Read aloud to me alt Taylor

by Kahlil Johnson

Dnd

20. Outcry4

4.2

The song calls me. It lulls me to sleep. Tugging, pulling, sinking me down, down into Dark.

He heard tales in his youth. Tales of madmen and cultists that gave themselves to worshiping dragons.

Feeble, worthless dregs they were. Adhering to fantasy for strength, worshipping some beast as though it were worthy of godhood.

They fantasized about claiming the dragon's strength for their own.

No

This fool seems to have been more successful than most.

And that only makes him the weakest of his fellows.

A fool is still a fool. One who dares to stand and face someone who's already slain a real dragon. Not some preening peacock that needed to slowly gain the barest shadow of the legendary beast's true might.

No.

The beast known as Lung lunges forward but Raime is ready, bringing his massive greatsword down hard in an overhand swing, crushing the beast's shoulder, cleaving it open with a shower of gore that sends its body crashing into the ground.

The wound is grievous, enough to have crippled any beast of this size, but still, the dragon cultist moves on his own power, the claw of his left hand striking him in the leg. He responds with a swing from the ground to the sky, carving into the monster's face and chest, powerful enough to knock the cultist up and back to the other side of the road they stood on.

SleEp DaUGHter

No. No, no. I… I won't go.

The wound is sealed, the blood that has been gushing from torn flesh now reduced to a mere trickle. The metal scales are growing over it. The cultist mimicks a true beast; on all fours now, he breathes and releases a white-hot stream of fire.

The Knight answers with a roar of his own charging through the flames.

This is…

This is MY MIND!

My scream echoes in the black, bouncing back to reach my ears. I grasp and claw with limbs I don't have. Scream with a voice that doesn't exist.

With his left hand he grabs at the beast's face, slamming it into the black road beneath them with a harsh shove and doing it again as the cultist claws and flails against his arm.

He pulls away.

Knighthood demanded that he allow his adversary to stand but this is more beast than man, and a man that has forsaken his humanity to pursue the worship of a false idol. It is unworthy of courtesy.

He raises his blade and brings it down with a ring of steel against steel, and the wet crack of bone and cut flesh.

This is MY MIND!

Lung roars, snarling and clawing at him as he pulls the blade free and brings it down, again and again.

Then the two of them fall through the road into the underworld. Into a labyrinth beneath the streets.

They tumble down below, ten, twenty feet, slamming into steel grates that buckle beneath their weight.

It's me. It's all of me.

It's all I have LEFT of me.

No one. Nothing gets to TAKE IT FROM ME!

The Dark… stirs.

The cultist moves with a speed that belies his size, standing over him before his claws come down like hammer blows.

He releases his sword and with both hands grasps at one tree-trunk sized fist, twists and pulls, harshly snapping the limb with a series of cracks and throws the cultist off him, slamming him face first into a wall.

Lung roars in agony as Raime hears the cracks and snaps of the structure around him. He steps back towards the hole they've already made just as the whole thing collapses, the street above falling like a house of cards over the jester.

I feel chains, heavy and unyielding, bandied steel and heavy iron coiling around me, keeping me still.

I make myself pull. With no body, no limbs, no strength.

This… this place is MINE! It's the only thing I have left that's truly mine anymore!

With a roar, Lung's torso emerges from the debris and Raime charges forward, goring the beast with his massive blade. Lung's claws rise to slice at his helmet and lock him in a vice.

Raime calls on the fires burning within him, and to his call the blade bursts into red hot flames, burning inside the impaled Lung.

The dreg roars in agony, and with another movement he pulls himself free, using the new leverage to lift and throw Raime like a child's doll, sending the knight crashing through the upper edge of their created sinkhole, tossing him back up to the street.

He lands on his feet in time to see Lung pull himself up out of the edge.

The Dark… stirs.

The hand that reaches from the Dark sends ice through my veins, I feel a heart that doesn't beat growing cold and still.

Too many fingers, too long. It burns even though its flesh is cold as a corpse.

SsshnsSHH

With a wet burst of visceral blood, wings now adorn his back.

There is a sound above him, a high-pitched shriek that draws his eyes up.

And above, winding through the towering buildings he sees another beast. A dragon of metal. He's seen it like before. But the creature he'd battled had been a small thing. More lizard than anything else, barely a century since its hatching given its size. If it was even born at all. Only sorcery could explain cutting a thing open and finding only sparking lights and burning cables.

…

How he hated this place.

The presence pressed down, like it's… all around me. Smothering me.

Tears burn across eyes that can't see.

"Let me go." I hiss, hating how… feeble it is. How weak and pleading it sounds.

The metal creature releases… something from above, some kind of projectile. He leaps out of the way, watching as they explode, collapsing yet another chunk of the unstable street, dropping the ground right out from under him to enter once more into the sinkhole of the city's underworld labyrinth.

The ground shakes beneath his feet; he turns and finds Lung leaping down from above, bull-rushing with a roar, mouth alight with flame.

He sets his weight low to the ground, blade at the ready. A jester the size of a drake is still nothing more than a jester.

yoU wiLL Be KePT SAfe, swEeT chilD.

The sound skitters across my ears like a spider, fingers touch the bones of my spine.

The blade carves open his throat, a literal fountain of red gushing from the new wound onto Raime's chest. The beast tries to breathe and does nothing but cough, gagging and choking on arterial blood before Raime's hand grabs him by the open mouth, fingers crushing the underbite and pulling it to smash his face against the stone and then yanking him down onto his knees.

His blade rises and cuts down, half of one of Lung's newly grown wings is suddenly shorn open, tatters of thin membrane hanging in strips from the bony length of cartilage.

And so here is the court jester as he should be. Rolling on the ground, prostrated and broken, crying to the world, swearing that he is worthy. As strong as the lords and knights of the realm whilst begging for borrowed, unearned strength.

I feel its attention move. Shift. It turns away from me.

I move again.

Its presence returns.

This time I don't stop trying to escape.

He hears a growl and is surprised as Lung moves again after the surely fatal blow. He rises, unimpeded, and punches him dead on, straight into the air. He hits what little remains of a roof above them before he slams back down into the wet muck.

The knight picks himself up, a renewed anger burning in his eyes as he lifts his head and sees the dreg's wounds sealing themselves shut.

He knows of magics that can heal like that… He'd killed their wielders before.

He stands, greatsword in hand. The worthless dog has yet to learn its place, it seems.

If the jester wishes for his body to be reduced to little more than pieces, he will oblige him.

This time, the presence returns, and the pressure feels like a ten-ton weight has fallen over every inch of my body. There's nothing gentle in the voice now.

bE SiLENt!

It takes every meager, shredded ounce of strength I have in the depths of my spirit to keep fighting. To keep my eyes from shutting and letting myself be shoved down into the dark.

My eyes open.

Suddenly an attack rains down from above. Projectiles explode over the two, ice bursting from the impact points.

Lung blasts out a fireball from his mouth, searing hot and moving straight towards the metal beast. It explodes feet from its target, coiling harmlessly around some magical barrier.

Overhead, the metal beast circles like a wolf that stalks a lion. Or a hornet looking to sting a hawk. Staying well out of reach. It is a sound plan. Already he feels an infinitesimal degree of greater respect for the mindless metal animal above than the dreg that aspires to be little more than a leech.

The hand is too large. Its fingers wrap around me like a cage.

"Let me out!" I gasp out. My voice was half lost in the agony of simply speaking. "Let me out!"

Still, this enemy is interfering, and the honorless upstart is his to kill. The metal creature has no right to interfere.

He ducks low, and with a single shove of his powerful legs he rises up towards it as if he himself could fly, blade at the ready.

It turns in mid air, its head swiveling around to fire a beam of frost magic straight towards him.

He places the blade between himself and it, and the magical attack slams into him, pushing him back, straight down. His back hits some brick building, plowing straight through its surface, the concentrated energy frosting the ash that formed his sword and arms.

The hand opens.

The chains loosen their hold and the pressure that had been ready to crush me abates. I hear giggling echoing through the black.

The flames burst from his blade, angry and red, melting the frost.

He sees a flash of blue, another diverted attack from Lung, and the metal beast rises once more into the sky, seeking escape. It will return soon, he knows.

Like a battering ram, the beast slams into him; he is shoved up, the both of them slamming into the ceiling of these rooms and tearing it apart. Faux stone rains down, Lung roars and slams him against the walls, his hands big enough to now grasp him by the shoulders as though the ancient Knight is little more than a boy that is not yet a man.

Their sheer weight brings the floor down beneath them, and with the sudden fall Raime frees himself with a burst of pure strength, bringing his weapon to bear mid-fall and striking downward. It carves into Lung's bicep, punching straight through him to the pure stone of the bottom floor.

In his remaining hand ash gathers, and he conjures his longsword, thin and slender, the weapon of a different time that serves just as well now.

He plunges it straight down through Lung's remaining hand, pinning it to his other side.

So sTroNG! Another giggle, another maddened slice through the silence. So wiLLful my Daughter is!

Straddling the leech now he punches down, over and over again his fists crack against the metal face of the monster. Lung roars and breathes flame, white hot fire washing over the Knight like a geyser. He does not care, he keeps striking, his fists raining down again and again and again, feeling the metal buckle beneath his fist, the bones snap and crunch as they regenerate and try to heal beneath the relentless assault.

Then Lung's arm is free, the claw smacking the knight with a force he could only compare to a Giant Champion, eons ago.

He stands, the ash gathering to form both blades in his hands, as Lung stumbles to his feet. He doubts the lizard can even see clearly anymore, his face a disfigured mulch of metal, bone and blood.

The ash blade reforms, burning with baleful fire.

When he plunges it into the dreg's chest- it no longer has a mouth to scream.

Soon, there isn't enough left of its body to heal.

The jester dies without a sound.

I open my mouth ready to speak again. To tell her I only had one mother! Her Name was Annette and she was not this… fucking thing.

The words die in my voice box. Not from a lack of will… but a pure, overwhelming and sudden fear.

If I say that… It won't be giggles I hear.

Then more projectiles rain down.

The metal nuisance.

He hears the snaps of stone and whatever other materials were used in the construction and only just manages to lunge out of the building through a wall at his side before the three stories come straight down over where they'd been standing.

He needs to bring it to ground. Make it commit to a place where it cannot fly away.

Its nest, where it lays its eggs, the aerie of its kin. That place would make it come to ground, make it fight. Allow him to destroy it.

And then… it's a tickle at the back of his mind, an answer pulled free of its place in the mind of the little mortal.

The fear paralyzes me. Keeps me still and quiet. Like a deer caught in the stare of a lion.

It's not intuition. It's not deduction or reasoning.

It's instinct.

Pure, primal instinct.

The enemy fortress.

With a turn, Raime jumps into the air like a bullet.

This thing… It's a monster.

More than the Knight. Whatever this is, whatever is dancing around wearing my mother's skin…

My breath catches.

The metal creature screeches above as it passes and he hears it speak for the first time in the voice of a woman.

"Taylor, stop!"

Strange. Does this breed have enough intelligence to speak? He did not think it possible.

I'm not sure how long I stay there. Laying in the Dark. Too scared, too petrified to move.

Then I realize… I have to.

It turns, and with a ray of frost and a slew of projectiles, Raime's momentum is brought to a halt as he's hit mid-leap.

The frost ray, exploding projectiles and white lather slams into him. He's thrown off course, his body shoved to the side to scrape off a stone building before he hits the ground hard, frost and rapidly hardening foam covering his left arm.

It seems the thing has deduced his intent. It does not want him reaching the fortress.

He turns and continues his sprint, long strides and powerful steps making small craters in the ground as he slips through the winding alleys that could barely fit a horse through them.

The metal one flies above, taking shots where it could, trying to slow him down though only succeeding marginally.

My teeth grit.

This… this is my mind.

It's when he reaches the sea that he realizes where he is and turns, finding it there in the distance. The fortress has lights streaming into the sky, a blockade of metal carriages and soldiers with queer weapons that he knows will fire like a crossbow.

This is what the metal one would commit itself to protect.

He charges and can hear a human speaking, shouting with some sorcery or some machine to carry his voice further, a warning of some kind.

Then something hits the ground with a blinding speed, the black rock of the road bursts in snaps and cracks that pelt his body before something hits him hard! It felt like being struck by a Giant Lord! He's thrown back, all sixteen feet of momentum brought to a dead halt. He hits the ground with his legs under him, feet digging into the stone road to bring himself to a stop.

If I lose here- if she can just… bully me here…

Then I might as well let her kill me anyway

He stands, a growl in his chest as the dust clears.

It's a woman.

Dressed in black and silver with flecks of gold at the lining of her cape, and some tower on her midsection. He does not recognize this one. Has never seen her before. He has heard of magics that can strengthen the body, though never to such a degree. A lost art rediscovered, perhaps? Intriguing.

"That's far enough."

The voice brings his eyes up towards the sky.

It's a man. A man in blue and white, his face only having an eye mask. He recognized this one. The one that filled his vessel with such fear, such awe.

A… Triumvirate…

The word brings him the images. The names pulled from memory.

Alexandria. Legend…

These are the heroes of this world.

He came to slay a Dragon and instead will bear arms against Lords...

Raime's shoulders shuddered as a rumbling, gravel-like sound emerged from his helmet, a chuckle. Before it morphed into deep, rumbling laughter.

He hefts his greatsword onto his shoulder with his left hand, and looks onto the champion of this world named 'Alexandria'.

Heroes and Monsters.

Lords and Dragons.

All will feed the flames in time.

Funny… I think staring into blackened Dark.

When you have nothing left to lose…

There's not a lot left that can scare you.

(X)(X)(X)

Spoiler: Changelog

This 'format' of switching between Tay and Raime's POVs is a bit of an experiment, pls feel free to let me know if it worked or was just needlessly confusing.

My thanks go to Xegzy and @Icipall for their Beta work :)

Last edited: Jul 10, 2022

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Ld1449

Jul 10, 2022

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Threadmarks Dragon/Victoria Dallon

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Ld1449

Ld1449

To the last, Kill them all

Jul 11, 2022

#5,216

Dragon

Running final diagnostics check.

All systems Green.

"Assault Suit Unit 4-Peregrine. Launching." Dragon intoned as the massive suit soared from the Air Force Base in Pease, New Hampshire, on its own specially cordoned-off runway.

It was equipped with cryo-cannons, foam cannons, heat insulation, high-grade reinforced steel, two mini-guns, three rocket cylinders; one of which held an array of tinker-tech grade rockets; a self-assembly and repair program, a high tensile; high tolerance fibre mesh that was all but impossible to cut with any bladed weapon hidden beneath the layers of steel and four autonomous drones held within a compartment along its back. These were equipped with heat beam weaponry, tasers, Brute-rated nets, and a self-destruct sequence that could go off with the equivalent force of twenty pounds of C-4.

If nothing else, it wouldn't just be reduced to scrap in less than ten minutes facing off against an Ashen giant.

The roar of its engines would have hurt someone's hearing had they been standing too close as it lifted off from the runway and soared into the air to its destination: Brockton Bay.

Twenty-seven days ago, she sent the Fast Response Suit Unit 2-Draco in on a call for assistance in regards to the prison break, and all she did was slow down Surtr for a few minutes. Thankfully, PRT officials were able to salvage and send back any spare parts that could work on making a new suit.

What they couldn't bring back though… was Colin.

She had him in one of the best facilities money could buy, with a private physician that looked him over every three days with round-the-clock nursing care. Very professional and very discreet.

His condition was stable… but not improving.

It wouldn't improve with… conventional science so she was looking into… alternatives.

Panacea couldn't heal brains. But tech didn't necessarily have to be limited in such a way.

Cranial, Toybox. There were a lot of strings she could pull, and a lot she could leverage to try and help him.

There were avenues of research she couldn't venture through, unfortunately. But while she was limited, she knew a great many people that weren't so… restricted. People that were willing to do her this favor in trade for a piece of her tech. Any of her tech.

A trade she was willing to grant.

She wasn't… angry at Taylor… ok… she was, but no one could help it if they were under Master influence. It was simply beyond their control.

So she'd be more honest by saying she had mixed feelings on the issue in regards to Taylor.

Where she didn't have any mixed feelings, however, was Coil.

Everything that had happened, everything that had been suffered, all the pain the people, heroes, Wards, PRT, and others alike had been subjected to since that day could rightfully be laid at his feet.

And so it was when the software that dedicated itself to monitoring PHO gave her several high priority alerts at once that someone was carpet posting in regards to a cape's civilian ID, namely Coil's civilian ID, and she was required, by law, to eliminate these postings and lock down their respective threads, she did so…

With the slowest software program she had available.

She hadn't even used the thing since she first upgraded it a year or so after she officially… was.

She couldn't be blamed if so many other priority issues made it impossible to place these particular posts at the top of her 'To do'-list.

Coil would just have to deal with his identity and photo being on a public forum on several threads for the next fifteen to twenty minutes.

Not very long at all.

And while it wasn't required by law, she felt it was in the interest of public security to make Director Costa-Brown aware of his identity.

She also alerted the airport security, police, coast-guard, highway patrol, police, along with most public transportation agencies in the New Hampshire area… and the surrounding states.

And European Interpol.

And the European Department of Parahuman Affairs, the EU's equivalent to the Protectorate.

…

…

And most of South America.

For public security reasons only, of course.

And no, she wasn't trying to find a way to justify sending the information to Moord Nag.

At any rate, Coil was a secondary issue at this particular moment. Approximately seventeen minutes ago, the Bay had simply exploded with violence.

E-88 and ABB-affiliated gang members were having open shoot-outs and raids on the streets, attacking buildings, ransacking apartments and warehouses, all of which were purchased in some way or had a link towards Fortress Industries, the Endbringer shelter company.

Calvert's properties.

The E-88, and ABB weren't attacking each other but were, in fact, being attacked by what seemed to be something of a private paramilitary group, complete with tinkertech weaponry and armor. At least one location had an armored vehicle with mounted weaponry.

If she had to guess, someone had turned the ABB and the E-88 against Calvert. His manipulations and use of civilian ID's to target the Wards must have come back to bite him in the ass.

She'd have applauded if the fallout wasn't spreading through half the city

Injuries from car accidents, stray gunshots and from the actual combatants themselves were steadily rising, and with the Protectorate and PRT forces already scrambling and engaging the rampaging gangsters where they found them, this was only going to get worse. This was especially true if the reports she was getting about Lung being seen out and about weren't just exaggeration.

She would have to make him her first priority if it was confirmed he was seen in combat. Lung could easily level entire city blocks if he got amped up enough.

As it was, the ABB was setting fires in what truly were random locations. Tossing Molotov cocktails into cars, buildings, parks, and anywhere else that seemed like it could hold a flame. No doubt to spread the emergency responders thin. The Empire hadn't adopted the same tactics but the sheer number of gangsters they were fielding led her to believe they believed they didn't need to.

She had all but hijacked the Brockton Bay emergency lines and channels, using at least three different programs to answer, question, and direct the calls that came in, sending out ambulances and regular police force to the areas of minimal risk while sending the men and women of the PRT towards the places that had clusters of calls coming in with reports of Parahuman activity. Already there was word of Krieg, Alabaster, Hookwolf, Othala, Victor and Cricket through the north end of downtown and part of the docks. Oni-Lee had been sighted in at least ten different city blocks in just a few minutes. No doubt he was using his teleportation for maximum distance.

She brought in another program to track and calculate just how fast he was moving. Perhaps later she could get an accurate measure on the distance he could travel with his teleportations and just how many milliseconds he needed between jumps and clones.

Still, there was no sign of Kaiser or Lung fighting as of yet. Thank Scion for small favors.

She listened in further. Legend was already on scene, using much of his abilities to put out the aforementioned fires and disable whatever gang member he came across. Velocity was not far behind, with Miss Militia and Brandish on their way with the bulk of the Protectorate forces.

She was getting mixed reports on if the Wards were joining or not. Evidently, the higher-ups of the Brockton Bay Protectorate were not too keen on sending the kids into what was fast becoming a literal warzone.

When she entered Brockton Bay airspace, she immediately opened a channel to the heroes and PRT.

"This is Dragon. Legend, tactical analysis indicates Crusader, Othala, Victor and Cricket are attacking a small business building at the corner of Winchester and Forty Second avenue. I will head there unless you believe I am needed elsewhere."

"This a rescue unit or a combat model?" She heard him ask.

"Combat." She answered. "Heavy ordnance."

"Confirmed. Go and take them down, don't need to tell you about keeping damage to a minimum."

"Understood." Dragon soared through the sky, lowering her descent as she saw the skyline of Brockton Bay. The suit cameras could already pick up the smoke and fires.

She drew up the GPS Nav-System as she entered the city limits, flying over the buildings, making note of the spreading violence to upload to the PRT and police emergency response units in short order.

As she drew close to downtown, she dipped below the skyline, weaving through the city streets and avenues to buy herself those few extra seconds she'd need to get in close before the villains could see her approach.

Finally, when she reached Winchester, she turned on a dime, crossing the last three blocks needed in less than five seconds before her combat unit hit the ground, wings folding up and activating the kinetic barrier system.

She hacked into the camera systems of the Fortress office building in question and spotted another dozen E-88 thugs, finding three of the four parahumans in question: Krieg, Othala, and Cricket.

"Throw down your weapons. Cease and desist at once." Dragon spoke over the Peregrine's speakers. The foam cannons at her shoulders came online.

The thugs scattered, shooting their handguns, assault rifles, and any weapons they had available, the bullets bouncing harmlessly off of her kinetic shields.

The containment foam cannons fired like fire hoses, hitting one gangster in the back and knocking him off his feet to faceplant on the ground. Another was thrown up against the wall, sticking there as the foam hardened around him.

Electric tasers were fired out of a miniature gun mounted on the suit's head, just beside its right eye. One, two, three, four, five. The sixth thug ducked into an alley, just barely avoiding the electric projectile. His friends fell down, unable to scream as they twitched and writhed on the ground, several thousand volts coursing through their bodies.

The E-88 members inside were now aware that something was wrong; the noise had alerted Cricket, no doubt.

She spied one of the normals moving towards the window and swiveled one of her shoulder cannons to fire.

The foam hit the window like a rock, shattering it and slathering itself over the thug's chest and face as he came towards it. He screamed, startled, trying to move before the foam hardened, leaving the man to topple over.

He still screamed at his friends, though.

"Dragon!" Her microphones picked up since the cameras in the Fortress building didn't have sound. Krieg immediately moved, rushing towards the other side of the building, towards the fire escape. He was the most senior member here, the leader at this time. She needed to take him down first.

The compartment at the back of her suit opened up, and four drones activated, the size of beach balls; the four could move where she couldn't. One moved into the destroyed front door, the other headed up towards the roof, and the last two around the back to cut them off.

Dragon's sensors picked up movement, one claw digging into the ground listening to the vibrations as a dozen other instruments triangulated the positions of people moving in the building. Krieg had ducked back in, running into the hallway as the drones came round the building. Coordinating with the hacked security cameras, she knew where every one of the thugs stood and moved inside.

So did her drones.

She heard gunfire and spotted the warning signs on Drone 2, focusing on its uplink in time to see the drone firing tasers and paralyzing toxins the size of thumb-tacks with pinpoint accuracy.

She focused on the group currently running towards the roof, where another of her drones lay in wait.

They opened the door in time to get a face full of containment foam.

Drone 3 suddenly blinked out as damaged. She rewound its camera feed.

One bullet from a high-powered sniper as it was chasing Othala. Victor no doubt. Or a really, really, lucky shot to have hit the drone in its main camera. As the computer compensated, and activated a secondary infrared system, it came online just in time for some other E-88 thug to swing at it with a steel pipe, moving far faster than normal.

Powered up by Othala. She gave him a Mover rating and perhaps some Brute to go with it.

Drone 2, however, pinged an alert. Cape.

Focusing on that camera, the drone was currently trying to stun Cricket. The young woman's lightning fast reflexes allowed her to dodge but not much else in the confined hallway. She was inching her way towards a door to give herself some cover.

Dragon took up manual control, leaving the Peregrine on auto-pilot. Cricket's hand moved to the door, intent on opening it, and Dragon fired when she was already mid-motion.

Containment foam bursted from the drone's cannon, full power. As it slathered the door, Cricket pulled back but the splash from the still liquid foam managed to get on her stomach and still outstretched hand. As it hardened, it slowed her down. Not by much, but just enough.

Down she went with a chest full of tasers.

Drone 1 had cornered Krieg. The kinetic manipulator wasn't going to get hit by any foam, his ability to all but cancel the momentum and inertia ensuring that. It didn't mean that she couldn't trap him anyway.

Drone 1 continued to fire, with Drone 4 abandoning its search protocols to join it, making sure she had enough foam.

Soon enough, the foam had hardened into a mass blocking the door and hallway of the room. That should be enough to hold him until the PRT arrived. She kept Drone 4, the morestocked drone, there and sent Drone 1 off into its search patterns. She had Drone 2 continue to search the office building, but there were no signs of any capes. So, Cricket and Krieg. Nice haul.

"This is Dragon to PRT HQ. I have Krieg and Cricket caught and apprehended, along with plenty of criminals incapacitated at the moment. Requesting immediate extraction."

"Affirmative, back up on the way for extraction." She heard the person over her communication network. Dragon began to look through the PRT network for an update on things.

Dauntless was currently by the docks where the ABB were raising hell. Legend was moving fast towards the north end apartments. Apparently there was some kind of infighting with the ABB and the E-88 after all. Purity had just taken to the skies and was raining literal death on the asian gang members. Must have ended her little hiatus when word of Coil's actions came to light.

Velocity and Battery were on base at the PRT HQ for protection in case the ABB and E-88 got it into their heads to attack there as well.

The Wards, however, were on the move. Being sent to search and rescue locations or zones that were slowly but surely being pacified to help with the emergency efforts, their standing orders were to stay far from the fighting, freeing up some PRT agents to head there instead.

"This Dauntless; I'm moving towards the industrial district. Word is Crusader and Alabaster are there."

"Dragon, do you read?" Legend.

"I'm here."

"Be on the lookout for Kaiser and Lung. We need to take them out. Once they're gone or they've been forced to retreat the others will follow right after. They are our top priority. I wanted them found twenty minutes ago. We don't have hard counters for either of them so be care-"

Suddenly, a broad sweeping call came from one of the PRT agent radios.

"This is Team Theta. We've spotted Ashburn heading downtown, she's on the roofs."

"Did she attack you?" Dauntless asked, all communicator icons activating for the Protectorate heroes and Wards.

"Negative, saw her jump across a roof two blocks down as we were setting up a perimeter. Had to rewind the recording devices on our helmets to make sure. Should we pursue?"

"Negative." Legend answered that time. "Hold position. How long ago was this?"

"Three minutes, five tops. Sorry sir, we didn't want to call it in and then realize it was just a mistake."

"Don't worry about it, son. Dragon, add her to your list of high-priority targets. Kaiser, Lung and Ashburn. If they sneeze, I wanna know about it."

"Understood."

She took to the sky, the whine of thrusters and weight reducing tech surging to life, the massive battle suit moving like its namesake as it went to the air. Scanners and satellite uplink giving her a minute by minute update on everything happening in the Bay, looking over the footage of her last confrontation with Surtr, reanalyzing the patterns and tells she gave in that form as opposed to her more normal state.

She hoped it wouldn't come to an all out war in the street with her. She truly did. Not for her suit, it was just bits and pieces that she could rebuild in a month. But 'Master influence' could only shield one so much before they were simply seen as 'dangerous' and in the middle of a city, surrounded by civilian apartments and businesses, that was one line that could be crossed with just a stray gout of flame in the wrong direction.

She really didn't want that to happen to her. Despite the damage she'd done to Colin she could still remember how the taciturn Tinker described her when she asked after that conversation with Gallant.

'She's shy and reserved. She is acclimatizing to her teammates faster than Stalker did and being accepted more in turn. The cohesion between herself and her teammates is decent and continues to improve.'

He said she would have made a fine hero. Some of the highest praise he'd ever given to a Ward. To this day, the only other Ward to have gotten those words out of him was Vista.

And Coil destroyed it all.

She had no doubt the knowledge of Sophia was used in some way. She could recognize that Colin, Miss Militia and Piggot had some blame there as well, unintentional or not, but the catalyst of the whole thing was Coil.

He was the one that planned it and executed it. He was the one that hired the Master, whoever he or she was.

The Peregrine reached optimum altitude and began its scans, searching through city blocks with its special sensors and all but panning over the whole of the city with visuals.

Four minutes into her scan though, it became a redundant effort.

She could literally see the shockwave sweep through the city as a downtown building was literally consumed in fire, the flames spreading with an unnatural speed.

She turned her suit, taking off in the direction. One minute, maybe less. She cordoned off the emergency calls coming in from that area, listening in as the PRT and police emergency lines were once more flooded with an entirely new deluge of incoming calls for help.

She soared over the burning ruin, using her instruments to pierce through the heat and the smoke.

'Oh no.' She thought, dismayed.

It was Lung, already ramped up, standing at ten feet tall and rapidly growing. Grappling with him was a figure that was unmistakable.

"This is Dragon. I have a confirmed sighting of both Lung… and Surtr."

(X)(X)(X)

Victoria Dallon

"I'm here! I'm here!" She yelled as she dove down to the PRT building, Amy in her arms. It would be the most secure place in the world to house her in this chaos. No one would ever be stupid enough to hurt her sister, not unless they wanted the whole cape world gunning for them, but with all this insanity, better safe than sorry.

The PRT building would be where she could do the most good and be kept safe at the same time.

A guard flagged them down on the helipad. She touched down, letting Amy go as the PRT agent approached her.

"Glory Girl!" He shouted over the din of distant gunfire and explosions. "Here!" He thrust a box in her direction. She opened it and took one of the offered earpieces. PRT frequency, encrypted to high heaven. One for her, one for Amy, and six more for her mom, aunt Sarah and everyone else to coordinate. She handed Ames hers out of habit than any real suspicion she'd need it.

"We need you and yours near the north end apartments." He said

"What's going on there?" She shouted as Amy rushed into the building, ushered by another three agents. No doubt there were already wounded in the med bay.

"Purity's on a rampage. Legend's on his way, but you and Photon can definitely check her quickly."

"Got it." And just like that, she took off, box in hand. She'd be meeting up with Crystal and aunt Sarah a few blocks away. She'd give them their earpieces there and decide who was gonna rush off to give mom and dad theirs.

As she flew above the street, she could see the pillars of black smoke rising above the Bay. The sirens from ambulances, police, PRT and fire trucks all blared across the whole Bay to the point that she couldn't hear anything else.

The glow of fires off in the distance was spread in pockets, and the pops of gunfire added to the sheer cacophony.

God, what in the hell happened that started this bullshit?

"Vicky!" She heard from down below, finding Crystal standing on a rooftop with- Clockblocker?

She swooped down, cape tugging behind her. "Clock, what's wrong?" She asked as she handed Crystal the box of PRT earpieces.

"Yeah!" He pointed to her left, she turned, finding a plume of red flame that rose up above the skyline. "Big ass fire. ABB threw a Molotov into a gas station. We need help evacuating and containing it. Putting it out. Firebreaks. You name it, we need it. So come on, get Photon Momma and family over here!"

"It's Lady Photon, you ass." She half snapped, more out of reflex than any real sense of outrage, as she turned, rising a few inches off the ground for a better view, finding the gas station literally shrouded in flames.

Damnit, was that… shit, it was the convenience store by the sandwich restaurant! That place was really good!

She turned back. "Look, I've been called out to go help Legend against Purity. I'll tell you both if we need help!"

"Shit! Purity's out here too!?" Clock hissed. "This is crazy!"

She didn't bother answering, turning north and shooting off like a bullet. Crystal would help with the fire. The best thing for her to do was to take out Purity fast so that Aunt Sarah could move to help others rather than waste time on an overrated Nazi bitch.

As she flew over the buildings, high enough to not feel the stifling heat that was permeating the whole city, she felt her eyes stinging with the acrid smoke that was now choking the air as she flew fast enough to leave swirls of smoke in her wake. Through her stinging eyes, she could see one of Dragon's suits rising up out of the skyline like a metal serpent.

It was a morbid curiosity that made her raise her hand up to her earpiece.

The heroes ran on the high priority frequency. Through that they heard direct orders from the PRT HQ along with distress calls from other heroes. Anything else was, for lack of a better term, 'below their pay grade'.

She switched channels.

The sheer noise made her rip the thing out of her ear with a shout, coming to a dead stop in the middle of the air.

She held the thing a whole foot away from her ear and could still hear the screams. The frantic calls of God only knew how many people howling into their radio transceivers to try and get through to PRT HQ or call in backup.

She switched it back to the priority frequency.

For a second, she thought she'd made a mistake. That she'd hit the wrong button. But with a second longer to listen, the message registered and her heart fell into her stomach.

Taylor!

She activated the earpiece. "This is Glory Girl! Requesting permission to change targets from Purity to Surtr!"

"Negative! Negative, do not approach the-"

"This is Legend- belay that. Glory Girl, head towards them, you're to provide backup for Dragon but do not directly engage! Don't worry about Purity."

"You have her handled?" She asked to make sure. If Legend got hurt…

"Oh yeah." She was surprised to hear him chuckle. "Got some unexpected help up here."

She didn't ask. If he said he had it handled, then he had it handled.

Right now Taylor needed her help more…

Taylor…

The last time she'd seen her was at the tail end of their argument in the alley.

Vicky shouted at her.

All but called her a hypocrite…

That was the last time she saw her friend. And it was with an argument on her lips and fists clenched in anger.

Demanding that she conspire to cover up a crime…

It was beyond fucked up. That same night she and Amy had gone home, trying to pretend nothing had happened.

Then… the next day it was like a hurricane.

They found out that the Wards' ID's and possibly the Protectorate's too are in the hands of a villain and before they can even wrap their heads around half of it, the prison is under attack and Taylor…

Taylor became some Lung 2.0 monster and went on a rampage, nearly killing Armsmaster, that Hess Girl, and Chris.

The PRT weren't being very helpful with specifics… But supposedly there was a Master involved.

Someone who used emotions to dominate people, mess with their heads. Or maybe memories or something else.

He'd made it so that she thought of all of them as her enemy. Made it so that they were the bad guys in her head.

And somewhere in the back of her mind… Vicky knows, or at the absolute least she hopes, it's unlikely. That it's self centered. There must have been more to it. Taylor's world didn't revolve around Vicky's actions.

But she can't help but ask-

Was it my fault?

Did those twenty minutes at the alley have something to do with it? Did she add more fuel to the fire that made it that much easier for the Master to make her see them all as bad guys?

She didn't act heroic that day… Far from it. She almost killed a man. Conspired with her sister to cover it up like she always did and then intimidated/coerced Chris and Taylor to keep the secret.

He was a Nazi…

But she was supposed to be better than a Nazi.

She'd just been a criminal with a better costume and a better smile.

She might not have been responsible for the Master twisting Taylor… but she was damn sure she didn't help.

Twenty minutes… that's all it took.

Twenty minutes for a fuckup Amy couldn't just erase for her.

That her mom couldn't pull her out of. Or her aura mellow out for her.

Twenty minutes… and she'd hurt her friend.

She had to fix this!

She heard a chime in her ear, followed by an electronic voice.

"Isolating frequency."

A second later:

"Glory Girl." Dragon. "Keep yourself out of sight for the time being."

"Why?" She asked, more out of genuine surprise than any kind of outrage. "Tay's fighting Lung. We need to stop him before he ramps up."

"You can't interpose yourself between them to try and fight Lung. Taylor is unstable, her behavior erratic. She might see you as just another enemy. And between both Lung and Surtr, you'll very likely end up dead."

She winced. The memory of the punishment she'd endured at the Black Knight's hands brought back a phantom pain.

Amy had been pissed and distraught, explaining just how much internal damage Vicky had suffered in that fight.

"So what are we gonna do? We can't let Lung amp up."

"Unlike Surtr, Lung can't escape containment foam. If I can contain him then we can handle Surtr. I've designed this suit with that combat in mind."

"What am I gonna do then?"

"Support. Give me their locations if I lose them, hit them if they manage to grab hold of my suit to shove them off. For now, we're relegated to hit-and-run attacks. Engaging either of them in a drawn out fight will end with our defeat."

Not her usual role but if it helped Taylor-

"Fine." She spied the Dragon suit barely ten blocks away. "I see you, coming in fast!"

"Stay out of sight as much as you can."

She swooped down low, touching down on a building and hitting the ground running, rushing towards the edge before looking down where the two monsters were currently tearing up the street down below.

God, she felt so useless… all she could do was just stand up here and watch.

She saw Dragon fly in and around the battle, taking pot shots whenever she could and using her foam to slow Lung down.

As she just floated there, she heard the roars of Lung getting bigger and Surtr getting angrier while she couldn't do a damn thing!

She watched the two, her heart dropping to her stomach as Surtr jumped, lunging for Dragon's suit as it fired down on Lung with foam sprayers, trying to get a bead on it.

"Dragon!" She screamed into her headpiece, and to her relief Dragon swiveled her head around, firing some kind of freeze ray, sending the black knight crashing back down into the side of a building.

She released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, watching as Dragon fired missile after missile in Lung's direction before shooting off into the sky with a shriek of protesting jet engines, giving herself some breathing room.

Lung charged straight into the building like a rampaging bull, crashing into it with a sound that rattled her where she hovered nearly ten stories above. She rushed to get a better vantage point as the Knight grappled with the metal monster, crashing through walls and brick in their struggle. Then, before she could even grasp what happened, Lung was on the ground, Surtr above him, crashing its fists against Lung's face over and over and over again.

She could hear the crunch of bone, see the spurts of blood, Lung's face caving in…

Surtr stood towering over the dragon.

His sword formed in his hand, burning bright hot, smoldering like a furnace at full blast even from this distance.

Vicky could see Lung's scales glowing orange, smoke and steam rising, metal hissing.

When Surtr stabbed Lung in the chest the fire soared.

She saw blood boiling, bones blackening. Lung thrashed and twitched but something must still be regenerating in his brain. There's no coordination to his limbs, no force to shove Surtr off.

Vicky watched in stunned disbelief as Lung's twitching slowed and finally, he went still.

He's reduced to smoldering ashes.

Her hand rose, her fingers numb and her voice flat as she spoke.

"Glory Girl on broad call to anyone listening… Lung's dead."

The deluge of voices demanding confirmation, or expressing confusion is lost on her senses, staring at the blackening spot beneath the Black Knight.

"Surtr killed him." She finished, wondering what the hell she's gonna do now.

She didn't have to wonder for very long.

"Get out of the firing line!"

She didn't even bother looking, just obeyed. After years of working on a team and with the PRT, she knew when to just obey and not ask. She flew straight up a second before she heard the discharge of missiles shrieking below her and smashing into the building.

She looked down in time to see Surtr rush out just as it collapsed entirely.

It looked up, its helmet following Dragon's path before it… turned and ran?

She had to blink, stupefied for a moment before she spoke into the headset. "Dragon! Dragon! Taylor's running!"

"What?!"

"She's running!" She repeated as she watched the thing jump onto the top of a building,

"She's heading south by southeast!" She shouted.

"I see her. Analiz- Oh no. Glory Girl. Taylor's not running!"

The blond blinked. "Then what the hell is she-"

At the next jump she felt her heart drop into her feet as she saw what was ahead of them.

"Oh hell…"

"This is Dragon to all PRT personnel. This is Dragon on all frequencies. Surtr is moving straight towards the PRT Headquarters. This is an alert to all PRT personnel, Protectorate heroes and Wards. Surtr is moving towards the PRT Headquarters! I repeat! Surtr is moving towards PRT Headquarters!" Dragon yelled. Victoria followed close, not even needing to ask her if she should engage. If this was gonna happen it was gonna happen at the very last possible minute. If Surtr changed his route or Lung came back from the dead or something, they'd dodge a major bullet!

The Dragon suit fired missiles at the sprinting Black Knight.

"This is Dragon. Who is available? We need someone to help intercept."

"This is Velocity! I'm on my way right now, two minutes. I can't stop him though."

"Dauntless. I'm tied up with E-88! Get some troopers up here and I can go!"

"Assault and Battery here, ABB. Five more minutes and we should be done. Where the hell is Militia!? She's not answering her comm!"

"This is Lady Photon. Myself, Shielder and Laserdream are on our way."

"This is Brandish, I'm at the corner of Eighth and Cumberland. The ABB is running but they're torching everything on the way out! I can't leave!"

The sheer chaos of hundred voices screeched through her ears. Everyone scrambling for some kind of solution, some means of stopping this thing or slowing it down till Legend could come back.

She grit her teeth.

"Taylor, stop!" Shouted Dragon over the loudspeakers from her suit. Victoria was already gaining ground when she saw Dragon fire again at the leaping Surtr, striking him and sending him sprawling to the ground. The New Wave heroine stopped mid-flight, observing, and she saw the Black Knight on the move already, the missile and foam-grenade strike not even fazing the beast.

"This is Legend. I'm on my way and I'm bringing in the cavalry!"

Cavalry?

"Do not engage. I repeat. No one engage Surtr further. We'll handle this."

"Dragon, save your ammo for the other villains still around the city."

"Understood."

She didn't even bother following further, rushing away from the site to head towards the PRT HQ where she could already see dozens of the PRT men and women lining up in firing lines and putting up barricades.

She barely had a moment to take in the rush of organized chaos before she heard the crunch of shattering asphalt and looked down the road where Surtr was charging straight for the PRT building, the massive creature dwarfing even the cars around it.

Then, straight above.

Their ray of hope came in the form of a woman in black armor.

Alexandria crashed down onto the street, and the next thing Vicky saw was a sight that she'd only managed to see done once before, by her.

Surtr getting thrown back like a punching bag.

Alexandria was here!

She flew closer, close enough to hear as Legend shouted at Surtr.

"That's far enough." The leader of the Protectorate loomed above the silent Alexandria as the black-caped super heroine stared down the Black Knight.

Vicky moved forward, ready to help when Alexandria's voice cut into her ear through the radio.

"This is Alexandria. No one interfere. You're likely to just get hurt rather than help. I trust I've made myself clear."

The woman didn't wait for another word. She crouched and exploded forward; Surtr raised his sword. The broad face of the blade took the absolutely massive blow. The weapon shattered before she kept charging, shoulder tackling him upwards, rising ten, twenty, thirty feet before she smashed him straight into the sixth story of a building. She darted out, as Legend's blasts came in right behind her, beams of blue and white lasers lancing into the hole to make the area freeze over with a layer of frost.

For a moment there was stillness. It lasted long enough that Victoria had to wonder.

Is that it?

Then flames exploded across the whole sixth story, sandwiched between the floor and ceiling; they spread out the windows to lick up the building's sides, quickly catching on the floor above.

Out of that inferno, Surtr leapt, the massive blade now burning with off-colored flames, lunging straight for Legend with a downward slice, roaring like a beast.

The man moved but Alexandria was there just in case, tanking the blow on his behalf, only to get smacked down to hit the asphalt like a ten-ton brick, her back smashing into the street hard enough to shatter it all over again.

She recovered, and as Surtr hit the ground she was on top of him, pressing the attack relentlessly.

She tackled the knight, punching and kicking with all her considerable strength. The blows sounded like thunder, shaking the very air in Victoria's chest..

For every blow he received the monstrous knight gave back just as good as he got, swinging his sword, backhanding her, dodging. Every blow seemed to shake the ground beneath their feet.

Alexandria was stronger… but it quickly became apparent that Taylor, or Surtr, or whatever had more skill…

One issue all Brutes, even she, had was that they had a lot of trouble learning any fighting techniques.

There was no need.

Technique was a means of overcoming a foe of superior or equal physical strength. When you could punch through a brick wall with your little finger, there was no need to learn how to throw someone without throwing out your back.

But either the Master, or Taylor not being a permanent Brute, had enough knowledge to be able to level the playing field. For every sheer brute force blow that broke through his guard, Alexandria was tossed or slammed onto the nearby building, or the ground, or taken advantage of to counter with a brutal hit, whether it be by his massive recovered sword, a punch, a kick, or even a headbutt. As though Surtr had knowledge in fighting another person just as strong as he was.

Two beams of pure yellow energy lanced down from above, crashing straight into the sixteen foot monster and sending him flying to carve a jagged trench through the road.

The monster rose out of the ground, whatever damage his armor suffered quickly eliminated as more ash converged to rebuild him from the ground up.

She flew in close. Maybe she could get to her.

"Stay back!" She froze, Alexandria soon interposing herself between her and Taylor, her face looking like it was carved out of stone even though her helmet was already cracked and her suit showed signs of damage.

Legend cursed, descending from above. "Did we even hurt it?"

Alexandria frowned. "I doubt it."

Legend breathed. "I've got an idea."

"What're you thinking?"

"Get Taylor out of the construct. If we can pull her out of there suddenly enough that might disorient the Master long enough for me to hit her with one of my concussive lasers, if it comes to that."

"She could just reconverge all the ash onto herself again, and all the effort would have been for nothing."

"Better than just trying to beat it with brute force again." He countered. "I'll see if I can make a custom laser of sorts. Glory Girl." Victoria froze up.

"Sir?"

"I need you to work with Alexandria here. Give her back up and go in on long dives. You were able to stun him with a head start, right?" Victoria nodded. That was the only way she managed to put a dent into Surtr's armor, with a head start and speeding in like a missile.

"Then do that. Dria, take him." Alexandria nodded before she turned back to Victoria. "Two-second warning on the radio. I'll get out of the way." Without waiting for a response she turned away and flew down to the recovered monster, fists outstretched. Surtr braced himself and the two Brutes slammed into each other like a rhino ramming a car.

"Go!" Legend flew off, hands glowing as he began to work. Glory Girl flew straight up. Higher and higher until she was above the clouds.

She took a deep breath… lingering for a moment in the cold above, steeling herself.

"Diving now-" She warned.

-and fell.

Freefalling was always something fun she did with Dean when they had free time. It was few and far between… but the experience was exhilarating. Relaxing even.

And she felt her muscles release their tension as she fell like a meteor, gaining momentum thanks to gravity. Opening her eyes she activated her power and began to fly straight down, the force of the wind soon being blocked out by her power as her speed became enough to make even the air pressure feel discomforting.

Downward and angled, her eyes stung, but she saw Surtr locked in combat with Alexandria.

Images of Taylor at school flashed before her mind's eye. Her shy and reclusive nature was so similar to Ames. Yet she did something Amy didn't do.

She came out of her shell, bit by bit, piece by piece.

Dean had told her ahead of time how shy she was, how insecure. His emotion detection had given him enough insight for that even after one meeting. Taylor was a good person.

Someone that genuinely wanted to be a hero.

She didn't deserve this.

She didn't deserve Coil.

She didn't deserve to be Mastered, twisted.

She didn't deserve to have to be forced to hurt her friends.

Didn't deserve to have the PRT covering up whatever bullshit that happened with Hess. Going behind her back to avoid some bad press.

She didn't deserve a friend that tried to drag her down to cover up the latest of her fuckups.

She didn't deserve fucking Surtr!

Glory Girl yelled as she broke the sound barrier for the very first time.

"LET GO OF MY FRIEND!"

The knight rounded at the sound of her voice, but too late. She hit him with all the force she had behind her two fists, slamming into his gut with more power than she could ever remember using in her life.

She cocked back her fists and punched, pounding again and again and again over the helmet as Surtr's head visibly jerked under each and every blow like a punch-drunk fighter while being tackled at supersonic speeds.

She cried as she hit him, screaming like a mad woman before she grabbed onto his shoulders and pulled, throwing the massive knight as hard as she could, watching him hit the ground a block away, body skipping like a stone on a pond and smashing through a tree before he came to a stop at the foot of William Park Hill.

They were four blocks from the PRT building now.

Victoria panted as she floated in the air. As she looked at the prone beast.

Then, slowly, it moved.

She saw the flames take to the grass first, spreading through the length and breadth of the park to instantly turn the soft green field into blackened, burning remains. The trees lasted a few seconds longer before they too were reduced to little more than burning ash.

The ash swirled around him. Circling like a dust bowl as he picked himself up off the ground and his armor began to regenerate.

She clutched at her head. All but pulling her hair out. "Damnit, just stop! Let her go, you fuck!"

If he heard her, he gave no indication. Straightening to his full height before conjuring both swords, one longsword and one massive stone greatsword, back to his hands.

And then… his shoulders shuddered and that gravely laughter sounded out.

He was mocking her. That everything she did was all for naught. Her fists tightened as she got into position, glaring down at the knight.

She heard the cracking of bone, and numerous ash idols began to rise from the hill and the ground. Dozens of them, and she could hear the whispers as the light engulfed Surtr...

Then, like the wrath of a literal god, dozens of high powered blasts that shook the very sky rained down from above! Tearing across the ground and hammering Surtr with all the power available to the Protectorate leader.

The Knight buckled under the deluge of raw power, a roar escaping him as he raised his massive slab of a sword to weather the downpour.

Vicky wasn't sure what Legend hoped to accomplish, watching carefully until she realized what was happening.

Legend's beams were only destroying ash.

Great tears were ripped across Surtr's body, more ash rushing to fill the gaps but not nearly as fast as Legend himself was tearing into it.

Surtr struggled forward, trying to force himself through like a man pushing against a storm.

Then something gave.

The knight buckled under his own weight and Victoria saw his arms curl inwards, protecting his torso.

His core.

Taylor.

Legend saw it too, the barrage abating.

Surtr seemed to struggle to move, then the ashen construct that was his body grew hazy, indistinct, like a sand castle crumbling under its own weight

Victoria saw a pale hand slip between the grains of falling, grey ash.

"Taylor!"

Her scream was pure emotion and before even Alexandria could react Vicky was rushing straight down to grab her friend's hand and yank her out of there!

Surtr's head turned, noticing her approach.

Then the shriek that cut through the night forced Victoria to stop dead in the air, hands flying to her now bleeding ears as a horrifying sound sliced through the city.

She didn't have the words to describe it.

Victoria felt her blood chill to ice in her veins. The sound alone made her want to slice her own throat to get away from it. The pain that lanced through her skull was like someone driving an iron spike through her temples.

This… wretched, awful, terrifying noise would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life.

The closest thing she could ever compare it to was a mother seeing the body of her dead child.

The cracking of bones was lost on her, but as she opened her eyes she saw them.

Idols.

Rising from the ground like terrifying mannequins.

Parodies of life.

Twisted and grotesque with their half-shorn faces. Glowing red with the flames that burned within them, eyes peering with an old loathing as their mouths opened wide, shrieking like the damned of some terrible hell.

The world began to grow dark, drenched in a hazy, black fog and that was the only warning any of them had.

Victoria screamed, arms coiling around herself as she felt suddenly sick.

She threw up. Vomiting today's lunch and blood, all but falling out of the sky to hit the ground. Legend fell beside her, writhing in agony, before Alexandria caught him, but didn't have enough time to catch her before she hit the pavement head first, her forcefield taking the blow.

Her skin was on fire. Her brain swimming through mud as her insides roiled. She convulsed on the ground.

She couldn't think, couldn't feel, nothing but the sheer misery as her body felt as though she was being stabbed with needles over every square inch.

"We need to go!" Alexandria shouted, appearing above her, grasping at her to pull her up

Then, without an ounce of warning, a cold wind surged through the city, biting down to the bone. Victoria opened her eyes to see ice winding its way through the streets like serpents, sleet and snow blanketing the whole park in a second.

And just like that… it was over, the idols fell still, the flames snuffed out and that horrid shriek, silenced.

Victoria lay there on the ground, one of her arms in Alexandria's grip, disoriented and still feeling sick to her stomach.

Surtr's corpse lingered there. An ashen husk, half kneeling on the ground, chunks of it seemingly erased. The rest holding itself aloft by sheer stubborn will.

And still, emerging from its chest… Tay's hand.

Vicky forced herself to her feet, yanking her hand out of the stunned Alexandria before she half stumbled on her legs and then remembered she could fly, choosing to sway and lurch in the air instead.

"Tay!" She cried, feeling tears burning in her eyes.

She reached her, grabbing hold of her hand, then her arm, and pulling.

The ash surrendered to the pull, Surtr's desiccated husk collapsing completely.

Taylor lay there, covered in grey, her hair tangled.

But Vicky felt her friend's grip on her hand.

It was feeble… weak.

But it was there.

The Dallon girl laid her down on the ground. She remembered all the seminars that said to do that.

"Tay. Tay!" She swallowed, feeling the knot in her throat.

A hand fell over her shoulder.

She turned.

Legend was there, smiling softly as if to say everything would be alright now.

Vicky tried to blink away her tears.

The members of the Triumvirate were nice enough to pretend they hadn't noticed.

(X)(X)(X)

Spoiler: Changelog:

My thanks again to Xegzy and @Icipall for their work on the chapter :D

Last edited: Jul 11, 2022

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Ld1449

Jul 11, 2022

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Ld1449

Ld1449

To the last, Kill them all

Jul 18, 2022

#5,296

Tattletale

The cacophony of sirens, gunfire, helicopters, heroes, and villains rushing across the whole city only added to the rapidly rising anxiety she felt in her gut.

Grue, Regent, and Bitch were with her.

Officially, they were her guards.

Unofficially… she didn't want them out there.

As the city lit itself on fire around her, she tried to listen to the various groups making their callouts and reporting in. Any scrap of information that would even hint at Coil escaping was something she had to pounce on quickly.

She had Faultline's crew on speed dial, even Kaiser had given her the burner phone numbers for all of his capes, a police scanner was screaming at her in the corner and the PRT's radios were hacked as quickly as possible to give her ears to everyone on that end, at least before Dragon's systems clamped down on it and blocked her out.

The last call she'd managed to safely sneak through was a hasty call to Miss Militia's personal PRT phone.

She hoped the woman listened to her… took the chance to take Coil out.

That was the last escape route she knew about and if he used that one and Militia wasn't there...

Coil.

All they had to do was take down Coil.

After everything, He had to be dead… after all of this, for him to escape… to survive…

No.

His power worked best when he had time to set up. Even with that coin trick of his, he would talk in one instance to stall for time. He would always need time.

With everything coming at him, all at once, he didn't have that luxury. It was his biggest weakness.

…

The bastard didn't deserve to live.

He had to be dead.

(X)(X)(X)

It was hours before she could confirm he was well and truly gone.

Miss Militia.

She'd killed him.

From what her power told her… it hadn't been quick either.

Somehow, in all the chaos, Taylor had gotten involved in the fighting. Near the docks.

Her father, Lisa's power, reminded her. Her father is a dockworker.

With everything going on- she'd been so focussed on Coil she hadn't… hadn't even thought about it.

The PRT had her now. Legend and Alexandria had taken her down shortly after that… that scream.

"Are you sure about this?"

Brian's voice was warped through the darkness of his power, shuffling uneasily from one foot to the other.

"You could leave." He said. "You've given us Coil's cash, but you can… you can have your cut. Leave. Start fresh."

She could. Several hundred million dollars split four ways was still a lot of mileage, even when compared to splitting it by just three.

She smiled, a little sad and a little grateful. "Thanks… But I have to do this. I have to make things right."

For a moment, Brian was quiet. "You hurt her-" He said. "-But you don't have to burn for her."

She didn't answer.

After a moment, she smiled. "Try to keep Bitch from burning her cut on bringing in every stray from out of state, ok? And tell Alec he's my favorite asshole."

She couldn't see his face, not through the helmet, but she caught the slump of his shoulders, the regret in his stance.

He nodded.

"I'll… get the car."

(X)(X)(X)

The drive was a long one. Marked by various detours, barricades of police cars, fire trucks, ambulances. Ruins and debris clogged the streets. Fires still raged. People were still bleeding, waiting for the transports to get them to a hospital.

It made for a grim picture.

"Damnit." Brian cursed, cutting a right, keeping his eyes dead ahead. "This isn't how it was supposed to go."

No… no, it wasn't.

Not that she hadn't… expected collateral. She had.

But she'd hoped.

Hoped that Lung and Kaiser would go straight after Coil and all his bases. Not take it as a blank check to fight each other across the whole city while they were at it as well.

And yet… she couldn't regret it.

Because Coil was dead.

Brian took a deep, deep breath through his nose. Angry. Conflicted.

"This is fucked up, Lisa…"

"I know." She admitted. Not gloating, not dismissing, just… agreeing.

She took a breath. "Look… just… this isn't your hit to take. You have Aisha to think about. So just let me deal with it. Drive me over to Holstrom Towers." She felt a muscle in her jaw twitch. "By tomorrow morning I'll fix everything I can. So you just lay low. I'll get this done, I promise."

His hands gripped the steering wheel tight. He was grateful. He believed she'd do what she said.

But he was worried. Worried about her.

Because he did think of her as a friend.

And in that moment she was grateful too.

When they reached the apartment complex by the oceanside, she stepped out of the car.

She didn't look back as Brian drove off.

Marching towards the closest bench, she sat down, ready to pull out her phone and call to tell them she was at the pickup.

That's when she felt the gun at the back of her head.

Her spine went stiff, her breathing hitching, wondering where she'd fucked up. Which mercenary she didn't pay off, or how she hadn't caught even a hint of danger before it was too late.

"Don't move."

The voice hissed at her. She recognized it, but it didn't put her at ease. Not with everything she could hear in that tone.

Is willing to kill you. Suspects you. Suspects your role at the prison. Wants to kill you. Wants a reason to Kill you.

She raised her hands, the hairs at the back of her neck standing on end.

It was either cold out here, or that was her blood chilling over.

The person walked around to stand in front of her.

Miss Militia.

Miss Militia with a very big, very scary gun.

Miss Militia, who was also drenched with a great deal of blood.

"I'm surrendering." She reminded.

"I'm aware." She answered before reaching down to Lisa's waist, where her jacket hid her own handgun.

She pulled it free, removing the magazine and catching it in one hand, snapping the bullet free of the chamber before catching it.

Then the gun was in three pieces on the ground.

"Get up."

Her power gave her information. And right now, it was telling her that it would be in her best interest to obey.

Militia wanted to help Taylor as much as she did, if not more so. That was a plus.

What wasn't was that she was, at this very moment, very much alone with her, and the woman was wound tighter than a drawn bowstring ready to snap.

She was turned around and Militia held her up by the back of her shirt and jacket, fisting the fabric at the middle of her back.

"Injuries?" She asked. Not in concern. She wanted to know if there was a spot to aim for… just in case.

She shook her head. "No."

Her arms were wrenched behind her back, the cold steel of cuffs on her wrist.

Lisa allowed her power to give her information.

Angry. Subject considers Lisa Wilbourne little more than an opportunist. Subject thinks Lisa Wilbourne will attempt to twist events to a narrative that will lead to a lenient outcome. Believes Lisa Wilbourne will lie. Believes Lisa Wilbourne is partly responsible for events at the prison. Coil affiliation. Believes Lisa Wilbourne to be responsible for the events today. Timing too convenient. Coil lead suggested coordinated effort to destroy Coil. Kaiser and Lung also aimed at destroying Coil. Suspicious. Wants to know the truth of the events of today. Wants to know what happened at the prison. Will not accept lies. Will retaliate if lied to. Wants to know what Coil did. How it affected Ashburn- Is concerned about Ashbur-"

Surtr…

"What happened wi-"

"Be quiet." Militia hissed. "You and I are not talking. When I arrest you, it's going to stick."

Minor. No counsel. No parents. Subject doesn't want Lisa Wilbourne getting out on a technicality due to a bad confession.

She was shoved forward into a side street where a motorcycle leaned on its rest. "Get on…"

She got on the front, Militia getting on behind her.

A second later, they were screeching down the road, driving with speed that made her eyes water and made it tough to breathe with no helmet on.

As they made their way closer, she could feel the stark difference in temperature, like walking into an air-conditioned room.

The fires and the smoke had turned the city into a balmy nightmare. The sweltering heat of the riot spread flames had been alleviated very little by the fact that they were started just as the night's chill was seeping in.

But heading down south to PRT HQ, it was like a cold front, and it didn't take her long to catch a glimpse of why as they rode up the edge of the city, hugging the coastline.

It could almost pass for the branches of an old oak tree. The spindly limbs of ice twisted and forked out of the streets, frosting over the sides of the buildings as the Ice held firm, showing only the barest hints of melting.

Her power provided her with the information that her eyes couldn't.

Eight square block radius.

It also avoided damage to the surrounding structures and buildings. Outside of people needing to pay their heat bill in summer, there was no damage she could see.

Whatever this was, it had been directed.

(X)(X)(X)

Lisa was all but shoved into the chair, hissing as a spike of pain went up her hip, through her waist, and straight to the front of her forehead. Her migraine was coming on fast… she'd need an aspirin in a few hours probably.

She was shivering with the cold even as she let her power keep extrapolating and putting pieces together for her.

Taylor transformed.

From what she'd gathered, it had taken two-thirds of the Triumvirate plus Glory Girl and this mystery ice user to bring her down.

Dinah was being rushed towards a medical wing to get treatment because she was overdosing on some drug cocktail. Half of the PRT was out trying to bring order back to the city, another chunk of them were out looking for the ice user and the last few were trying to use the chaos to transport the captured Empire capes out of the city and to do so immediately. Letting the Empire break everyone out now that Lung was dead was a recipe for disaster that Legend and the brass were trying to avoid.

One thing was for damn sure.

Heads were going to roll about this.

The PRT was gonna get whoever they could and rip their skull right off their shoulders. Birdcage, public image destruction- if you could name it, they were probably planning on doing it.

The mob was going to want someone to blame and the PRT wasn't going to let it be them.

Could be Coil. Could be Kaiser or Lung. Could be Piggot. Could be her… could be Taylor.

She would not let that last one happen.

Her bargaining chips were strong… her utility even moreso. She had to leverage that for everything it was worth.

She closed her eyes and waited.

It was almost an hour later before the door finally opened up, and in walked-

"Director Piggot" She smirked, the old, devil-may-care grin slipping over her features like an old friend, pained but still there. "Ohh, and someone new- A lawyer. Thought I waived that pretty explicitly."

"You're an unemancipated minor. Only your parents can waive counsel for you, miss." The man explained.

He could have been related to Grue. Tall, black, built like a linebacker. Could be Brian in another ten years in a business suit. His hair was completely shaved though.

He stepped forward, placing his briefcase on the table and pulling a chair to sit beside her. "My name is Edward Young. I've been hired by-"

"The Protectorate. You're making very little on this, case was assigned, not your choice. You're professional, confident that you know what you're doing, actually looking out for my interest and not here as a mouthpiece." She smirked. "That's actually a little surprising. Anyway, the Director here made sure to get you because she doesn't want me getting out on appeal based on inadequate counsel. Someone else's idea, not hers. You've already been told I'm a Thinker so none of this really surprises you."

Case in point, the man opened up his briefcase with twin snaps of the locks as though this was nothing to be impressed about. She may have been convinced he was bored if she were anyone else.

"At any rate, Mr. Young, I appreciate the help but I've got this, sit back, relax, and let me get you an easy paycheck on the PRT's dime."

"You're free to ignore my advice, Ms. Tattletale." He answered with bored professionalism. "But I'm still going to give it."

She shrugged.

She looked back at the director. Or, more specifically, acting Director. Waiting for that axe to drop.

She looked like hell.

Worn and exhausted. Bags hung heavy under her eyes, the clammy pallor of her skin told her immediately the woman was sick, the half-wheezing breaths and the way she damn near collapsed in her chair making it obvious. Despite the rather brave and stoic front she was putting up, Piggot was on her last leg right now.

Dealt with situation. Hasn't slept in nearly twenty-four hours. Exhausted. Irritated. Drained emotionally and physically. Early onsets of depression.

Piggot sat down across from her. "I'll make this quick for both our sakes." She drawled. "Here's what I know. You've worked with Coil in the past, you gave Miss Militia the location of one of his escape routes from his base, one that he was using when she… intercepted him and his guards. You've been a relatively low key villain in your career so far. A few small time heists. Mainly cash grabs and runs, not including the incident at the bank two weeks ago.

The woman shifted a bit in her seat. "Now here's what I don't know. You clearly had enough of a grudge against Coil to stab him in the back by giving the location of his escape, But then, rather than slip away in the confusion, you chose to surrender into our custody. Why?"

"Well ya see." She leaned back in her chair, hands lacing in front of her stomach. "I heard you people have a great dental plan. So I just had to come and see it for myself."

If only Piggot could have fired laser death beams from her eyes...

Lisa smirked. "In all seriousness, though… My teammates, Bitch and Regent. I'm here to make a deal on their behalf… and mine-"

"Ahem." Mr. Young replied. "Miss, I would suggest that-"

She waved him off, smiling. "Like I said, I thought this through. Thinker power, you don't have to worry."

He leaned back in his seat, the slightest bit of irritation coloring his micro-expressions.

She turned back to Piggot. "See, here's the thing. Our friend Coil had a lot of spies. And I mean enough people to help him run a CIA agency. He had them everywhere. I know of at least seven in the ABB, another twelve in the E-88 and, not counting Coil himself, five people right here with the PRT. Quid-pro-quo. You get the names, my teammates go free, and me… I guess I get a reduced sentence."

"You and your team have a list of crimes that include grand theft, robbery, assault, mutilation, assault with parahuman abilities, conspiracy to aid in prison escapes, felony murder. That last one could get your friends' life. You too. And you want me to cut you a deal for some names that I could probably get myself in a few months, who were in contact with a now dead parahuman. This is your so-called bargaining chip?"

She gave it a good effort.

But little Miss Piggot very much wanted that list of names, despite how much she was trying to underplay it.

The five leaks they had alone would have been enough to sway her.

To have a list of potential snitches/informants in the E-88 and the ABB? That was just gravy on top.

She smirked. "The vast majority of those crimes you mentioned were committed under duress. Knowing that Coil was working for the PRT, I knew I couldn't come here. Being a Thinker, it didn't take me long to see how far his reach was and that there was very little chance of getting away from him if I tried. Under the threat of the corrupt PRT agent who threatened my life and could send out a bolo to find me with his contacts, I had no choice but to do what he asked."

She frowned. "You'd try to pin all your crap on him?"

"Dead men tell no tales." She answered, tilting her head a bit. "And all I'd have to do to make it fly is convince a jury. And come on, look at me. No name, villain white girl with blond hair and a sob story in the New Hampshire district whilst dealing with the picture-perfect image of a corrupt PRT agent, who had enough power, influence, drive, and intelligence to send your agents packing at the prison by pulling out the big monster called 'Surtr'."

Piggot glowered.

Lisa smirked a little more. "You think they won't believe duress after painting it like that?"

The woman's features turned blank for a split second and that was enough.

Lisa leaned a little to the side. "Are you wearing the tiniest of earpieces, Director? Trying to trick me into something with it… Ohhh, got a Thinker on the other end, do you? Probably didn't wanna tip your hand. Oh well, the jigs up, tell the new girl… girl, right? Yes. Girl. Anyway, tell her to come out and join us. It's so rare to be able to have a conversation with another Thinker. It'd almost be a novelty."

Piggot's eyes narrowed. Then, she stood and moved to walk out the door, intent on leaving. With her advantage of a hidden Thinker in her ear now out, the playing field was now squarely in Lisa's favor.

"One more thing." The blond teenager called after her. "I do have some more information, possibly just as valuable, if not more so, considering that it falls under slightly more important jurisdictions. You know… places the PRT head honchos actually give a shit about."

The woman turned her lip, curling upwards in a barely controlled sneer. "Speak…"

"It's not just information on the Empire and the ABB I have up my sleeve. Coil also had some dealings and spies in the gangs in Boston and New York. I know Legend is interested in getting a few more snitches and informants in the Teeth. He was tight with Accord too, you know." She took a deep breath.

"And what exactly are you looking for in exchange for this?"

Here, Lisa's smile dropped. "Ashburn. Your Ward. She needs some serious help. I want a guarantee that she gets it. That you people don't try to just sweep her under a rug, throw her in a room and lock away the key till you need her for an Endbringer or something."

The door that had been half opened was snapped shut, and Piggot turned around to face her, eyes narrowed.

Her next words were her own, not a product of the Thinker at the other end of the tiny earpiece. "Interesting. And why is that, Tattletale?"

Lisa frowned.

"I have my reasons." She decided to say.

If it came to light that she was partly responsible for over a hundred deaths at the hands of Surtr in that prison riot… she'd never survive prison.

Every gangbanger and wannabe badass would be gunning for her, either out of revenge or to try and get in good with the local gangs.

She would tell Taylor and Taylor only when the time was right. Not these people.

"She's had it rough." Lisa continued. "I saw everything that happened. And I've managed to gather enough information to help with this so-called 'Master'."

"You did a lot more than just see everything that happened." Piggot sneered. Lisa wondered how she was so confident when she remembered; the Thinker.

Crap.

"Before we go anywhere, tell us who the Master is if you're so keen on helping as a matter of good faith."

She opened her mouth when Mr. Young stepped in.

"In writing." He snapped, glaring at both her and Piggot, daring Lisa to say otherwise. "You give us documents, in writing, signed by you, the district attorney and Legend. She does not give you a thing until that happens. If you really do have a Thinker behind that glass, any information she gives can be used to extrapolate the other information. That won't be happening."

Lisa closed her mouth. He was right. She'd been about to talk about her suspicions on the nature of Taylor's Surtr state but if the Thinker was good enough… best to err on the side of caution.

She nodded, smiling;. "You heard the man."

Piggot gave a snarl, opened the door, and marched out.

Nearly an hour later she marched back in with an orderly, document in hand. Young took the document and began to look over its pages.

"Does it check?" Asked Piggot, arms crossed. Lisa knew she was on edge right now.

Young ignored her, still reading over the document. His reading glasses were so small on his massive frame it was almost comical.

"It says here that my client will agree to allow her Thinker power to be available to the Protectorate in the pursuit of solving crimes should they deem it necessary to ask."

"A Thinker seven could have done a lot of good in a lot of potential cases." She answered, glaring at her. "Her power is too useful to have it rotting in a jail cell."

Young nodded.

"What does the contract say?" She decided to ask.

Young took a breath. "Basically, all the information you're willing to cough up, and if it checks out and turns out to be useful they'd be willing to plead out with the villains known as Regent and Hellhound. Reduced sentences on crimes, I'll check, but given the sentencing terms for these reduced charges my estimate is that they'll be out in three years, five at the most. Two if they're on good behavior. They may have less time if the judge decides to remand them for time served or suspended sentencing. Ms. Hebert's care is said to have never been in question. They were going to do that to begin with. As for your own sentencing, that would depend on how much of your information is still viable and how much exactly you're willing to co-operate, both now and in the future. They're offering two days of reduced time for every occasion they need to call on you."

"You can't do any better with Regent and Bitch?"

"That case is already filed and in proceedings." Piggot answered. "I doubt the DA will be willing to give you a better deal than that."

Lisa's eyes narrowed.

Trying to not make me push. Doesn't want Bitch and Regent getting off scot free. Knows the DA will plead out with the sudden influx of criminals and workload. Two juvenile parahumans will be thrown out with the bath water. Same with my case since they'd have trouble proving that I wasn't acting under intimidation with my crimes. Will also plead out because they don't want the PRT image soiled by a corrupt agent that was the cause for half the city becoming a warzone.

"Get a better deal from the DA." She said by way of answer, "And you'll offer five days cut from my time for every occasion you call for me to use my Thinker power."

The woman looked ready to all but lunge over the table and strangle her when she stopped, looking as though she'd just swallowed a lemon.

Thinker on the other end.

Not just giving information, giving orders, higher up the chain than Piggot.

That was… surprising. She didn't know any high-level Protectorate capes that were involved with the think tank that could supersede the authority of a PRT Branch Director.

"Give me a moment." The sickly woman ground out between grit teeth before she walked out of the interrogation room. No doubt to argue with someone.

Mr. Young busied himself with making notes on a clipboard as he read over the contract, annotations, and corrections, she surmised, eliminating any possible loopholes he could find, being as specific and diligent as possible.

When the door opened again nearly twenty minutes later, she looked and all but sat bolt upright.

It wasn't Piggot at the door.

Alexandria strode into the room, her armor and clothes scratched from the recent battle with the Surtr, smelling like smoke and burned wood.

She sat down and laced her hands in front of her, over the table, her features completely blank.

"Your offer will be taken to the district attorney's office first thing in the morning. If he accepts the counteroffer, consider it signed and sealed."

"Thanks…" She answered warily. "But I doubt you were sent here as a messenger girl to tell me that."

"No, I wasn't. Let's talk about Miss Hebert." She said.

Lisa paused. "You're the Thinker Piggot had on the other end?" She let out a chuckle. "Damn, talk about drawing the full package in the power lottery contest."

"It has its moments." She answered without a hint of humor in her voice or on her face. "Now, your deal merely pertains to yourself and your captured friends, and while you included Miss Hebert in the guarantees you're looking for, as we said in the contract, we never had any intention of doing anything less. Ergo, I'm here to ask you to tell us what you know so that we can start this process as quickly as possible. The first step is the identity of the Master."

Lisa pursed her lips. Alexandria was a bit harder to read than Piggot. Not nearly as strained, not nearly as worn or weary. Though her words were neutral in tone they were giving all kinds of signals, some contradictory.

On the whole, though, the woman seemed to be telling the truth.

And the last thing she wanted to do was try to profit from Taylor's misfortune any more than she already had. She schooled her features into the most neutral expression she could manage, trying to give as little as possible to the Thinker/Brute now sitting across from her.

"Alright, let's start… First thing you should know. There is no Master. Coil never hired anyone."

There was a moment of surprise that the heroine couldn't fully hide.

"Explain."

Lisa interrupted her, "Coil already knew about her destructive power… My guess is he used his own pre-cog ability to find out. So he used that knowledge to drive Taylor over a proverbial cliff with the use of knowledge regarding a certain Sophia Hess." She glared at Alexandria, hoping her anger would mask anything else she might be giving away.

It wasn't hard. The PRT really did fuck up on that one.

She rubbed her head. "From what I've seen of Taylor so far, It's not any 'Master', not really. It's her power itself."

"Her power is influencing her psyche then."

Lisa shook her head. "Yeah, but not in the way you're thinking. It's not like Burnscar. It's not some sudden psychosis that's taken her over and won't turn off like some other lunatic capes who go crazy or change personality after triggering. Those guys still, more or less, stay 'them'. They still have the same quirks, same biology, same everything. Here… her powers think on their own. They act on their own. When you finally stopped Surtr, tell me, was Taylor unconscious?"

Alexandria didn't answer, but for Lisa, it was enough.

"Exactly. Someone who's asleep doesn't react with that much coordination. Someone who's asleep doesn't suddenly switch from having a dominant right hand to a dominant left one. Or know how to wield a sword with trained precision, or fight with a completely alien fighting style that specializes in upper body strength."

"What you're describing shouldn't be possible," Alexandria answered, though she was giving it some serious thought, the glaring disparity becoming obvious in her memories from videos of Taylor herself and Surtr.

"So was a guy flying. Until it wasn't. So was bypassing the Manton Limit, till one day it wasn't. There's a first time for everything and I am telling you that Taylor's power isn't just something that gives her benefits. It's a thinking… entity in her head with its own thoughts and its own agenda."

She kept silent about the dark place she found Taylor in. They might lock BOTH of them up and throw away the keys.

Alexandria knew she was holding something back but, mercifully, the woman didn't mention it, whatever her power had given her telling her it was unimportant in the face of this new dilemma.

"I see…"

Suddenly, the door opened, and in walked some agent, looking a little flustered. "Uhhh… ma'am. Sorry to interrupt, ma'am, but uhhh-" He paused, eyeing her pointedly. Alexandria beckoned him over and the young man leaned down to whisper in her ear.

She couldn't see the raised eyebrow exactly, but it was definitely there.

The agent pulled away and Alexandria's frown deepened.

Then she looked at Lisa.

"Consider this the first five days of your sentence cut. What exactly was Coil keeping in his vaults?"

Lisa blinked.

"Uhhh, what?"

"What was he keeping in his vaults?" Alexandria growled. "You were his underling, right?"

"Contraband and weapons as far as I know."

Lisa didn't need to know she was narrowing her eyes, trying to read her. "That's not what we've discovered." She said.

She shrugged. "I honestly don't know. Never went down there. I take it that with the overflow of prisons I'll be under house arrest." Alexandria shrugged.

"That's for the district attorney and the judge to decide." Alexandria stood. "Now, I've got to go. Your previous employer apparently had more than just 'contraband and weapons'."

"Hey, wait. Ta-I mean… Ashburn. If you need me for anything involving her, any help that I can give or whatever, you can ask. No reduced sentence for those. Promise."

Alexandria raised an eyebrow, then nodded.

The woman marched ou,t and Lisa breathed a little easier, no longer needing to hold her proverbial breath while speaking to the Thinker.. "How long do you think I'm looking at arrest, Mr. Young?" She asked.

"Assuming you do your due diligence, good behavior, and I push the deal with the DA's office… I'm going to say if you're busy, about a year and a half at the least. Three at most. If they keep you busy you can cut down the time considerably." He nodded, more to himself than to her. "I believe we're done here for the time being. I'm going to go and overlook the drafting of the contract and come back when we're done so you can read it, make sure you're satisfied, and sign."

She nodded, slowly allowing herself to lean back into her chair. "Yeah… It's done then."

"It is." He answered, not realizing the question was rhetorical.

She nodded.

Done. It was over.

It was finally over...

(X)(X)(X)

Alexandria

Even if Cauldron hadn't written off the Bay, slow-walking vital assistance for it, Alexandria was well aware that the end result of the events culminating today would have left any of the other branches hard pressed to cope with the sheer influx of pure chaos.

PRT troopers were injured, there weren't enough callers to answer the phones, Dragon was working overtime, all of the heroes, including Legend, were pulling double shifts, emergency facilities were crammed to the gills, and to cap it off, the Bay was technically operating without a true Director.

Certainly, Piggot was here, but her pull was… limited. Especially given that her every instruction and order had to be reviewed by either Costa-Brown or Legend until her replacement could arrive.

Not a major hurdle all things considered, but it slowed things just that much more.

She was filling in the role of Director now, looking over Piggot's shoulder. But she couldn't stay for much longer.

She'd come as a… favor. An olive branch. Not just for Legend, either.

Another few hours, and she'd have to leave.

She didn't stay so long, even in the aftermath of Endbringer battles.

Doctor Mother would call it a waste.

A part of Rebecca agreed.

The other part didn't want to agree.

When she found Arthur, he looked exhausted, but he was still standing, still forcing himself to keep moving. Keep solving problems as many as he could.

"What's happened?" She asked, marching into the room. She didn't need to specify. Too much was going on for something of import to be happening right now. No matter what it was.

"Still no word on our cryokinetic." He answered. "Hebert's in a medical facility. Physically she's got a clean bill of health. Mentally… we'll have to see." He turned, looking at her. "Did Tattletale say anything about the Master?"

She didn't grimace, she'd long since trained herself to suppress nearly all her expressions beyond extreme examples or deliberate slips.

Even so, the feeling of it was in her tone easily enough. "That's become… complicated."

Arthur frowned. "What? The think tank was certain there was a Master influence of some kind."

"There was." She said. "The issue is that there's no Master."

She could tell by his face he needed an explanation.

So she gave him one.

"Her power!?"

She offered a nod. "By what Tattletale deduced, and thinking on it, I'm inclined to believe her. Hebert's agent is sentient, Arthur."

He breathed, features growing pale.

She looked away, staring at a spot on the wall.

Arthur metaphorically floated next to her in indecision.

When he thought there was a Master influence at work, it was easy to make the decision to help her. Because the Master was a problem with a solution.

Now… with her power being the one calling the shots, Master influence or not- there was no way to diffuse the bomb, so to speak.

It made Hebert dangerous, and the prospect of helping her a huge risk to everyone around her.

Legend wanted to do the right thing. He wanted to help. She could see that plain as day. But he also knew that the wrong call might mean another hundred dead before they could get her under control again.

Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say if they could get her under control again. That… scream had not been part of her arsenal before.

Still… he wanted to do the right thing. Swaying him to do the pragmatic thing would be easy right now as well, with his mind coming to grips with the true problem at hand.

Doctor Mother would say pragmatism and the simple calculus of numbers should rule the day.

Part of her agreed.

The other part of her didn't want to.

…

She'd played the bad guy before.

She could play it again.

"She's of interest to me now." Rebecca said. "I have little doubt she'll be of interest to Cauldron."

Arthur's head jerked up to her, eyes narrowing behind his mask. "I'm not-"

"You do what you have to do, Legend." She said with a simple nod. "Keep her stable, keep her happy. Help her if you like. Because soon enough we'll have questions. She may provide a great deal of insight if we can communicate actively with the agent."

"You want to subject her to Master influence willingly?" He asked, aghast.

She offered a careless shrug. "If there's no other option. If you'd like to avoid that- get her stable, mentally. Enough so that she can communicate for us."

"There's no hint she even could do that."

No, there wasn't. But that won't stop him from trying his best for her. If only to keep Alexandria and the good Doctor away.

You're welcome. She thought.

"I need to leave soon." She said, cutting off the conversation. "Is there anything else you need from me?"

He sighed, aggravated, frustrated, scared. But motivated.

"No." He said. Then sighed again.

"Thank you… for coming to help."

She paused. Then, tentatively offered the briefest of nods before turning to march out the door.

Entering the hallways, one would have expected her to make for the exit, either to the roof or the ground floor. Both would serve.

She didn't.

Making her way through the hallways, it was rare for Rebecca to feel like she needed to steel her nerves for anything anymore. After a lifetime of fighting monsters, human and inhuman both, after decades of living as the invincible woman who an entire subclass of capes are named after, there was nothing that shook her. Nothing that scared her.

And yet, standing in front of an innocuous door, Rebecca felt herself needing to take that deep breath. Needing to force her hand onto the doorknob and open it.

And when Miss Militia looked up from her desk with eyes that were cold and dead, she found she was forcing herself not to flinch.

For a moment, Hannah didn't speak, watching the Triumvirate member with that same base placidity she seemed to look at everyone with now.

Then she straightened, standing behind her desk, hands going behind her back.

"Ma'am." She nodded.

Alexandria closed her eyes, though the act was hidden behind the protective screen of her helm.

When she opened them again she spoke.

"I should have acted."

The admission came quickly. Like yanking out a knife.

Militia blinked, a brief moment of confusion passing across her features before realization- then a darkening of her eyes. Calm fury hidden behind blank neutrality.

"You asked me for help." Rebecca said. "And you didn't get it…"

I'm sorry, she couldn't say.

Hannah watched her, never once even hinting at looking away. And Alexandria had to blink, surprised at the suddenness of the change. Trying to recall the moment when this girl who'd been her Ward had grown up.

"Why didn't you?"

A simple question… expected even.

She couldn't answer… Not truthfully.

And she didn't want to lie.

She looked away. The first one to do so.

"What happened here wasn't your fault, it was mine…" She turned away. "Take that for what little it may be worth."

She shut the door.

She lied; telling herself she wasn't running away.

(X)(X)(X)

Spoiler: Changelog:

I'd like to thank my Betas @Icipall and Xegzy even though BOTH of them tried to correct "Felony Murder" by saying "Felony and Murder", not realizing that Felony Murder is actually a criminal charge :p

Also, lastly I'm considering starting up a page like all the cool kids. And given that I've never done such a thing I'm wondering what other readers have seen/participated in from others who've started similar pages. I know one trick is to keep the next few chapters "Early Access/exclusive" to Supporters but I'd rather *not* do that so any alternative suggestions or even alternative sites would be appreciated. Because ATM only thing I've got in mind is 1 dollar for basic support and like 5 dollars for writing theory discussions for those who might want to write themselves.

But like I said, I'm not sure. So any advice would be welcome :)

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Jul 18, 2022

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To the last, Kill them all

Jul 20, 2022

#5,366

4.3

Black thorns bristled in the spaces between my bones.

Pain is what I woke up to. A strange, sharp agony, small knives slipping between ropes of sinew to cut and bleed me.

My mind was suffused in black fog. Thoughts came slow, if they came at all.

I was cold.

That was the next thing I felt.

The cold sank into the flesh of my face. Cut off where the rest of my body beneath blankets and warming sheets that crickled and crackled as I began to move.

Where am I? I thought, trying to open my eyes.

Lisa?

…

No.

Not Lisa.

I left Lisa.

Left Elle.

It had been… a fight? Was it a fight?

…

Yes.

Yes and-

I'd been losing.

I'd been losing.

All at once, the memory came and my eyes surged open, every muscle going taut before my hands moved, brute rated manacles and magnetic clamps slamming my limbs onto custom made restraining pads as they pulled my forearms apart.

My breathing was loud in my ears, every breath echoing through the mask over my face that gripped my nose and mouth like a hand trying to suffocate me.

I could hear the shrill blaring of a monitor beside me, high pitched and sharp. A needle jabbing my ear with piercing shrieks.

Distantly I heard something else. Someone else, female. Intercoms, but I couldn't make out the words. Couldn't stop to think. Had to get away. Had to get out!

The muscles in my arms strained; biceps, shoulders and everything else bulging as I tried to brute force the magnetic locks.

I felt a sharp pain, my eyes snapping open and darting to my left shoulder where I saw a small needle retracting.

My heart, pounding hard enough beneath my ribs that it was as if it wanted to punch out of my chest, slows, the thunder in my ears faded, my breathing evened out and the shrill shriek of what I now know was a heart monitor petered out to something normal.

"Taylor… Taylor- Can you hear me?"

The panic that had gripped me was pushed back, and I was lucid enough to recognize it was probably from that needle.

Still- I didn't recognize the voice.

Taylor, You're in a specialized medical holding unit under Master-Stranger Quarantine. I need verbal confirmation and acknowledgement as part of the process of verifying you're not under Master influence.

Master influence.

I felt my eyes burning, clenching them shut as traitorous tears leaked out of the corners to trail down my cheekbones and into my hair at the sides of my head.

Please, Taylor. Just talk to me.

I breathed.

"Is my dad alive?"

I couldn't remember…

(X)(X)(X)

It took me some time to realize it was Dragon that was speaking to me.

It took far longer to get through even the opening stages of a Master-Stranger screening- one I wasn't sure I was fit to clear.

From what Dragon said, she wasn't sure I should be cleared.

Rather hard to escape the Master Influence of your power.

Somehow they'd figured that out…

I'm not sure how long it was. There were no windows in this cell. No clock. There wouldn't be. It'd be another way to throw off a potential Master. Screwing with a mastered subject's sense of night and day would help detect the absence or presence of foreign influence.

After all, most Masters still needed to sleep and couldn't direct their servants while doing so.

I fell asleep once, though I think it was drug induced. I couldn't say for how long. More questions. More screenings.

Finally the monitor on the wall to the right of my bed lit up.

I recognized who was there.

"Legend." I breathed.

I remembered.

I fought him before. Escaped him before.

"Hello, Taylor." He said with a small, sad little smile.

Numbness isn't the right word for what I was feeling. Not really. It was more like I didn't know what to feel at all.

I wasn't even sure what I should say, so I settled for saying the obvious.

"I'm guessing I'm your prisoner now."

His smile slipped, frown deepening before he sighed. "It doesn't have to be that way, Taylor."

Doesn't it? I thought but didn't say.

I didn't remember the prison riot… and after I lost control with Lung, I didn't remember that either. But I wasn't not stupid. The memory of what I saw before I was pulled under, and however much time under Dragon's M/S screening let me put two and two together.

Surtr killed people.

And I'm Surtr.

"Taylor, look at me, please"

I did so.

He took a deep breath.

"How much do you remember?"

I shook my head. "Not a lot… not anything really. But if the news weren't exaggerating, I can guess." I said. "So what are you going to do with me?"

"You were a Ward." He answered. "By every metric, an exemplary one…" I saw him hesitate. "Do you still wish to be a hero?"

A Hero… with the Protectorate?

I could feel the look in my eyes closing- Legend's expression fell.

"Not with you." I said, and my voice broke, the burning returning to my eyes. "Not with the people who enabled Sophia Hess! I'd… I'd rather go to prison!"

I may not even remember doing anything- but I would not support the Protectorate if this is how they did things while pretending they were good people. I wouldn't!

"Taylor." His voice was pained. I turned away, staring upwards at the ceiling above.

He sighed, leaning forward into the camera.

"Taylor… there have been a lot of mistakes. A lot of things that have gone wrong and issues that have yet to be resolved. But you have to know that if nothing else, I was never aware of any of it. If you don't trust the local PRT or the Protectorate, then at the very least I'm asking, if not for trust, then the benefit of the doubt." He said. "I do want to help you. It's the whole reason I came here in the first place."

I turned and swallowed down the lump in my throat as I glared at him. "Is this where you give me the same deal Sophia got? You cover for everything I do wrong for me to be your little soldier? Maybe your pocket healer? Thing is, I actually want to be a good person. I'm not interested!"

"What happened with Sophia should never have happened."

"You say that now!" I screamed.

"Because we know now." He emphasized calmly. "We never knew before."

Convenient. I didn't say.

He looked on, sadly. "The fact is, Taylor, the Wards program is more of a school than a law enforcement agency. We take in young parahumans in order to help them, not only to learn how to control their powers, but to help them learn how to adjust to those powers in society. Tinkers get an outlet so they don't cannibalize half the tech in their homes. Brutes learn to check their strength in their day-to-day lives. Sophia Hess was a young girl that was taken in for a multitude of reasons, and one of them was reformation. I know it's no consolation to hear that she was the issue that slipped through the cracks in the system, but that's what it was. If anyone, anyone, would have known about what she was doing to you in Winslow, we would have intervened. We never would have let it get that far." Legend sighed.

"I reported it." I hissed. "I asked for help, over and over and over again, and you people-"

"Never heard a word of it." He said with a simple shake of his head. "I know that's not what you want to hear. You and I both know we should have done more than what we did but it is the truth."

"And what about after?" I moved my head, struggling to wriggle the oxygen mask off my face so I could yell at him properly, sadly it didn't budge.

"What about after my trigger?" I demanded.

My breathing caught and the burning trails of my furious tears seared a line across my flesh. "I told her," I hissed. "I told Miss Militia! And she promised! She promised me right to my face that she'd make things right! She-" I choked. The words fisted themselves in my throat so tightly I couldn't breathe. I felt my expression fall, fury and indignation simply collapsing.

She lied.

She lied!

She was supposed to be a hero and she just-

I cried.

Strapped to the bed, I couldn't wipe my face, could barely do more than curl on myself in a facsimile of the actual act, wiping the sides of my face on the pillow beneath me to try and preserve some dignity.

Legend… didn't interrupt.

When I gathered enough of my composure to keep going, my voice was still half strangled and I was left sniffling through a stuffy nose.

"You people didn't do what heroes do. You just swept it all under the rug and-"

I closed my eyes, stopping myself.

What was the point?

He knew all this anyway…

When he realized I wasn't going to continue, he spoke again, voice barely a whisper through the screen.

"Militia didn't lie. She tried-"

"Stop lying to me too!" The magnets hummed as my arms pulled, bubbling anger giving me a brief burst of strength before the clamps pulled me back down.

"Taylor please-" He implored. "If you choose not to believe anything else I tell you through this whole interview, you need to know at least that. Hannah did try to override Piggot's and Armsmaster's decisions regarding Sophia. She went outside the chain of command to bring attention to your case. She's been devastated with what happened to you-"

I hated myself for falling for it. For believing it. For wanting to believe it.

"And what happened?" I asked.

When he didn't answer, I turned to look at him.

"What happened?" I repeated. "To this mystery appeal she sent somewhere?"

Legend's eyes went downcast.

"We didn't act quickly enough." He said after a moment. "Too many… obstacles in the way."

I snorted telling him exactly what I thought of the excuse.

She lied. I affirmed, feeling the familiar knife in my chest and crushing pressure in my throat.

I heard Legend sigh.

"One moment." He said, standing up.

I didn't stop him from leaving.

I expected he would return after a few minutes; once he spoke to others. Maybe Thinkers or… someone else to try and get into my head-

What I didn't expect is that thirty seconds later, the door to my room whooshed open.

Legend stepped inside.

"I understand the safety precautions." He said, marching closer until he was right beside the bed. "But I'm asking you to trust me. And showing you absolutely no trust in turn." He admitted.

Looking up, he called to the intercom above. "Dragon, will you please disable the magnetic locks?"

"Yes sir."

With a depressed hum, the magnets shut off and my hands and legs were suddenly free.

I moved quickly, reaching up to my mask to pull it free, my knees rising to bring them up to my chest, scooting on the bed as far away from Legend as possible.

I eyed the Triumvirate member, who looked at me with a somber expression, the barest hint of an apologetic smile on his lips.

"May I sit?" He asked, gesturing to the bed. There weren't any chairs here.

I licked my lips. "I… N-no."

He nodded. "I understand." He clasped his hands behind his back.

When he spoke- his voice was calm. "I can understand why you're angry. Why you don't trust us. Why you can't trust us. I do understand. We made mistakes and as a direct result your life has been… irrevocably changed, Taylor. Yes, Piggot and Armsmaster did try to keep Hess out of the courts, but not everything they told you was a lie. The Winslow Faculty were brought up on criminal charges. As were Emma Barnes and Miss Clements. I can provide you with court transcripts of the proceedings, or even take you to the court itself if you can't trust me. Not everything was a lie."

"But why lie at all!?" I tried not to scream. Tried to make the question sound like it deserved to be asked rather than just something I was clinging to. "Why was it so hard to do the right thing from the start!?"

The lines of his face deepened, and I saw the man age ten years right before my eyes.

"That is the question, isn't it?" He muttered. I saw him take another breath, his shoulders sagging.

"I can't tell you what went through their minds Taylor- not really. I could guess. I could tell you that sometimes good people make bad choices. Or that even bad choices are made with good reason- but it would still be a guess. What I can tell you is that what happened here was a mistake. I can't change that the mistake happened. No one can. What I can tell you is that I'm here now to fix things." He said. "To make sure that this doesn't happen again. To make sure it doesn't get any worse!"

He didn't sit on the bed, but he did kneel beside it, falling on one knee to look up at me. "And I know one thing that would make this worse… is if you let yourself go to prison because of other people's mistakes!

I felt my fingers clench.

"You don't deserve that." He continued, softly. "You know you don't deserve that so don't… don't compound our failures by hurting yourself! The world needs people like you. People who care, who won't let things like this happen. Beyond proving a point to yourself- how much good could you do in prison?"

I sniffled, feeling the whirl of emotions warring within me, the tears percolating my eyes as I hid behind the thin protection of my hospital gown and raised knees.

The silence hung like a pall between us.

"What would even happen…" I muttered miserably. "If I said yes?"

He took a deep, heavy breath. "I won't lie… you're not out of the woods… not by a long shot. Master influence can grant you some leniency but the fact remains that, Mastered or not, you've proven yourself capable of doing an incalculable level of damage no matter where you are."

He paused, seemingly gathering his thoughts before he continued.

"With that having been said, you were Mastered and thus, not legally responsible for your actions. But you must and will be kept under heavy watch for an indefinite period of time. You will be obligated to take mandatory, bi-weekly psychological evaluations. You won't be allowed to patrol until cleared, you will not be allowed to leave the premises of the Rig or PRT HQ here in the Bay. If you do, it will be with a Protectorate hero or two Wards. You will be allowed to have bi-weekly visitations from anyone who wishes to see you should you, and we, clear them. Patrol and Endbringer battles will remain voluntary. You won't be paid while you're in custody, but you'll have unlimited phone privileges."

"So it's house arrest inside the PRT building?" I half asked, half stated.

His head cast downward. "I'm sorry." He said. "But anything less would be negligent on my part. You- Surtr- has proven exceedingly dangerous and I cannot remain in the Bay forever." He shifted in his seat. "Eventually, if things here do not work out, we may have to transfer you."

"I won't leave my dad." I protested.

"I hope it won't come to it… but it may become necessary if certain factors do not pan out as we wish." He nodded firmly. "Public support, image management, your relationship with Protectorate members or even the other Wards-"

I felt my heart lurch.

The other Wards…

Some of them had been at the prison, too… fighting out there during everything as well.

I-

I remembered them: Missy, Chris, Carlos, Dean, even Clock.

LET GO OF MY FRIEND!

The memory lanced through my brain like a spear, causing me a sharp stab at the half faded memory of a voice…

Vicky…

Vicky hadd been out there fighting, too.

I looked back at him. "Did I hurt them at all? Any of the Wards? Or New Wave?"

I didn't know if they were involved…

I wanted to hope they weren't.

Maybe that was stupid of me.

The older man's sad look brought me no comfort.

"You did…" He said quietly. "But we got them to Panacea. No permanent damage."

…

"Where's my dad?" I ask softly.

"He's been staying in the PRT building." He cringed. "Unfortunately, as for standard protocol, we cannot let him see you until you're cleared officially of Master Influence. But he is nearby. I could ferry a message from him if you like.

I blinked, the thought of my dad staying here sticking in my head. "How long have I been out?"

"We kept you sedated for two days while Dragon customized this holding area. Another sixteen hours have passed since you first woke up."

Almost three days?

"Is Coil dead?" I ask. It's the only other thing I can think of.

For the first time Legend… he didn't smile but I could feel the satisfaction.

"He is."

I nodded. That had been important.

"What about Lisa?"

He nodded. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that yet. Once we've verified her claims I can bring you up to speed.

I didn't like the answer but… I was hardly in a position to argue.

I wanted to see her. But if they wouldn't let my dad through, I doubted they'd let her through either…

(X)(X)(X)

Not sure when exactly it was but I knew that it had to be at least a few hours later, since I fell asleep, that I heard the sound of someone outside, cursing. Their touches sent hollow little echoes through the metal.

I tensed up, wondering what exactly was going on before whoever it was released a triumphant Ha! and, judging by the sound of footsteps, found their way inside.

"Dragon?" I asked the general area around me, but received no answer. Was the Tinker asleep? Would have sworn she'd have some kind of program active to monitor me.

The footsteps came closer, and for a moment I wondered if Dragon was willingly turning away.

Was this someone with a grudge?

Then I dismissed the thought. If this was someone looking to get even, it was the worst attempt at stealth I'd ever been subjected to.

My inner musings on violence however were flatly cut off as the door opened and the person stepped through… or more accurately 'floated' through.

"Victoria?" I blinked.

"Tay!" She shouted, following the sound of my voice in the gloom of the dark her eyes hadn't adjusted to yet.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Heard you woke up. Legend wouldn't let us in."

I blinked, somewhat incredulous.

"Yeah-" I said slowly. "-because I haven't been cleared of M/S yet."

Because you know… I could still go Ash Beast or something on everyone's asses.

She picked herself up, feet settling on the ground as she… completely ignored me. "Where the hell's the light switch? Can't see a thing."

"Don't know." I answered truthfully. "Dragon turned it off when I was gonna get some sleep. Wonder where she went."

"Oh, Kid's keeping her busy with Tinker techno-babble. She can't be in two places at once so between that and Vista using her power to help me slip past the outside motion sensors she doesn't even know I'm here."

I… don't even know what to say to that…

That's… a little convenient? Didn't Dragon monitor like… everything? Birdcage, Endbringer monitoring systems? PRT high risk comms?

And Vicky slipped past her?

I decided not to make an issue of it.

Instead, I decided to talk about the very obvious.

"That was a risk." I finally said.

She stayed quiet, standing in the dark. It was nice that the gloom hid our features. Seemed to make this talk a little easier.

"...You're our friend, we wanted to make sure you're okay."

I swallowed, and when I went to say a simple -'Thank you'- I almost choked on the words, emotion welling up at my throat before I was finally able to say it.

"Can I…" Victoria ventured, hands reaching out to feel around her. How could she not see yet? It wasn't even that dark. "Like, sit on the bed or something?"

"Yeah. Go ahead."

She found the sheets by my feet and settled herself on the surface.

"Okay…" She said, "This… Tay… I just wanna start out by saying I'm sorry… you know, about everything. The stuff that happened before… and hell, even the shit with Hess and fucking Piggot. It was all-"

"Victoria." I interrupted. "If it's all the same to you… I'd rather not talk about it… any of it."

The silence between us fell into a thick tension.

Finally, unsurprisingly, it's Victoria that broke it.

"Hey… look. Can we like… start over? No more bullshit? No more lies and secrets, none of it just… please?"

…

"I… I would like that." I finally said.

I could see her smile, brightening the gloom of the dark.

She holds her hand out almost a foot too far to my right. "Hi. My name's Victoria Dallon, cape name Glory Girl. I'm a hothead with a Brute rating, got the best boyfriend in the world, I like to shop, go out to eat, and all things girls do in their free time." She said softly.

I reached and pulled her hand closer to target so I could grasp it properly.

"I'm Taylor Hebert… and… I'm… kind of a mess right now." I lifted up one hand and made a small spark of flame on my palm, like a match lighter.

I was not smiling. But she was. I tried to smile back, make at least a token effort. I could see her eyes water up a little.

She was trying.

I suppose I should try one more time as well.

(X)(X)(X)

Spoiler: Changelog:

From here, chapter updates might slow a bit because there were quite a few 'blank spots' left in the original that we didn't fully flesh out that will have to be fleshed out here. Taylor being re-integrated into the Wards and how her old teammates feel individually knowing now that she is dangerous enough to merit 2/3rds of the triumvirate to fight. Sophia and what's happened with her, conversations being had in the Dallon household, and finally the situation with Emma.

So there's a lot of "extra" bits and pieces I'd like to expand on this go round before we dive into Leviathan again.

Last edited: Jul 20, 2022

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Jul 20, 2022

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Ld1449

To the last, Kill them all

Jul 28, 2022

#5,517

Recovery:

Arcadia was as it had always been.

And for the first time in a long while, Victoria found herself hating it.

It went on as if nothing had changed, as if nothing had happened. Students went to class half listening to the teachers.

Everyone else kept on talking about the latest thing. The latest party, the latest scandal, the latest fib. Things that she couldn't even bring herself to pretend to care about right now.

The official story was that Taylor had been injured in the Gang War. A stray shot left her in the hospital.

Not that anyone believed that. Tay was friends with Amy, for God's sake. And her identity, having been about as air-tight as wet cardboard given her burning down Winslow, was now basically an open secret since so many eyes had been looking towards 'Ashburn'.

Vicky's friends tried to understand. Tried to help. They were nice. Supportive. But they didn't get it. They really didn't.

How could she honestly care at all if Arcadia's team lost the game last Tuesday when her friend was basically locked in a hole. Kept there 'for safety'. How could she care when all the people here just gave Taylor a passing thought. "It's so sad what happened to her." "Masters are terrifying." "But she's ok now, right? So it's all good?"

Nevermind that the PRT had been the ones to hurt her. Nevermind that whenever Vicky went to see her, Tay looked like someone had kicked her puppy, just… counting the days. Moving, eating and living in a mechanical routine.

Her friend was hurting.

She'd asked her mom. Her Mom, if they could take Taylor into New Wave. Get her away from the PRT and her mom had just flatly refused.

For all Vicky pleaded, asked and tried, Carol Dallon did not budge.

"She's dangerous, Victoria." And that had been that.

"I'm dangerous," She'd countered, but her mother wouldn't hear of it.

And Arcadia insisted it wasn't happening. That it didn't matter. That it didn't bother anyone but her.

She couldn't sit with the others and talk about it. They had to keep up an act. They had to be neutral. They couldn't be bothered by what happened to Tay. No more than any other student. 'So sad,' they said just as easily as everyone else.

Even as their eyes carried the depth of emotion and feeling they couldn't voice…

She resented them for it. For lying about it. For not talking about it.

Was it any wonder she couldn't stomach sitting here with nothing but the sheer… pettiness?

When the bell rang for lunch hour she didn't go to the cafeteria, she didn't sit with her friends. She didn't sit with the Wards.

She was the "Queen" of Arcadia.

So she knew where people went to eat in private.

Down the halls, into the workshop, she marched in.

She wasn't surprised to find one other person there.

"Hey, Chris." She mumbled.

"Hey, Vicky."

He had a pizza.

She had a salad.

She barely touched it.

For minutes she just sat there and breathed. Her fork pushing her food across the plate

A strange, quiet melancholy settled between them in the silence she couldn't fill.

They sat. And they ate. Lost in their own thoughts.

Then, the door was slammed open.

Vicky didn't usually startle, Brute package and all that, but the shock of the noise made both her and Chris jump.

"There you are!"

Their heads snapped over, and none other than Aisha Labourne was marching toward them.

She looked angry.

"Alright, I'm sick of this shit! What the hell happened to Tay! Spill it!"

Vicky watched Chris flounder for a moment, sputtering and rapidly trying to decide if it was Tay's ID at risk or his.

"I don't know." He answered and stuttered. "I think I heard people going on about the Gang Wa-"

"Oh, stop bullshitting! It's obvious you're a-"

"Aisha!" Vicky snapped, warning her off of whatever she was about to blurt out.

Chris had gone very, very stiff.

The black girl mulishly turned her glare on Vicky.

"Fine then! You tell me!" She reached over and grabbed a chair, wheeling it over to get right across from them, plopping down hard. "What's happening with Tay?"

Vicky and Chris shared a look.

He couldn't say anything. Even if he wanted to actually out himself, PRT had NDA's for a reason.

Vicky however, wasn't PRT.

"She's… still sick." She answered.

Aisha's features scrunched up, seemingly understanding the euphemism. "How sick? Scale of one to ten?"

Vicky's eyes trailed down.

She shrugged.

"So… how long til Tay gets better?"

They're not sure she can- She didn't say.

She shrugged again. "They don't know."

Aisha went quiet "Oh… That… that fuckin sucks."

The girl leaned back in her seat. "Whole fuckin thing sucks…" She continued. "What happened to Tay- and I heard about your other friends. That Triumph guy and Browbeat." Her foot poked Chris' leg. "Sorry."

Chris didn't answer, his lips pressed together.

Vicky sighed.

Then, Chris spoke.

"Aisha."

She perked up. Vicky also turned to look at him.

"You knew Taylor before, right? Winslow?"

She shrugged. "Well… I wouldn't say I knew her. But… yeah, I guess."

"Did you…" he sighed, aggravated. "Does the name Emma mean something to you?"

Aisha's features darkened as her lip curled into a sneer. "What the fuck did those bitches do this time!?"

Her anger was surprising, and not just to Victoria, Chris visibly reeled. "I… I don't know. The name just came up!" He said hastily, hands coming up as if to ward off an attack.

Aisha's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, you can't tell me- she accused/deduced. "-and Vick doesn't know."

The younger girl stood up suddenly. "Right! That's good enough for me. I'mma go find out what the fuck the bitches three did."

Chris and Vicky shared a look.

"Uhhhh-" She mumbled. "You moonlight as Dick Tracy or something, Laborne?" She dared a little smile. Uncle Neil had so many of those corny comics.

Aisha raised an eyebrow, her frown growing confused. "Why would I go tracing dicks? Like, what?" She waved her off. "Whatever, it doesn't matter. I've got people."

Chris rolled his eyes. "You don't have people."

Vicky had to refrain from asking "Do you?" for confirmation.

…

Hey- she did come from Winslow.

Aisha squinted at him.

"Someday I might." She pouted. "Now shush! I'mma go find shit out with logic and science now."

She offered them a wink and…

What the hell were they talking about?

They looked at eachother and Chris looked as confused as she felt.

Suddenly, Chris' phone rang.

He answered it hesitantly. "Hello?"

She watched his features shift, naked surprise in his expression.

He pulled the phone from his ear, looking at it. His features blanched. "When the hell did this picture happen?!" He squawked

Vicky leaned over, finding a picture of Aisha grabbing Chris in a headlock, taking a selfie with him, her tongue sticking out, her name plastered over the top half of the screen with the addition of 'Bae Bae'.

It was actually a really cute picture.

"How'd you put your number in my phone?" She heard him demand.

"I have people."

Somehow that sounded oddly familiar.

(X)(X)(X)

Brockton Bay hadn't recovered.

Not yet.

Not nearly.

But he couldn't stay for much longer.

His absence was being felt in New York. The Teeth were making moves. The Elite, Accord's group.

He couldn't stay.

Even so, he lingered just enough. Just enough to make sure Rebecca kept her word. That it wasn't slow walked. That there weren't delays.

If she wanted to, he wasn't sure he could really contest it.

He needed to leave.

Thankfully, at 7:30 on the dot, the door opened.

Legend straightened ever so subtly where he stood.

"Director Dollerant." He greeted.

The new Director of the PRT ENE was a small, diminutive woman, not even reaching five feet, with a pinched face and pursed lips. Behind her, a PRT sergeant hovered, half subordinate, half bodyguard.

She wouldn't look out of place in a chapel as a particularly sour head nun.

But as soon as she marched halfway into the room, her features split into a small, sardonic smile, breaking off the look of a woman with too much anger in her small frame into something, if not kinder, then at least more approachable.

He breathed a sigh of relief at that.

The fewer similarities between Dollerant and the unsmiling Emily Piggot, the better.

"Legend, darling." She greeted him over-dramatically as if they're old friends, and he finds a bemused smile tugging at his lips.

He held out a hand, offering it to shake, and she did so with enthusiasm.

"You never call. I'm going to stop sending you Christmas sweaters."

"I'll… be sure to call more often?"

She nodded, apparently satisfied, before moving to march around him and to the back of what was now her desk. "Are you here to offer orientation? You're much more important than Jerry in accounting."

"Not so much." He shrugged, snorting just a bit at the joke. "I… trust you've been briefed on everything?"

The joking demeanor slipped, and she offered him a look that carried a hint of seriousness as she gave a single, sharp nod. "Of course."

He nodded back. "Then what I'm here to do is simply ask you what your plans are, inform you of my intent to keep my departure a secret for as long as I can, and wish you good luck as I leave."

Dollerant's smile returned, slightly crooked teeth shown off before she turned to the PRT sergeant. "Sills, what are my plans?"

"Repairing house, ma'am." Sills was a large man, as tall as Legend but seemingly twice as thick with muscle. The most distinctive thing about his face was an overly large handlebar mustache.

She nodded. Legend raised an eyebrow.

"We've already cleared out the various moles and-"

"No, no, Legend dear, what you did was 'clean' house." She tutted, wagging a finger. "I'm here to start to fix the house." Again, the mirth slid away from her features, and the look she gave him was serious as she spoke.

"This department has been… worn down." She declared. "More than most. Frankly, if it were possible, I'd offer everyone a vacation for a good few weeks. I'd rather not assign total responsibility, but given that she was the director, Piggot ran her men and her Protectorate division physically and emotionally until they were at their breaking point." Her hands laced together over the desk. "Little vacation time, little training beyond standard, slow walking psychologist visitations, dragging her heels in other logistical departments. Were you aware that the entire Wards team is lacking a single support staff member here?"

He did know, his wince was answer enough but the reality was that the degree to which Emily had… allocated budget resources was… dismaying.

"Dear Emily seemed to think that if she kept her capes off the streets for too long they'd go and do something foolish." Dollerant shrugged. "As such, I believe it's high time the house itself got fixed and repaired. So, that would be my first order of business."

He nodded. Not exactly filled with specifics, but he understood the intent. The team here had suffered far too many emotional blows in a worryingly short time. A gentler hand was perhaps the right call right now.

He held out his hand. "I won't keep you then. Good Luck, Director."

Dollerant stood, taking his hand in hers.

As he marched out the door, he overheard the woman calling her first order to Sills.

"Call a meeting with the available team members if you please, sergeant"

(X)(X)(X)

Around an hour later Katherine Dollerant entered the conference room to Dauntless, Militia, Assault, Battery and Aegis already sitting there.

"Good evening." She said as soon as she entered, marching around the conference table to reach her seat. Sills stood at the doorway in a parade rest. "I am your new Director, Dollerant." She paused. "Is this everyone who will be attending?"

"Velocity is on patrol." Miss Militia answered. "I'm willing to bring him up to speed later, as Aegis will do with the other Wards."

Aegis murmured his assent to being volunteered as such.

Dollerant offered a nod; that was good enough.

"Well then, let's get started." She called, taking her seat. "For our first order of business, the next Protectorate leader of the Bay."

Several heads turned, eying Miss Militia, before snapping their gazes back to Dollerant.

"So far-" The newly christened Director continued "-This role has been unofficially filled by Legend, bless his heart. But along with my assignment, the Chief Director has passed the paperwork to bring in a few permanent transfers from out of state. As such, we'll be transferring in Mouse Protector to fill in the role of Protectorate commander."

There was no word of protest, no movement in the room. Though their eyes traveled over towards Miss Militia, again, none spoke up.

The star spangled cape offered no reaction of her own. If anyone were to judge by looking at her, one might as well have mentioned that Legend ate cereal this morning.

"Why?" It was Dauntless that spoke up at long last.

Silence fell between them, leading the younger man to shrug. "Don't get me wrong, 'Yay, more manpower for us' and all that, but Militia has been doing a great job with everything since Armsmaster got taken ou-"

"Dauntless," The woman in question interrupted. "It's fine." She looked to Dollerant, staring the woman straight in the eye and offered a single nod that seemed to carry more weight than mere approval. "When can we expect her?"

"Ten days." The older woman answered. "She'll arrive with the help of a teleporter on Sunday after she's wrapped up all her affairs."

"And the other transfers?" Battery asked.

"They should be arriving shortly after." Dollerant nodded. "Wards paperwork takes a bit more time. Fourteen days at most."

Assault raised his hand. "Ahh, who are we getting?"

"Weld from the Boston Protectorate and Flechette, from New York." Sills was the man who answered, falling back into quiet stillness after.

"I don't know." This time, it was Aegis that spoke, surprising everyone at the table. "Personally, I'd just go with Miss Militia. Like Dauntless said, she's done great so far. But if not her, why not Battery? Or Velocity? Someone who knows the Bay. No offense intended to Mouse Protector, I'm sure she's great, but this just feels like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole."

"Like me." Dollerant smiled.

Carlos blushed and looked away. "I… I didn't mean-"

"You're not used to the way I run things." She said. "Your whole tenure here as a Ward has been under Piggot and Armsmaster, and they ran a very different ship. You're not entirely sure you like the new status quo. Add a whole new factor in Mouse Protector, and you're more reserved than most of the others who have served under different commanders before." She surmised before leaning back in the chair.

"I could tell you that she won't be so bad, or tell you that things won't change much. But the fact is there will be a great many changes in the coming months around here. I have every confidence you'll like most of them in the long run, but you're just going to have to learn to roll with the punches, Aegis, even with those changes you don't like or aren't sure of. I have no intention of going anywhere and depriving you all of my wonderful modern music choices from the fifties and sixties. Mouse Protector has just as much experience as both Miss Militia and Armsmaster. She was a Ward under Alexandria just like they were."

Dollerant looked around the assembled Parahumans before standing up. "Now, onto the next order of business-"

(X)(X)(X)

Around an hour later, the capes slowly shuffled out of the room, the meeting adjourned.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Sills spoke up.

"Frankly, I agree with the others, Ma'am. Why didn't you keep Militia as the head of the branch here? She has proven herself more than capable so far."

"Oh, I have no doubt that she's capable and is more suited to the responsibility than anyone, even Mouse Protector. But the fact still remains that while she protested Piggot and Armsmaster's decision, she still went along with it and kept their secret."

"By all reports, she regrets that decision." Sills pointed out.

"As well she should-" The director nodded with a bob of her head. "-that makes her a thinking human being with a conscience, unfit for Slaughterhouse Nine membership. But I can't reward the kind of inaction that was a partial cause of so many deaths with a promotion. Not to mention Miss Hebert. The girl wouldn't take too kindly to someone who betrayed her being her Hero Commander. We're walking on eggshells covered with tacks, sergeant."

"We're letting the moods of teenagers dictate policy now?" The man's shoulders moved in a shrug. "At any rate, she didn't seem to begrudge your decision."

"Miss Militia, she has a good enough head on her shoulders to know why I made that decision.." Dollerant answered. "In a few years, I'll recommend her for the posting myself if I'm still alive. But for now, she has to live with her mistakes, and all that entails. Not just her sense of guilt."

She began to organize some papers over the table. "Now then- next order of business?"

(X)(X)(X)

"This is horseshit!"

The words were snarled between tightly clenched teeth, raw rage making her whole body tremble.

The small woman sitting across from her blinked, stirring a cup of coffee or tea with two little red straws, looking at Sophia with a wide-eyed, innocent stare behind horn rimmed glasses.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Miss Hess."

Sophia's fingers clenched and unclenched, her single hand causing the cuffs to click and clack against the metal of the table.

Her gaze was as piercing as the broadhead bolts of her crossbow, bared teeth and naked hate leaping off her face towards the woman that had just told her that now that she was recovered enough to move, she would be transferred to a juvenile detention center post haste.

"So, I get, what, one arm, a half assed healing job on the leg, and juvie for a schoolyard prank? And Hebert gets a pass for over a hundred dead guys?"

The woman took a sip of her drink, her lips making an acknowledging frown as she nodded. "I suppose that's one way to look at it."

"What other fucking way is there!" She barked. "Next time I should toss out the broad heads and go with a full auto into Medhall. Looks like the higher the body count the better the fucking deal."

"Oh, if you would have done that we'd be having a… very different conversation, I assure you." The woman smirked.

Sophia stared, taken aback. She opened her mouth to ask what the hell the woman was on when she realized the old crone was making fun of her.

She grit her teeth.

The woman eyed her, the glint of irreverent amusement framed by deep set wrinkles on a far too happy face. "Though I suspect max security isn't quite so different from juvenile hold in broad stokes come to think of it."

"So, why does fucking Hebert get a pass."

"Because you, Miss Hess, may have enjoyed your 'Full Auto Shopping Spree'." The lady chuckled. "I doubt Miss Hebert enjoyed her misadventure to any degree."

The old woman stood, the metal chair she'd been sitting on giving a little scrape. "Right, well, I believe we're finished here. You've been informed of your circumstances and your sentence, decided in absentia. I wish you good luck and good day, Miss Hess.

Sophia spat.

The wad of spittle flew across the table, spattering over the shoulder of the woman's suit.

"...Charming." She took out a handkerchief, wiping the trails of saliva as best she could.

"You people are a fucking joke." She seethed. "I'm the only one cleaning up this city, I get shafted into your fucking kid club. Highest goddamn arrest record of any of those useless losers. Even fucking Triumph couldn't even lick my boots there. You were more than happy to keep me when the bay was a shithole and you were outnumbered ten to one. Now fucking Lung's dead, half the Empire's in a hole, and now it's convenient for you to shaft me so you can keep your little pocket healer happy. In what world does fucking Hebert, and her loser ass, matter more than me?"

"The one you're living in apparently." The older woman shrugged.

Sophia's eyes were knives.

"I'm gonna remember your face, bitch." She hissed. "I'm gonna remember your name. There's a reason Piggy and Armsy wanted me to stay hero, because if I go villain, not much can stop a phased bolt through the skull. You'll still be around in three years."

The old woman's answering smile was slow spreading, a twitch of the lips soon becoming something with teeth and fangs.

"Miss Hess." She began, one hand over the back of her vacated chair. "Unlike Director Piggot, I don't take the short view. The long one is much nicer, even at my age. You'll be going nowhere in three years."

"The fuck are you talking about?" Sentences were light for juvie kids. Everyone knew that. It's why the Empire used them as mules all the fucking time at Winslow. They got caught, they're out in months no matter how much they were caught with.

"You are, of course, a dangerous parahuman, as you so happily admitted. One with a personal vendetta-" She gasped dramatically "-against a director of a PRT branch. Why, I'm in terrible fear for my life from such a dangerous predator." Her grin grew. And Sophia felt herself stiffen. "I'm afraid… in three years, there will be an assessment, one I truly, genuinely hope you will pass with flying colors. But you won't. At which point, I'm afraid we'll have to decide on more… proven options for reform."

"Like fucking what?!"

The old woman shrugged. "You'll have plenty of time to do your own research, I'm sure. Might want to start with a certain delightful fellow. His name's Tagg. I'm sure you'll have oodles of fun, dearie."

Picking up her folder and pen, the old woman started marching out, her phone beginning to ring as she stepped out the door.

"Dollerant here." She called. "Oh, hello Jeremy."

The old woman tossed a look over her shoulder, a self-satisfied smile that made Sophia's blood boil.

"No, I think I'm done here."

Sophia yanked so hard on the cuffs her wrists started to bleed before the PRT agents rushed in and subdued her.

(X)(X)(X)

As the day finally began to come to a close, Katherine Dollerant groaned as she fell into her office chair.

"Should've taken the retirement package." Sills snarked with a smirk.

She glared mulishly, but then relented with a sigh.

"Last order of business then." She breathed.

She reached out her hand for her phone, ready to make a call when she thought better of it.

Pulling her hand back she stood up, marching around her desk and leaving her office once again.

Sills followed quietly.

It took several minutes of walking and a short helicopter ride to arrive.

When she did, she stepped past the monitor guards, pressing her finger to the button.

"Miss Hebert?"

The young woman's head turned, listening to the intercom.

"If you're amenable, I hope to speak with you." The woman urged.

Taylor stood still, seemingly thinking over the request. A mess of books and notes were on the desk in her room, bed roughly made as she looked to the door.

Then, she shrugged.

"Not much point in saying no."

Dollerant frowned.

Understandable but… regrettable.

She stepped away from the com, marched towards the door and opened it.

Taylor Hebert watched her, an air of aloof detachment hovering in the air around her.

The old woman stepped inside.

(x)(x)(x)

Spoiler: Changelog:

My thanks to Xegzy and @Icipall for their work as Betas here.

If there's any scene in particular you'd like to suggest/offer for this arc now would be a good time, this arc is very much in flux in terms of planning and there's A LOT of ground to cover before we reach Leviathan.

Last edited: Jul 31, 2022

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Ld1449

Jul 28, 2022

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Ld1449

Ld1449

To the last, Kill them all

Jul 31, 2022

#5,580

5.1

It's dark in my dreams.

Endless dark.

I step on a floor that I can't see, move through places I don't recognize. A city of spires and white stone, torn open by seething black.

A tower that pierces the skies, like a lance from the earth to the heavens.

A castle wreathed in flame.

Another place beneath a poisoned, desiccated earth.

A fortress crumbling into the sea.

A great castle in the mountains over the hill and beyond the forest of graves and faux trees.

I see hands that are not my hands, with eyes that do not belong to me. Feel an alien laughter in my chest as I twirl and dance on bare feet through these dark realms. The dress I wear is rough, the fabric feels like sandpaper across my body and wisps around my limbs like smoke.

Smoke… smoke and ash.

I'm giggling as I move through this place… these… fragments, searching for something… I'm searching for someone…

Without really knowing why.

I finally find it… find her. And this place she's made her own.

I feel the cold touch of fear over my face.

I see her, I see her and laugh, delighted.

I don't know her. I've never seen her before and yet the name still comes to me.

Alsanna.

She is speaking. Speaking, but I can't hear the words, can't understand them.

It's a warning, a chastisement, a request, a demand, a plea, a wish. Is it anger to fuel bravery? Or anger to hide the fear.

I laugh and think of words that are not mine.

"That is not thine role, sweet sister. The anger is not becoming of thee. Thou art' not the Wrath."

There is another emotion there, trailing from her but I do not sense it. That is to say, my mind wanders somewhere else… another goal… another target to find in this place, these fragments of memor-

I woke with a start, my eyes flying open. I didn't gasp but I could feel my heart pounding beneath my chest.

It'd become a familiar feeling over the last few days.

I calmed, breathing slowly before I sat up. I looked to the right of the bed, seeing the digital clock to my side

7:16 A.M.

… Nothing for it now. Not like I was going to be able to get back to sleep any time soon.

I sat up, my feet touching the cold steel floor as I walked across the room.

My own little 'apartment', such as it was.

I was situated at the lowest level of the rig. A private elevator led directly here.

A holding cell, converted to a living space.

One way in, one way out.

Filled with Tinkertech motion sensors, hard light barriers, the ability to remove oxygen to snuff out the flames in a moment's notice, brute rated walls- not that you'd want to break them unless you were confident you could breathe underwater.

Some days I understood the precautions.

Other days I quietly seethed at the unfairness of it all, and other days I couldn't care.

It became an active practice to remind myself of just how much damage I had done. How much I could still do, or more specifically my power could do through me.

Regardless of how I felt I knew, somewhere deep down, that I was in this for the long haul.

Not for the first time, I thought over my choice to stay. To not accept the transfer to New York. Or Boston.

On some levels… It was tempting. Nothing there. Nothing of me. Nothing of what I'd done. No links to it. No memories.

On another… I didn't want to leave.

It would have been an inconvenience for dad.

I think I've done enough of that for now… I could take this place, the reminders.

I was fine.

I found my clothes, stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water.

Minutes later I stepped out of the shower, drying myself off with a new towel before putting my clothes on for the day.

When I stepped out it was 7:29 and I looked just in time to see it switch to 7:30.

At that precise moment I heard a knock on my door. Not a second early or late as usual.

"Ms. Hebert, I expect you awake and outside in fifteen."

I opened the door.

Sergeant Martin Sills stared back at me.

Sills is my right hand. And so he will be your left hand. Anything you'd like me to know, you tell him and he'll tell me.

Those had been Dollerant's words.

The African-American man was tall, as tall as my dad, easily. But where dad was lanky and thin, Jones was all muscle. His head was shaved, the only hair he had was on his face with a beard and mustache that was just shy of being 'too much'.

A permanent, disapproving scowl curled his lip; though it seemed to be directed at the whole world, not just me.

He looked me up and down. "Woke up early today." He nodded. "Good. Come on."

With a sharp nod he turned down the hallway, marching away and up the stairs. I followed, the door closing and locking automatically behind me.

We rose up through the walkways and passages of the PRT base and made our way to the cafeteria.

"The usual." He said as soon as we walked in. The man behind the counter nodded and in a few minutes we had our 'usual.'

Or at least the usual I had whenever I had a morning with Sills.

A chicken omelet with a side of grits, eggs, green peppers and an apple wasn't exactly 'normal' in my book. I'd only ever heard of grits before meeting Sills. It wasn't exactly on the mainstream menu this far north.

We sat down and ate.

"How did you sleep?" Came the routine question after the second bite.

I shrugged..

I wasn't much for killing silences.

We ate and finished at the same time. I had the feeling he paced himself to finish more or less at the same time I did. I was a fast eater.

Two years of eating your lunch lightning fast tended to make that kind of thing a habit.

"Hmm." He grunted. "Your requested meeting." He said, fishing out a tablet. "Thirty." He nodded. "After that-"

"More power testing." I half guessed, half stated.

He nodded.

Honestly, I couldn't blame them. My powers were far more extensive, versatile, and above all, dangerous, than what they had initially believed.

They were not making the mistake of 'calling it a day,' like they had before. This time around they wanted no surprises.

It was too bad my… passenger wasn't cooperating much.

I was going through a battery of tests, but short of throwing me in front of a revived Lung… I don't think either the woman or the knight cared enough to stir at all.

What time wasn't being spent in power testing was in experimental MS protocols. And from there- therapy.

My first session was later today.

I noticed the odd look in his eye.

"What?" I asked.

Sills worked his jaw, seemingly chewing on the words.

"We have two Protectorate heroes on call right now." He said carefully. "Would you prefer Battery, or Miss Militia oversee your testing today?

I feel myself stiffen.

Sill's face was calm, placid. Watching me with an almost clinical detachment.

I couldn't help the glare that formed across my face.

"Battery will be fine." I said.

A muscle in his jaw jumped.

He didn't say anything.

"Alright." Is what he finally opened with when he broke the silence. "Lets go. I'd rather not be late for your first meeting."

He took our trays and our trash, tossing it in the waste bin before marching out the door; I followed.

I try not to think too hard on what just happened.

As we walked out the door, Sills stayed at my side, escorting me.

I noticed it again.

It's not obvious. At least not terribly obvious.

If I wasn't subjected to it every couple of days whenever someone new arrived to replace the dead people, I might not have even made a note of it at all.

But it was there. The clerks, the janitors, the guards.

They were afraid. Like they're staring at a bomb set to blow on an unknown timer.

I'm not sure what I felt about that. And I could sense that the utter lack of emotion was not entirely my own.

It's strange to consider that… strange that, as of now I could simply… know when things were not right in my own mind...

It's like I became aware of the faintest hand on my shoulders.

I just didn't know how I could get that hand to leave me alone, how to force it to never touch me again.

It's a cauldron of different feelings all competing with each other to get through the proverbial door. Anger, depression, fear, anxiety...

In the end… dismissal had to win out.

We got to the helipad, and as usual, the machine was ready and waiting for us. We sat ourselves down in the passenger bay.

It didn't take us long to take off, and I panned my eyes out the window to the city, where the construction crews were continuing their work, new sites appearing every day as the older ones lingered.

The damage of the "Outcry" incident, as it was named for the echoing scream from my idols, would take months to repair at best.

Soon enough we touched down and not ten minutes later I was sitting in a room, divided by thick plexiglass.

Lisa smiled on the other side of it.

She's dressed in a jumpsuit, and seeing her in the orange was shocking in its own way.

They told me she'd been arrested. I just… never really thought of what it would look like.

She gave me a sad little smile, shrugging as she took the phone beside her, an inviting look in her eyes as she gestured for me to sit.

I was not sure why it took me so long to actually do so.

When I pressed the phone to my ear, Lisa's the first to speak.

"Hey, Tay."

Her smile is subdued, sad as I said before, but her bottle green eyes looked happy regardless. It's a strange dichotomous contrast.

"Didn't expect it'd be real, huh?"

I opened my mouth, finding myself closing it again as she preempted me with the observation.

I nodded.

"I told you- I wanted Coil dead." She affirmed. "Reason why." She gestured to herself. "Don't get me wrong… I… I won't say I was ever a saint. But when he got his hands on me, I… did some things. Bad things. Getting him killed was my revenge. This part- I guess is the 'rest' of it. Ya know?"

"I could ask them." I said. Even as the words came I doubted they'd do anything.

So what if I asked for leniency? So what if I tried to help? I was in just as bad a spot as she was.

They wouldn't listen to me.

They hadn't listened to me even when I was a "good" Ward…

Lisa pressed her hand to the dividing pane, shaking her head. "No. No, don't do that. I… I deserve to be in here, Tay. One day, when I tell you what I did- you'll agree with me." Her eyes clouded over with sadness, a quiet melancholy lingering there as she spoke. "And… I told you before. Coil wanted to hurt you, Tay. The PRT… they're not the best. Not by a long shot. But most of them are good people."

I didn't answer.

Lisa grew sadder.

Have you spoken to Miss Militia yet?"

I bit back my anger, now the second person today was poking at that raw nerve.

I didn't want to yell. I didn't want to get angry. Lisa… I didn't know if she's a friend. I didn't know what I was to her but-"

"I'd like to be your friend." Again, her words cut into my thoughts. She shifted in her seat. "I really would… I don't think I can be until you know everything about me. But as someone who wants to be your friend, as someone who cares… at least… talk to her? Let her explain?"

I felt my head bowing, the mumble that slipped past my lips was almost too soft to hear.

"I don't want to fight."

The melancholy lingered there.

Then, she smiled, like a mask slipping on.

"Ok, subject dropped. So… tell me, how's your week been going? I got myself a whole new wardrobe!" She tossed her hair, striking a pose in her seat. "I hear orange is the new black!"

I snorted.

(X)(X)(X)

My talk with Lisa lasted for an hour. And I could feel everything we said, punctuated by everything we avoided saying.

Talks of power testing, patrols. Of schoolwork, visits from the other Wards, my Dad. On how she's basically pissing off all the people who really, really hate her guts and making friends with all the ones that mattered.

We didn't talk about my cell. About my hours. I didn't ask when she expected to get out. Or when I might be expected to "get out". We ignored the fact that the people I saw needed to be cleared for visitation. And that she had a special protocol to disable her specifically by shutting her the hell up.

We talked about generalities. Avoided specifics. Tried to pretend everything's normal when things were anything but.

She left, pressing a kiss to her fingers and those fingers to the glass.

"I'll see you again in two weeks." She promised.

Sills returned, exactly one hour after he left me. Not a second earlier or a second later, and escorted me towards the power testing facilities.

Neither of us spoke. Sills didn't see the need, and I was not one for breaking silences anymore.

When I walked out into the main testing room, it wasn't long before I heard Battery's voice.

Battery didn't lie to me. She's not happy like Assault. She's not gentle like… like Miss Militia had been. She's calm. Sharp.

Better that way, I suppose.

"Taylor." She called, and I could almost see her nod. "You'll be pleased to know we've got something new today."

That made me start just a bit. "Oh?"

"Yes. Dragon supplied us with some combat drones based on the data gathered recently. Specially calibrated. We'll be sending em out once the usual warm ups are done with. That sound good?"

I nodded, now suddenly a bit more eager to get through the usual batch of tests to see if I'd finally get to do something at least marginally more interesting.

I saw that in the room were some scarecrows, old and ragged, all set up in a nice pile for me to get some ash. My hand glowed with flame and I sprayed fire onto the pile, and in under a minute I had my armor of ash on me.

"Right then. Lets start cardio. Then we'll work on basic strength and blaster tests. See if anything's changed from the baselines before we start on the drones."

(X)(X)(X)

The room was large. I'd even go so far as to say it was cavernous.

It had cherry wood hard-floors, two stories tall, with the second story dominated by a mezzanine-like balcony jutting out of three of the four sides. Both the first story and the second story were lined with rows of books

Towards the end of the room there was the A-typical long seat, across from it was a red leather chair that seemed very comfortable. Probably had to be, given that the user had to sit there for hours on end. In between the long seat and the red leather chair was a small table.

And lastly there was a rather… tall window. It did wonders for the room's lighting, really. Though, honestly, it's the biggest window I'd ever seen. It dominated a whole wall, splitting the library, from the first story up to the top of the second.

It seemed rather much.

The guard closed the door behind me, leaving me alone in the massive room.

I let my eyes wander, trailing them up to the rows and rows of books.

How long since I last had the time to read?

I walked over to the book shelves, reaching towards the first title that drew my eye, my finger tracing the spine.

Behind me, I heard the door open and turned to see a woman closing it.

She's Asian, or at least she had Asian features. She's thin her black hair done up in a bun at the back of her head, with a red suit and thin glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.

"You'd be Miss Yamada then, right?" I asked.

She nodded. "I am." She stepped forward, the sharp click of her heels echoing through the cavernous room as she held out her hand to shake. "It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Miss Hebert. Or would you prefer I call you Taylor?"

I shrugged, holding out my own hand, if only to be polite. "Taylor's fine."

She nodded, offering something I could only describe as a bow even though all she moved was her head. Her hand gestured towards the long seat and lounge chair.

I stepped closer towards it, leaving the book behind in its place.

As we settled into the seats, there's a moment of silence, and I allowed Yamada time to gather her pad and pen before she turned to me.

"As you know, the reason I'm here is to oversee your recovery as well as to evaluate your state of mind after recent events." She set down her pad on the singular table, the slender black pen resting over it as she set herself down on the plushy, comfortable looking chair.

"I kinda figured that even before they told me." I answered.

"I understand." She nodded. "Well, to begin, is there anything in particular you'd like to discuss?" She asked.

I blinked, surprised.

"I thought you asked me questions, not the other way around."

"Why did you believe such?" She questioned, perfectly neutral.

"Because…" I paused, my irritation shining through.

I sighed. "Please, don't waste both our times by playing stupid. I've been stuck in a glorified personal cell for… I don't know, a week?" I shrugged. Days were starting to blur together. "Lets not pretend you're not here because you've got an evaluation to do, and evaluation needs questions. From you."

She eyed me for a moment.

Then, she very deliberately set down the pad and pen on the coffee table between us.

"I'm not here as an antagonist." She said calmly. "While yes, I have been asked to evaluate you, my first, and I would argue my only, priority is your wellbeing."

I felt my hands tighten, clenching over the leather of the seat.

"Listen…" I breathed, slowly. "I've had enough… being lied to by the PRT. So… stop."

I saw something ghost across her features.

"To be successful, therapy requires a measure of trust, Taylor."

"Then I guess we'll be going nowhere fast." I mumbled.

Then I glared at her.

"The PRT… the Protectorate lie. Just like everyone else." I took a breath through my nostrils, not breaking eye contact. "If you'd have been here a few months ago… I'd have believed you. But now we both know you have your marching orders… whatever they are. That's your first priority." I stated. "Not me, so write whatever you'd like to write in that pad of yours, tell them whatever you're going to tell them. I don't really care anymore. Ask your questions and lets move on with our days."

Ms. Yamada closed her eyes, seemingly thinking.

When she opened them again… what she said wasn't what I expected.

"I'm sorry."

I felt my eyebrow rising.

She repeated herself.

"I am sorry."

I felt my expression tighten. "You're apologizing for the PRT?"

"If you'd accept it as such, perhaps I would." She said with an assured nod. "But- you wouldn't, so no. I am apologizing on my own behalf, for myself."

That made my features scrunch up in confusion. "Why are you apologizing?"

"My affiliation with the PRT makes it difficult for you to trust me. For that connection alone, I am thus less than perfect for this role. And for that, I feel you deserve an apology."

I searched her face, her voice for the note of condescension. The mocking lilt that must have been there. But I didn't find it. All I saw was placid neutrality and a serious earnestness.

"It's your job." I mumbled. "You don't want to be here anymore than I do."

"I didn't say that." She corrected. "I do wish to be here, I enjoy my work. Frustrating as it sometimes is, as all jobs are. I do wish to help you. That circumstances make this slightly difficult doesn't change what I want. Merely that I'm inconveniencing you as a first impression."

I shrugged.

The silence stretched on for a time.

Yamada laced her hands in front of her stomach, one leg crossing over the other. "If you're comfortable allowing such, I would ask you questions. And invite you to ask, or state any you'd like. They don't need to be related to the PRT. They don't need to be related to anything of significance. And anything you don't feel like answering, you can very much decline. Would this be alright?"

I shrugged.

"Whatever." Came my whisper. "Not like we're going anywhere for an hour."

(X)(X)(X)

I didn't just "go" to the Wards dorms. Not like the others. I could visit the Wards dorms. But that held a very different connotation. I couldn't stay there. Not until I was cleared and that, I suspect, wouldn't happen for a while.

So I didn't "go" to the dorm rooms, like Clock or the others who arrived with loosely defined schedules; where they could arrive whenever they wished, or in a "surprise" after a bad day at home or as a simple detour if they so chose.

No, my visits were announced well in advance, just in case anyone wanted to show up or make themselves scarce.

This'll be my second visit.

In the first, I saw Carlos, Dean and Missy. It was awkward, not the least of which because I almost asked after Brendan, forgetting for a moment that they told me he'd died.

Carlos tried to pretend. Tried to welcome me back with open arms.

You were mastered, he'd tried to say.

But there was a fidgeting there now that wasn't there before. A concern at the back of his mind that the team leader had, weighing the safety of the ther wards against me- the girl that could kill them all with one bad day.

Vista put on the bravest front. Smiling, offering me a hug, but there was sadness there now. A question she had on the tip of her tongue that she wouldn't ask.

When will you be ok?

Dean… tried to apologize. For Sophia. For everything. And that only made it more awkward. More painful.

He told me that they hadn't known. They'd never known. Not any of it.

I wanted to believe it.

I'm not sure I could.

Even as I lied and told them that it's ok… that I believed them.

I'm still asking how could you have not known?

Sophia made no secret who she was. What she was. She was a monster. She was cruel and enjoyed hurting people. Hurting me.

And you called her a hero.

Dean especially. He'd defended her, shielded her. Deflected when Missy and Clock complained.

Hell. He could see her, see what was going on inside her head.

How could you not know I wanted to ask.

I didn't.

Part of me thought it was because I didn't want to fight. Didn't want to accuse them.

The other part of me knew it was because… I might not like the answer.

So why risk it?

Why ask a question, which answer… either couldn't change anything, or could only make things worse?

I was not sure if I was looking forward to a second visit.

As such, it's almost a palpable relief when I heard Sill's phone ring, bringing us to a stop in the hall.

When he turned to me, his eyebrow raised, a deep frown on his lips.

"Hebert." He frowned. "There's a woman calling emergency responders."

I raised an eyebrow. "Ahh… good?"

I was legitimately unsure what answer he wanted me to give.

"She's asked for you. By name." He stressed.

The next words out of his mouth floored me.

"Says her name is Zoe Barnes."

(X)(X)(X)

Spoiler: Changelog:

A slight change was made to the chapter before this one

I'd like to thank @Icipall and Xegzy for their help proofreading this.

We have a fun chapter next time :D

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Jul 31, 2022

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To the last, Kill them all

Aug 6, 2022

#5,693

5.2

I stepped out of the PRT van feeling… I'm not sure.

Perhaps it was nervousness or trepidation.

Perhaps it was sadness, seeing the house in front of me; I hadn't been back here in years.

Nostalgia, maybe?

I didn't think I felt anger.

But whatever it was I was feeling, what I thought above everything was that I should have felt more.

Because, in all honesty, I felt detached, and the feeling scratching at my mind was a muted, distant thing like watching myself through a window. A puppet propped up on the stage and danced around.

There were PRT vans everywhere around us; distantly I noted ambulances and firefighters waiting nearby just in case. I recognized the two distinct PRT troop divisions currently mobilized around the neighborhoods. The 'troops' and the 'knockers' as they were called.

The troops were self-explanatory. They were decked out, ready for a fight.

The 'knockers' were the ones going door to door right now, even as we pulled up to get everyone to shut the hell up.

They did the same for me when Winslow burnt down.

And this was about as obvious as Winslow was too.

After all, it's not every day one looks at your average, two-story upper crust house resembling an ice sculpture.

Winding, twisting branches of frozen water curled around the home, like a protective embrace. Or a flower, frozen forever in mid-bloom.

People would notice. People would know whose house this was.

That already told me how the PRT wanted this to go.

They wanted a new recruit.

…

I shouldn't be disappointed.

Hadn't they already proven what they were?

And yet…

Sills came round the side of the van, eying the frozen building.

"You good for this, Ash?"

The question was gentle, at least for Sills, perhaps.

I simply shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

"It does." He insisted.

"I won't screw up." I hissed, frustrated.

I already agreed to help. I didn't need to be second guessed every five seconds.

The man straightened, his mouth opening before he frowned.

Before he could say whatever he was going to say, another trooper approached.

"Sir!" He snapped a sharp salute.

"Report." Sills barked.

"First responder was Velocity- he's with the family now. Troops are setting up a perimeter, three blocks around the place. Nothing in or out 'til we say so."

"And the parahuman?"

The trooper shook his head. "Unknown. The situation is unchanged since the mother called." The trooper looked at me just for a moment before looking back to Sills.

"Attempts at contact?"

"None successful. Everyone who's gotten close had prompted more growth in the ice and when we took a chipping hammer to it, well..." He pointed.

Yup. Right there, the… whatever it was seemed to be little more than a spiky ball of ice.

I looked around.

"Where's A- Ms. Barnes, now?"

I noticed my slip and caught it before it escaped.

Was it a force of habit that made me want to call her 'Aunt Zoe'? Was it sentimentality for what once was?

Was I being unfair?

She hadn't betrayed me…

Or at least… I don't think she did.

Maybe she was just doing the 'Good guy' side of the 'Asshole' that Alan turned out to be. That Emma turned out to be?

I felt my fingers clenching, tightening into fists.

"Are you good?"

Sills' voice startled me, and the sharp intake of breath wasn't something I could suppress.

I turned, looking at him; he looked back at me, a strange look in his eyes.

"I'm fine!" I insisted.

I wasn't going to give them more reasons to keep me in that cell.

If they wanted a good little Ward… they'd get a good little Ward.

Three more years…

His frown deepened.

The trooper shifted his gaze from Sills, then back to me, answering my question as he pointed to the side. "Ambulances. No injuries. But they were colder than the medics liked. So that's where they are."

I turned and marched in the pointed direction, realizing I hadn't said 'thanks' in my rush to just… get the fuck on with things.

I rounded an armored PRT van.

And there she was.

I was in full costume, ashen regalia turning me into a grayscale knight, raven-like helm obscuring my face.

But Zoe recognized me.

She started standing up, the warming blanket on her shoulders falling to her previous seat on the ambulance bumper.

She wrung her hands, and I saw her eyes tear up even as she stood, seemingly paralyzed at the sight of me.

Truthfully… maybe I was a little paralyzed too.

There's an interminable moment there in her front yard.

It's not silence; silence wasn't possible with this many people moving around us. But it was… private.

Alan followed Zoe's gaze, and I saw him stiffen instead beside her, but there's a difference there. A raw tension, and a look that didn't cross Zoe's face.

Zoe started to move.

I saw Alan reach for her, then think better of it, hanging back and looking like he didn't know where to stand or where to even look.

Good.

When Zoe's close… I wasn't sure why I spoke first, but I did.

"Hey, Aunt Zoe."

The title did slip out this time. Pure habit. Pure instinct.

We'd been so close once…

"Taylor-" She started. Her mouth opened, then closed. The tears glimmered.

Hollywood made women cry pretty. Most didn't. Zoe Barnes wasn't an exception.

"I'm… I'm so sorry!"

For which part? I wanted to ask.

The part where your daughter tortured me for two years?

The part where your husband tried to browbeat my dad into letting everything go?

The part where you called me to help the girl who caused my trigger?

What part? I wanted to scream.

And what made you think sorry solved anything?

But I didn't say it. I couldn't say it.

Because I didn't know how much could be blamed on her. How much of it was her fault. Or how much of it was just her ignorance.

She should have known. She should have suspected.

But then again, Dad should have known too. He should have suspected. Or seen it.

He didn't.

So why should she?

Why should she be blamed for what's happened? She wasn't Emma. She wasn't Alan.

So I said nothing. I didn't show any part of this… mess of emotions and tumult roiling inside me, and my helmet hid what my silence couldn't.

Instead:

"What happened?" I asked.

Perhaps it was a poor choice of words, judging by the rictus of conflict over her features.

What happened to us?

What happened to Emma?

What happened to the little family I once had?

Was mom the only thing keeping any of us together? The only thing that mattered?

Maybe.

But that's not the conversation for today. Not the questions for today. Maybe they wouldn't ever be the questions for any day.

Too much pain. Too much history left behind as so much wreckage.

I turned to her, my eyes shaded beneath the slit of the helmet. "How did she trigger?" I tried to clarify.

Zoe fidgeted some more, her hands wringing together. "I… I don't-" She closed her eyes, shutting them tight, seemingly at war with herself before she opened them again. "We… got Emma into therapy a-and-"

I let her pause, let her gather her thoughts. Sills hovered somewhere behind me. I know he was listening because I was close enough to hear him giving orders to the field lieutenants and op resources.

Zoe's hands were shaking, white-knuckled grips over her own fingers. "Doctor Wilson… helped. Emma's mental state was- returning to something better… not- not-"

"Not the girl who bullied me?" I half asked, half stated, guessing what she was trying to dance around.

She winced. Her face scrunches up as though I'd physically punched her.

Then her features fell, her shoulders slumping, as though hearing it directly from me somehow made it so much worse.

She cried again.

More silence. More stillness. I left her the time to gather herself, turning to look at the ice sculpture that was now the Barnes home, admiring the gentle slopes and curves of the brambles and boughs of the 'tree'.

When she started again her voice was shaky, but gained strength as she went.

"Wh-when you were hurt. The… The PRT came to us. Emma was…" She sucked a breath through her teeth. "Emma was a suspect-" She trailed off, shuddering at the admission. "I- Dr. Wilson had told us she was in a fragile state so I kept her away from the interrogation, but she must've- she left her phone, recording. She wanted to know what happened."

I had to wonder if she'd done it for kicks.

Then I wondered if she had really changed and had been genuinely concerned.

I'm not sure which thought I hated more.

"W-when she found out… when she heard you were hurt she-" Zoe's gaze lowered. "She had a complete mental breakdown."

"Why not call the PRT then?" I asked. I'd been hurt… weeks ago, now. They would have made this investigation a while ago.

"We didn't know." Zoe protested. "She was- Taylor, Emma didn't move, didn't speak for almost nine days. We had to spoon-feed her and bathe her ourselves. All she did was cry and sleep."

The words sent a pang of feeling through my insides. Something sharp and disquieting.

"Then… it was like she woke up again." Zoe sniffled. "She… she wasn't ok but it was like she was… convincing herself that you were going to be ok. That she was going to find you. We were worried but we needed to consult with Dr. Wilson to see what we could do."

"And then she just… got powers?"

"I found her." Zoe admitted, seemingly remorseful about it. "I… heard her talking to herself in her room. I walked in to try and convince her to come out of the house. To get out and see other people, you know?"

"And that's when you found her making an ice sculpture?" I hazarded a guess.

"Her eyes were blue." Zoe said, seemingly horrified. "And the way she looked at me. Like… she didn't even know me."

I tried to picture Emma with blue eyes. Strangely I couldn't. I could only ever envision the cruel shade of green I'd come to recognize on her face.

"Her room was so cold, Taylor." She shuddered. "I called Alan, and when we were going to contact the PRT, Emma panicked."

"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious. She hadn't committed any crimes as far as I knew. She hadn't hurt anyone with her powers.

Even if she had, PRT would give her a clean fucking slate.

Zoe looked down, lips pressing together.

I looked at her.

"Why?" I insisted.

She winced. "E-Emma said… Emma didn't want us to call the PRT, because then… you'd make her leave, go to another state. She wants to be… where you are."

I felt my teeth grinding together, my fists clenching.

I glared at the house now, feeling my anger spike at the sight of it.

Why…

Why couldn't you just leave me alone!?

Don't you get it?

Don't you understand?

You destroyed everything we once were.

Everything I once was.

And now you can't just fucking leave!?

Why?

"Taylor."

I looked at Zoe again; her eyes were red and puffy, and her expression just… collapsed. It's the only word I have for it.

"Please…" She whispered miserably. "I- I know I have no right to ask you. That you don't owe us anything but- Please, Taylor."

I didn't answer.

At my silence, she continued, the words tumbling out of her lips, "I don't know who else I can ask. I don't know what else I can do. Emma's just so… so broken right now I don't even-"

I held up my hand, and she went quiet.

My anger, still smoldering like a furnace in my chest, felt ready to explode before I lashed it down, tight coils of self-control and forced calm keeping it smothered. Keeping the flames from rising

I started to walk towards the house.

"Ashburn!"

Sills' voice.

I didn't turn around.

"I was called down here so lets get this the hell over with-"

He started to move towards me, a tendril of ash already coiled around his ankle tripped him up as I reached the steps to the front door.

The door was frosted over, the glass at the top, just over my head, cracked and splintered through the ice.

My fingers reached the doorknob.

The ice along the door receded, even as I heard more ice growing behind me, listening to the startled shouts and cries of warning to back away as the 'tree' grew.

I opened the door.

Small crystals of frozen water rained around me, an upswell of air rushing through the cold cooked house through the warmth of the open door, sending little snowflakes dancing through what was once the Barnes foyer.

The home was… unchanged from what I remembered. Ice covered everything, but I recognized the placement of the furniture, the layout, even the pictures on the wall.

All of a sudden the emotion hit me. Like a physical blow, I felt its impact almost drive the air from my lungs.

Regret isn't the right word, though there is sorrow.

Anger isn't the right word, though there is resentment.

My eyes stung.

I wasn't sure how long I stood at the door. How long I stood here, in this place that had been mine and yet never had. At this… facsimile of what had once been family and yet now were, at best, bitter reminders.

Someone handed Sills a loudspeaker, but the sound seemed… muted somehow. Distant. As if the very cold itself served as a barrier.

Nothing could enter this place.

I remembered where Emma's room was.

Or that's to say, I never forgot.

I forced my feet to move. Forced one foot in front of the other.

My stride wasn't gentle, or quiet. Every step felt like a weight. Every inch closer made my chest feel tight.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to cry or rage.

So I did neither.

The ice cracked and crackled as I moved, the fire in my body kept the cold away, but my breath still fogged the air in front of me.

I reached the door.

The cold here was fierce enough that I knew it wouldn't open by force.

The ice was thick, and I knew, somehow, that it carried a will to it.

None may enter here.

I considered breaking it down. Just punching or burning my way through.

I was willing to bet my flames could melt through this ice, and there was not a fucking thing Emma could do about it.

But I didn't. I calmed myself. I kept everything within.

My hand rose.

I knocked.

"Emma, I said, my voice loud, clear, and steady, in spite of what I felt within. "It's me."

The nostalgia hit me again. I felt it crashing over me. How many times had I stood here before? Knocking in this same way? Saying these same words?

For a moment, there's nothing. Nothing but quiet, stillness, and cold.

Then, without warning, the ice shifted.

The door splintered, folding open like an elaborate origami paper spread, ice shifting and splintering the frozen through wood before Emma rushed out the door.

I stiffened, startled, and hesitated on whether I should punch her or just hold her at bay, but I hesitated too long.

The next thing I knew, she was hugging me.

I stood there, unsure of what to do, unsure how to respond. Emma was bawling into my shoulder, great heaving sobs as she babbled and blubbered- Her hysterics so overwhelming I couldn't even understand what she was trying to say as her fingers pawed and clutched tightly; crushing me into her with strength that seemed inhuman.

Eventually, I could understand what she was saying, understand the words slipping past her lips and into the cold around us.

"Don't leave me. Don't leave me, Taylor. Please don't leave me!'

It's the only thing she said. The only thing she was seemingly thinking. Even as I tried to speak, all she did was keep repeating herself. Keep pleading for me not to leave her.

I didn't hug her back. I couldn't bring myself to hug her back.

Whatever happened to her, whatever this was- It was not the Emma I recognized. Either of them. But it was still wearing her face. It still had her hair. It still carried the memories around her neck.

It still sounded like her.

Just let me die.

My shudder isn't something I can fully suppress.

Emma was startled, and I felt her go completely still.

Suddenly she was shoving herself away, forcing herself off me. Her bare feet slipped back into her room, and I could finally catch a full, unobstructed sight of her.

She was a mess.

Her skin was an unhealthy pale. Her red hair, normally so vibrant and beautiful, was now a tangled rat's nest. Deep shadows lined her face, tear tracts carved shades of their own beside them.

"No." She shuddered. "No, no, no. I shouldn't have done that. No. You didn't want that. I should-"

The cold came again, the ice began to spread and I saw the edges of the door frosting over, tendrils of cold moving to form a new barrier to separate us.

"No no- Listen!" She hissed. "I know what I'm doing, so just-"

Her eyes clenched shut, hands moving and the ice began to grow even faster.

I forced myself to move.

My ash rolled outwards, cascading off my body before gathering around the growing edges of ice and crushing the still delicate tendrils of cold.

I stepped through the door.

"Emma."

She jumped at my voice, stepping back as though she'd been whipped, looking as though she wanted nothing more than to flee and hide under the covers of her bed.

I took a breath. "Emma… I need you to stop the ice."

She shook her head, gnawing on her lip, beginning to pace, and only now did I notice the faint remnants of blood on her carpet, left there by her bare feet.

"No. No. I- I'm doing this for you. Did I screw it up again? Are you mad!?" Her hands rose up to her head, fisting at her hair. "Stupid. Stupid. Of course she is. You hurt everything. Messed everything up."

I stared at her, and for the first time since I'd gotten that call, I felt my burning resentment sputter, the flame flickering and dying under the dowsing feeling of pure… confusion. Even concern.

This… this was not the Emma I knew.

"Emma." I began, feeling the need to suddenly swallow. "I'm… not mad?" I ventured. The strange, truthful lie tasting odd on my tongue. "Just… slow down-."

She turned, looking at me before she started walking towards me again.

I had to fight the urge to step back.

Her hands reached, clutching one of mine before quite literally she knelt at my feet, pulling my hand close until my knuckles were brushing her forehead.

"Don't leave me. Please, Taylor. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Taylor! Don't leave me."

She looked up at me with such naked, horrid desperation it made my stomach turn, even on her face.

This… sad pitiful creature-

It wasn't the Emma I knew.

Maybe I never knew her at all.

I nodded, ignoring the unease in my stomach.

"Ok, Emma. I won't leave."

The pure adoration that lit up her whole face made me feel sick.

(X)(X)(X)

By the time we returned to the PRT building, Emma hadn't let me go.

She clutched my arm like a limpet.

She answered questions at my urging. Took medical attention at my prompting, and the only time I forced her to let me go was for her to let the medics look her over and she looked ready to burst into tears.

Coming into the main garage, Sills was in the front seat, Emma still beside me. Zoe and Alan were in another car, being brought up above, likely to speak to the director. Last I heard, they also called her therapist, Dr. Wilson.

I doubted Emma was in any position to have an interview, so I couldn't say where she would be headed when we arrived.

But when we did, I felt my stomach drop.

Velocity was there, of course, he was; he could outrun the cars we were driving.

Beside him, Assault, and beside them-

Miss Militia.

I felt my heart fall into my stomach, my throat tightening up.

Emma whimpered.

"T-Taylor?"

I snapped my head towards her, finding her still green eyes beginning to tear up, her fingers clutching mine.

Reflexively, I jerked my hand out of her grip.

The shocked despair that overtook her expression made a flash of guilt pass through me, but the relief I felt when she suddenly refrained herself from lurching towards my hand was undeniable.

Emma jerked her own fingers back to her chest with a guilty, forlorn look as she stared at the floor.

The car lurched to a stop.

My eyes turned from her, then to Militia outside the window.

I couldn't breathe…

My body felt numb, fingers tingling as my head and vision swam.

I had to leave.

I opened the car door, stepping outside.

I could feel her eyes on me.

Sills stepped out of the vehicle.

Before he'd even closed the door behind him, I was already speaking.

"I'd like to return to my cell please."

Sills went still.

Looking to the ground as I was, I couldn't see his face behind the armor, and I doubted he could see mine.

Don't make me stay. Don't make me stay.

"Taylor-"

"Alright," Sills nodded.

The knife cutting off my air vanished as quickly as it had come with the utterance of my name and I turned, fleeing from the ashes and memories at my back.

(X)(X)(X)

This is a wholesale original chap for you guys, didn't exist in the original story; hope you all enjoyed :)

The next chap will be up in a few more hours :D

Last edited: Aug 6, 2022

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To the last, Kill them all

Aug 6, 2022

#5,710

Interlude: Miss Militia

One Day Later...

The harsh sting of ozone that hit her nose made her wince more than anything. Even the, by any other standard, bizarre sight of someone just appearing out of literal thin air didn't phase her anymore. She'd been teleported and had seen teleportations too many times for that.

"Why, hello there!" The new arrival said with a lopsided grin, leaning on her suitcase handle. She turned, looking at Strider. "Don't suppose I could pay you to help me move my junk here too, right?"

"Pay me by the mile and maybe." The independent smirked.

The woman slapped him on the shoulder. "After you offered no in-flight movie for such a long trip? For shame~" She gave an over-exaggerated scoff before looking at Militia. "Can you believe the nerve of these people in the transport industry today? World's going down the gutter, I tell ya."

Militia let herself smile a bit.

Strider laughed. "Well, I'm off. See ya later, Jen. Hannah." He offered a nod.

Just like that, he was gone.

The heroine she knew as Mouse Protector hefted up a duffle bag on one shoulder and wheeled a suitcase behind her with her free hand.

"You don't call. You don't write." Jennifer's head bobbed from left to right as she picked up her suitcase to walk down the stairs that led up to the helipad. She reached the bottom and spread her arms wide, grabbing hold of the star-spangled cape into a full embrace. "Missed ya."

Miss Militia hugged her back.

After a good three seconds or so, Jenn pulled away, dark hair whipping around her face as it was caught in the wind. She looked at her long-time friend, the ever-present smile gone, worry in its place.

It was one of the few times Hannah could remember that happening.

"How're you doin?"

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "Not now. Let's go report to Director Dollerant. We can talk later if you still feel like it."

Jen nodded. "Sure." Then her little smirk came back, unable to stay away for very long. "So, have you thought about what we were talking about last time we saw each other?"

Miss Militia blinked, confused and curious. She had to think about what it was she was talking about. And for that to happen, was quite a feat.

Then she rolled her eyes. "Are you still going on about that?"

"Hey! When you actually make a functional combo with a glaive and a shotgun, or any other gunblade combination, I will officially be satisfied."

"Why are you so obsessed with that anyway?"

"How many other people can actually say 'This is my boomstick' and mean it! Golden opportunity wasted, I tell ya!

(X)

Thirty minutes or so later, they were in the director's office.

"Well now. I trust you've settled in."

"Ehhh, sort of." Jennifer shrugged as she and Militia took their seats. "No offense, but unlike Armsy, I don't plan to live on base for very long. The quicker I can find a good apartment, the better. I hear prices are rock bottom this time of year. More power to me."

Militia winced. Even Dollerant, who wasn't in the Bay for the worst of it and wasn't a Brockton Bay native, answered her with a deadpan stare.

"Too soon?" Mouse Protector questioned with a guilty smile.

"Quite." Dollerant answered. "Still, while I don't share your enthusiasm for the situation, the sentiment is correct. The Bay is still very much in recovery, you should be able to find something for a good price, very likely by the sea-side as well."

The younger woman nodded. "Alright. So." She leaned forward, clasping her hands. "When do I get to meet her?"

After a moment's pause, the recent transfer looked to both of them. "Oh, come on, we all knew this conversation was going there fast, and I'm gonna have to meet her eventually."

"You'll meet her when you present yourself to the Wards and your fellow Protectorate members tomorrow."

"Isn't she like… locked in a bunker like Dragon's hoard or something?" The younger woman asked. "That's the rumor back home in Vegas, anyway."

That drew Miss Militia's attention. "What are they saying?" She asked, turning her gaze fully to face her old teammate. "About her, I mean."

"That she's scary strong. Like, Triumvirate strong. Siberian strong. The bend-over-kiss-your-ass-and-half-the-city-goodbye-type of strong." She shrugged. "Other than that, and how you guys got Dragon to make a custom, instant kill room to hold her, we're not hearing much."

If Hannah winced before, this time she almost visibly reeled.

Was that how the PRT... the whole Protectorate outside the state saw her? Something to keep locked away in an instant kill prison?

Someone that was equally dangerous as the Siberian of all people?

Hannah suddenly felt intensely sick.

Mouse Protector looked at both of them. "Okay. Stuck my foot in my mouth again, it seems. Batting a hundred today, Jen. Soooo set me straight. What's the real situation? Stories get blown out of proportion all the time."

"Glad to hear you haven't made up your mind." Dollerant drawled. "Well, as they said 'back home', Ms. Hebert is incredibly powerful and while Dragon did make a customized room for her, its intent is purely for containment purposes, not instant extermination. I'm glad to say that, outside of her initial capture, we have never had to utilize her containment measures at all. She has been incredibly cooperative given the circumstances."

"Huh. Sooo… completely blown out of proportion, then." She nodded to herself as she leaned back in her chair. "And how is she? What I read… well… having your own power playing willy nilly with your head… seems a lot more traumatic than just being Mastered… and I've seen Valefor's victims."

"Her guard is up." Was Dollerant's flat answer, her lips pursed in displeasure. "Always. She is leery of us, of her power, Dragon, and even some of her Ward teammates. She is looking, waiting for the other shoe to drop and keeping everyone at arm's length now." The old Director looked sad for a moment. "Her trust was broken. Possibly irrevocably."

With every word, Hannah felt another twist of the knife carving her up from the inside out.

…

She let this happen.

She followed orders like any good soldier.

And she let this... happen.

"Sounds lonely." Mouse Protector admitted softly.

"It very likely is." The older woman said. "But… she seems like a strong girl. I'm sure she'll get through this. We'll help her if she'll have it."

Jennifer nodded. "Preach. Well, what about everyone else? Any red flags I should hear about?"

Dollerant's expression told Jen just how stupid that question was.

"Just yesterday, infact a… complicated case- A… prospective Ward, in fact."

"Oh?"

Hannah listened with one ear, her thoughts drifting elsewhere as her friend and the director talked.

(X)(X)(X)

Nearly an hour later, as they stepped out, she felt Jennifer's arm wrap around her shoulders.

"Alright, so, let's break out a bottle and celebrate my last day before becoming a responsible adult and being tied down by the constraints of PR and leadership."

Miss Militia's eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled. "You'll never be a responsible adult."

Jennifer sighed melodramatically. "I'll have to pretend, though. And that'll take effort. Come oooon, let's go find the janitor's closet they gave me for a room and at least make it feel a little homey by getting hammered in it… or… well… I'll get hammered. You just nurse one or two drinks and humor me like you usually do.

"I don't know, Jen… I'm kinda busy with some-"

"-Thing that you can very likely get done in that extra eight hours that you've got over everyone else in the world with time to spare." She deadpanned and nudged her. "I'm not above following you around and annoying you all day."

Hannah shook her head. "Fine, I'll go. Just make sure you actually get something decent for once and nothing fruity or whatever apple something you got last time."

"Hard gasoli-I mean, whisky it is!" She smiled. Then she turned her head to the hallway. "Soooo… where is my janitor closet room anyway?"

(X)(X)(X)

As far as 'on base' accommodations went, Jennifer's room was actually one of the better ones. A sizable bedroom, living room, and bathroom. It had a small window, almost a porthole really, that could see out into the open ocean. It'd be a gorgeous view if it wasn't marred by the ruins of the boat graveyard and the half-destroyed docks.

The sun was falling below the horizon, painting the ocean in hues of fiery orange and deep purples as they finished their first bottle. Taking the time to catch up, talk about everything they'd missed… the things that had changed. Those that had stayed the same…

Finally… halfway through the second bottle, the question came.

"So… how're you doin' love?"

She didn't answer. And from her place lying down on the couch, Jennifer tilted her head up, looking at her.

"I'm fine." Hannah finally said, her eyes trailing down to the golden liquid in her cup.

"No. You ain't fine." She answered, her words suspiciously far less slurred than they were a moment ago.

Jennifer sat up, grunting as she crossed her feet to sit on the couch, facing the middle eastern woman. "When I saw you, I damn near had the urge to ask if you were getting enough sleep. You look like hell."

Hannah took a deep breath, letting her head fall backward, and her eyes close.

"What's there to talk about?"

Jennifer sucked down a hissing breath through her teeth. "Well… I take that to mean 'Everything's gone to shit in my life, so mind your own business'... With you and Colin, it was always pulling teeth. He'd hide behind Tinker bullshit, and you'd just smile and say it was all okay."

She heard the clink of glass against glass, the sloshing of liquid being poured.

"Tell me the worst of it." She demanded, and Hannah knew that if she looked, her friend would not be sporting her usual smile. "Tell me… what bothers you the most…, and we'll go from there."

A silence fell between the two of them, broken only by the hum of the air conditioning and the soft, almost lost sound of waves crashing against the shores outside.

Neither woman said a word…

For almost ten straight minutes… neither woman said a single word. One waiting patiently… the other… thinking.

When her voice finally came to her… it's slow… her words were measured… as if weighted, struggling to escape the tight coil she wrapped them in, now loosened by alcohol and the presence of one of her oldest friends.

"The worst part is remembering…"

Jennifer didn't say a word. Didn't ask.

But it's true…

Memory is a curse.

Memory… It wasn't a friend. Not for her… not for a woman whose fond memories are outweighed so decisively by the... others.

"I don't remember." She said, "That is to say, I try not to… I succeed most days."

It's her way of coping. Blocking it out.

Perfect clarity, perfect recollection, was more a burden than a boon. More painful than joyous. So she'd learned how to manage. How to keep busy. Distract herself, how to not let the weight crush her.

She taught herself how to forget.

But even she couldn't push it back all the time. When the worst of it came to the fore…

"When I can't… that's the worst of it."

She picked her head up, looking at her friend, whose face was somber, listening.

"We follow our orders…" Her throat tightened. "Sometimes it's the right thing, sometimes it's the wrong thing, but… always… always. Because that's what we're supposed to do. How things can keep going. Still, work. How things are supposed to get better!"

Jennifer didn't answer, barely even moved. But she didn't have to. She agreed. Hannah knew she'd agree. She had to.

That's how they were taught. How they were both taught. But for her…

It came earlier.

It came easier.

Jen wasn't with her in the Kurd Mountains, fighting as a child soldier, staring down the barrel of a sniper rifle, holding a knife under her dress, exploring minefields.

But she was there as a Ward, when they pulled back from the civilian shelters in New York, when Behemoth first appeared, as a Protectorate hero when they sounded the retreat against Nilbog's monsters in Ellisburg.

When they fought against the Teeth, Valefor, the Slaughterhouse Nine, the Endbringers.

Always, they listened and obeyed. Trusting that it was to serve a purpose greater than themselves. That a little evil could pave the way for a greater good, a better result...

So… when it happened here. Again…

It was simple.

As distasteful as it was. As angry as she had been… as much as she'd railed against it…

She followed her orders.

Followed her orders and kept quiet. Goose-stepped like a good little soldier.

And the worst of it was that she could remember.

She could remember her. Before all of this. How happy she'd been, how the whole world had just… opened up… how her dreams were coming true.

How happy she'd been…

She can remember that… and see the stark reality of her efforts… what her greater good… had given her in the end...

"That's the worst of it." She said, and the sting in her eyes burned like acid. "That's always the worst of it, Jen…"

Jennifer didn't speak. Didn't say a word. She just waited.

"I could have… done things differently. I could have done more… but I didn't! I followed orders, and people got hurt or died! Colin, Brendan, Rory, and even Chris and Sophia almost died. I…" She stopped… her head falling back as she sucked down a shuddering breath through her teeth.

The memories came. One after the next, after the next, and after the next. Piling atop one another, pressing down, suffocating, smothering.

She shuddered.

"Hannah?"

"I… fucked up. I fucked up, Jen… Taylor. Surtr. I ran to get my doll, they screamed for me to help and… over and over and over again… I… they told me to stab him when he wasn't… to make it easier… wouldn't suspect me. A little girl. I couldn't pull them from the wreck..." She was rambling now… the words coming out in a slurred mess as memories of old failures tumbled together with the new. Jennifer's jaw tightened, and her eyes became wide as she immediately rushed to her side.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been talking… how long she rambled with the haze of alcohol clouding her thoughts.

She couldn't do it. She had promised…

She broke her promise.

She broke her promise!

And Taylor… Taylor

Because of Miss Militia… the hero?

Is that what her orders made….

It was her fault… it was all her fault…

When the cry escaped her lips, it was a pitiful, keening whine, the palms of her hands digging into her eyes as though trying to physically hold back the tears.

The wall Hannah had thrown all of her pent-up emotions behind cracked, and before she could even realize it had happened, the crack widened into a breach til the whole thing fell apart under the sheer crushing weight of memory.

She cried. Wailed. Jen held her tightly, an embrace Hannah didn't even have the mind to truly feel.

For the first time in a long, long time, she spoke in her native tongue. She sobbed and called out; to Jennifer, to Taylor, even to Colin, to the dead… to God.

None answered her.

(X)(X)(X)

This chapter survived about 99% intact from the original, just moving things around to fit recent developments in this version. Everything else just 'fit' and I'm so happy for it.

Like- don't get me wrong I feel *bad* for Miss Militia but this was indeed a scene in the original that secured a special place in my heart for Hannah

My thanks to @Icipall and Xegzy for their work as Betas

Now as discussed before this story will be going on a short break while I finish Exodus and officially turn it into the only completed Post GM worm Fic out there :p

I don't intend the hiatus to be long but Exodus must be finished before I pick this up again. "Switching gears" so to speak is very difficult ESPECIALLY during an "ending" which I personally find to be extremely hard to write.

Anywho, hope you all enjoyed.

Last edited: Aug 6, 2022

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Ld1449

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Ld1449

Ld1449

To the last, Kill them all

Oct 3, 2022

#6,148

5.3

When I walked into Dollerants office, I was surprised to find the tiny director not at her desk, but sitting down by a set of plush chairs and a coffee table on the side of the room.

She sat almost slouching in her seat, apparently sucking on a candy piece from the crystal bowl on the coffee table.

Behind me, Sills cleared his throat. "Director; Ms. Hebert."

The woman raised up her hand, making a humm of acknowledgement as she beckoned me over.

So, I walked over.

Sills waited by the door, hands clasped behind his back.

As soon as I made it within speaking distance the director offered me a small smile, leaning over to grab hold of the bowl and holding it out to me. "Candy?"

I looked at the collection of small candy pieces, shaking my head, barely hearing myself mumble: "No thanks."

She nodded, placing the bowl back down on the coffee table before gesturing for me to take my seat.

That I did do.

The silence was tense and for me, awkward.

I knew what I was here to talk about.

I'm not sure I ever wanted to talk about it.

But the words that came out of her mouth were not the ones I expected.

"If you have no objections, I'll be lowering the confinement level from level three down to level one. You'll be allowed to leave the base on certain days into the general public with minimal escort. Your access to on base facilities will be returned to standard probationary Ward access as opposed to restricted monitored access as it is now. Sergeant Sills will still be your handler of course and your sessions with Miss Yamada will continue, but you will find it much less stifling I'm sure."

"Why?"

The question slipped out without me even realizing.

Dollerant however didn't seem surprised, her head tilting, resting her cheek on her fist, which was propped on the armrest of her chair.

"You demonstrated that we can trust you." She answered simply, meeting my eyes with a… disquieting intensity. "Not many would have gone to help the person who caused their trigger, Miss Hebert. That action deserves recognition."

I didn't answer, my gaze being the first to break away, staring at a spot along the floor.

"What's gonna happen to her?" I asked.

It'd been almost a week since… everything. And I wasn't quite so proud as to lie and say I wasn't hiding.

It wasn't even Emma I was hiding from… not exactly, anyway.

It was more- everything. Her, the PRT, Miss Militia, her parents.

But most of all that look in her eye. The one she had when I promised I wouldn't leave her.

It wasn't happiness, nothing quite so simple; it wasn't even relief or gratitude or, dare I say it, love.

It was something closer to worship.

It scared me and not for the first time I had to wonder what had happened to her.

Dollerant took a breath. "Are you sure you'd like to discuss this?" she asked.

I startled, then stiffened.

I turned, looking at Dollerant again, feeling my lips pressing together, the edges of my eyes tightening.

"You want to recruit her." Not a hard conclusion to reach. The PRT wanted to recruit capes. All of them, no matter who they were.

Dollerant stared at me, still sucking on her candy, her lips pursed with the action rather than any particular emotion.

"Want does not come into it." She said after another brief moment. "Classified as a high level shaker, mentally unstable at that- she is a parahuman that must be accounted for, one way or another.

"You've already decided what to do-" I spat. "-so why am I here?"

She shifted looking at me. "Just because something will happen, doesn't mean it has to happen in the worst way."

I felt my my features scrunch up, incredulity blooming to the surface. "You want me to what? Set her patrol schedule or something."

"I want you to tell me what it is you would like to happen." She answered succinctly, leaning forward to pluck another candy from her bowl. "I won't promise everything you want can be done, but your wants do carry weight Ms. Hebert. Ms. Barnes has yet to require two triumvirate members to calm down after all."

I narrowed my eyes. "I don't like being jerked around."

Get me to talk about what I wanted, make me feel 'better' about it and then apologise when barely anything I wanted could be done. Blackwell had done it- early on at least. When she didn't want me running home or making too much of a fuss. When she wanted to establish the status quo.

The PRT wanted Emma as a Ward, they already had me- basically in a cell. All they had to do was establish a new status quo…

Dollerant eyed me, the silence settling thickly between us.

"Ms. Hebert." She began. "If every time we open our mouths to speak with you you'll only assume the worst, I'm afraid this will be a very long road to recovery indeed."

"Don't blame me for this." I spat back.

"Blame?" She raised her eyebrows. "Is blame entering the conversation? I'm merely stating reality. I am not Director Piggot. Not quite as tall you see." She reached forward, plucking another candy from the bowl.

"Procedure in this instance is clear. Emma Barnes is now a PRT matter Ms. Hebert. There's no avoiding that. But if you can give me something-" She pressed. "Terms and conditions if you will. Like I said- I can't promise you everything will be as you want it. But I can be honest with you. And I think that counts for something."

It did.

Maybe it was a platitude. Maybe it was just a perfect period to mark how low I'd gone that simple honesty could be considered a win.

I heard the door open, turning to look over my shoulder. I saw Sills leaning his head out of the door, talking with a trooper.

I turned back to Dollerant, finding the woman watching me.

"Take your time to think. No matter your ultimate answer, you won't be punished. Ms. Barnes' well-being is ultimately not your responsibility. No one can force you to care for your abuser, love, and if any director tries after I'm gone, feel free to punch them."

An image flitted through my mind, me punching Director Piggot, and I snorted, amusement tugging at the corner of my lips.

Sills approached.

"Sorry for interrupting." He said gruffly, looking at me for a moment before leaning over towards Dollerant.

I couldn't hear the words, and Sills was careful enough to turn away so I couldn't see his lips moving.

The only word I managed to pick up in the conversation was 'Militia'.

Dollerant startled, leaning away as Sills pulled back to look at the man.

She didn't say a word before turning to me. "I'm afraid we'll have to pick this up another time, love. Something's come up."

Something always does.

Dollerant moved to stand, and even standing she beat me in the height department. "Consider what I've said, and remember that tomorrow you'll be meeting with Mouse Protector along with the other Wards."

I nodded. That I did remember. She showed up yesterday evening if I recall correctly.

She patted me on the shoulder before she marched out.

I sat there, stewing in my own thoughts for a time before I got up and went to my room to sleep.

(X)(X)(X)

The next day marked a busy day for me.

Too bad I didn't get much sleep; thoughts swirling in my mind regarding… everything.

Emma, Miss Militia, Dollerant, Aunt Zoe. My sleep was a fitful, barely a thing, taken in fits and brief windows of black before my eyes opened with the wheels of my thoughts rolling ever onward.

The day started as it usually did, breakfast with Sills, but then some free time. Because today was visitation day.

Dad always came, even if it was just for a few hours, he always came. Vicky showed up too when she had a chance between school and patrol. Dad would usually be gone by then.

The clock struck 12:00.

Not a minute sooner or later, my door opened. I caught sight of Sills, then I saw Dad.

"Hey, Kiddo." He smiled.

"Hi, Dad." I answered, my voice soft.

I set aside my book, standing and walking over to offer a hug.

I hear Sills close the door with an audible clack. He'd be waiting outside in case we wanted an escort to the exercise yard to get some air, or go for a walk.

I pulled away and looked up, seeing my dad smiling.

There were bags under his eyes, wrinkles that hadn't been there before, strands of gray in his thinning hair.

"You okay?" I asked.

"I'm fine, Tay, I'm fine... How about you? You doing ok with…" He looked around his features twisting. "Everything?

I forced myself to smile. To lie just a little bit..

Dad wasn't the biggest fan of the situation. I didn't think anyone would be. But you learned to deal with it eventually. I didn't even notice anymore unless I wanted to feel angsty.

"I'm fine, Dad." I waved away his concern, turning to walk towards the couch.

"How've you been doing since last Tuesday?" He pressed. "I… I heard there was an incident with the Barnes."

I tried not to stiffen. "There was." I said carefully. "It's… complicated.

Dad's features tightened, I saw his fists clench, shaking at his sides. "Do I need to talk with Alan?"

The way he said talk made me think he meant something far more violent.

"No. No, just..." I sighed, rubbing my head. "Don't worry… let's just talk about something else, ok." I didn't need Emma spoiling this too.

He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath, calming himself.

"Alright." He breathed after a moment. "How's school work?"

I gestured behind me to the array of school books across the desk."Arcadia's been lenient, and Vicky's been sharing some of her notes with me."

They'd been very lenient, considering I don't attend and just send in the assignments with the others.

"That's good, right?" He asked.

I nodded, more for his sake than mine.

I liked school once. I liked learning once. My first few months at Arcadia had rekindled that to a certain degree.

But now… it was hard to see much of a point in it.

I'd never have a normal job. I doubted I'd ever need a diploma, a normal education. Powers, my powers specifically, the nature of it made that moot.

I felt like I was being railroaded in a way.

I had to be part of the PRT now. I was too dangerous to be let go.

Or, I'd just be a villain fighting against them.

Either way, beyond my own interest… school felt pointless. And right now it was hard to find any interest.

I pushed away these thoughts, keeping them from my face as I looked back to my Dad.

"How about you?" I asked. "How's your work been going?"

"Better than normal actually." He admitted, smiling softly. "With Lung dead, the Empire laying low and Legend having been here recently, some of the Dockworkers have managed to secure decent contracts for the, ahh… rebuilding."

He trailed off, realizing the sensitive subject.

Brockton Bay was rebuilding because of me. Because I'd burnt down half the town.

I shrugged, smiling as best I could. "Well… I'm glad some good came of it at least."

(X)(X)(X)

Soon enough, Dad left. He could have stayed, but we were never big talkers even at the best of times, and rather than let us sit in our own silence and awkwardness I urged him to head home and get some rest. He looked like he needed it.

I passed the time on the computer. Dad had piqued my curiosity as to the goings on in the greater world, and the news was still free last I checked.

Lung's death is what dominated the news, even now. He wasn't a cape anyone thought could be killed, let alone would be killed by someone who only just appeared one day. As powerful as Surtr was already known to be, Lung was Lung.

The ABB was reeling and the Empire was already making inroads into their territory, though there were still two villains that they might have to contend with before long.

Even the Merchants weren't quiet. Starting to make moves in their own little slice of grounds, especially around Coil's previous holdings.

No violence yet. But the general consensus was it was only a matter of time.

It was… Brockton Bay.

That's the only word I really had for it.

Before long, my alarm started, reminding me of the time. I shut off the computer, starting to get dressed.

By the time I was dressed in my costume, Sills was already knocking on my door.

"Hebert." He said in greeting. "Ready to go?"

I nodded.

By the time we made our way to the operation room, most of the Wards were already there; Vista, Kid Win, Gallant, Clock and Aegis.

When I walked in, the others turned to look at me. My helmet was off because, frankly, it was sort of pointless. it's not like anyone in this building didn't already know my face.

Another door opened and Vicky, Panacea, Shielder and Laserdream marched in. I found myself smiling, Vicky smiling back, megawatt bright as she floated around the room, saying hi to everyone and offering me a hug.

I stiffened, returning it quickly before she pulled away.

Vicky didn't seem to mind. "So, where's Mouse Protector?"

"New Boss is on her way." Vista said, playing with her phone or something before looking up towards me. "You meet her yet?"

I shook my head. "No. Have you?"

"Nah." The younger girl offered a shrug. "No one has yet, I just thought since you were on base, maybe…"

I offered a shrug. "No. I think she showed up relatively late last night. She was probably catching up with the Protectorate members."

"And today is our turn." Dean nodded. "Makes sense."

Before much more could be said, another door leading to the conference room opened.

"Good evening, boys and girls. Sorry for our late arrival but we were somewhat held up." Dollerant wasted no time speaking as she entered the room.

There was someone behind her, a woman with a black suit and a short shoulder cape that reached down to her mid-back, navy blue in color. Her mask covered her eyes, the bridge of her nose and part of her forehead where two round mouse ears were sticking out. Her hair was shoulder length. Outside of her height, probably being able to stand at eye level with my dad, she could very easily blend into a crowd.

"This is the new hero commander of the PRT ENE. For those of you who have yet to make her acquaintance, this is Mouse Protector, transferred here yesterday from our holdings in Las Vegas, Protectorate Headquarters Department Twenty-Nine."

"Hello my minio-I mean, Brockton Bay Wards plus friends! Soon we will march with legions to take over the city, and then, the world!" She smiled as she spread her arms wide.

Dollerant turned and glared.

"Okay, fine." She huffed before clearing her throat, her smile and posture becoming more… normal. "Well, since I now have to be a responsible adult, let's start over. My name-" She gestured to herself. "Is Mouse Protector, as you've heard. And it's a pleasure to make your acquaintances."

Dennis raised his arm.

"Ye-"

"Ah ah. No." Dollerant interrupted. "Put your hand down Mr. Cook. I've already learned better even in my short term here."

"Aren't my questions importan-"

"No."

Dollerant, Missy, Dean, Carlos and Vicky spoke in complete unison.

Clockblocker looked around the room, huffed and crossed his arms.

"Don't worry." Mouse Protector said. "From that, I can tell that in ten years they'll be making you head of some Protectorate branch somewhere! Like me!"

Dollerant's hand found its proper place on her forehead.

Mouse Protector chuckled. "Alright, alright, I'll be good." She looked at us. "Well, I hope to get to know you all over the next few weeks. But if there's anything you'd like to share now, or ask me, go ahead."

Dennis raised his arm. "Legit question this time! I swear"

"Oh, so you admit the other wasn't a legit question?" Mouse Protector smirked.

"...I plead the fifth. Anyway, you were in Vegas before this, right? Got any interesting stories to tell?"

"This was a legit question?" Vista deadpanned. Dennis seemingly glared at her.

"A few." Mouse protector spoke before anything else could be said between the two. She smiled. "You'll have to ask me when I'm less busy though."

"Ma'am." Carlos spoke. "Forgive me if I sound rude but, have you led a Protectorate division efore?"

"Not exactly." She smiled with the seemingly easy answer. "I worked as a deputy lead for Myrddin once or twice when I was stationed there. But that was a week or two at a time at most. My main experience with leading Parahuman teams is in attack groups in offensives. The Teeth, Valefor, even the Slaughterhouse Nine once before. It's not the same, but that's where the bulk of my experience comes from."

Carlos nodded, seemingly satisfied

Chris raised his arm next.

"Yeeeees?"

Chris hesitated. "Well… I… ummm. I don't…"

"Mr. Win. I promise you she won't bite." Dollerant drawled. I couldn't tell for sure, but she seemed mildly amused.

"Ahhh. I don't wanna offend her-I mean you. But."

Dennis slammed his hand down on the table. "Chris has a crush on Mouse Protector! This is a date proposal! Sound the presses!" He yelped as he jumped back, rubbing his shin where, apparently, Vista had kicked him and then yelped again when Laserdream smacked the back of his head.

"No I don't!" Chris shouted, aghast. Mouse Protector slowly turned towards him, and he seemed to realize he'd just insulted his boss. "No, I mean, you're totally crushable but I-No wait, that's not what it sounds like."

Dennis chortled through his nose, covering his head from the many blows Vista was raining down on his skull from across the whole room.

"I was just gonna say that your power doesn't sound very powerful. I mean… we have Nazi's and a suicide bombing teleporter and I'll just shut up now…"

"And I have tangoed with the Slaughterhouse Nine, left Mannequin stunned and bewildered with my most fabulous art of dance." She snarked back, smiling, then shrugged. "Nah, I'm not the strongest in the world. But I've learned a few tricks. Not to blow my own whistle, but Hooky and Kaiser will bite off a bit more than they expected to chew with me."

Chris didn't seem convinced.

I wasn't sure.

Mouse Protector was one of the original Wards. For her to have lived this long… there had to be more to her than just teleporting.

"So, any other questions?" She asked.

I looked up at her. Stared at her, really.

Mouse Protector as the new hero commander…

Why?

Why was she here? Why couldn't any other of the heroes here be hero commander? Dollerant picking her own guy for the job? Or was it…

"Ms. Hebert, right?"

Her voice startled me, and I snapped my gaze up, finding her smiling at me.

"You look like you'd like to ask something."

Several somethings. But all of them sounded hostile. And none were things I wanted to bring up in front of everyone here.

I shook my head.

"You sure?" She teased.

"I got a question." Vicky spoke up beside me, frowning at the heroine. "Why are you singling her out!?"

"Vicky." Panacea hissed beside Shielder.

But Vicky didn't back down, glaring at Mouse from across the table.

The woman held up her hands. "Well…" She drawled. "There's a bright pink elephant in the room and I think it's best if we poke it rather than letting it sit making the room all stuffy."

She turned back to me, her smile still there but more… subdued.

"So…" she took her seat and then, quietly, removed her helmet, staring at me without a mask. "No jokes. No teasing. If there's anything you'd like to ask me, anything you're worried about. That's what these talks are for."

I felt my teeth grinding, almost working the words through my voice box, like grinding stones across sandpaper.

I was grateful to Vicky then, not just because she stood up for me… but because she opened the door so to speak.

"Why'd you take this posting?" I asked. "You yourself admitted you don't have experience with its requirements."

"No one is born knowing." She answered. "I think I'm a quick study. For example, I think you have an answer in your head right now. And if my answer is different, you'll think I'm lying."

"Are you going to answer?" I asked pointedly.

She shrugged. "The answer you think is right is that Militia was my teammate in the Wards and Colin was my friend. You think I'm holding a grudge. Am I in the ballpark?"

I said nothing.

I saw Dollerant's eyes shifting between the two of us, along with most of the other Wards. Vicky's fists shook as she clenched them.

Mouse Protector didn't look away from me, nor did her small smile fall. "I don't hold grudges. Not in this business." She promised. "I know what happened. I know what didn't happen. And what's still happening." She nodded. "I think a lot of mistakes were made, by a lot of people. Too many people. But holding grudges for mistakes is stupid. It doesn't change anything. Doesn't solve anything. Doesn't even make you feel better at the end of the day. All you can do is pick yourself up and learn from the mistakes."

She shrugged. "In short, don't be sorry. Don't be angry. Do better. It's just that simple."

This time when she looked at me there was a seriousness there I hadn't seen before, if it was honesty or intensity… I couldn't say. "But I think you'd be hard pressed to believe that, hm?"

I said nothing, and I felt the awkward tension from the others.

She nodded. "Nothing I can really say will set you at ease, right? So… how about a 'wait and see' approach? Hopefully you'll be pleasantly surprised." She smiled, then stood up, marched clear around the table, walking up towards me.

As she reached my side she half-leaned, half sat at the lip of the table beside me

"That sound fair?"

I looked at her. "Not like I have a choice."

She was still smiling. "Here's hoping that changes. I look forward to working with ya."

She looked around the room. "Anyone else?"

This time Laserdream was the one that raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Pelham?"

"Yeah, I kinda dropped by because we haven't heard anything from you. Armsmaster worked with us, as in the younger members of New Wave from time to time, so we were wondering if that was gonna change with you?"

"Why would it?" She shrugged. "To be honest, I'm planning on keeping you guys in the loop more than Halbeard did."

"Oh?" Next to me, Victoria seemed surprised. "Why?"

"You're useful." She answered simply. "And we're gonna need the backup if we're actually gonna take advantage of the recent ass kickings, beat the shit out of what's left of E88 and then have Oni-Lee overdose on knockout drugs in his soup or whatever. We'll make it up as we go along."

I blinked.

Make it up as we- She's joking right?

(X)(X)(X)

Someone, somewhere, let it be known that I had increased freedoms now. That was all Victoria needed to hear to happily drag me out of the base.

I didn't complain. I hadn't left the base in what felt like forever and even if Vicky just wanted to go shopping, simply seeing other people beyond PRT troopers, workers and heroes easily made the trip worth it.

Luckily, she didn't want to go shopping.

Vicky took me straight to an ice cream shop that made, and I'm quoting: "The greatest, most heavenly mixtures of ice creams and awesomeness."

Her words, not mine.

We weren't in costume when we got our orders of course, but some people still recognized Vicky, she took her time posing for some pictures and greeting her fans, leaving me to sit and enjoy being off base for the first time in what felt like forever.

Finally, Vicky sat down, my vanilla caramel mixture squaring off against… whatever monstrosity she called a shake with too many flavors and too many ingredients.

"Ok." She breathed after a few large gulps. "We're out. No cameras, no Sills, no nothing." She planted her cheek over her palm, elbow resting on the table. "So talk to me girl, you ok?"

I shrugged. "It is what it is. I've learned to deal with it."

"Well yeah, but like- I heard something went down a few days ago that's eating at you. No details though."

Something- Emma?

"Dean told you?" I asked, more as a way to stall for time than anything. "Goddamnit, Gallant."

"Look, all he said is that there's a fresh trigger and that you and her have a complicated history." She shrugged. "Come on, talk to me. Is it your ex or something?"

I balked.

"Why do you think I'm gay?" I sputtered.

Vicky blinked, then shrugged. "So not your ex then?"

"No!" I sighed, rubbing my forehead to stave off whatever headache wanted to show up at the mere thought of me and Emma…

Mercifully, Vicky slurped at her drink, letting me gather my thoughts.

"We were friends once." I said. "My best friend."

I saw the wheels turning in Vicky's head, the pieces clicking.

"But wait, you told me your best friend-"

Vicky's face… turned, a black rage passing over it as she slammed her cup down on the table, the metal denting with her wrist setting off a gunshot like bang in the outside sitting area.

"That bitch is the one who-"

"Shhh!" I hissed. Part of me was… grateful for the anger, but I didn't exactly need her screaming about this at the top of her lungs in the middle of the street.

A few people looked our way, but a nasty glare from Vicky got eyes looking away just as quickly.

The New Wave heroine stood up, starting to pace, milkshake forgotten on the table.

"This is bullshit!" She snarled. "And they want to, what, put her on the team? With you!"

My head lowered, eyes casting down.

"She's-"

"No!" She cut me off. "Nuh-uh. You're about to say some stupid shit and make excuses for her!"

My mind returned to Emma's living room, the state she was in, her feet cut and torn, hair a mess, muttering and mumbling to herself in the cold.

Is it an excuse if it's true?

"She's crazy." I said. I was ready to say more when she kept talking over me.

"And that's not your problem." She plonked herself down on her seat, scooting it closer. "You're allowed to move on from this girl. Whether the PRT likes it or not, and especially whether she likes it or not! She's got to go, or I swear on her first patrol I'mma shove the bitch off the pier. And you can tell Director Short Stuff I said that!"

I felt a smile tug at my lips, wondering what either of those things would look like.

Vicky grumbled to herself, enough anger for the both of us.

I was just tired.

"Do the other Wards know!?" She suddenly demanded.

I was surprised, "Dean knows." I pointed out.

She snorted. "Dean's an empath, he finds out everything. I'm talking about everyone else.

I wasn't sure, but shook my head after a moment. "I don't think so. They may have heard rumors but not the details."

She snorted. "Fucking figures. Pretty sure the PRT would have a riot on their hands if they did know.

I raised an eyebrow. "Why would they?"

"You're their friend, Tay." She said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"Not sure about that." I mumbled. "I nearly killed a lot of them."

"That was the Master!"

"Same difference."

"There *is* a difference!" She contested hotly. "You are not Surtr!"

…

No…

No I'm not.

We sat in the silence for a moment caught up in our own thoughts, our respective milkshakes largely forgotten.

"Can you send a complaint up the chain of command?" She asked. "Like formally or something? Talk to Legend?"

I blinked. I hadn't considered that. "Would it change anything?"

"It wouldn't hurt!" She hissed. "Come on Tay! If you let them set the tempo that's exactly what they're going to do! Set up your own damn rules! Or at least go down swinging! Maybe I should try talking to mom again.

I opened my mouth, ready to ward off that idea. I didn't need Vicky fighting with her mom again because of me.

Then I stopped…

The faintest kernel of an idea took hold, her words replaying in my mind

(X)(X)(X)

That very evening, when I returned to base, I didn't waste time. If I did I might start thinking again and if anything was true, it was that I needed to get the hell out of my own head.

I found him in his office, filling out paperwork. It occurred to me I'd never actually seen him in his office before now.

"Ms. Hebert." He greeted with a nod. "Did you need something?"

I took a deep breath-

Moment of truth.

"I want to speak with her."

Sills raised an eyebrow, features tightening as he thought. "Her?"

"The Director wants my input right?" I demanded. "That's what she said at least. So- let me talk to her."

I saw the recognition in his eyes, but beyond the slight widening there, he gave no other outward sign as to what he thought.

"Get me that-" I challenged. "And I'll tell the Director exactly what I want to happen."

For a moment, Sills didn't move and I wondered if the PRT would just dissapoint me again before we'd even started.

Then, he leaned back in his seat, stretched out his hand and picked up his phone off the cradle.

A moment passed.

"Director-" He said- "Ms. Hebert has a request."

(X)(X)(X)

"I trust you understand that both of you will be monitored." Dollerant said as she walked with me.

"Is it because you don't trust me or her?" I muttered as Sills adjusted a microphone on my collar.

The room had its own recording devices, but Emma had already demonstrated some subset of her shaker ability to nullify sounds so backup mics weren't exactly unreasonable.

Dollerant eyed me "Ms. Hebert, I've already said I trust you. And I believe I have and am demonstrating that. This is however a delicate situation."

I… suppose that was fair.

In truth, a strange mixture of emotions roiled in my stomach.

Of course there was the disquieting, nauseating thing that wasn't quite fear and yet was too close to it. But also a… fire… a sense of my taking control of something. Even if it wasn't the level of control I wanted, even if it wasn't the situation I wanted- I wasn't just sitting in a fucking room waiting for it to happen.

Vicky in that regard- was right.

Don't let them dictate the pace. Set your own pace and force them to follow the rules of it.

I could work with that

Sills finished, nodding to himself. "You're set."

I nodded, taking a breath before I turned, approaching the door to the interrogation room.

I heard Sills and Dollerant move to the observation room; I wondered, briefly if Zoe and Alan were in there as well.

My hand hovered over the doorknob, feeling my nerves coiled like thorns under my skin before I stamped that down.

I don't owe her my nervousness.

I don't owe her anything at all.

My hand turned the knob.

I saw her head snap up when I entered, green eyes watching me with a wide stare, like she was trying to burn my presence into her retinas.

I shut the door behind me, standing by the entrance.

"Emma." I said.

I saw her wince. "H-hey Tay."

"Taylor." I corrected, sharper perhaps, than I intended.

But I couldn't regret it, even as I saw her wince.

I couldn't… I couldn't let her…

I took a deep breath. Forcing myself to step away from the door and towards the seat across from her.

I pulled the chair out, the sound of its feet sliding across the floor felt loud to both of us.

Emma kept her eyes fixed on the table.

I didn't so much let the silence linger- as opposed to not really knowing how to fill it.

So… I just got to the point.

"You want to stay with me." It wasn't a question. "Tell me why."

I didn't look at her, I actually faced away from her, my eyes on a spot on the wall.

"I…" She swallowed. "I have to make things right."

"And what if" I emphasized the word. "I said you can't?"

Emma whimpered, curling in on herself as if I'd just struck her.

"Don't say that." She pleaded. "Please don't say that."

I took a deep breath, my eyes trailing up to the ceiling, feeling emotion roiling in my chest.

"Emma-" I started.

…

No. It doesn't matter.

She's going to be involved whether I like it or not. This… this doesn't do anything.

I adjusted my seat, now bringing myself to face her.

She looked down at the table, her whole face just… crumpled. Tears burned down her cheeks and she actually seemed to be trembling.

"You want to make it right?" I demanded.

She looked up, and again the look she gave me- that look of utter and complete devotion, hanging on my every word… turned my stomach.

How easy would it be to use this to hurt her? To rip the rug out from under her like she'd done to me so many times before.

Too easy… So easy that the niggling temptation at the back of my mind scared me.

"Don't take a fucking shortcut." I pushed through.

She looked confused, not really understanding.

"The PRT is gonna offer you a deal." I clarified. "If they haven't already. If you want to make it right don't fucking take a shortcut out of your sentence… it was nine months right?"

She nodded, earnest and eager. "Y-yes. Nine months. Ho-house arrest and mandatory therapy with Doctor Wilson twice a wee-"

"Then you stay." I pushed through, wondering if Dollerant was gonna tear down that door in a few minutes.

"You stay." I repeated. "You do your time. You don't weasel out through Wards membership and IF in four more months you do what you need to…" I swallowed. "Then we'll talk about you joining the Wards here in Brockton Bay rather than going to Boston or New York then."

I expected a lot of things, resignation, solemn acceptance. Anger especially.

The gratitude on her face wasn't one of those possibilities.

She nodded, the faintest smile tugging at her lip. Sheer relief lighting up her face, letting her recapture some of the beauty that she'd once prided herself in.

"Okay." She promised. "Okay."

I stood, hovering awkwardly across the table from her. She looked at me and I was the first to look away.

I wondered if I should say goodbye. If I should say something.

I didn't.

I turned and walked away.

Opening the door, I was surprised to find the hall empty.

I turned and walked towards the observation room.

Opening the door, I was surprised to find it was only Sills and Dollerant present in the room.

I looked around. "Zoe and Alan."

Dollerant pointed. "Watching in the camera room." She said, gesturing towards the security cam in the corner. "We didn't want Mr. or Ms. Barnes… overreacting."

I… suppose I appreciated that.

Still, a thought struck me. "Is that legal?"

Dollerant eyed me. "Hmm. I'll have to check. Its certainly no more questionable than promising that girl a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow."

I stiffened.

"You wanted me to tell you what I thought would be acceptable. That's it." I said. "She does her time. I don't think its unreasonable for the PRT to wait four months. For them to get their shaker eight."

Her lips made an acknowledging frown, nodding. "Indeed. In fact, I'd go so far as to say its an elegant solution."

"It's kicking the can down the road." Sills rumbled.

"I distinctly remember one particular problem being her current lack of stability." Dollerant nodded. "Time helps I think. Nice work Ms. Hebert."

I blinked.

"I… what."

"Good work." She repeated.

I blinked again.

"Piggot would have been furious." I pointed out.

In fact, she might still be furious. Just better at hiding it.

"I am not Director Piggot." She repeated. "And I can hardly force the girl to accept a deal. She has already been sentenced. And if she does not want out of that sentence… well… my hands are tied. The parents might try but ultimately the decision is hers."

I stared at the woman, who still stared resolutely forward at the room where Emma sat, that tiny barely there hopeful smile still on her lips.

"That can't be all you want to tell me." I demanded.

I'd just undercut her. Brazenly. I didn't know a lot about command but I knew that didn't exactly fly *anywhere*.

"Well, there is one thing I can say." She mumbled.

Finally she turned to me.

She didn't look angry, though there was an intensity in her features. "You've given her something." She said. "This time very deliberately. In four months when this comes home to roost Ms. Hebert… don't become what you hate, hmm?"

I felt my stomach turn.

I didn't have to ask what she was talking about. I knew. And the thought of how easy it would be to rip the floor out from under this Emma returned again at full bore.

I didn't promise her anything… I said we'll see in four months.

I… I'm not like that.

"Can I go?"

Dollerant nodded. "Of course."

I turned and left, back to my room.

As the mixture of emotions churned and heaved within me… I felt something unclench from inside my chest. Like iron chains coming unwound, I suddenly felt like I could breathe again that little bit easier. Like that crushing force was that bit less overwhelming.

I'm not helpless…

I'm not powerless.

I may not be able to control everything. The situation might not be one I like.

But that doesn't mean I just have to lay down and take it.

(X)(X)(X)

Ok, so lets break down what went wrong originally and what merited these changes here.

To oversimplify things to an extreme degree- the primary root of the problem in the original version of 5.3, the source of all the issues is that I myself got an absolutely MASSIVE case of Tunnel Vision.

Perhaps it was because of the previous arguments regarding Emma and the PRT and such across the threads that I ended up reverting to simply digging in my heels when things in my own head didn't feel 'right' as I was writing this chapter. Perhaps it was because my use of the original story and my promise/desire to adhere to many of its core occurences (which Emma is a major part of) that I simply resigned myself to this being the "best it was gonna get" and I simply stopped exploring options in my head.

But for whatever reason, I tunnel visioned FUCKING HARD on this one.

Originally the plan is simple, for Taylor to feel 'helpless' for these events (Dollerant, MP, Yamada Etc) and Vicky would be the one stepping up to the plate to bat for her. This allows for previous events to show that they carry significant weight and they're not just being brushed off by Taylor but also to firmly cement Vicky's place as her best friend in this continuity. And in the NEXT chapter (5.4) Taylor would cut out the middle man, go straight to Emma and get HER to do what TAYLOR wants. "You wanna make things right. Ok Fine. Here are my terms. PRT here are my terms."

This was ALWAYS meant to happen. But I *felt* like my hands were tied because I wanted previous events to SHOW that they've left a big mark on her; and it was during the discussions in the thread after this chapter that I recognized "These two states are NOT mutually exclusive. I DON'T have to completely 'give up' Taylor feeling frustrated or helpless by giving her agency and impetus again. I DON'T have to forgo all innitiative on Taylor's part while she's "stuck"

So the solution, the one staring me in the face the whole goddamn time was to simply allow both things to exist "at once" just within margins of severity of eachother

Thus, I simply upped the timetable a little bit.

I also made the mistake of *rushing* a lot of things.

In my haste to get past the "helpless phase" because I knew I couldn't keep it up for longer than this chapter 5.3 I was rushing through A LOT of important nuance and simply shoving it in readers faces with zero prep time, like Taylor still caring about Emma. I was *telling* you, rather than taking the time to properly show you and this last scene *shows* a lot more than it simply tells in a lot of subtle and not so subtle ways.

For those who liked Yamada's talk with Taylor that will be present again in a chapter or two (recontextualized of course to be post this event)

But all n all, this chapter 5.3 is NOT one that I regret *at all* and in terms *value* I'd say that this is by far the most personally valuable chapter I'd written in a good long while because it really did teach me/remind me of A LOT of things.

I will definitely extend my thanks to ina_meishou for the very calm pointed and invaluable discussion in the PMs that largely influenced this adjustment.

Last edited: Oct 3, 2022

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Ld1449

Oct 3, 2022

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Ld1449

Ld1449

To the last, Kill them all

Oct 30, 2022

#6,215

5.4

"How do you feel about it?"

"That's a cliche question." I muttered, sitting on the couch.

"And that is textbook avoidance." She answered with a small, barely there smile, showing that she was joking.

I would have shrugged, but…

"What do you want me to say?" I groused. "That I feel bad about it? Does it even matter at this point?"

"What you feel always matters." She assured.

This time I did snort.

"Even if it doesn't materially change things in the world around you, it changes you and the context of your actions and mindset, Taylor." She insisted.

"That sounds like a platitude."

"But it isn't incorrect." She insisted, her hands lacing together over her lap. "You're bothered by what happened, aren't you?"

"What kind of question is that?" I groused again.

"One you shouldn't avoid." She pressed. "Answer, please."

I glared at her, feeling my fingers tense, gripping the edge of the seat I was on. "Of course I'm bothered by it."

"Which part?"

I felt my features scrunch up. "What do you mean?"

"There are many parts to be bothered by." She said by way of explanation. "Ms. Barnes current mental state, how you felt cornered into making that decision, the decision itself." She offered a small shrug. "As I said before, context, your context specifically, always matters. And I think it might help you to voice your concerns. To… make it more than just a vague idea." She explained.

I took a breath, casting my sight towards the ceiling as I tried to think.

"All of it?" I scoffed after a moment. "It's all shit."

"It is." She nodded. "But categorize it for me… what's the part that bothers you the most."

I sat there, thinking for a good, long while.

"I hate…" I stopped, pressing my lips tightly together.

"Finish the thought." She insisted.

"I hate that I have to give a damn…"

I saw her raise an eyebrow. "Are you saying that you hate that you feel pressured by the PRT to take an interest, or that you have an interest simply because it is Ms. Barnes and your history together?"

I glared, then shrugged. "Both?" I scoffed, standing up and beginning to pace. "After everything, either I'm so fucked up that I, for some fucking reason, can't bring myself to not care about her like she deserves, or the PRT wants me to care about someone I shouldn't. So yeah. Both seem like really valid answers."

"It is." She nodded. "But it's important to address our problems one at a time, so giving voice to it is an important first step. Why is it that you think you still caring just on your own for Ms. Barnes is an inherent flaw in you?" She asked. "Most people would see that capacity as a virtue."

I turned, looking at her over my shoulder. "Don't want to talk about what the PRT wants instead?" I could feel the sneer curling my lip.

In answer, Yamada raised an eyebrow. "We can." She nodded. "But are you willing to trust in that conversation that I have your interests at heart rather than the PRT's agenda?"

I didn't.

Point taken I suppose.

I sighed. "What would you say to a woman getting beaten by her husband when she says that she 'still cares' when his life starts getting fucked up?" I glared at her. "I doubt you'd be quite so encouraging… at least while he's not a high level shaker or whatever."

She let the barb roll over her, eyes closing as she seemed to mull over the comparison.

"I can see the similarities, but also some of the key differences-" I snorted. "-and-" She continued, brushing past the objection I didn't voice. "-while no, I wouldn't encourage her if she wished to involve herself with her abuser, I would still say that her capacity to still care past that abuse still speaks well of her."

"But somehow this is 'different' so you encourage me to help her." I groused.

"I have not."

I raised an eyebrow.

She shrugged. "Not once have I encouraged you in any way to involve yourself with Ms. Barnes, Taylor. This-" She gestured between the two of us. "-conversation is about and has only been about how you feel about the situation, Ms. Barnes and yourself."

"But you still say it's a good thing." I accused.

"No." She held up a finger. "You… feel as though your 'still caring' is a failing of yours. That somehow you are either at fault or somehow… inadequate because of it. While wanting to involve yourself with Ms. Barnes and her situation isn't something I would necessarily encourage given everything and the standing situation, you showing empathy isn't something to be condemned."

She paused. "You aren't defective, Taylor… the fact that you default to that line of thinking concerns me. And forgive me for saying; that's… Ms. Barnes speaking."

I winced.

She either didn't notice, or pressed on regardless. "Empathy, forgiveness-" She gestured. "-these aren't bad in and of themselves and I don't want you to convince yourself that they are."

"I haven't forgiven her." I answered immediately.

I hadn't.

What happened to her might have shocked me. Might have made me… feel bad for her… but I hadn't forgiven her. We weren't friends again. I didn't trust her again

I don't think I could ever bring myself to trust her ever again.

She nodded. "I understand. But do you understand what I'm getting at?"

I closed my eyes, fingers running through my hair as I scratched harshly at my scalp.

…

…

"I think I'm done talking for today." I mumbled.

…

"Of course." She acquiesced.

(X)(X)(X)

Ever since my… recovery, I guess, I hadn't been in the Wards common room very much. Couldn't really bring myself to. I felt awkward. I felt tense and I'm sure the others must've felt the same.

Today however was different. My presence had been asked for.

"You sure you want me here?" I asked one more time

Aegis turned, looking at me. "You're a member of this team." He answered. "We're welcoming two new members. Why wouldn't you be here?"

He asked like it wasn't obvious and I had to wonder if he was just faking the politeness.

"Given everything they must've heard I'm not exactly a good 'welcome'-sign." If my voice was rather pointed, I don't think anyone could blame me.

He had the good grace to look chastised, bowing his head with the slightest cringe.

"You're not responsible for what happened."

It was Vista who spoke, making me turn to her. Clock and Gallant hadn't heard, apparently talking with Kid Win about something or other across the room, giving the three of us some small semblance of privacy.

Even so, I wasn't sure how to answer. She said that, Vicky said that. I believed that.

And yet, why did I also feel like I was?

"You're part of this team." Aegis continued. "So, I want you here."

There wasn't much I could say to that.

"Thanks." I mumbled instead.

Before much more could be said the warning alarm blared, and then the door whooshed open shortly after.

Mouse Protector marched in, behind her a young man made of metal and a girl with asian features.

They carried duffle bags over their shoulders, dressed in casual clothes, no masks on their faces, not that it'd do much good in Weld's case.

"Here we are." The new Protectorate commander, splaying out her arms like she was displaying a new car. "The Wards common room. Wards included! Package deal."

Clock chimed in from his corner of the room. "Package deal!? I'll have you know, I'm exclusively a Bargain Bin Ward!"

"And yet we still can't get rid of you!" Mouse sang.

Weld seemed to smile and Flechette, Lily, I remembered her name, laughed under her breath.

The metal boy was the one to march forward first, meeting Carlos with a handshake. "Weld." He introduced himself, more a formality than anything.

Flechette was next, stepping up beside her fellow transfer to offer her own hand, which was subsequently shaken. "Lily."

As the others came forward, either waving, shaking hands or simply saying their names, it was inevitable that eyes would eventually fall on me.

"Ashburn." I said simply.

Weld was harder to read, but Lily's eyes widening was fairly obvious.

There was a moment, a split second of silence where it took longer than it should have to respond, noticeable only by how stark it was next to the ease of the other introductions.

Then Weld stepped forward, offering his hand. "Nice to meet you." and his act gave Lily the impetus to push past her own hesitation, smiling again as she offered her own hand.

I greeted them as politely as I could, wishing for a moment that they hadn't found me last so that they could move onto greeting others and this wouldn't be quite as awkward as it was rapidly becoming.

Luckily, Mouse Protector either decided to come to my rescue, or always intended to speak up once the introductions were done.

Regardless of the reason, it certainly did help.

"Alright kids, new people or not, crime never sleeps, so we must patrol." She grinned, then pulled out a sheaf of paper from… somewhere.

"Patrol routes." She crooned. "Nice and simple for tonight, giving the newbies some easy runs. Boardwalk and Lords." She held out the page to Aegis, who took it quickly, beginning to read.

"Gallant, Flechette and I are on Lords." He said, turning the page. "Weld, Clock and-"

The hesitation was barely there. But it was there.

"Ash. Boardwalk."

Honestly, I couldn't blame him for the hesitation; not when I was so surprised.

I turned to Mouse Protector. "You're sending me on patrol?"

The woman shrugged, her smile still on her face. "The Director lowered your lockdown level, which means you're cleared for patrol. Figured you'd want to get some fresh air."

At my silence she offered a shrug.

"I can assign Vista to this patrol, if you like." She offered.

"It's a Boardwalk patrol." Vista scowled. "Can't we get one where something might actually happen!?"

"No! You need to hold Weld's hand when he crosses the street! He'll get lost!" The woman protested.

Weld nodded. "I have a terrible sense of direction."

It was delivered with such a flat deadpan I wasn't sure if he was joking or not.

I mean… he was new in town… he very well might get lost.

Missy did not look impressed.

I stared.

"No." I finally found my voice. "No… just surprised."

Her grin widened just a bit. "Great. Glad to hear it."

(X)(X)(X)

I sat on one side of the van, with Dennis on the other side as we rode in silence. Weld was actually lying down in the middle on a specialized mat/box, He couldn't, after all, be allowed to touch the metal of the truck's interior.

I let my thoughts drift towards Weld and Lilly.

Nominally, they were transferred in because of the loss of Brendan, Rory and Armsmaster.

But I couldn't help but notice that they could both contest me if needed.

Weld, a metal brute, by all measures heat resistant, and Flechette, able to punch projectiles through any armor.

Is it paranoia if they're out to get you?

I was still in my pre-costume, a spandex one-piece jumpsuit that was knife and bullet resistant, the ash in the crates hissed like sand, reacting to my mental fidgeting.

"What's on your mind?" I heard a voice and perked up, looking down to find Weld looking up at me with his silver eyes. "You look deep in thought."

"I am." I answer simply, then shrug. "Don't worry." I lied. "Just getting stuck in my own head."

"Oh that's a boring place to be in my experience." Dennis answered cheekily.

My look was unimpressed.

Weld hummed. "What can you tell me about the Boardwalk?"

"Very little open crime." I said, latching onto the change in subject.

"Open crime?' He asked.

"Gangs need legit businesses to launder money." I answer.

Dennis nodded. "We know of some businesses there which are fronts. But given that it's one of the few viable tourist spots, official policy is to keep the peace rather than rock the boat in that area. The gangs don't do anything there, so we won't either."

"So that's why Vista called this a pointless run?"

"It's not wholly pointless." Clock answered with a shrug. "The Boardwalk's security makes it seem like there are safe places in the city which is important in and of itself. Our presence helps that."

I didn't agree, but arguing with Clock would hardly change our official stance/response.

"Another thing is that while the Boardwalk is quiet, some areas around it are not. So if we get a call to those areas, it gives us a nice jumping off point."

That was in fact true. Patrols around this area were used as a means of rapid redeployment to help others who might need it given its "centralized" location.

Weld nodded as the van began to slow down.

"We're here, northeast Boardwalk." Said the driver over the speaker and Dennis reached over and opened the door as the van came to a stop. Clockblocker walked out while Weld shimmied and got off, and I could literally feel the van tip his way before he stepped out of it.

Heavy.

I sat up, and with a flick of my wrist the ash containers opened. I covered myself from head to toe, the armor taking shape as I walked out of the van and onto the concrete. We were in a parking lot of a community center, and I could notice the 'upper crust' homes lining the very edge of the Boardwalk apartment blocks.

"Patrol starts here." The agent said. "We'll pick you guys up at midnight at point B-F." The agent walked towards us, each giving us the PRT Hero-grade watches. "Velocity will be close by if you need any back up. Happy hunting." The agent walked back into the van and drove off.

I looked at Clockblocker. "Well, lead the way." I gestured. Clockblocker nodded, walking forward.

I looked back at Weld, seeing him walk in tandem with me and Dennis.

Before long the silence grew stiff and awkward. Weld, I could tell, didn't know what to say, not wanting to step onto a landmine of any kind.

I took a deep breath. I wasn't much better at conversations but at least I could try to fill the silence; otherwise this was going to be a very long, very boring patrol.

"So... how's school going?" I asked towards Dennis, trying my best.

"Well, it's been fine, I guess. Though a lot of people have been asking around for ya."

"For what?" I asked, confused on why they would want to do that.

Dennis shrugged. "They want to come see you. Give you flowers. Take selfies to spread the word on Facebook. Give you candy. Support."

...

"I see..." I said, unsure of what to say.

"Yeah, that's probably the gist of it. Victoria's friends are the ones asking around the most. Vicky's there, at least to try and protect your ID. It'd be weird her being your friend and then just turning around the next day and saying she doesn't care enough to check on you, ya know." Dennis said.

The thought of Emma brushed across my mind.

Not as strange as you think.

"Yeah." I answered instead.

Silence fell onto us again and we soon reached the Boardwalk "crossroads", a point where the pier split off, half to keep following the shore and another chunk jutting out into the ocean.

"Right." Weld nodded. "If I remember right you're breaking off here?" Weld asked Dennis who nodded.

"Yup. I'm on the pier. You guys keep going, we double back in five and meet back here." He instructed. If you see anything, don't engage. Call for backup, the usual MO."

Weld nodded. "Understood." Clockblocker gave off a salute and began jogging the other way. Me and Weld turned towards each other and nodded as we walked uphill.

The silence fell between us soon enough. Less awkward. Less oppressive. Not as much history. Not as many bad memories and ever present reality sitting there like an anvil.

I looked him out of the corner of my eye, wondering again if he was just called here to act as a wall that could fight against Surtr. Another tool in the toolbox.

"Why'd you choose to transfer here?" I asked.

"I was assigned." He answered with an easy shrug. "I don't have family, neither does Flechette, so transferring us is quite a bit easier than any other Wards."

…

Was it so simple? So… coincidental.

I doubted it… Or, that is to say, I chose to doubt it.

…

Is this how it's always going to be?

I looked at Weld.

"How did you manage it?"

"Manage what?" He asked with open confusion.

"Being a Case 53?"

The question would have been rude by any other standard, hell, it was rude now. But I honestly didn't care how rude it sounded. If this was gonna be the new norm, I had to know straight up what the hell to do for the rest of my immediate, and possibly long term future of people looking at me like I'm inherently dangerous.

"Deal with being a Case 53?" He paused.

For a long time he didn't answer.

"Case 53s have to deal with people being afraid of them, or treating them differently. So yeah, I'm asking."

He shook his head. "No, no, I understand. It's just… hardly anyone's ever been that blunt and it's not something I think about."

He took a breath. "Well… to be honest I probably have it easier in the 'dealing with it' part of people treating me 'different' because I don't remember a time before. A Case 53 doesn't remember a thing about their pasts so the bar is set pretty low."

"What was your first memory?" I asked. More out of curiosity than any consideration as to how it might benefit me.

"I just remember waking up in some… drug house in the middle of Foxborough. I moved out of the room, next thing I know some of the dealers and pushers there tried to shoot me. Let me tell you, when you wake up with a gun in your face and no idea that it can't hurt you, you don't think. Just act. I hit them and I hit them hard. Before I could even take stock of anything, three of em are dead, everybody else is runnin' out the building and the PRT is called in."

"You killed people?" That was… surprising.

He nodded. "Yeah. PRT understood. Fresh trigger, Case 53. They managed to determine I was still a kid somehow and honestly, sometimes I'm glad I can't remember a damn thing. If I woke up in that hole… what the hell was I even doing there? What kinda road was I walking down, ya know? It's better that I'm here than there. A hundred times better, even with all the baggage."

I nodded, understanding his point. I wasn't sure if it could also be applied to me specifically, but I got it.

"Anyway." He sighed. "I joined the Wards on probation in Boston. After a year, probation was up and they liked me. So I kept doin' what I was doin' to be a hero. As for how I deal with the looks I get… to be honest, I kinda don't. There are people that matter to me, and people that don't. And those who mind or look at me funny don't matter, and those who matter don't mind. I don't try to make myself perfect to please a bunch of strangers. Just do what you want. Be yourself."

I tilted my head.

He paused, seeming to realize just who exactly he was proposing this to and turned to look at me, a smile I'd describe as sheepish gracing his face as he gave a wry chuckle. "Not very helpful, am I?"

"I'm pretty sure there are a dozen people back at PRT that are probably lining you up for courses on what not to say." I nodded.

He sighed. "Well… in my view, what you did wasn't something you could control. And yeah, it was bad, and yeah, it happened and you ended up hurting a lot of people. That's something you're gonna have to come to terms with, and if the people around you find it hard to look at you, you and not Ashburn or Surtr or whatever, due to something that was beyond your control?"

He shrugged. "Then screw them."

"So you'd treat Ashburn and me separately?"

"Why not?" He shrugged. "You think just because I'm a Case 53 I don't keep my personal life and my hero life separate? I've got my friends that the 'Hero' Weld doesn't. It's just that simple. The people you care about shouldn't be held to a standard of a bunch of strangers, and a million strangers on PHO definitely shouldn't be held up to a standard as your friends. If that's not the case then something, somewhere, went very wrong."

I… nodded.

"Thanks."

He shrugged. "That's my take on it anyway."

(X)(X)(X)

Spoiler: Changelog

Ok so this chapter legitimately felt like pulling teeth for me. I'm not sure if its because I myself am bad at writing "small talk" or if perhaps I'd like to "get past this very necessary recovery period, knowing what's coming up next in the rewrite which is one of the major arcs of this story we've ALL been waiting for. But this chapter did not cooperate *at all* with me.

Hopefully the next chapters will go smoother. Partly because the Yamada scenes are already written for them (in large part). Then there's one multi-POV interlude before the big party.

For those of you who didn't know/get the memo Exodus, my big post Gold Morning fic is now complete, meaning I'll now be working on this fic exclusively until we reach 'Post Leviathan' at which point I'll likely start up a new project in a relatively ambitious (in scope) Crossover.

So these are the plans going forward. And I'm glad everyone's here for them :)

I've also started up a . Come join us there if you'd like to support us, we're close to the first community goal to start up a discord and there are more plans for different tiers to become available as I continue to write. Including help for others who want to write themselves with general tips and tricks, previews of future works and maybe even a book club. Gonna have plenty of fun :)

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Ld1449

Oct 30, 2022

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