her information she could as easily use against you, and there was no rule that she had to tell the truth. Coil was presently enjoying the fruits of such an approach. Coil, though? You didn't have to tell him anything. Just tell him how you wanted him to use his power, interleaving genuine use with tests, and punish any betrayal harshly. Dinah made it even easier, as a couple simple rules allowed her to say beforehand whether he'd behave. And punish him for that future betrayal without the risk of waiting for it to actually occur.

Dinah had donated 4 questions to Coil's subjugation. When she confirmed his intention to betray me, I'd take a couple fingers. And then we'd try again. The rest of the hand next, then an eye. Straightforward enough, and any real squeamishness regarding injury and the infliction thereof was beaten out of me in my first months on the Rhine. Securing another's labor through threat of pain and mutilation was distasteful, to be sure, but was it really any different than shooting a conscript for cowardice in the face of the enemy? And I'd been prepared to do that since my initial officer training. No orders to force my hand now, but I needed the security that power could provide. And, after all, turnabout is fair play.

"1.28934548236%."

A beat of silence. I released him with a chuckle.

"Well, I admit you've impressed me. I'm too used to dealing with foes who only respond to force. The capacity to rationally adjust to your new circum--"

"He's just as surprised as you are!"

The implications sunk in slowly. I activated the intercom again.

"Dinah, what is the chance that Mr. Calvert survives the next 24 hours?"

"1.28934572983%."

I took a judicious step back just as a wave of magic permeated the area. It wasn't terribly strong, but I had no idea what it was meant to do. Coil's power? I darted back to the doorway and raised an active barrier, watching Coil warily, though he mainly seemed to be panicking.

"Tattletale, magic wave. What's going on?"

"I sense it too, through my bugs. A high keening sou--"

"Shatterbird! Skitter, your mask!"

I was about to ask for more information as Skitter frantically tugged her mask up and Tattletale knelt down, arms around her face, but events preempted me. The weak wave of magic transitioned into a sudden powerful burst and all the glass around us, from the fluorescent light fixtures to the monitor to Skitter's goggles, exploded violently in all directions. I produced magic light and rapidly assessed the situation. The explosion had been pretty powerful, but my active barrier had caught the burst from the monitor with ease and my mage shell had blocked the rest. It had also blocked the magic carrier wave(?), so my orbs were fine. Skitter and Tattletale were both injured, but not seriously, thanks to Tattletale's timely warning. Coil didn't look great, but he'd live with a little help. Then the fail-deadly antipersonnel mine I'd had installed in the ceiling of his cell detonated. Oh well. Good thing I had the active barrier up.

A\N: Delay was mainly real life stuff. I'm more excited for where this story is going than where it's been, so I'm not giving up on it soon. That said, writing this chapter and planning out the next few really highlighted just how little I remember from canon. Which makes sense, since I read Worm cover to cover in 2015 and haven't touched it since, and all the fanfiction since hasn't helped me keep things straight. I'm going to have to go back and review things more thoroughly, because there's nothing worse than picking up on a discrepancy and thinking you discovered an important clue to the AU only for it to turn out to have just been the author's mistake, and I've already made at least one in my description of Dinah's power. (She actually can remember the contents of the futures she sees if she chooses, though it's extremely painful.) I read a lot faster than I write, though, so it shouldn't delay things too much.

A\N2: Edited in a couple paragraphs explaining Tanya's plan and why she thought it made sense.

Last edited: Jun 6, 2022

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Jun 7, 2022

#228

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-- Lisa Wilbourne --

"... not sure if Hatchet Face's nullification effect would affect you or your spells, but best not take any chances. He's not a very strong brute, so you could probably just drop something heavy on him from outside his range."

I watched the gears turn behind her eyes as I finished recounting everything I knew about the Nine. She really was startlingly good at cape tactics, considering how much simpler magic WWI must have been, where everyone either had no powers or the same powers.

Large scale military operations are very complicated.

OK, fair enough. How should I know? Not like America gets into actual wars anymore.

What should have been startling but entirely failed to be was how much she enjoyed it. I mean, it was the complete opposite of startling. God knows Taylor lives for conflict, and the rest of us aren't much better. The rest of us Undersiders and the rest of us capes. It's not polite to say out loud, but everyone realizes on some level that the vast, vast majority of capes, granted incredible, physics-defying powers, dedicate their lives to fighting other capes, and that's fucking weird. And I know it better than most. I know how Vista is chomping at the bit to get into real fights, and how even Leviathan barely tempered that need. How Shadow Stalker regularly went on 'extra' patrols and still had so much pent up aggression she took it out on civilians at school. How Coil, despite having the perfect power to just sit back and enjoy the good life, decided for no fucking reason that he just had to rule this shit hole city. How Panacea had repressed that basic need, and how that had resulted in... well, her whole personality.

Almost makes me wonder what my power is doing to me. Anything you want to add, Power?

...

Didn't think so. It gets shy when I ask personal questions. Not like I can't guess, anyway.

But Tanya isn't a cape. What does it mean that she fits in so well anyway? Well, maybe nothing. Maybe it's just a natural trauma response. Maybe it always is. My power might not like to talk about itself, but it loves telling me all about those, all the endless ways to further break broken people. It is so full of shit.

I took a deep breath. Not the time. I glanced around the rec room, poorly lit by the glow coming from the mages' orbs, fragments of light fixtures and TVs hastily swept into a corner. Taylor sat next to me, practically radiating tension. It had been all Tanya could do to convince her to stay and let our paramedics check on her dad. It's not like she didn't realize how dumb going herself would be, how all she could possibly accomplish was to draw attention to an otherwise uninteresting civilian, but when had that ever stopped her? Well, I wish Tanya all the luck in the world if she wants to try making Taylor make good decisions, because she's going to need it.

I refocus on Tanya as she responds with a shrug.

"They sound like a nasty group. Luckily, we're not law enforcement and that's none of our business. The dangerous ones can't keep up if we just fly away, not that they'd have any particular reason to try. Shame to abandon this base so soon after we took it, but it'll probably still be here after they've had their fun and left. And if not, well, not like we could defend a fixed position from Siberian or Crawler anyway. Better not to draw attention to it."

What? I mean, seriously, what? That's not what you were thinking 5 seconds ago, Tanya! Where'd all that meticulous blood lust go?

While I was struggling to change gears and Weiss was nodding in casual agreement, Taylor jumped in. Not with the anger I expected, but with cold determination. Not a good sign.

"Bounties. Shatterbird's death is worth 110 million. 61 million for Siberian. 24 million for Jack Slash. Not sure about the rest, but I promise you they're worth your time."

Tanya leaned back, unaware of the danger implied by the fact Taylor hadn't even tried to moralize to her.

"That does change things." She turned to me. "And you're confident they're not recruiting? Any ideas on their ninth?"

That was the question I'd expected before she decided to pretend to not want to fight. There was something odd there. I inspected her closely. Was she... trying to extort Taylor for extra payment for something she wanted to do anyway? But she didn't especially want anything from Taylor. I glanced at Weiss. The other way around, maybe? She felt she had to object for the sake of her men, only to let herself be 'convinced' by the first argument we put forward? That didn't feel right either. For her own sake, then? Looking for an excuse to do what she wanted rather than the safe thing? Much closer, but my power still insisted that wasn't quite it. But I'd already blown too much power on curiosity during a crisis.

"Shatterbird would have held back if they were recruiting, at least until they warned the nominees, which I'd have picked up on one way or another. Killing half of them by surprise isn't Jack's idea of fun. As for their ninth... could be anyone. Not like they ask permission. Maybe not even local. And outside the core membership, they have pretty high turnover. Could be Burnscar or Hatchet Face or even Mannequin has been replaced since their last sighting."

"Well, we'll have to make do with the info we've got. Unless you think Dinah might have survived? Doesn't seem likely if she was holding her phone to her ear, not to mention all the windows and glass equipment in a nice hospital room."

Damn, if I'd thought Taylor was tense before... Her first.

"If she did, she's receiving the best medical care the city can offer. She's the mayor's niece, recall. Maybe even Panacea."

Not likely, mind, since if Panacea had been there she'd need treatment as much as anyone else, but 'maybe' wasn't an outright lie. Now Tanya.

"Regardless, I doubt she's interested in answering questions right now, even if you were willing to draw attention by flying right to the hospital."

"OK. Let's make sure we're all on the same page, then. In terms of general tactics, the Nine don't have a lot of good tools for dealing with fast, durable fliers. They'll want to draw us down and we'll want to stay high in the air as much as possible. Some of the team is impossible to beat, but a lot of them are quite vulnerable to the sort of firepower we can bring to bear, even with Bonesaw's improvements. Siberian can grant invulnerability to the ones she's touching, but she can't be everywhere. We should use our superior mobility to avoid their heavy hitters while picking off their fragile backline. If they're smart they'll in turn try to hide their vulnerable capes from air assault while Crawler and Siberian rampage."

"And how do you plan to deal with that?"

"In the short term, it doesn't matter too much. They can't hurt us and we can't find them. Ultimately, we'll want to coordinate with ground assets, who should have an easier time locating them, but Shatterbird's ability to destroy communication equipment makes that difficult. We should take her off the board first thing before they realize they have to be careful. Fortunately, she's also the most valuable target and one of the stronger members we can beat, so good alpha strike target all around."

"So you plan to just ignore their rampage while you search for Shatterbird?" Taylor cut in.

"Nothing we can really do about them, and there are few plans worse than allowing your enemy to dictate your movements." She shrugged. "Fortunately, there's nothing critical to us on the ground. Taking hostages only works against you if you let yourself care about the hostages."

Weiss broke in, face showing old pain and determination in equal measure.

"It's Arene all over again, right? Let them hide behind innocents once and they'll do it over and over again."

Koenig and Granz, previously ignoring the conversation they couldn't follow, went silent at the sound of that name.

"Correct, Major."

She broke into quick, confident German for a few sentences, ultimately receiving determined nods from all.

"But with a little luck, it won't be us burning the city this time around. Got to count for something."

That actually startled a little chuckle out of Koenig, though he looked a little mortified afterward. Taylor, initially shocked into anger by Tanya's cavalier dismissal, now just seemed horrified.

"Who... who are you? What have you done?"

Tanya's glare contained more weariness than heat. The words that followed fell short of anger, managing only dull bitterness. It was always disconcerting to hear Tanya's words come from a child's mouth, but this was something else. The effect was distinctly chilling.

"War is Hell. Don't you dare look at me as though the honored sons of your own fatherland haven't done as much and worse. As though I had any option but to either fulfill my duty or fail my nation, my men, and myself."

Taylor had nothing to say in response to that. Finally figuring out who our new friends are, Taylor? Better late than never.

After a few long moments, Tanya continued, professional cadence restored.

"In terms of individual assessments, Jack Slash and Burnscar are essentially non-threats we can ignore or kill in a moment as the situation dictates. Burnscar's heat immunity might protect her from optical formulae, but artillery spells are better in general anyway. She can teleport away if she sees you aiming, but a simple illusion can disguise that, and there's no reacting to a supersonic bullet after it's been fired."

"They're certainly threats to me. And don't underestimate Jack Slash. His power might not be too impressive, but he's been one of the highest profile villains on the continent for decades, and he's not only survived that whole time, he's maintained a powerful team through many losses."

Tanya looked unimpressed.

"You have no combat abilities, and hauling you around would slow us down and leave you vulnerable. Why would we take you into combat? Hide here while we handle the killing. We can always just fly back if we need an update from you. As for Jack Slash, well, I've watched artillery kill geniuses and idiots alike. Competence only counts for so much in face of a big enough power differential."

I struggled not to look insulted. Not that I exactly wanted to stare down the unstoppable cannibal or the personification of body horror, but the implication still stung a little. And moreover...

"Didn't you say your plan depends on having no critical assets on the ground? What if they come for me?"

"How would they find out about you? Take off your costume and you're just another civilian squatting in wreckage, and no one knows there's any relationship between us anyway. This isn't a horror movie."

You can't just tempt fate like that, Tanya! Weiss and Taylor both gave her confused looks, though for different reasons. Taylor started before I could work out a way to phrase my objection that wouldn't sound insane.

"Aren't you from World War One? Where'd you learn about horror movies?"

"Oh, Tattletale has been filling me in on Bet culture," she brazenly lied. "And 'Great War,' if you please. There's no guarantee the course of history in my world is doomed to follow yours, and I'd like to think we have a chance to avoid having to number our world wars."

Having successfully distracted both of them, she turned back to me.

"Oh, are you concerned about the money? Of course, all bounties any member of the team earns will be treated as team revenue. I'm not devaluing your contribution."

"It's not that. Don't you think they might find the base suspicious?"

"If they find it, I guess. Well, if you're that worried about it, we can fly you out of the city. Should only take a few minutes."

I breathed a sigh of relief, then froze. Was I tempting fate now? She ignored my incipient panic and continued down the list.

"Mannequin might or might not constitute a real threat. Depends on what tricks he's prepared and how tough his shell is. But his weapons are usually short range, he's not that quick, and he can't fly. Probably best to try to take him out from range with heavy firepower. Same for Hatchet Face, more or less, so we'll handle him the same way. Shatterbird has OK mobility and firepower, but she's not too tough and she can't match our reflexes. And it'll take her a bit to get glass into the air. Ideally, we'll take her by complete surprise and a couple simultaneous artillery spells will take her out before she has a chance to respond. Otherwise, some of us distract her with illusions and harrying fire while another sets up their shot. An overpowered optical formula from extreme range and an unexpected direction, maybe. Just burn a hole through her head in an instant. And once we've killed her, we can fetch new radios from another city to coordinate with the non-mages."

She took a breath.

"I think that's everyone we can take, excepting their unknown member or members. We can't do anything to Crawler, but he's strictly ground-bound. Just avoid him. Same for Siberian, though she's both more maneuverable and more dangerous, she should still be slower than our flight and have at least some difficulty reaching us high in the air. Bonesaw would be easy enough to kill, but no one will thank us for triggering her dead man's switches, and capturing her isn't worth the risk of exposing ourselves to her biological agents. Kill her creations if they get in the way, but ignore her otherwise."

"All that sounds right to me. What's our first move?"

"Establishing contact with the other villains, maybe? Can't imagine they're happy about these roving crazies interrupting their business."

"And the heroes. The Nine are an S class threat, which means truce rules. They're likely already trying to organize a meeting, maybe even giving out non-silicon-based communicators."

"Hmm. This'll be our first real introduction to the cape scene, then. Any thoughts on how we should play it?"

"Well, you could just tell the truth, leaving out a few details. I bet they still have Armsmaster's lie detector sitting around, so probably better not to try to get too tricky. The only way to really wipe your slates clean from the Dauntless thing is to join up, which really, really wouldn't work out for a lot of reasons, but the heroes probably won't go after you too hard if you explain the whole situation. Especially with your age and past, it would be terrible optics. On the downside, making excuses might make you look weak to the villains. The heroes might try to insist on quarantining you over fears of interdimensional disease, and once you let them lock you up, there's no guarantee they'll let you out once they're satisfied on that point. Probably won't try to force the issue during a truce, though, especially because you've already had a couple days to spread disease if you were going to. Longer term, if you present yourselves as independent, you mark yourselves as unknown factors, which no one likes, and as potentially up for grabs while you're still finding your footing. Expect a lot of recruitment pitches, some polite and some very much not."

"Not a bad option. I don't care too much if I come away from this meeting looking weak. I'll have thoroughly proved myself before the truce ends. I imagine I'd leave out you and Coil?"

"Yeah, that'd be for the best if you're going that way. You'd just be putting me in the line of fire if you brought me up. And Coil makes two dead capes, a worrying pattern."

"Actually, are you sure they know about Dauntless? The fight was quick and we didn't leave any of them alive."

"The helicopter at least would have been relaying video. Dauntless might have had a body cam somewhere, too, though I didn't see it. And I'm certain at least some civilians caught video. Would have been pretty awful quality at that distance and speed, but probably enough to identify your uniforms. No idea if the heroes got their hands on it already, but if they haven't Shatterbird just destroyed the originals."

"OK, decent option one. Give me another."

"Present yourself as Coil's agents, maybe? Say he was injured in Shatterbird's attack and you're attending on his behalf. Not like he's going to contradict you, and you can always dress someone up in the costume later if you need him to make an appearance. He did that often enough. Should give you enough plausible deniability to pretend to be normal capes with existing, nonthreatening allegiances. Probably wouldn't hold up to scrutiny long term, especially the kind of scrutiny you'll attract if you kill two thirds of the Nine, but it'll muddy the waters. And there won't be any awkward questions if you want to call on Coil's resources. On the other hand, the Dauntless situation looks a lot worse if you knew who he was and the situation in Brockton Bay, though you should be able to sneak by on the technicality they resorted to lethal force first and didn't bother trying to talk. And Coil is no one's favorite person right now since Echidna escaped from his base. You'll have to talk around the lie detector, but it shouldn't be too hard."

"I like that better. Security now when we need it most, while we're getting established. And a strong first impression never really fades, even after the truth comes out. And if the heroes really get pushy, we can always reveal the real situation then and rely on the lie detector to convince them."

"You really are too good at turning other people's thinker powers to your benefit. It's unfair."

Was that a hint of a smile under Taylor's mask? Thanks, Taylor.

"It's obvious. All warfare is deception, right? But I suppose you don't have any formal tactical instruction at all."

OK, Tanya, I believe you. I'm certain any old Prussian warhorse with the same 'tactical instruction' dropped onto an unfamiliar world playing by dramatically different rules would also be running circles around the locals a couple days later. Does she even get how much she's insulting us by extension? The way she swerves between breathtaking arrogance and absurd self-effacement with absolutely no apparent cognitive dissonance is... well it's not the weirdest thing about her, but it's definitely top twenty. Well, orphan child soldier, definitely undersocialized, I guess you have to expect some rough edges. If she's really as bad with people as I've been thinking, I'm tempted to say she's just mimicking behaviors she doesn't understand, but I've caught her acting and this isn't that.

Wait, is she really that bad with people for a twelve-year-old? A traumatized twelve-year-old? Well, maybe, but it's definitely a smaller gap. Once you start talking to her, it's really hard not to see a fully formed mind, defects and all, that just happens to reside in a child's body, but maybe it's not that simple. Uneven prodigy. If little Tanya had an adolescent's willpower and capacity for rational thought paired with a toddler's emotional intelligence, it's easy to see how she'd come to rely on the former and suppress the latter. She'd learn ways to muddle through social situations on intellect alone and ignoring her feelings would become a habit. Maybe she wouldn't even realize that isn't normal, because who would think to explain how emotions work to someone who to all appearances possesses an adult's mind? That'd be... kind of hilarious, actually. And tragic. They really ordered a little girl to burn that city down, didn't they? And she did it. And she doesn't even realize what it cost her. They gave her a family, a sister, let her get attached, then made her send her to her death.

Maybe she's not that fucked up, all things considered.

A throat cleared. It occurred to me I'd just been staring at Tanya for a good 20 seconds.

Well, none of that changes the fact that she's one of the most dangerous people I've ever met. And that I kind of really need that dangerous person right now to put between me and the fucking Slaughterhouse Nine. Let's circle back around later. Maybe much later.

"Uh, I suppose you could present yourself as Undersiders, or as our patrons. Coil's been steadily raising our profile, even having us take individual territories recently, but we don't have the Travelers or his power or connections to back us up anymore. The muscle you bring to the table would do a lot to forestall challenges from groups who think we don't seem that tough."

"Absolutely not! You want to tie the Undersiders to hero killers? Sure, they've got an excuse for Dauntless, but do you really think they're going to stop?"

Tanya shot Taylor a cool look but didn't engage.

"I don't think so. A public association would just let everyone know who they should attack to get to us when they can't beat us directly. Didn't you already bring that up? Probably better to just give up on the territory thing, or condense down to one you can all defend since Coil isn't around to make you follow through on it either. Long term there's no reason to share this city with other villains, but that's no excuse to overextend right now."

Er, yes, I did already bring that up. Not a great idea, but I was a little distracted. Let's move on.

"Well, that's all my good ideas. You could try to pretend to be members of the Elite or something, but they'd notice and object. You could get new concealing costumes and keep quiet to avoid the Dauntless association, but that looks even worse than the Coil option when they figure it out, and won't last nearly as long cause everyone loves a mystery."

"Well, option two it is, then. Try the PRT HQ first, you think? They should at least be able to point us in the right direction. You two should meet up with the other Undersiders and attend separately. We'll meet up again afterward, you'll tell me what you thought about the meeting, and then I'll fly you out of the city."

A\N: Well, here it is, The Plan (TM)! I'm taking bets on how long it survives first contact with the enemy. Negative timespans accepted!

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TorontoTowers

Jun 7, 2022

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TorontoTowers

Jun 14, 2022

#256

A\N: Writing big meetings is hard. Especially since I killed off everyone who might have kept things more or less organized. Too many fiddly details, too many people to keep track of and if you do, it's hard to write about all of them without bogging things down. Hard enough that at my current skill level I probably should have contrived a way to avoid writing this one, but I didn't realize that when I was plotting out the arc, and now I'm committed. So, I spent a lot of time on this and still don't think it works very well, but it needs to happen before the next chapter. Please feel free to point out the issues; maybe once I'm a better writer I'll come back to fix them.

It seems like there isn't actually any canon info on Krieg's costume? I'm going with the 'SS uniform gas mask' fanon.

1.X

-- Dean Stansfield --

A heavy hand on my shoulder jolted me from an uneasy nap. I blinked blearily up at Sergeant... Moore? Miller? Eh, if he wanted me to care, he should have let me sleep.

"Flying Nazi girl out front. Captain wants you to check whether this one's a person. And the truce meeting's starting soon, anyway."

Ugh. How has my life come to this? Last month, my biggest problems were relationship drama and embarrassing myself at a Gala. Last week they were grieving lost teammates and comforting my grieving girlfriend. Now? My life revolves around the glass sculpture formerly known as Genesis. (Though, hey, no way it survived Shatterbird. That thought actually improved my mood a bit.) Conjuring whole cape teams out of thin air? Manifesting perfect mirror images of real people complete with memories? Not to be confused with the one that just makes virtually invisible body-jacking parasites, because at least those ones don't know the M/S verification codes. It's hard to look at a villain with a strong, versatile power and feel grateful, but apparently the original Genesis got the least horrifying variant on her power. And who but the indefatigable Gallant could solve all these problems and more?

(Tattletale for sure, probably Skitter, Victor, Uber... Coil, maybe? Who knows what he does. And that's not counting everyone who showed up to party with Echidna and left without helping clean up. Point is, there are actually loads of people who could help, but only I actually do. You know, it says something about this city that all the other Thinkers are villains. That I should leave, probably.)

Sounds like a nightmare, right? Wrong. If it was a nightmare, I'd at least get some sleep. The last time I got 5 hours in a row, console made a bad call and Dauntless fucking died. And Amy just finished putting him back together, too. And you know what the worst part is? The absolute worst part? Genesis's power worked while she slept. Required that she sleep, actually. The only reason we haven't had to deal with even more projections is probably that the clones aren't sleepy enough.

My internal whining carried me through suiting up, to the coffee machine (Armsmaster's personal machine, in fact; the only functional one in the building), and two thirds of the way through my first cup before I dragged myself out to the atrium. I looked through a hole that used to be a window at the interesting scene out front. Putting half the capes in the city in the same spot would always be 'interesting,' I guess, but this was a different sort of interesting. 'Flying Nazi girl' was hard to miss, the perfect Aryan ideal in full officer's regalia. She was positively laying into Krieg in rapid-fire German, hovering just high enough to look down on him, though her main emotion was disinterested contempt tinged with a pall of loss (but that was universal enough at this point I'd almost stopped noticing it). Krieg was a gratifying swirl of bewilderment, embarrassment, and a little fear. Tattletale, off to one side with the other Undersiders, apparently found the scene absolutely hilarious. The girl paused archly, awaiting a response, and Krieg's slow stuttering clued me in on the joke. My laugh startled the group, though Tattletale soon joined me.

The girl's eyes flicked to me before settling on Tattletale inquisitively. (I wanted to feel indignant about that, the presumption that the villain was the better Thinker, but it seemed like too much work. Also, she definitely was. But hey, she's not also a Blaster 2. Unless you count her gun.)

"He's English, actually. Barely even speaks German. Just pretends to impress the other wannabe Nazis."

Krieg might have stood tall, but his emotions withered under the general laughter. Even Hookwolf and Stormtiger were a little amused, though they must have already known.

The girl's contempt heated rapidly, alongside some cruel amusement of her own. I made my way out to join the group properly.

"Ah, but of course. Who but an Englishman would so crassly wallow in the embarrassment of my people? The French at least have pride. But I must commend you for your commitment to the mockery, to make yourself the butt of the joke."

Ouch. Well, he deserved it. So, not a Nazi after all, then? No conspicuous swastikas or eagles, I guess. Kind of tasteless anyway, though. Big, gaudy medal on the right breast, and pretty elaborate rank insignia, some intricate knotted thing. You'd think a patriot would take issue with stolen valor, cape or not. It'd all look pretty authentic if not for the weird costume jewelry at the neck and the afterthought domino mask. And putting it all on a girl who looked maybe 11? And giving her a reproduction rifle, complete with bayonet? Hannah was going to have a conniption. And... oh God, is Missy on base? I shoved that thought down not because it wasn't terrifying but because there was nothing I could do about it.

I called out over my shoulder, "She's real." I turned back to the girl. "I don't recognize you. Are you new? I'm Gallant, with the Wards."

"Argent. I'm new to the city but not new. I'm with Coil's organization at present, though I couldn't resist a little freelance bounty hunting when the bounties come to me."

Lot of skepticism and amusement around the group, though the simple confidence in the girl's aura and Tattletale's... smug exasperation? (How is that a valid combination of emotions? It's definitely not a valid combination of colors.) made me wonder. Skitter just looked wary.

Krieg pulled himself together enough to bite out, "Big words for a little girl. Sure you're in the right place?"

"Asks a man an ocean and seven decades from his fake home," Clock broke in.

I joined the general chuckle. His jokes had gotten meaner, lately, but that was pretty funny. And, again, the Nazi deserved it. Argent roiled with indecipherable colors for a second before regaining her calm. She ignored Krieg and addressed the whole group.

"My team are specialists. Durable flying artillery. The Nine are a good match-up for us, if we can find them."

The boasting was getting on more than a few nerves, though Argent didn't seem to even realize she was boasting. I elected to cut in before things could escalate.

"Well, let's leave the tactical discussion to quarter past. We're still waiting on New Wave and the Merchants, Velocity isn't back from delivering invitations, and a few of our people are in expedited M/S screening. And the rest of your team?"

"Oh, they're around. I'll handle the meeting."

Newter let out a disbelieving chuckle.

"What, you in charge?"

She fixed him with a flat stare, irritation and anticipation churning under the surface.

"Yes, actually. Is there something you'd like to say about that?"

Tattletale hastily cut off Newter's response, lighting with mild but genuine alarm.

"She is, actually. And, uh, you heard what happened to Dauntless? I really wouldn't antagonize her if I were you. Care to confirm, Gallant?"

Fuck, that was her? I'd glanced at the report, but on day four of the crisis, details were hard to hold on to. I glanced back at her. Not a speck of guilt or worry, just more anticipation. Plus Tattletale's alarm... I shuddered a bit in my armor.

"Yes, she's telling the truth. And yes, you should not antagonize her."

Newter, pique rising, was definitely about to antagonize her when Faultline thankfully interrupted with a gloved hand on his shoulder.

Kid Win and Miss Militia stumbled out from the back of the building, obviously exhausted. Not as much as me, though. And where does she get off being exhausted when she doesn't even need to sleep? Kid Win had more excuse since he'd been spending every waking moment the past few weeks frantically cannibalizing Armsmaster's stuff. Might not know what month it is, let alone day. (Then again, I couldn't help but resent the fact that he probably didn't even notice the whole Echidna crisis.) The ill-fitting blue helmet clashed badly with his red and gold armor, kludged wires just adding to the visual mess, but he'd at least gotten it working. The halberd on the back added something his old look had been missing, though. Thank God Armsmaster had the foresight to Shatterbird-proof all his stuff.

But enough about him. Miss Militia was delivering on her promised conniption in full. Sympathy, disgust, wariness, hatred, grief, nostalgia(?), and several more I was too slow to catch, like a whole firework show compressed down to two seconds. Not even going to try to disentangle that mess, or even work out what was aimed where. The rest of our present roster, except the master victims, I guess, filed out behind her while she had her moment. Lot of missing faces. Still no Vista, thank God. And thank God, Sergeant M-something was coming around with more coffee. I'll have to try to remember your name after all, Sergeant! Argent noticed a beat after me, and (literally) flew over to snatch a cup. She took a big gulp and grimaced. I elected to ignore the up swelling grief and pretend the little girl trying to act like a grownup just didn't like the taste, because that was funny and not sad. Actually, I think she's doing the same. So much for not getting sad over it.

Hannah finally regained her composure and addressed Argent, very little of her still very complicated feelings in her words.

"I recognize you. Dauntless's killer."

"An unfortunate misunderstanding. On your part. When you answer hails with missiles, you can hardly expect me to hold back."

I winced. Not an inch of give in either her words or her feelings, calm and cold all the way through. Utter psychopath or she's killed before, more than once. Or both. I assessed the group's reactions. Faultline was unimpressed. I had to push down some queasiness at the grudging respect permeating Hookwolf's faction. (Fuck me, Sophia would have felt the exact same way, wouldn't she? Hell, if my emotion sight blocked my regular vision, I might have thought she'd fit in great with the Nazis. All that aggression and contempt, the obsession with strength. I had some complicated feelings of my own to suppress.) Less of that in 'The Pure,' but I guess they're pretending to be heroes now. Skitter was angry, at least, though all of the Undersiders were suspiciously unsurprised. And the heroes, of course, were pissed.

"Bullshit! You--" Dennis started in harshly, but she rolled right over him.

"It's irrelevant, at the moment. Unless you'd like to break the truce over it?"

Now, brinkmanship and machismo are hardly rare among capes (even -- especially? -- among the girls), but this wasn't that. Rising anticipation and steady confidence, not a hint of fear. She was not bluffing. She thought we might well like to break the truce over it, and that'd be just fine by her. She left enough room to back down without losing face -- the truce was important after all -- but not an inch more. Maybe she's just nuts. Probably, even. But maybe not. I wanted to interject, but what could I say?

New Wave interrupted the tense silence, Vicky and Crystal dragging Eric through the air while Sarah kept on alert above. Is that really all of them? Amy should hopefully be busy healing Shatterbird's victims (rather than being one herself). I had dully wished the Nine would be enough to get Mark out of bed, but I wasn't surprised they weren't. And Neil and Carol... obviously weren't coming. But hey, they can fly everyone now. Silver linings.

"Are we late?" Vicky entered the conversation with her usual tact, then... recognized Argent? "Hey, it's the new trigger! Maybe you should sit this one out."

"Excuse me?"

Argent's patience for people questioning her competence was running short. Rapidly. The tone and words might have been polite -- barely -- but I wasn't the only one who recognized the danger in them. Tattletale looked half ready to run. Not Vicky, though. Of course. I might not be able to see her emotions directly, but I didn't need to.

"Well, if you can't control your own flight yet, I don't think you're prepared to--"

I hastily cut her off, though the flush of embarrassment in Argent's aura was certainly interesting. Not a hint of it on her face. But anger tends to follow embarrassment, and the anticipation was still there, so the danger was hardly past.

"Argent is new to the city, but she's not a new trigger. She's the one that killed Dauntless a couple days ago."

Vicky's patronizing smile immediately transitioned into a scowl. Her aura flared and Argent didn't twitch.

"Oh, Y--"

"Rusted Silver?"

I glanced back at the voice. Oh, they let the Master victims out after all? I really hadn't had much attention to spare for them, technical status as new comrades aside, given the circumstances. It was my job to report on their emotions, not listen to their story, but it was mostly some nonsense fever dream about World War One with capes and silly country names. The ending was all too believable, though: the Master, clearly a clone, though of who I hadn't caught, had given them detailed instructions on finding and killing his original's family and friends, which they found themselves unable to disobey. They'd only been discovered and taken in after succeeding on all points.

I'd listened enough to be pretty sure they weren't getting out of M/S confinement anytime soon, 'expedited screening' or not, but here they are. The one who spoke -- Otto, I think? Blitz in costume. The Wards-aged one -- was staring at Argent with shock and recognition buried under awe and fear, as you'd expect, though wasn't he a little far from Vicky to be so strongly affected? Some people are sensitive, I guess. Actually, the other two were even worse. Scared stiff, looked like. Lingering influence from the Master effect, maybe?

But forget all that, he recognized Argent? How could he, when some Master overwrote all his memories with... OK, I feel pretty stupid right now. Sleep deprived. And I could see the realization hitting Miss Militia, so she'd missed it too! Hell of a lot of colors there. Though she didn't actually participate in the interview. Probably just read the report as Protectorate leader. (Don't think anyone else was read in on the details yet. Too much to do.)

I turned back to the picture-perfect Prussian officer, wholly comfortable in her uniform and with her rather worn looking 'reproduction' rifle. Who had killed before, more than once. Who, despite being a total unknown, was confident she could beat everyone here and the Slaughterhouse Nine, too. Whose sudden appearance on radar alongside 3 other fliers convinced the agent on console she was a projection. She was shocked and pleased, though another part of her was... I'm going to say furiously reconsidering her approach, since she was just trying to pass herself off as a Bet cape. (And succeeding!) She arrived at a decision as I watched and replied to Otto. In English, so at least partially for our benefit.

"Corporal Richter?" A pause, a quirked eyebrow, and a much flatter tone. "'Rusted Silver?' And what the hell are you wearing, Corporal?"

He snapped to attention, fear rapidly eclipsing everything else in his aura. It looked a little absurd in his black body suit decorated with silver lightning bolts.

"Apologies, Colonel! I have no excuse for my disrespect or my appearance!"

"Well, I suppose the men have called me worse. I doubt any of them have ever worn anything quite so ridiculous, but I suppose these are exceptional circumstances. An unexpected pleasure to run into a countryman and a comrade in these foreign lands. Did Major Baumann make the transition alongside you? And please do refer to me as 'Argent.' It's local custom."

"Yes, Colonel! Argent! I go by Blitz. And no, just me from the 188th."

"A shame. Who are these others, then?"

The two, grown men and apparently actual soldiers, didn't stiffen, but only because they were already completely stiff. One -- William? No, that was the other one. It was another M- name. Merrick, maybe? -- Merrick started mumbling under his breath. I was beginning to think the fear wasn't Vicky's fault.

"Oh, they're... Ah, actually, I'm not supposed to share their names. I'm supposed to call them Indomitable and Valiant." (Amusement from Argent? Though I guess cape names would seem silly to a soldier.) "If that's alright, Colonel? You wouldn't know them." He paused, then, lighting with apprehension, continued, "They're not Imperial."

Argent clearly felt that was not alright. At all. But before I could react -- not that I knew what I would have done -- a quick bloom of realization caused her emotions to stabilize.

"The 188th is still stationed in Africa, correct?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

She nodded, relaxing. She continued, blithely ignoring her non sequitur.

"Well, I see no profit for the Empire in dragging the war to this new world. I commend your prudence, Corporal. What do you say, gentlemen?"

Merrick -- Valiant -- nodded jerkily. Indomitable managed a shaky "Yes, Ma'am." Relief and hope were edging in, but the fear was still there.

She snorted, more of that cruel amusement rising up.

"Show some spine, man! I'm certainly not your superior. You'd think you were facing down the Devil."

Clearly an inside joke. All four got it, but only Argent seemed to find it funny.

"Well, perhaps you're brave enough to handle communications? Keep an ear out on the open channel."

Hannah's voice pulled me from my silent observation of the exchange. I quickly glanced around and saw everyone else had been looking on with similar feelings of confusion, interest, and disbelief. Except Hannah, whose tie-dye explosion had settled into a slow, intense roil. Her tone tried for flat, but it was fraying a bit at the edges.

"To confirm: That's not a costume. You're actually a parahuman child soldier from another dimension's first world war. And you arrived on this world at 1:13:49 PM on the 7th."

"I'd appreciate if you didn't denigrate my service in defense of my homeland. I am an officer with an independent command comprising more than a thousand men. And I'm older than I look."

Vicky wasn't having it.

"So you're what? 13?"

Her feelings confirmed the hit if her brief glare hadn't. Hannah, emotions firming, ignored Argent's response and the byplay.

"In light of this new information, we can... reconsider the circumstances surrounding your altercation with Dauntless. There are resources available for exploited children, young parahumans, and war refugees, all of which should be available to you. Some money, food and housing, citizenship, a support structure and career in the Wards, therapy, maybe adopt--"

Argent brusquely interrupted. Just as well, that line of discussion was not making anyone happy. Following through might have sparked a coup.

"Join you? So you can take my weapon before sending me to fight some of this world's most prolific killers? All dressed like your American circus performers, taken just as seriously, and paid like them too? Hardly a compelling offer when I've already found employment for myself. As a matter of fact," --she turned to Otto-- "get over here, Corporal. You aren't in my chain of command, but I won't leave a fellow Imperial to the leadership of these clowns on the eve of battle."

He was positively giddy as he trotted over. Well, giddy under the awe and fear.

"As you say, Colon-- Argent!"

Militia on the back foot, Battery was the first to express the general mood. Surprising. I'd hardly heard her speak since Leviathan.

"Did you just poach a ward? Right in front of us? During a truce?"

Argent felt a small surge of something like satisfaction. Predatory vindication, perhaps, as at an enemy stepping into a trap. It wasn't a strong feeling, and it was nothing like anger. So when she spoke, her words and tone came as a surprise.

"Poach? Are you attempting to assert a prior claim? Prior to that of the nation of his birth, which he loves? Prior to that of the Imperial Military to which he swore his service? Prior to that of his comrades, the proud sons and daughters of his own Fatherland? And to then accuse me of presumption and overreach? How dare you!"

She took a breath, pretending to calm herself. Really, it was a pretty good act. I'd seen better, to be sure -- Brockton high society is a snake pit like no other -- but it'd have fooled me without my power. I'd call it impressive, even, but I suppose that hardly rates next to making colonel at 13. Which, to my surprise, I found I believed she'd managed.

"Corporal Richter is 17 and his disposition and well-being are the responsibility of the Imperial Military, of which I am the highest ranking member present. As a minor and an active duty soldier, he has no legal capacity to enter into contract, nor is he, by Imperial law, subject to prosecution by this unrecognized nation. Please explain to me precisely how it is you believe you have a right to his loyalty."

... Well, shit. The villains were loving this. Even Faultline was eating it up behind her stoic front. Always nice to see the good guys get knocked down a peg, huh? Actually, Dennis was struggling to hold back laughter, too, though he at least felt guilty about it. Is this how it felt to be Krieg ten minutes ago? Yeah, Battery's colors were pretty similar. That's not fair, Argent! Battery's not a Nazi! Miss Militia was an indecipherable whirlpool. I noticed Piggot shoving forward from the back. Not sure how much of that she caught, but she wasn't happy about any of it.

"'Imperial law' doesn't apply here, if you're not just making it up. Poaching a Ward at a truce meeting is a violation of the truce."

I winced and looked back to Argent, but she actually wasn't too put out by the flat rejection.

"I see." Dramatic pause as she pretended to consider. "I suppose we'll have to discuss Corporal Richter's disposition after the truce, then. If you get him killed with your bungling, the conversation will be shorter and much less pleasant." She turned to him. "This world's 'capes' tend to be weak, short-ranged, fragile, and slow, but some of them could pose a threat in the right circumstances. Stay in the air and avoid the zebra-striped woman, and you should be fine. Keep in mind that you are a soldier and they are not; use your best judgment and ignore foolish orders. Don't bother trying to fight. If they were serious about having you fight, they wouldn't have taken your rifle. Since they're not, your first duty is to survive this crisis. I will resolve matters after the truce ends."

Otto saluted and I sighed. So much for the new teammate after all.

"Well, if you're not going to fight about it, let's get on with the meeting. The Merchants aren't coming. Cowards didn't fight Leviathan, why would they fight the Nine?" Hookwolf broke in, impatient and angry. "First order of business, why is Purity here when she broke the Endbringer truce? She held back and let Kaiser and Cr--"

A red blur zoomed into the center of the group before coming to a stop and reaching out. I barely had a moment to realize that was not Velocity before a large hand knocked me to the ground. Even as I fell I reflexively pointed a hand and blasted h... Tried to blast him. In fact, nothing happened. And, I realized, I couldn't see his emotions either. I was still coming to terms with what that meant as the giant ignored me to blur over to Battery, hand already around her neck when he slowed to perceptible speeds. I'd just figured it out, warning on my lips, when a white beam, intensely bright, stabbed down into his shoulder. It mainly seemed to piss him off. He blurred a couple feet away and practically roared at the sky. It was enough of a distraction for Argent to dart over and stab him through the back of his head and out his right eye with a glowing bayonet, though. She violently jerked it sideways, spraying skull and brain matter and metal fragments over the Undersiders as they stumbled over their slumped over dog monsters. She swiped the blade through his torso a couple more times as he fell. Producing a horrific screech of metal against metal over the expected wet squelching. Severing both arms at different points in the process. Then she decapitated him for good measure. All with a wide smile on her face. But my main thought was, how the hell do her powers still work?

A\N: Ha! You all thought that Scrub clone only used his power once, when in fact he used it twice! At least! Also, this being Worm, his power had a Master component, since just pulling people out of other dimensions isn't really weaponizable on its own. He fortunately just didn't get a chance to give Tanya and Co. orders.

If the heroes seem slow on the uptake, bear in mind this isn't the start of canon, or even canon June. They're stretched to the breaking point, running from crisis to crisis, and down several important members. Even Miss Militia needs a moment to actually think through all the details in her perfect memory to put things together, and Gallant's having trouble thinking past the immediate demands of his current task. They're supposed to be getting reinforcements any time now, but the Cauldron reveal has the whole organization scrambling.

Corporal Otto Richter is an OC Imperial aerial mage from the 188th Battalion I just made up because I wanted an Imperial perspective from outside the 203rd. Tanya knows him from the African Campaign, where the 188th has remained.

How do you feel about the frequent parentheticals? I wanted to communicate how scatterbrained Dean is feeling right now, but is too annoying? How about the attempt to communicate shock at the end through sentence fragments?

Sidenote: this is the first time I've really taken a close look at the Worm timeline and it's nuts. Arcs 9-18, nearly a third of the story, stretching from Shadow Stalker's kidnapping to Echidna, cover 2 and a half weeks. I know I said I wanted a dynamic situation, but it's just absurd. Pour one out for poor Gallant, because things are only speeding up from here.

Also, who is the "Breaker 9" with The Pure supposed to be? Fog? That's kind of ridiculous. They definitely don't follow the policies for a 9 rating with him.

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TorontoTowers

Jun 14, 2022

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TorontoTowers

Jun 28, 2022

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-- Tanya von Degurechaff --

I glanced around the group. Had they really not expected an attack? Lot of firepower in one place, but no amount of firepower was going to bother Siberian. I was only willing to come myself because I had the men watching for her approach. Of course, the actual attacker had proven too quick for me to respond to the warning. I'd expect a deliberate counter to my strategy if he hadn't also proven so easily dispatched.

"Hatchet Face, right?" I asked, a little doubtfully.

None of them had done anything, but maybe they're just that slow? Most of them were still stumbling away. And...

"I hadn't heard he was so quick."

I flicked my rifle with enhanced strength and speed to clear out most of the detritus, deliberately not looking at Tattletale. A bit of brain and bone in the muzzle would hardly stop a bullet, but it wasn't great for accuracy.

"Not just Hatchet Face."

Given my excuse, I looked over at Tattletale. She looked a little green, presumably bothered by the gore. No matter. I'd keep her alive until she got used to it. Can't just take her on a midnight raid across no man's land to brain a few Francois with a shovel, but I'll make do. She continued a little hastily.

"He's not a power copier. If he has Velocity's power, Velocity is in there somewhere. Bonesaw's work."

I ignored some muttered profanity from the heroes' side, but I had to acknowledge it was a disturbing development. I'd judged fighting the Nine worth the risk in part because I knew their capabilities, unknown ninth aside. If they might all have two or three or even more unknown powers, that raises the danger substantially, even given how unimpressive the average power is. I glanced back at the chimera, looking for evidence of Velocity's inclusion. A bulge by the shoulder? It was vaguely face-shaped, actually. And Velocity's power was hardly average. Oh, I'd been told super speed was pretty mediocre in Velocity's hands, but that was because he'd had literally nothing else. An incredible force multiplier so limited it couldn't even multiply the force of his own blows. Even a pocket pistol would have made him a terror for the locals. There was a reason the initial development of reflex enhancement on my previous world had sparked such a vigorous arms race until every major power had hit the same plateau. And why I'd poured so much time and effort into perfecting the spell to squeak out a mere 6% additional effect at nearly double the cost.

If he had nullified my magic... well, I'd probably still have been fine. He didn't strike me as especially meticulous. Don't have to be faster than the bear, as they say, and by the looks of things, I could have run halfway out his range by the time most of the civilians realized what was happening. Add in the men providing harassing fire from above and nine times out of ten I would have made it out no problem. Of course, taking nine times in ten fights is no way to get 300 confirmed kills. 330? 350? They'd sent in a second battalion at least to try to stem the rout, but I'm not sure how many I actually killed. Well, I doubt anyone was bothering to record the fight at that point, so they'd never have been confirmed even if I hadn't vanished off the face of the world.

Point is, 'probably' isn't good enough. I'd have to be more careful. Hell, even a non-mage can get lucky and-- I quickly glanced around. No more of the Nine. Just the same 'heroes' and 'villains' I wasn't supposed to kill. Ah, but haven't things changed? Surely, I shouldn't leave Bonesaw free materials? I don't know if she could operate on Alabaster, but why take the risk when his power could make Jack or Shatterbird infinitely more annoying? Well, I probably couldn't kill him, but I could always just drop him in the--

"You need to completely mulch the brain. Both brains. Make sure Bonesaw can't put him back together."

Right. Let's focus on the immediate issue. I pointed my rifle and began to shape an extension of my mage shell to contain the blast. She'd said I just needed to get the brains, but why root around in there when I could just destroy the whole body? A thought made me pause.

"Ah, but wouldn't that be inefficient? Director, do you have another of those glass bombs?"

"You want me to waste a limited resource on destroying a corpse?"

"No, I want you to spend it on killing Bonesaw and neutralizing her countermeasures. It's easy. Deflated lungs leave plenty of room in the thoracic cavity and I've already opened it up. Just rig the bomb with tilt and lift triggers and shove it in there. Let her think we were careless."

Director Piggot gave me a considering look, then turned to speak to her people.

Faultline broke in, "Do that a lot, do you? Isn't trapping corpses a war crime?"

I shrugged.

"It's only really worth doing occasionally. Just enough that they have to check every time. And no, the practice isn't forbidden by any international treaty. Even if it is in this world, the Nine aren't uniformed combatants entitled to protection under the laws of war."

Tattletale couldn't resist adding her own comment.

"She predates the Geneva Convention. Guess there was a reason they had to make that rule."

I sent her an annoyed glance as an armored PRT agent came up and presented me a featureless metal sphere slightly larger than a hand grenade. I raised an eyebrow.

"What, you want me to set it up? I don't even see the trigger mechanism."

"It's remote detonated," the man laconically explained. "And you're the expert."

"Fine." I reached out for the bomb, then paused. "You should know my men have orders to kill everyone here in event of treachery. I have every faith in their capacity to follow through."

The agent was first to respond, tone even as ever. Former noncom, I was sure.

"Boss isn't going to turn on you now. Wants to throw you against the Nine. Effect range is about 7 feet. Stay outside that once you're done and you'll be fine."

Muted reactions from the rest. A few glances at Gallant and Kid Win, who both presumably signaled the truth of my words. No one broke into a sudden sweat, countermanded previous orders in a poorly disguised harsh whisper, or edged away from the group, not that I really expected any tells so obvious. Guess that's why I'm paying a Thinker. I glanced at Tattletale out of the corner of my eye and she subtly gestured for me to proceed.

I gave the agent a nod, took the sphere and, tuning my mage shell to keep the gore off, shoved my hand in through the gash I'd left in his upper back, which had conveniently already broken the spine, a couple ribs, and some variety of subdermal armor, giving me free access to the interior. Really, was this so hard? I withdrew and eyed the body critically, casually shaking my hand to encourage the mess to slide off. It looked normal enough to me -- not much my hand could do to disturb the body that the mage blade hadn't already -- but I'm not a medical Tinker. Well, messing with it any further was as like to leave more clues as to hide the existing ones.

I was about to leverage my demonstration of competence to finally move the meeting in a productive direction (that is, explaining their role and responsibilities as bait) when another interruption came barreling in. Seriously, is inconvenient dramatic timing just a feature of this world? Or is Being X taking a more blatant hand in things than usual? Coil's death was suspicious enough. Granz shouted a warning via communication formula, not that I needed it. The sound of something bowling its way through a line of buildings at tremendous speed was if anything less attention grabbing than the absurd magical output, nearly completely overwhelming my sensory spell.

I adjusted the sensitivity down as I darted ten meters up, close enough to observe and possibly participate in a conversation, but far enough to evade fire from capes with unaugmented reflexes. For good measure I employed the 'camouflage' spell the men and I had cooked up over the past couple days. A customized variant on the decoy formula that simply projected an illusion of the sky above just below the mage, it was crude and inefficient, a far sight from genuine invisibility, and only functioned in one direction, but I suspected it could prove reasonably effective against careless non-fliers and complicate targeting even when it was noticed.

I was certain it could be done much better, but we'd unfortunately had to design the spell ourselves, and I only I had had any real experience with that kind of work. On my previous world, such a spell was worse than pointless; as actively maintained external magical phenomena closely connected to the mage's mind, illusions show up strongly to magic senses despite their low power throughput, and a region of apparently empty air giving off strong magical emanations would be incredibly suspicious. In fact, an illusory blur in the air was often more effective against 'experienced' mages than a normal decoy. But everyone on this world with magic senses was ostensibly on my side at the moment. It would be best to make that state of affairs more permanent after the truce ended, one way or another, but one problem at a time.

Corporal Richter followed me up a beat later, having spun his flight spell most of the way up when I'd initially told him to stay in the air, curiously inspecting my spell. I signaled he should continue up and he sped off to relative safety. The... Francois? Albish? The other mages were only just starting now from a barely perceptible baseline and might take as long as half a minute by the look of it. Always good to find your enemies incompetent, I suppose. And that was all the time I had to consider as Siberian burst through the office across the street, stopping dead against a light post that didn't even quiver at the impact. She had a little blond girl riding piggyback and an arm around the waist of a fit older man with several knives at his belt, neither of whom looked any worse for wear, given their method of travel. Bonesaw and Jack Slash.

Jack looked about to speak when Bonesaw noticed the dead chimera and practically shrieked.

"You killed him already? I haven't even come up with a name for him yet! I worked hard on that!"

She jumped off Siberian's shoulders and took her free hand, careful to maintain contact continuously. She began to 'drag' the group forward, apparently unconcerned with the futility of dragging Siberian anywhere, and I felt some hope the trap might work. Well, who knew if the effect could bypass Siberian's granted invulnerability; it was ostensibly absolute, but so was she. Everyone had already cleared out from the indicated effect range for obvious reasons and were now mainly trying to avoid drawing attention to themselves, so they should be free to detonate the bomb in just a moment. Just then, a beep interrupted the tense silence. Jack held up a hand and Bonesaw stopped. He took a phone from a pocket, read the screen, then put it back.

"Ah, someone thinks they're being clever. Someone without the manners to introduce herself."

His hand filled with blades in a moment, one between each pair of fingers, and he slashed broadly at the air. I attempted to dodge, but he was unexpectedly quick and the pattern was just a little too wide. One projected blade caught the edge of my illusion and caused it to flicker and fade.

Last edited: Jun 28, 2022

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