Emily stood in her office, looking upon the smouldering ruins where once two hundred families lived. Another wound inflicted on her city. She feared that, much like the others, this one too would be left to fester, leaving behind an ugly scar. A reminder of another tragedy that happened in Brockton Bay. Another reminder of her failures.
The midday sun hid nothing as a new cloud of smoke billowed. Buildings thought to have been extinguished, reignited at will. Fourteen hours after Lung's rampage, and they still struggled to contain the flames. The fire chief she was coordinating with had described the inferno as having a mind of its own.
The thought lodged itself firmly in the back of her mind. No other evidence of continued parahuman involvement had been found, yet this irrational feeling wouldn't give her peace. It was hyperbole. She knew the man well, how he spoke and how he thought. They'd been working together for years after all. If he suspected something wasn't adding up, he wouldn't dance around the subject.
But the dread in her mind stayed there all the same.
Colin – or was it Armsmaster right now? – stood behind her, staring at the same scene of destruction. His armour was new; she recognised it as a back-up set. The report from last night was sitting on her desk, properly read and annotated. Emily doubted he would even try to repair the damage. There was only so much one could do to fix scrap after all, even for a Tinker as talented as Armsmaster.
But she hadn't called him up here to go over any of that. That could wait for the general meeting. No, this was about something she suspected he would prefer to keep private. Depending on his answers, she might just respect that preference.
"There are two minutes of footage missing from your bodycam."
Armsmaster showed no reaction. She turned around fully.
"It's not in your report either. You will tell me what happened." Blunt and to the point, leaving no room for discussion. A step short of a proper interrogation was the only way to get Colin – not just the cape, but the man himself – to talk about something he didn't want to talk about.
"There was a family. I briefly stopped to check on them, then moved to intercept Lung." His voice was steady, unwavering. She waited for more, eyes narrowing as the silence stretched. This was a tell she knew all too well. Provide as little detail as possible, end the conversation as quickly as possible.
"Why did you remove the footage, Colin?"
"I thought it was unimportant."
"Then why did you remove it?" She gave him no room to breathe, to think of a better lie. Another stretch of silence followed, a picture forming in her mind.
"Were they alive, Colin? Did you leave them to die?" He could still lie, she knew. God help him if he did.
"Lung's capture was top priority, according to your orders, ma'am."
Oh? Breaking out the formalities? Emily wanted to laugh; she really did. Maybe she would have if the rest of this situation wasn't having the opposite effect. Her hand clenched and unclenched, repeatedly.
"And did you capture Lung, Armsmaster?" She couldn't help the acid from seeping into her tone. She would avoid yelling at him, for the sake of keeping this a civil reprimand rather than a shouting match.
"Lung was successfully driven away-"
"Did you capture Lung, Armsmaster? Did you wait for Assault and Battery to arrive? Did you stop to report that two civilians were still alive in that hell and seriously injured? Did you make a note of their existence anywhere, or did you hope erasing that footage would erase them as well?"
It was a close thing, but her voice stayed level. She'd like to imagine that this was making him sweat, at least a bit. That it would stick, somewhere in that thick skull of his. That she wasn't talking to a brick wall.
She needed to breathe. She was well aware of some of her prejudice, and she could feel it start colouring this discussion, compromising her rationality. She was mad at him for failing to capture Lung. She was mad at him for leaving Assault and Battery behind, even if the chances of them changing the outcome were slim. She was mad at him for seeing nothing but the fight.
But she was mad at herself even more, because she knew that if Lung had been captured, she wouldn't have cared either.
Colin remained outwardly stoic in the face of her rant. It seemed he knew her as well as she knew him, choosing to stay silent. Her words did have an effect though. She could tell by the slight hunching of his shoulders, the nearly imperceptible clenching of his fists, the setting of his jaw.
She sighed, collapsing in her chair. Her eyes slid along the report, not really reading it but rather just acknowledging its existence.
"Just, go. We will not be publicising your bodycam footage. The device was damaged beyond repair by heat. That is what we say to the world if anyone bothers asking, and only then. Be ready for the general meeting at three. Dismissed."
"Ma'am." He turned, stiff steps taking him out of her office.
She rested her head in her hands, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. Thoughts of retirement swarmed her mind. A bone deep urge to just say 'fuck all this' and make it someone else's problem. Pass on that invisible tally of victims and sacrifices to whoever came after her.
Who would that be, even? Who would agree to sit in the torture chair this damned position had become? Who would be willing to see all their aspirations for a better future slowly rot away like this god-forsaken city?
She had taken the position with the thought that in order for something to be done right, she had to do it herself. But what, exactly, had she accomplished all these years? What had she done 'right'?
The cloud of smoke continued to billow, growing thicker as seconds ticked by. The sound of sirens kept echoing through the city. A city that continued to bleed, unheeding of her wants or wishes. The phone rang.
Emily picked it up.
The sound of surgical tools parting flesh and bone. The steady beeping of a heartrate monitor. Her volunteer's muffled, panicked cries. All music to her ears.
"Tragedy continues to unfold for residents of Brockton Bay, as the flames keep spreading despite the emergency services' best efforts to quell the inferno. Almost one quarter of the Docks South area has been lost and serious concerns are beginning to emerge about a potential spread into high density residential areas. In other news, the PRT main office is now considering a kill order to be issued for the Parahuman known as Lung, whose unexplained rampage late last night led to the destruction."
Now, wasn't that just wonderful? The esteemed leader of the ABB falling into madness and causing so much death that the brave heroes would just have to do everything in their power to stop him.
"But how will the heroes, who have been beaten by the fearsome Lung before, bring the mad dragon to justice?"
She hummed, grabbing a pill-sized device encased in plastic from the tray next to her. She carefully inserted it into the brain of the man laying before her.
"Why, the newest member of the ABB, its third-in-command, who detests her leader for his heinous actions will have to step in."
Grabbing the piece of skull she had removed, she glued it back together, unfolding the skin over it and stapling it into place.
"She delivers the remains of her evil boss to the heroes. The old lieutenant, lost without a master's guidance, naturally falls into her influence."
A mirror swung in front of the patient's face, as if she were a hairdresser showing off her work to a client. Her hand delicately caressed his head, slowly drifting down to playfully slap his cheek.
"A brilliant plan, don't you think so dear Liu?"
Liu, with tears in his terrified eyes, could do nothing but nod. Her face lit up with a bright smile.
"Why, I'm glad you agree, my dear Liu. Too bad that bomb was one of a kind. No matter what I do, I just can't seem to be able to rebuild it. Oh well, the effect was kind of weak anyway."
She took her bloody gloves off, disposing of them into a nearby bin.
"Really, I'm surprised it worked at all. I honestly expected more from that dumb brute. Maybe his power really did make him that easy to send off the rails."
She undid the straps holding Liu down, helping him up and giving him a slap on the butt, motioning towards the door.
"Now, be a dear and send my next patient in. I have such a backlog to go through."
Liu sobbed, but dutifully obeyed.
She smiled. It was so good to have competent help.
She woke up to an empty landscape, a grey desert stretching as far as the eye could see. Far off in the distance, just beyond the horizon, a wall loomed no matter what direction she faced. She looked for the sun but could find no trace of it through the heavily overcast sky. Faint memories of a strange dream clung to the back of her mind, growing into a painful itching sensation on her skin, as if sand was flowing through every pore.
She stumbled to her feet, trying to scrub the sand off of her only for more to keep appearing. The sight of her limbs distracted her. They looked emaciated, almost stick thin, like the bad drawing of young child. She took an experimental step forward, nearly falling to the ground as her body only half obeyed.
Interference.
The sudden thought struck her. It felt strange, yet oddly familiar. She shook her head, or at least tried to. It refused to budge.
Suddenly, she was looking behind her. Her limbs flailed and she fought to keep her balance. Somehow, that only made the problem worse and she was soon laying on her back once more.
Cease.
It happened again. She felt, annoyed? At herself? No, someone else that was herself? She stood up. But she didn't stand up. They fell again. She stopped, simply waiting. She did the same. Nothing happened but still she waited. The silence stretched.
It was like two people trying to call each other at the same time, getting a 'line busy' tone and trying again only for the same thing to happen. And now neither were calling back, waiting for the other. She felt awkward as the minutes passed. Every time she thought about trying to move, she did the same but they could never synchronise.
Exasperation.
She couldn't help but agree, which in turn just made her feel even weirder. She had just felt exasperated with herself, then agreed with herself about feeling exasperated. Who was she anyway? And for that matter, who was she?
Where was this? How did they get here?
Her head hurt, like a spike had driven itself straight in and lodged somewhere near the top. She stood up, then. A faint note of impatience ran through her head. It felt more distant than what came before. She tried to move but nothing happened.
Ignition.
A vision assaulted her mind. A city on the coast, burning. A sphere of light, brighter than the sun. A shockwave, devastating everything the fire didn't reach. Dread overtook her, though she couldn't understand why. She tugged, desperately reaching to take control from herself.
The scenery changed. She was in the middle of a street, framed by charred ruins of what used to be family homes. The asphalt was cracked, entire sections of road missing.
Her name was Taylor Hebert. She was fifteen years old. This was the city of Brockton Bay, where she had lived her whole life. Her mother's name was Annette. Her father's name was Danny. They were both dead.
She was in a desert, laying on her back. Following an urge, she curled up, sobbing loudly. She wanted – needed to cry, but simply couldn't.
Why did she need to cry? Who was she anyway?
She was angry, trying to stand up again. But she didn't want to stand up, so they just laid there, sobbing. They were back to square one.
Someone touched her, and she could just barely feel it on this side. There was yelling and a persistent tug on their arm. She curled up tighter. Something picked her up. It felt especially weird with her still on the ground. They were placed on something soft. More things touched her skin. More talking.
Her arm was wrenched to the side. She fell. They stood up.
Ignition.
She lost control again. She was going to destroy the city. Why? What city? It didn't matter! She couldn't let her. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't take back control. The desert was hotter now. A red-orange glow seeped through the sand. Embers rose into the air, floating away in a non-existent breeze.
A last desperate attempt saw their hand striking them across the face.
She was in an ambulance. Two paramedics lifted her up, placing her back on the stretcher.
"The hell is up with this kid?"
"Fucked if I know. Frankly a miracle she's even alive in the first place. Give em a heads-up back at the hospital; this might be a fresh trigger."
"God fucking damn it." He left the back, getting into the driver seat. The ambulance started moving soon after. Radio chatter reached her ears, but she couldn't understand any of it.
She stared at nothing, eyes half-lidded. Tired. Even now she felt her trying to come back, but she was getting farther away each moment. She rubbed her palm, something flaking off her skin. She remembered the desert. Sand? No, this felt finer, yet rougher at the same time. She rubbed it again. There was more there. Always more no matter how much she rubbed.
Her thoughts were almost clear now. Whoever she had been, was gone, taking much of that fever dream with her, leaving only faint impressions. She remembered being cast off. A quarantine? Something died in a crash. Then the struggle with herself. As weird as it was, it felt real, and she couldn't help but think that she'd come close to disaster.
But she was fine now. She was ok…
Burning. The smell of flesh. Smoke everywhere. A dragon's roar.
"Love you…kiddo."
She choked back a sob. The paramedic looked at her, radiating pity but staying silent. He could read between the lines, but there was nothing he could say to an orphaned girl that would make this easier.
So he looked away, while Taylor kept silently sobbing. And no matter how hard she tried to actually cry, no tears came forth.
It only made the pain worse.
