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.