"Good evening America. This is Sarah Morgan with States Worldwide, the premier news station bringing you the latest in world affairs. We are starting today's broadcast with a follow up from the recent meeting between nation leaders in Europe. French president Francis Lahaye has condemned the recent change in European policy that will stifle food imports from south African countries, with a projected impact in the billions of dollars for both local markets and the economies of affected nations."
Smith, barkeep and owner of the titular Smith Square bar, leaned against the counter, letting his focus shift from the broadcast to his customers. A few had an ear turned towards the relic of a TV, half-interested in exactly how the world had become even shittier this fine day. A couple more had their attention fully drawn to the screen, probably more out of interest for the news anchor rather than the news.
He snorted quietly with only a slight hint of derision. Either way, no one was screaming at him to turn the damned thing off, switch channels or otherwise bothering him during this rare opportunity for some downtime. Of course, as soon as he thought that, trouble decided to rear its ugly head and bother him.
The ringing of the bell hanging above the door announced trouble's presence. This particular bother had an ugly mug no mother could love, with a shaven head and an arrogant smirk. Following were bother's buddies, annoyance and headache, also belonging to a certain demographic that had proven itself to be a pain in the ass ever since he moved to this God-forsaken city.
"Smith fucking Smith, long time no see buddy. Business doing good?"
Smith scowled, and not just because of the wastes of oxygen standing at the entrance of his bar. Not for the first time, he cursed his parents for trying to be funny and putting down the family name as his first name. Loving parents as they had been, this was the one thing where they'd dropped the ball.
He knew he could change it to something sensible, but despite the mild irritation there was no reason to do so. It stopped causing him any real problems once he was out of high school, and adapting to a new name could be more of pain anyway.
The human filth, probably feeling somewhat neglected by the lack of immediate answer, dropped the cocky smirk and barrelled forwarded with his half-assed attempt at whatever this was.
"Pal, Smithy, you know why me and the boys are here. You don't expect us good folk to protect this lovely place for nothing, eh?"
Smith's scowl deepened, the fake cheer grating on his nerves more than the extortion attempt. Not that he didn't mind it or something like that. Business had indeed been good, but he had no intention of giving these clowns a single penny.
A sixth sense stirred in the back of his mind. An idle awareness of the people around him bloomed into an impulse – a need – to control, to dominate completely and leave no trace behind for others to follow. It focused on the three stooges in front of him. It wanted to feast. Devour their identities and reduce them to mind-broken husks – piles of filthy meat to feed the sewer rats.
Smith reigned that in. Murdering these assholes would only tip the rest of them off that he was someone of interest. He dialled the scale back, preparing the usual snip, edit and merge he'd done all the previous times when dealing with these morons.
But as he opened his mouth to speak – not out of necessity but rather to give his customers a believable show – a loud explosion echoed through the city. They flinched, everyone at the bar turning to look towards the docks. The sky over the city was lit a faint orange, way too early in the morning for it to be the sunrise. A roar followed, that of an enraged beast, and they all knew then what was going on.
Hushed whispers broke out among his patrons. The phone of the lead stooge rang, probably his bosses calling. He flipped it open and raised it to his ear all the while shooting Smith a dirty look that promised their dealings weren't over. The other two looked at their boss uncertainly as he stormed out of the bar but dutifully followed.
"Good riddance," Smith said in a low voice. Turning around, he grabbed a random bottle, one of the stronger stuff, and waved it around.
"Next round's on the house," the cry was loud, reaching all the way to the back. These folk wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon – not with a rampaging gang leader making a mess of the city – and keeping his customers calm and happy was simply good business.
He poured a shot for himself, downing it as more people crowded around the counter. The chaos outside was soon forgotten in a haze of alcohol and drunk cheer.
The bottle soon emptied and was switched for a full one. Smith took one last look out the bar's wide windows, another orange flare lighting up the night sky. He drew the dark curtains closed, hiding the sight, and went back to his patrons.
"In related news, millions continue to flee Angola after a breach in the southern border of the Central African Containment Zone led to the devastation of the country's northern region, including the nation's capital city Luanda. This is the second such incident since January, and the world is left wondering exactly how long Swarm's current active period will last, with today marking the fourth month since its latest increase in activity was noted."
Kurt switched off the car radio. There's enough doom and gloom to go around in Brockton Bay without having to worry about some other parahuman threat on a different continent. Nasty business, though. As bad as the Bay's gang situation can get, at least it's not at threat of being overrun by a biblical plague. Small mercies, he supposed.
He took a glance at the passenger side. Lacey had dozed off at some point along the ride. The way home from the Dockworkers building wasn't that long, but it had been a tough day for all of them. The two of them had stayed behind a bit late to close up. Normally that was Danny's job, but he'd needed to rush home much earlier than that.
On one hand, it was good seeing that fire in him flare back to life. For so long he'd watched his friend waste away, retreating back into himself despite all of their attempts to reach out. On the other, it'd taken Taylor being seriously injured for that change to happen.
Kurt's happiness at seeing his friend come alive again had turned to ash in his mouth when he learned exactly how that change came about.
His grip on the steering wheel tightened. Everyone at the Union loved the kid, having practically watched her grow up with how often she used to visit the office with Annette. The only reason Alan Barnes hadn't been kneecapped yet was because it'd only cause more trouble for Danny's family. Now, if an unmarked truck just happened to accidentally back up onto his car in the middle of the night and then drive off, why that could have been anyone.
That put a half-feral smile on Kurt's face. If the asshole could afford to keep his bitch of a daughter and her friends out of juvie, he could also afford replacing his totalled car every few months. Must be the unluckiest man in the Bay. Or at least, Kurt intended to make him so.
A bright orange glow lit up the sky. The superheated air expanded into a shockwave that rattled windows and rocked his car. Kurt slammed on the brakes, almost losing control. Lacey woke up, startled, flailing against the seat belt until her mind eventually caught up.
"What the hell was that?"
Kurt stepped out, running ahead to the intersection and looking towards the source of the explosion. A roar could be heard. A sound every resident of the Bay had learned to recognise and stay inside when heard. He paled, running back to the car.
"Lung," he said, slamming the door closed and putting the car in reverse.
Lacey simply fastened her seat belt, the one word answer being more than enough to convey everything that needed to be said. There would be no going home tonight. The union building was closer and the less time they spent out on the streets, the better. Kurt turned the car around, now speeding down the road with a sense of panicked urgency.
They were back at the office barely ten minutes later, hastily unlocking the front and taking cover inside. The door was relocked, and they both slumped against the wall with a faint sense of relief. They'd be marginally safer here. A minute was spent in silence, calming down their racing hearts.
"Come on, I want to phone Danny; make sure the two of them are ok. That sounded too close to their part of town."
Lacey moved further into the building, Kurt following soon after.
He took a glance behind him, through the frosted glass windows on the wide double doors. A second flare lit up the sky briefly, another faint roar of an angry dragon filling the air. He hurried after Lacey, hoping that his friend and goddaughter would be safe.
"Among the chaos, officials of the East African Republic have come forward to offer assurance that Parahuman Ogun's Inland Defence Network remains strong and able to prevent Swarm from extending its influence into protected areas. Similarly, several of Parahuman Moord Nag's generals have relayed the Warlord's intentions to stop Swarm's advance in its tracks."
Static exploded across the screen. The house shook, its windows rattled. Dust and flakes of paint dislodged from the ceiling, floating freely down to the floor.
Danny rushed to the closest window, peering outside in search for whatever had caused the shockwave. An orange glow, as bright as the rising sun, lit up the night sky. The roar of a dragon reached him, barely diminished by the house's walls.
"Dad? What's going on?" His daughter's voice came from the top of the stairs, nervous and uncertain.
"Hey kiddo, I need you to grab your stuff. We're staying in the basement tonight." Hopefully the fight wouldn't stray into their neighbourhood at all but if it did, hiding under solid concrete would be their best bet. Going outside and leaving the area wasn't an option, not with how close the chaos already was. For all they knew, the streets were already swarming with ABB gangers, not to mention the chance of getting caught in the middle of a cape fight with zero cover.
No, when Lung takes the field, all normals can do is find somewhere sturdy and hide.
It was barely two minutes later that Taylor came downstairs, street clothes over her normal nightwear and carrying a box of necessities. She took it to the basement without a word, coming back up to help him with the food and water. Within another two minutes, they were both safely inside, having set up their supplies underneath a support beam. Danny was locking up the basement doors, the old locks somewhat hard to turn after not being used for so long.
By the time he was done, Taylor had already set up the camping lanterns and was adjusting their sleeping bags. He sat down on top of his, focus squarely on the very faint sounds coming from outside. Sleep wouldn't come easy. Most likely they would both be sitting here for the rest of the night, waiting for whatever was happening outside to end.
And so they did, Taylor sitting across from him.
She looked at her dad, a light frown on his face with eyes trained upwards. She felt the same dark anticipation, an anxiety settling in her stomach. Not fear though. She could not feel fear as long as her dad was here with her.
Her past self would scoff at the idea. Danny Hebert had been a broken man since mom's death. They'd both left the other to suffer alone, in silence. He'd never been outright neglectful, but at times it felt as if she lived alone in a dusty house full of ghosts and memories.
But her dad did prove himself in the end. It had taken a rude wake-up call but on that early December day – and then later in January – Danny Hebert had proven to the world that he would move heaven and earth for his daughter.
That her tormentors had slipped away, that Danny didn't have the money anymore to pursue them even further, all of that didn't matter to her. Her dad still loved her more than anything in the world and even if justice wasn't served, he wasn't letting her go back to the hell she'd endured.
So, she didn't feel fear. Even though they were both powerless in the face of a parahuman gang leader. Even though a dark remnant of herself screamed at how irrational this feeling of safety was.
It would be alright, because her dad was here.
Her self-reflection was interrupted by another explosion, this one much closer than the last. Her dad cursed.
"The fight's moving closer to here."
He moved to the boxes they'd brought down, removing a couple of fire blankets and putting them down within arm's reach.
"If the house upstairs catches fire, we might need to get out of the basement." He was active now, stuffing things in his pockets and bringing other supplies for Taylor to take with her.
The basement shook, a crashing and crackling cacophony coming from above. A tinge of fear forced itself past her self-assurances. All it had taken was a split second for everything they had to be reduced to nothing. Two steady, calloused hands gripped her shoulders. Taylor looked up, into her dad's eyes. She saw the pain in them, the grief as another part of his life in this cursed city came to an abrupt end. But he wouldn't break down in front of her. Never again.
He hugged her tightly.
"It's ok, kiddo. We'll wait a bit for things to calm down upstairs, then we're off to Kurt's and Lacey's place. Here, take this." He handed her a piece of cloth.
"Wet it and hold it against your nose and mouth when we're ready to go outside; it'll help with the smoke."
Danny moved away, tying his own cloth in place and grabbing a fire extinguisher. There was smoke coming from beneath the door. A faint crackling reached her ears. The stairwell was probably burning.
She got the message quickly. Action was needed now. They could grieve for their lost home when they were safe.
Taylor copied her dad, wetting the cloth and tying it with a knot behind her head. She grabbed the fire blanket next, wrapping it around herself. The second one was held in her free hand. Danny would need it once he dropped the fire extinguisher.
"Ready," She exclaimed. Danny looked at her, then nodded. Standing in front of the smoking door, he took a deep breath, before launching a kick with all the strength he could muster – right below the lock.
The rusty and abused bolt gave up. The door swung open, revealing an inferno that had engulfed the stairs. Through the fire and smoke, he could see the house above was not completely gone but seriously damaged.
He put it out of his mind; there'd be time for screaming later. For now, he pointed the extinguisher's nozzle forward, focusing on the stairs. The old thing lasted barely twenty seconds and he simply dropped it as soon as it sputtered out, grabbing the offered blanket from Taylor's hand. She went on ahead, the burnt stairs much less likely to give way under her weight than his. If they collapsed while he was going up, at least she wouldn't be stuck down here.
Taylor coughed, the wet cloth helping somewhat to keep the acrid smoke out but not completely. She looked around. The walls of the kitchen were completely engulfed in flames, with more spewing out from where the stove used to be. Probably a result of the gas main rupturing but not quite blowing up.
The hallway was dark and full of smoke, but with the back door locked and literally on fire, it was their only way out. Her dad came up the stairs, as slowly and carefully as he reasonably could to avoid them giving out under his weight. He said nothing, having reached the same conclusion and not having any oxygen to waste.
They stayed as low as possible, moving quickly through the house. The upper floors were already ablaze and part of the roof and ceiling in the living room was missing. That room was burning as well but not as bad as the kitchen. They reached the front door soon enough and it was intact enough for them to simply unlock it and run outside.
The sight that greeted them was hell on earth.
Houses were burning, the whole neighbourhood engulfed in a conflagration. A path of destruction extended along the road, claw marks and patches of boiling tar marring the street. Some people had made it out of their burning homes, yet more screamed as the flames consumed them.
Taylor stood frozen, a wide-eyed look of horror on a pale, sweating face. Danny shook her shoulder urgently.
"Taylor, we need to go, now!" He took her hand, leading her away, half running. There were no gangers in sight, just burning corpses. They moved down the street, presumably in the opposite direction of where the capes had gone.
It was a mistake.
The dragon's roar came louder than ever, as if right around the corner. Debris, a stray brick or piece of wood launched with enough force to be deadly, struck her leg. A blood curling scream tore itself out of her throat, scorching pain radiating out of her hip. She collapsed on the ground, unable to move.
Danny didn't miss a beat, carefully scooping her up in his arms and turning to run in the opposite direction. She fought back tears, screwing her eyes shut and trying not to scream. She faintly heard her dad's comforting words, almost lost in a sea of pain.
"It'll be ok, kiddo. It's ok, you're going to be alright. Your dad's got you, hang in there little owl."
He ran, as hard and fast as he could. Lungs, legs and arms screaming. But he dared not stop and he dared not drop who he was carrying. He'd get them both out of here. He would, because his little owl depended on him.
The sound of cables snapping made him look up just in time to see the burning power pole drop. He turned, shielding Taylor as best as he could. Flaming splinters struck his back but they were both otherwise unharmed. Thankfully, the pole didn't block the whole road. He kept running, coming up on their house once again. Not much was left, the blaze having engulfed it completely by now.
Another roar came and his face paled as he realised what was going on. Whatever this fight was, they were caught perfectly in the middle of the field. A dog's bark, way too loud to be normal. An inky darkness spreading between two houses. A rampaging beast. A whole street in flames with no way out.
The realisation barely had time to register before another explosion knocked him down to his knees, scorching his back and nearly setting it on fire. He kneeled there; daughter clutched protectively in his arms, shielded with as much of his body as he possibly could, while trying to think of something, anything he could do to get them, or at least her out of this.
Taylor looked up at her dad, wide eyes stinging from both smoke and tears. He smiled down at her, not showing the desperation, the hopelessness. She felt fresh tears come down her face. They had finally pulled each other out of that dark pit Annette's death had thrown them in, and now this cataclysm, this fight between gods amongst men, would take all that away from them.
It wasn't fair.
The ground shook as a fifteen feet tall monster slowly walked towards them, nothing but murderous rage in his eyes. Lung had come out here with a purpose. He was chasing those who stole from him, those who had dared step into his domain, hurt his subjects and injure his lieutenant.
Was this them? He didn't know. Humans, capes, all those terms had lost their meaning to him. The dragon roared again and Lung answered with one of his own.
Danny looked at Lung, seeing nothing but mad rage in his eyes. He tried to stand, to keep running, to get away from this monster that would take all he had left in this world. His legs did not obey him. So instead, he hugged his daughter tightly, hiding her away from the deranged gang leader.
He leaned down, kissing her forehead. Fully aware this may be their last moments, he took a deep, rasping breath. The words flowed through his stinging, sore throat and dry mouth.
"Taylor, I lo-"
A searing heat took the rest of his breath away as it ignited his back. A scream, one he tried to choke back as hard as he could for Taylor's sake, spilled forth regardless of his efforts.
The jet of flame engulfed them both.
"UN and PRT forces are already moving to extend the South Atlantic Net to cover the newly claimed areas, moving the anchor point to the back-up location of Walvis Bay. This will mean an extension of over eleven hundred miles; all the while doubts swell about the net's necessity. There have been multiple attempts by the UN and PRT head offices to convey the importance of preventing Swarm from expanding into the Atlantic Ocean. However, the rioting masses remain unconvinced."
The broadcast was interrupted by the general quarters alarm. Colin's fingers almost twitched, but he had long since learned to control these impulses when working on his equipment. He resealed the halberd's internals, turning his communicator on and switching to the console frequency.
"Armsmaster to Console. What's the situation? Over."
"Console to Armsmaster. We have field reports of heavy ABB movement around the Docks and Docks South Area. An explosion has been recorded. It is suspected that Lung is on the scene but that has yet to be confirmed. You are to report to the director's office immediately. Over."
"Understood. Over and out."
He let out a deep sigh. Any day that the ABB leader decided to take a public stroll was bound to get messy. But with his gang heavily mobilising as well?
It spelled trouble.
Armsmaster – for he was now officially on duty – moved from workbench to workbench, picking up essential tools to fight a Brute of Lung's calibre. He hesitated to grab the new, very much untested, sedative, but ultimately decided it may become necessary to subdue a rampaging dragon.
He was out of his workshop and in front of Director Piggot within three minutes. He had to admit, the view of the city from up here was good. The combination of height and the darkness of the night almost succeeded in hiding the rotting carcass that was the city of Brockton Bay. Smoke rose up from somewhere in the Docks.
Assault and Battery joined him, the only other heroes currently present in headquarters. Emily stood, getting right into it.
"I'll keep this short. We need to mount a response before things get out of hand. This level of mobilisation, even if it's confined to ABB territory, will get the attention of the other gangs soon enough. Should Lung be found on scene, it is imperative that you-"
A flash of orange erupted, closer to the Docks South area and clearly visible from the director's office. Seeing them staring, Emily turned around, her face losing some of its colour and her eyes gaining a mad gleam. One of barely restrained fury.
"Find that overgrown lizard and get him into my holding cells. That is my order. Capturing Lung takes priority over anything else. He cannot be allowed to rampage as he pleases near a residential area and walk away a free man. Get it done."
"Yes ma'am, understood."
He turned, leaving the office with haste in his steps. The other two followed him, all heading for the parking garage.
Armsmaster would reach the scene first, his motorcycle being faster than the standard PRT transports. That meant he would have to hold the line alone against Lung for two to three minutes. He frowned. The loadout he had chosen was subpar for the task, initially believing he would face nothing by ABB gangers that may be carrying high explosives. It was a mistake he wouldn't have time to correct. However, he hoped that the Brute-rated sedative would give him the edge he needed.
The director was right. Lung couldn't be allowed to walk away after tonight. He had been tolerated due to his inactivity and lack of ambition, but ramping up so close to a residential area was not just crossing the line. It had set that line on fire and its ashes thrown into the bay.
He got on the bike, making sure his halberd was secure on his back. He gave a brief nod to Assault and Battery, before gunning the engine and practically flying up the garage's exit ramp. The buildings blurred past him, barely slowing down for turns. The prototype predictive algorithm helped him navigate the nearly empty streets as fast as possible.
Another explosion tore through the city, lighting up the horizon once again. He sped up, praying he would make it in time to stop the madman before the fight spilled into the inhabited districts.
"Taylor, wake up. Mister Barnes is here to take you to school." The shout came from downstairs. A familiar, feminine voice.
'Mom?'
Why did it feel like she had forgotten her mom's voice?
She curled deeper into her covers, the pleasant warmth beckoning her back to sleep. Loud footsteps echoed, someone running up the stairs. Her door swung open, letting in a red-haired tornado.
'What is Emma doing here?'
"Taylor~, I can't believe you're still in bed. Come on get up, we're gonna be late!" Her voice was young, innocent. Nothing like the voice of the girl that would make her life living hell. That voice dripped venom and hate. This was sweet and caring.
She turned her head, bleary eyes staring out at nothing. A faint silhouette was stood near her bed, arms at its hips. She turned the other way, eyes closing once again.
'Why is she here? Where is dad?' The thought came into her mind, staying briefly only to burn away into nothing before long. Wait…
"Taylor, come on. Open your eyes. You need to open your eyes, Taylor."
Burning. What was burning? Did mom mess up breakfast again?
'What's with all the smoke?'
"Taylor, please wake up. Taylor!"
She opened her eyes, gazing into hell.
The street was burning, the boiling asphalt scalding her skin wherever it touched. The crackling of fire overwhelmed her senses, the faint roar of a dragon coming from somewhere nearby. She turned her head, slowly, painfully. A lump of burnt flesh laid before her, smouldering fabric clinging to blistered flesh and bone. It breathed, barely. Yet upon seeing her eyes open, a smile bloomed on its badly disfigured face.
"Tay…lor. Thank…god."
"Dad?" She croaked, throat burning just from that one word. Its hand – his hand – moved, reaching out to her. He caressed her cheek, leaving blood behind. His eyes closed, smile firmly planted on burnt-away lips.
"You'll be…ok. Love you…kiddo."
She felt like crying, but the tears would not come. She tried to get up, but her strength had left her. Pain, unimaginable pain, radiated from her hip, yet still she tried to move. The revving of an engine brought her hope. A motorcycle. A hero.
"Dad, open your eyes. Help's here dad, please open your eyes! Don't leave me here! Don't you dare leave, I still need my dad!"
Her arms protested, but she found the strength to push up, dragging herself forward.
"HELP! SOMEONE, PLEASE, HURRY!"
The sound of the engine came closer and closer, until she could finally see him. Armsmaster, with his helmet fully closed, carefully driving down the street. She yelled again, no comprehensible words coming out her mouth. Just a scream. A desperate plea.
He stopped before them. The knight in shining armour. He looked at them both, reaching out to her dad, before shaking his head and turning to address her.
The dragon roared again, and the knight's attention was drawn to it. Giving a final glance at the two, he got back on his bike and sped off in pursuit.
Taylor slammed back into the ground, her strength leaving her alongside the last bit of hope. She tried to crawl after the hero that abandoned them. That abandoned her dad.
"Come back. Please."
It was barely a whisper. A dying cry from a dying girl.
Her eyes drifted shut once more.
The sky shone brightly. A distant nebula enveloped the tiny glimmers of newborn stars.
In this backdrop of cosmic creation, two unfathomable beings spiralled into oblivion. A dance of death and rebirth, an exchange of information as countless fragments split off and streaked through the void like drops of rain.
The words of the two titanic beings echoed through the ether, containing whole libraries of context and ideas. A message so simple yet incomprehensibly complex.
Destination. Agreement. Trajectory. Agreement.
Two partners, setting course for a new frontier. A new shot at finding what they have chased after all this time. Yet, before the rain was directed to the blue marble that hosted so much awe-inspiring life, there was another exchange. The disgust was palpable, even to something tiny like her.
Abomination. Agreement. Destruction. Usefulness.
Alternative. Quarantine. Agreement.
And so the raindrop was cast off. Separate. Excommunicated. Isolated to its own little corner of the universe. To be dealt with later, not when the cycle was about to begin. But one of the beings was careless, and it slammed into that beautiful blue marble, again and again. Countless times. Until its dying remnants came to rest upon an ivory coast, expiring soon after.
And the abomination drifted, escaping the careful watch of the fallen titan's partner. It flew through the starry night like all others, until it found a dying girl pleading for help, praying to all the gods above and below.
And it took interest.
