no ex neoto

by thejarl7166

sun raaa

6. With Friends Like These

With Friends Like These, Prologue

On January Fifth, Two-Thousand-Eleven, The world changed forever. Though, it wasn't so much a change, as it was an unexpected dramatic shift of power. A shift of power to whom or what, only two things would tell: Time, and the person to make the change itself.

On January Fifth, for reasons unknown, The Simurgh, a despised, loathed enemy of the Human Race, vanished from the skies above Earth. Where she went, nobody could ascertain. On the same day, from the depths of the earth and its seas, The Behemoth and Leviathan, both equally as reviled as their sister, vanished as well, from all detectors and sensors able to perceive them. For all intents and purposes, the Endbringers had all vanished without a trace.

On January Fifth, Treaties and non-aggression pacts, enforced by a threat to the entirety of the human species, came into question and doubt. Enemies, enemies of enemies, eyed each other warily and suspiciously, plotting behind closed doors how to turn the abrupt disappearance of the Endbringers and the abrupt appearance of the power vacuum left in their wake to their advantage. New treaties, deals, and pacts began to form, as the ties that held the old ones together crumbled away. Nations eyed their weakened neighbors, plotting to stab them in the back. Allies weighed their alliances, and sworn enemies questioned their grudges.

On January Fifth, in the early hours of that Wednesday morning, a young man locked the front door of his home. Turning to go to work, he paused to wave a hand at the pretty young woman who had been leaving as well, next door. It was at that moment that he seized up, collapsing to the sidewalk unconscious, the neighbor he had turned to greet screaming in shock at the sight, before rushing to his side and calling 911. Several hours later, he would be visited in his hospital room by a number of people, none of them his relatives, but all with reason to be concerned.

On January Fifth, a bullied, teenaged girl was violently stuffed into a school locker full of human waste, in a downtrodden High School in Brockton Bay. Unlike the other seemingly much more major events that occurred on a Wednesday morning, it was this event that people would have paid attention to, had anyone known the utter magnitude of what the effects would have entailed.

On January Fifth, not that the date would have any meaning or relevance to it, a vast, unthinking intellect, itself a shard of an intellect much more vast than its own, became aware of a cry, more of a plea, for help. For someone, anyone to save her. It responded in kind, plucking three existences from the world, and sending them hurdling her way Changing her destiny and her world forever.

January Fifth was a Wednesday. A day that people, and that one girl in New England, would remember forever.

Taylor sank deeper into the bathtub, threatening to send water spilling out over the rim. At that moment she felt so utterly... lost. Forlorn. The first of her friends, if you could call them that, nuzzled up against her face, a scrunchie clutched in her tiny hands and a comb nabbed from Taylor's Bedroom clutched in her neatly folded wings, as she got to work scrubbing Taylor's shoulders and back. She's so cute, she thought to herself, before quickly realizing that a normal person shouldn't think that. They're enemies of the human race, and she shouldn't see them as being anything other than that.

And yet, they'd remained steadfastly loyal to her. They'd helped her in her greatest time of need. Had curled up in three little balls next to her as she fell asleep every night, had even helped her to the best of their abilities do chores One of them was scrubbing her back and washing her hair right now. She should hate them, but she simply couldn't. Because they were the only friends she had. Since after Emma.

They were cute, incredibly cute and adorable, like some sort of Earth Aleph plush toys come alive. The Second of her friends splashed around gleefully in the water at the opposite side of the tub, as the Third sat on the bathtub spigot, gnawing on a bar of soap. Liquid soap dripped from his face and into the water, dissolving into it and resulting in towering pillars of suds rising upward from the tub. Taylor dimly recalled that the tub had been filled with cold water – her third new friend had heated it to steaming in mere seconds by simply being dropped in. Another small utilitarian benefit of her "powers."

Powers. That she had powers were apparent enough. That she likely got them from the Locker. She shuddered, simply thinking about that day. It had almost been a month and she still had nightmares, of being locked in with human refuse, with who knows what else. Of being trapped, before screaming herself awake, with her friends at her side. It didn't help that the Terrible Trio tormented her every day she still went to school, despite the assurances from Winslow that they would stop. The School, to her and her dad's dismay, had tried to cover it all up in the end, sweep the entire mess under the rug. Seemingly in response to her discomfort, the water heated up several degrees, as her First friend intensified her scrubbing. Even with baths like these, she still felt the bugs crawling on her skin, bugs that had been attracted by the smell of that locker. No matter how baths or showers she took she could never get away from the sensation.

She was distracted from her thoughts by the very real sensation of something crawling on her; claws between her legs as her Second Friend found purchase, pulling itself from the water onto her stomach. Covered in suds, it resembled some sort of... walking soap sud. It crawled up, settling between her breasts and curling up on her chest. She didn't mind its claws, even though she knew first hand that they were sharp enough to shred clothing and thick plastic and even mar the wood flooring and countertops. Her Friend managed to be careful enough with them that he could crawl around on her without so much as scratching her. She found herself reaching to stroke it, clearing the suds away and revealing its glistening skin. Four tiny glittering eyes glowed up at her as she petted it. Then again, maybe she shouldn't call it "It." "He" could work just as well, he wasn't obviously female or male like her first and third friends respectively.

"Rawr!"

As for her third friend, Taylor glimpsed through the sud towers her third friend, perched on the spigot, holding aloft and towards her like some sort of trophy what was left of the bar of soap, the formerly cubic object now a mauled lump of lard and fat. Almost, as if he was asking her for praise and admiration. Of the three, the Third seemed to live up to his old given namesake the most; chewing or gnawing on anything he could get within reach, and anything that would fit inside his paradoxically tiny maw. Already he'd taken tiny chunks out of her bed frame, as well as parts of her homework and multiple pencils. Regardless, he looked adorable breaking things.

Taylor had to smile at the thought. Finding something adorable, in the horrible world she had to live in, live through. The Third hopped off the spigot and into the water, sending suds flying as he cannon-balled in. He disturbed the First, only briefly, before she resumed her task of combing the tangles out of Taylor's hair. Like the second, he crawled up onto Taylor's chest, curling up next to his brother. He felt... warm. A strong, reassuring kind of warm.

Taylor was startled by a knock at the bathroom door. Her Dad.

"Taylor," he spoke, an edge of concern on his voice. "You've been in there a while, is everything okay?"

"Y-yeah Dad," Taylor stammered."I'm just soaking in the tub. I had a long day, is all." She had started to worry that he'd noticed that his daughter was hiding something. She didn't help matters herself, the way that she'd been tiptoeing around.

A pause. "Alright, I'm not going to disturb you then." Her First Friend, after restoring Taylor's hair to its completely tangle-free state with a comb she'd snatched from Taylor's bedroom, dropped down from her perch on her shoulder to nestle alongside her siblings, curling up into a ball with them. "But, really, Taylor, if you want to just take a sick day, I can call the school, lie even." He was worried about her, he couldn't help it.

Taylor wrapped her arms around the trio, gently squeezing them tight they each nuzzled against her in return. "It's all right Dad." She smiled. "I think I'll be just fine."

They had names. Names given to them, by people who'd witnessed what they were truly capable of. Names that inspired, reflected hatred. Anger. Fear.

Simurgh. Leviathan. Behemoth. Those where the names that they had been given.

Taylor, she called them her friends. Although she'd have to give them all good names eventually.

Short, sweet, but sets the stage for incoming awesome. Over the next couple of days/weeks I'll be releasing the next chapters, as well as a much-delayed chapter of another active work. Stay tuned.

Last edited: Dec 28, 2019

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TheMadmanAndre

Sep 24, 2014

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Oct 3, 2014

#22

I'm back. And I bring gifts! From the realm I dwell in! Well, mostly my brain. Initially I didn't expect to finish this until tomorrow, but the universe smiles upon the insane.

Special shout-outs and thanks to users JeffJway, Cyn , and Gammoregan for helping me give names to two of Taylor's new friends. Also, an Extra special shoutout/thanks to Sorain for coming up with Behemoth's new name - It fits perfect.

Well, enough rambling from me, here's the First-technically-official-chapter-but-not-quite-since-the-prologue-was-first Part of Chapter 1.

1-1

Winslow High. The place she dreaded, loathed so much. Where the people she hated looking at every day went, to make her life as miserable as possible. She hated walking to school, going through the day, the routine of being bullied between classes, harassed at every turn by her traitorous best friend and her hangers-on. The Apathetic students, the apathetic faculty, all of it.

Fortunately, she wasn't going today.

After kissing her dad goodbye and after catching the morning bus as far as its second stop along her normal route she took in the mornings, she disembarked and decided to wait the half hour for the bus that would take her north and east, up through the Docks, towards the northern side of the city where the old Boat Graveyard lay.

She couldn't care less about Winslow now, not since the lack of support from the school. How they basically let a student get bullied mercilessly and turned a blind eye to it. Sure, they gave her and her Dad hush money, a pittance, barely enough to meet the hospital bills. That was more insulting than anything else. She only still went because her Dad expected her to, and she had to at least meet the minimum attendance. Today though, she was taking a day off, on her own terms.

As she sat waiting at the stop, she felt a rustle in her backpack, of several small lovable Endbringers moving about in her pack. She still needed names for them – proper, non-threatening names that she could comfortably call them, without thinking of melted cities and crazy people and sunken islands. Not that she thought too much about those things anyways.

There was her first friend, the one they called the Simurgh. Of the three, she was the very first one she met, so she got to be the first, Taylor had decided. She was the one that looked like an adorable little angel. Although according to her research, she apparently had telepathic and telekinetic abilities far beyond that of almost any known Cape, save for maybe Scion. According to those that had fought her, she had a sort of 'Scream' that she used to debilitate and disorient her opponents. People exposed to it, for long enough, were driven completely insane, or worse...

Technically speaking, of the three Endbringers, she was the youngest. In her current state though she seemed dramatically weaker, a far cry from the city-quarantining juggernaut she was lauded to be. For now she could still float around through the air, but she had trouble lifting anything more than a few pounds, although she had no issues tugging on Taylor's ear to wake her up or nudge her out of bed. And she saw little signs of any of the Telepathy often talked about, save for the apparent ability they all possessed to cue in on her emotional state.

Behemoth, too, seemed to be just as equally de-powered. Behemoth, the last of the Three Taylor's friends, was possibly the most destructive of the three, able to summon erupting pillars of lava and set entire cities ablaze on mere whims, hurling fireballs capable of cremating whole blocks. According to reports about him, he had the highest body count of the Three, no doubt in part due to his secondary ability to control energy of all kinds, be it heat, electricity or even radioactivity, and weaponize that ability to great effect. Mostly now he could heat bathtub water, and he chewed and gnawed on whatever he could get his tiny hands on, and look threatening, in a cute way. He still somehow managed to cause the most property damage. Or at least the most emotional damage, if eaten homework counted. Not that she liked doing homework.

Leviathan was a lot weaker as well. He was the one that could sink islands. Kyushu and Newfoundland to be specific. His threat to global trade was the main reason the Graveyard she was bringing them to existed in the first place, after he'd sunk a few ships in open ocean. He could travel through water at supersonic speeds, create a watery doppelganger of sorts as tough as the original and control and manipulate the weather on a scale barely imaginable. Tsunamis, rainstorms, even hurricanes were his playthings. The wiki referred to him as the 'middle child' so to speak, not as smart or cunning as his sister, but not quite as maddeningly destructive as his brother. Now though, all Levi could really do was splash around in the bathtub making whirlpools and scratch things with his claws-

"Levi," Taylor muttered out loud, to no one in particular. She liked the way it sounded. Sure, it was a simplified version of his given name, but it fit his... current status. A cute name for a cute friend.

The zipper on her backpack zipped open, one of the occupants having finally figured out how to work the mechanism from the inside, sure they could have shredded and burned their way out but Taylor scolded them when they caused too much damage. Simurgh seemed to understand the best and helped keep the other two in check.

Zipper open, Levi popped his head and front claws out, trying to escape, no doubt helped along by being pushed up and outward by his siblings behind him. He glanced around warily, eyeing the unfamiliar surroundings and occasional passing traffic. First darting her eyes around for anybody nearby and seeing no one, Taylor plucked him from the opening in the pack, bringing him to her face and nuzzling him against her neck, the mini-Endbringer returning the gesture with cuddling of his own. "Levi," Taylor repeated the name again. "Do you like it? I'm wanting to give you all good names, nice ones. Not like the ones they gave you on TV. I know it's not much different, from the one you had, but I think it suits you. "

Levi cocked his head, almost quizzically. He didn't speak, or even make any sound aside from the clicking of his claws against one another, but from the sensation of gratitude that emanated from him, she felt he liked it.

Sensing their emotions. That was an aspect of her "power" that Taylor had caught onto, over the last few weeks. In addition, they could readily sense her emotional state as well. Well, sort of. Mostly things like contentment, curiosity, boredom. Restlessness, non-contentment, as Simurgh and Behemoth tried to wrestle for the opening. It was a sort of Telepathy, Taylor had concluded, maybe a side effect or bonus ability of sorts due to having the Simurgh at her side. That probably had something to do with it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the low rumble of the bus, turning onto the street at the end of the block. "Right, we'll be at our destination soon enough Levi, but for now please go back with your siblings. "I'll let you out when the time comes, okay?"

A brief sensation of disappointment before that of acknowledgment as he accepted, bounding off her shoulder, down her arm and into her pack. Taylor sympathized, knowing that of those three, Levi seemed to like freedom and openness the most. But she tried to get them to understand that being out in the open would be very bad. More or less, they sort of understood her feelings, and did as she asked of them, scurrying under the couch or into side rooms during the one or two close calls with her Dad so far.

The bus came to a halt, and Taylor boarded, paying the fee and taking a seat near the front, backpack in her lap. Only a few other people were on the bus, most looked tired or exhausted, most likely they worked the night shift Downtown or elsewhere in the city, coming back to their homes on the bad side of town to get sleep. She didn't sense any ill will from them directed at her specifically, and neither did Simmie...

"Simmie." Another name. Taylor grinned. She felt gratitude and a keen sense of enjoyment and approval from her newly-named friend. "You like it, don't you?" She said, patting her backpack.

The bag rustled, ever so slightly. She liked it.

If there was one thing to say about the Boat Graveyard, just one word to properly describe it, it would have to be "abandoned."

It really, well and truly, was abandoned. It had been almost a half-hour since Taylor had seen another human being, after walking through the maze of abandoned waterfront warehouses. As she stood at the waterfront, chill winds on her face, she relished the emptiness, the silence, broken only by the gentle lapping of waves on the littered beach. Nobody came here, because there was simply nothing of value here. Salvagers and scrappers had long ago stripped out anything useful from the beached wrecks, leaving only stripped husks behind.

They stood as a memorial to the past, a reminder of a short yet violent and bloody confrontation between the city's dockworkers and its local government, an epitaph to those few that perished that night. The city afterward had suffered a slow death, before its economy shifted to tourism and other regional commercial interests. Her dad would often complain, bitterly, about how the Docks could be revitalized, how the city could improve the old Market if the city would take the time and money to re-open the ferry, or to clear out the metal hulks from the piers amongst which they lay.

In the present though, these ships could serve a much more useful purpose. Namely, as a playground to let her friends run free. As a practice field, to let them test their limits. And as a getaway from being cooped up in her bedroom for the past month, where no prying eyes could see.

She felt her backpack rustle, its occupants bored and restless. As she'd gotten closer to the Graveyard they'd sensed her anticipation, becoming more and more exited themselves to run free. She took it off and set it down, unzipping it and letting her friends out to play. They practically poured out from the bag, Behemoth and Levi tumbling out, followed by their sister Simmie.

After orienting themselves, they reacted almost instantly to the abrupt change in scenery. Simmie took off, flitting around the beach, looking at and inspecting every small object that caught her fancy. Behemoth ran off, roaring his cute little roar with glee. Levi bee-lined directly to the water's edge, stopping at the point where the waves lapped the farthest to the shore.

Levi was still for a moment, looking back at Taylor and back at the water, back and forth several times. She knew what he wanted and was even more impressed by his manners. "You want to go for a swim?" She asked.

Levi fidgeted where he stood, unsure of what to do. So well-mannered. They're learning from me I think. Taylor felt a strong sense of desire from him, anticipation too. "Go right ahead."

As soon as the words had left her mouth he took off, launching himself several feet into the water with a splash. If he had a mouth Taylor would have imagined him squealing with glee. She caught a glimpse of his lithe streamlined form gliding into deeper water before disappearing from sight. From him, she felt enjoyment, raw excitement and a deep sense of fulfillment.

Behemoth was likewise enjoying himself – he'd found a hunk of scrap iron several times his size amongst the litter on the beach. After plopping down he began to chew on it, a trickle of molten metal dribbling down his face and pooling in the sand around him. He looks cute, making a mess. Simmie had floated up to the bridge of a nearby beached tugboat, darting around before flying inside it. Those two seemed to be enjoying themselves too. Which left her with just herself.

She sat down on a particularly smooth piece of large driftwood, relaxing. Despite the chilly February air, Taylor felt invigorated at being out and away from it all, Away from home and Winslow for a change. Here, she didn't have to worry about being tripped in the hallways or having spitballs launched into her hair or being endlessly tormented by the Terrible Trio. Even if it was for just a few hours. Maybe she could come back next week, during the weekend.

Still, she thought about her... current situation. Having the three Endbringers with her, apparently defining her powers. Being a Cape. She actually hadn't given it nearly as much thought as she probably should have by now, besides her browsing on the Internet, looking for information about her friends. There was a lot of information, from musings about their origins to a breakdown of their powers, to versus debates on the Parahumans Wiki. Especially, she had found, articles and information regarding their recent disappearances.

As for that, every time she turned on the TV back home there were people talking, speculating, theorizing about where they went. It was literally all the news stations were talking about. Some were celebrating already, while many others were chastising them for doing so prematurely – Even Legend, the leader of the Protectorate, had gone on TV cautioning people, that the Endbringers wouldn't simply vanish, that they were likely still out there. He's right though, about not being gone. They're playing at the beach with me.

She had given simply revealing herself to the authorities some thought, about just going to the Protectorate, taking the ferry to their giant floating headquarters that floated over the Bay and walking through the front doors with her friends in her arms. She didn't have to be a Thinker to see how that would turn out. Her Dad though, would want her to go, she knew.

Her Dad. She was going to have to tell him eventually. It was pretty likely that he already suspected that his daughter was hiding something. Honestly, she was scared to reveal them to him. Just the idea of an Endbringer attacking Brockton Bay and rampaging around would probably give him a heart attack. All three, in the same house as him... Yeah, she was going to hold off on telling him, at least until she could think of a better way than just coming out and showing him them all. Then again, her Dad had been unusually energetic lately, trying to get a contract to clean up the Graveyard, now that the threat of Leviathan... was gone...

She found herself distracted from her thoughts by an odd sensation. It was hard to pin down, almost as if she felt something being drawn for her. She felt all right physically, she didn't feel sick, but this, this was different. Taylor closed her eyes, focusing on the draw, following it back to the source it was drawing from. The source, holy crap the source-

Whoa.

It was vast, nigh incomprehensible in its scale, utterly dwarfing her in size, so massive that it seemingly wrapped around her field of vision in an impossible manner. Taylor reeled, vertigo kicking in and causing the world to start spinning around her as she struggled to get a hang of her senses. It churned at her every thought, pulsing at her command. That thing is inside me, the thought formed spontaneously in her mind. She focused on her breathing, on her hands gripping the smooth wood of the log she sat on. The world stopped spinning, coming slowly to a stop. She tried to not focus on that, that thing. Still it was there, like standing next to an enormous building but looking down and away, instead at the shadow the building cast.

The draw though. She focused instead on that. A thread of power, connecting that source to something else, pulsating with flowing energy. She followed it out, to where it terminated. It ended in a similar sphere of power, nowhere near as vast but still enormous in its own right, and growing stronger as it fed from the mother source. It was strange, she could almost taste it, smell it, feel it. Salty, like seawater from the ocean, smooth and slick but not in an oily way...

Levi. It had to be. She was feeling, seeing him, somehow with her Power. Or one of her Powers. She still had a lot to learn about herself. She felt, incredibly, the threads that connected to Simmie and Behemoth as well. Power flowed through those threads, but not nearly as much as Levi's at the moment, strangely. Taylor didn't have a chance to ask why, because Levi returned from his swim around the Graveyard. His arrival was announced a lot earlier than something that should have been eight inches tall.

Because now, Levi was eight feet tall. He strode up the beach, his tail swinging back and forth, head glancing around. Gone was the mini plush-sized Levi from before. Here he stood looking far more menacing and terrifying, like a one-fifth scale version of his original form Taylor had seen in pictures of him. He looked at his master, who sat there in mixed awe and shock at the sight, then at Behemoth who now sat up to his chest in lava and completely ignoring his brother. He looked back to Taylor, then strode over to where she sat. She felt just a momentary jolt of fear, before she realized of course it was unfounded as Levi scooped her up into a hug, lifting her from the log.

"You got big," She said, being gently squeezed. She hugged right back, wrapping her arms around his broad torso. Unexpectedly Levi felt...upset. He felt panicked almost. Strange, going from being excited to being scared in an instant... "You're not used to being so big, after being so small on land it's disorienting I imagine. Wanna be small again?"

Levi nodded, furiously, Taylor feeling agreement and desire, also feeling his hug tightening. She knew exactly what to do to help him. She reached out, a metaphysical hand at that thread, tugging on it. It had, as she had suspected, dimmed somewhat after drawing power from her own source. As she had strangely guessed, as she pulled ever so gently on it, power began to flow from Levi and back into her.

The effect was immediate. Levi began steadily shrinking. As he shrank in size, Taylor saw what seemed like shards or flakes of what could have been crystal shed and flake away from his body. She reacted, trying to catch one, but it dissolved instantly into air in her hand. At least Levi didn't seem to be in pain. In mere moments his body had resumed the odd cartoonish proportions that he'd had up until that point, since Taylor had first met him. After it was all said and done, he could barely scrabble out of one of his own footprints. He felt relieved, fortunately.

She could alter their sizes at will, Taylor realized, taking a moment to let the discovery sink in. Although Levi at least didn't seem to like it much. Maybe he liked being cuddleable, being able to curl up in the crook of her neck. He bounded away after escaping his footprint back towards the beach, before splashing around in the waves. She'd leave him to his own devices for now.

As for Behemoth... Taylor turned her attention to him. The lava puddle was now up to his chest, bubbling like some sort of witches' brew. A rivulet of molten liquid had begun to flow down the beach to the water, throwing up a plume of steam where the waves met it. He remained oblivious to his brother's change of size as he steadily worked his way through the hunk of scrap larger than he was.

Taylor speculated that Levi somehow pulled energy from that source when he got excited at being in the ocean, for the first time in, well, a weeks at least. She grabbed hold of Behemoth's thread, focusing on the energy flowing through it, turning it over in her metaphysical hands. She somehow knew, fundamentally, that pulling on the thread would do nothing. Benny had no extra energy to give her-

"Benny," Taylor spoke out loud. It got his attention. He'd stopped his munching, his head pivoting to look at her with his one eye open wide in surprise.

"Rawr?" He asked her, curiously.

"Benny," she repeated. "I hope you like it."

"Rawr!" He agreed. Taylor pushed on the thread, energy flowing down it at her command. She tasted his source, flavored like sulphur and rock and earth. It felt and tasted reassuring.

Benny began to quickly grow in size, the surface of his body rippling and shimmering as he grew, as if pieces were being inserted into place from nothing. In mere seconds he dwarfed Taylor and she crimped the power flow, slowing and then halting the growth.

Benny now stood even taller than Levi had. Over ten feet in height, and nearly as wide. He looked every bit as terrifying as old pictures of him made him out to be. Looking at his body, He also felt similarly happy and gleeful as his brother had. But instead of panicking he roared merrily, setting his sights on the beached tugboat nearby and bounding towards it, arms raised, before bodily crashing into the hull. The entire bow of the ship warped and buckled under the sudden heat and pressure, mere clay in Benny's stubby hands.

Taylor couldn't help but laugh – he was having the time of his life. Then again he was always having the time of his life no matter what it seemed, smashing and breaking and chewing on everything he saw, or at least trying to. I should get him some sort of chew toy, she thought. Maybe one of those dog bone toys or a rubber ducky-

The glass in one of the windows on the tugboat's bridge blew outwards, a small silver-gray blur racing towards Benny. Simmie smashed into his face, squeaking angrily at her much larger sibling. He ignored her, too distracted in quite literally wadding up a sea anchor before tossing it over his shoulder. There wasn't much she could do, being four inches tall and a complete featherweight. Let's do something about that, shall we? Power flowed to Simmie, racing down the binding thread to her. Immediately Simmie grew in stature, in moments becoming as tall as Taylor herself.

She... She was beautiful. Taylor had seen photographs of the Simurgh but this, up close, was different. Tall and slender, even more slender than Taylor herself but she still somehow managed to look feminine despite the silver sheen of her smooth skin. From the slight width of her hips, the slight curve of her breasts, the subtle accenting of her shoulder blades, she exuded Femininity. Her breasts and crotch were concealed neatly by two pairs of wings, each pair completely wrapping all around her chest and hips. Several more pairs of wings splayed outwards from her upper and lower back, radiating outwards around her in an awe-inspiring manner. Two more wings jutted out from her ankles, one on each foot, bringing the count to twelve.

Her face was equally amazing. It seemed chiseled yet alive, her high cheekbones and pointed nose and chin, her thin lips, wide mouth and almond-shaped eyes, all suggested something foreign, exotic and alien. Her hair too, the way it flowed outward behind her head in silky waves. Simmie had gone from simply adorable to show-stopping gorgeous in mere seconds.

In the midst of Taylor's slack-jawed admiration she realized that Simmie had been using her telekinesis futilely against Benny, and that her change in size gave her other abilities a power-up. She made the connection that their sized effected their powers as Benny went flying past her, crashing into the beach and rolling to a stop after Simmie had hurled him away.

She looked flustered, upset. Taylor dimly recalled something in an article about the Simurgh never once breaking her serene poker face during all the times she'd been fought. She floated over to Taylor, where she stood on the beach. Damn she's gorgeous. Wait, dammit, keep your head on track Taylor. "Was Benny being mean to you?"

She looked to Benny. Back to Taylor. Back to Benny again as he climbed back to his feet. Then she finally made the connection that she was now the same size as her master. And even better looking in a mirror. Emotion welled up in her face, as if she was going to cry-

And Taylor was promptly glomped by the Endbringer, her arms and myriad wings encasing her in an all-encompassing hug. She could almost imagine the words "Thank You" being repeated over and over as Simmie embraced her. "Ah... I can't breathe," Taylor managed to sputter.

Simmie released her hold, after a few more seconds. For the most part. She kept a couple of wings wrapped protectively around Taylor. They felt warm and soft, Taylor noted, the individual feathers seemingly humming very softly. Simmie adjusted the wings before scooping Taylor off the ground and lifting her skyward, much to Taylor's surprise.

They didn't go far, just to the side stairwell of the tugboat that Benny had tried demolishing. Taylor noted idly that he'd bounded off towards another nearby ship, and had proceeded to do much the same to another beached vessel as he had before to the tugboat.

Simmie set her master down on the metal deck, the Endbringer herself landing lightly beside her. She floated forward, placing a hand on the side door to the Bridge, the door unlocking and swinging in. She turned her head, a grin on her face, beckoning Taylor to join her inside.

Taylor, now totally curious as to what her friend had been up to, nodded and followed her in.

Story Progression! Cliffhangers! Suspense! Possibly Snacks! An incredibly happy Endbringer causing destruction! All necessary ingredients for a thrilling and heartwarming story. Taylor learns more about herself and starts to realize that she's mad dangerous, in a good way. In addition to 1-2 I've got a couple of small omakes from yours truly in the works, to help me progress more smoothly.

Well, stay tuned for the next update, sometime next week. Oh, and if you're reading Crown, the next update for that is coming up as well. :D

Last edited: Nov 29, 2018

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TheMadmanAndre

Oct 3, 2014

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Oct 12, 2014

#99

I am back! And I bring a gift! Another chapter! As promised too, by Saturday. And I'll stop typing here and let you read the next snippet.

1-2

Taylor entered behind Simmie into the cramped bridge of the ship. Sunlight filtered in through the windows, lighting the interior. Once upon a time this had been the control room of the tugboat, its interior filled with various electrical systems and computer monitors, providing information to its small and meager crew. It had probably been an impressive setup, probably. However, in the span of just a short amount of time Simmie had completely disassembled literally everything inside the Bridge into their base components, the gutted carcasses of electronic devices scattered across the floors, the narrow counters, everywhere. Old computer monitors, sensors, things Taylor couldn't even identify, even the light fixtures had been dismantled.

Simmie floated through the room, debris pushed aside and to the edges to clear a path for Taylor behind her. She stopped at a small table at the back of the room, probably once used for maps and charts. It was covered just as much as the rest of the room was in odd broken computer parts, save a small portion of it. It was the objects here that Simmie gestured at, a wide smile on her face.

There were three of them, on the counter. The first two objects appeared to be rounded, dull-gray metal cuff bracelets, not unlike those that she once found in her mother's old jewelry box, or the kind Emma would have flaunted on her wrists, while bragging that they accented her wardrobe. One was thinner but relatively wide, compared the other bracelet, which was narrower but slightly thicker overall. Taylor suspected that, since it was Simmie that had crafted them, they most likely weren't regular jewelry. The third object was slightly more perplexing – it was a smooth metallic rectangular panel of some sort, roughly eight inches by twelve. One side was a solid black, with a thin bezel of dull gray. It was entirely featureless save for its black rectangular face.

As Taylor watched silently, Simmie levitated the objects off of the tabletop, letting them float in front of her while manipulating them with her telekinesis. The devices disassembled, strange esoteric components inside of them exposed. Their components appeared to morph, change their shape, rearrange themselves to the dictation of the Tinker that had crafted them. Taylor didn't have any sort of electrical expertise, but she could recognize things like circuit boards, computer chips and transistors – these devices appeared to have none of those inside of them. It actually hurt her head a little, looking too closely at the insides. Impossibly incomprehensible.

Apparently satisfied with whatever changes to her work that Simmie felt were necessary, and content that all was in order with her creations, she reassembled them, the devices snapping and almost flowing back together. She placed them back on the table, pausing a moment before turning to Taylor, a small smile on her face, a hand extended to her master beckoning her to approach. Even after a month Taylor was still getting used to Simmie's unique form of communication, the way she emphasized gestures and body language to silently speak to her, to compensate for her apparent lack of voice.

Taylor obliged, walking up to stand next to her friend. Gently taking Taylor's hand, Simmie plucked the first cuff bracelet from off of the table, turning to carefully place it on Taylor's wrist. She did the same with the second cuff, until Taylor had a bracelet on each arm.

Taylor turned her arms over, inspecting the objects attached to them. Impressively the cuffs subtly altered their shape, molding closely but comfortably to her wrists. They were cool to the touch, their surfaces smooth and metallic. Her friend touched each one in a certain way, her delicate fingers dancing over their surfaces. In response each lit up, pulsing with subdued light. So they activate by touch, Taylor mused, noting the pattern and way Simmie activated them for future use. As for what they did...

She felt a wave of energy wash up her left arm, over the rest of her. It felt initially disorienting, as if a slight pressure was being applied to the entire surface of her body, but she adjusted quickly. Simmie stepped back, wings folded, and extended an arm towards Taylor, that small grin still on her face.

A piece of scrap lifted from the table, lifted by Simmie's telekinesis, launching towards Taylor with incredible speed. She didn't even have the chance to react when the chunk of metal slammed into her. Only she didn't feel anything, didn't even budge, even as the metal deformed across her face from the impact. The only thing she felt was a small flicker of energy, tickling up her left arm from the bracelet.

The warped piece of scrap clattered to the deck. Taylor looked down at the bracelet, glowing with a subdued blue light. "A personal shield," Taylor spoke. Simmie nodded in agreement, gesturing then to the other bracelet, on her right wrist. Unlike its cousin, this bracelet glowed with a dim red light, its own energy humming through it.

Taylor thought, and the bracelet responded, a bolt of energy traveled through her wrist and hand, centering in her palm. She felt it collecting there, focusing there. Instinctively she turned over and opened her right hand, and almost yelped at the sight of a surprisingly bright pinpoint of red light that had formed there in her palm. "Wh- what does it do?"

Simmie smiled, gesturing with a pointed finger and a wing towards a small pile of scrap collected on the end of table. Taylor, taking the cue and did the same, aiming her hand at the pile, arm extended and palm open, focusing on the provided target.

What happened next she didn't even begin to expect. A red beam of light and energy shot forth, lancing into and through all in its path. The scrap that had been her target all but vaporized, whatever not damaged or destroyed by her attack was left glowing bright red, and a neat round glowing hole formed in the far bulkhead where the beam exited the ship altogether.

"Wow," was all that Taylor managed to say after several moments of shock.

Simmie's smile only widened further, clasping her hands together in joy. Taylor too was oddly happy. Of course she'd seen the cape fights on TV, had read about them on the Parahumans wiki. She knew of the things that their powers, their abilities let them do. Of course, that had been through a television or a computer screen. To experience Cape powers firsthand though... that was something else entirely.

"I... I don't know what to say," Taylor stammered. "I don't know what to do say or what to do that would ever be able to let me thank you enough." Simmie continued to smile, as thoughts and mental images of sweets flashed through Taylor's mind.

"Something sweet? That's doable I think." Simmie nodded.

"So, what's that thing on the table still?" Taylor asked, pointing at the smooth black and gray rectangle.

Simmie's eyes lit up, as if she had forgotten all about it. She turned to the table and was about to pick it up when she froze, stiffening up. Her head pivoted out the windows nearby, looking off into the distant skyline. Something had caught her attention? "Simmie, what's the mat-"

Simmie acted, her movements both abrupt and swift. In mere seconds her friend had swept up her third creation from the table and Taylor as well, clutching her gently in her arms and a pair of wings as she darted out the door and took flight. Taylor yelped, startled at the sudden action, clutching harder to Simmie as they flew dangerously low towards the beach.

Benny had apparently halted his attack on the ship he'd found, the shipwreck still molten from his play. Already he'd shrunk down to his pint-sized form, hopping towards them. Levi too was bounding fluidly down along the beach in their direction, having forgotten his antics. In a single fluid swipe of her wings Simmie had scooped both of her siblings up safely into her embrace, before banking towards the nearby warehouses.

Taylor's confusion at all of this was palpable. But Simmie reassured her with warm encouraging thoughts, and she trusted her friend. After traveling a short way, up an empty street and darting behind an abandoned warehouse, Simmie set them all down, her fellow Endbringers spilling out onto the ground from her wings, followed by Taylor herself.

She picked herself up, dusting off her pants. Before she could ask for an explanation from Simmie the Endbringer put her finger to Taylor's lips, beckoning her to be quiet. A soft smile and a nod from Simmie, and Taylor understood. Simmie had sensed someone or something coming, and had quickly evacuated them all. If the wrong person found them... Taylor was glad, thankful for Simmie's observance, her understanding of foresight. She had a feeling she'd be depending on her more in the future.

Taylor walked to the side of the warehouse, peeking around the corner, back towards the shoreline where they had come from. From the narrow alleyway in which they had landed, they had reasonably good concealment; prying eyes wouldn't know they were here if they weren't specifically looking for them there.

But they were looking. At least, though, not in her direction.

Taylor heard them before she saw them. Or rather him. A high-pitched electronic whine, increasing in volume as it neared. A sleek, blue and silver high-tech-looking motorcycle came into view, slowing down and stopping where the road ended near the beach. Its rider dismounted, his matching blue-silver armor glinting in the morning sunlight. Taylor recognized the figure instantly.

"Armsmaster," she whispered. Taylor silently swore, realizing the predicament she and her friends were in. She knew exactly who he was. It was hard not to. He was the Leader of the Protectorate team in Brockton Bay, her city's sanctioned team of superheroes. She had seen the man in costume, several times, on television. But never in person.

Benny must have attracted some attention with his chaos, Taylor thought silently noting the minor destruction he had caused. Now people are wondering what's happening here. She felt Benny snuggle her leg apologetically. She reached down the pat and rub his head, forgiving him. He probably thinks there was a cape fight going on in the graveyard and came to investigate.

Still, Hero or not, good intentions or not, he'd interrupted her friends' playtime. As Taylor watched, the Cape walked briskly down the beach towards the wrecked tugboat, his trademark Halberd in hand. He looked from the tugboat to the other nearby ship that Benny had played with, its hull still glowing, looked back at the tugboat. He walked back up the beach before stopping, not far from the log Taylor herself had sat on only a short time ago. He tapped the side of his helmet, standing still on the beach. Taylor guessed he was talking to someone with a built-in radio inside his helmet.

Whatever he was saying, Taylor was way too far away to overhear. She felt tugging on her coat, Simmie urgently wanting her attention. She turned her head to find that Simmie had shrunk back down to her normal size, the gray-black rectangle floating in the air next to her. She was gesturing to it, frenetically, all the while quietly squeaking.

Taylor plucked the slate from the air. It was surprisingly light and thin, like the cuffs. She held it black-side-up, still unsure what Simmie wanted from her or it. "So, what does it do?" She whispered.

Simmie obliged, landing on the surface, tapping it with her hands and wings. The surface, or rather the screen flashed to life, and it suddenly dawned on Taylor what the object was. Seemingly incomprehensible text and numbers flashing across the screen before it resolved on an image resembling the digital desktops of the computers at school, complete with familiar icons, as well as a few she wasn't familiar with.

A computer, Taylor thought, gleeful. Simmie made me a computer. But Simmie seemed to have even more tricks up her sleeve as she danced around the surface, tapping several icons and opening what might have been some sort of audio program, balance lines appearing on the screen.

"-whoever or whatever was here, they're gone," The computer suddenly spoke, startling Taylor. "It doesn't look like Lung either. He wouldn't be this far from ABB territory." Only, it wasn't the computer speaking...

Simmie gestured towards the shore where Armsmaster stood, back to the device, back to the Hero, repeating the movement several times, grinning. The computer wasn't talking, she was listening to Armsmaster's phone conversation. Taylor had to suppress a giggle. The possibilities...

"A new Cape?" Another voice, older and female. Taylor didn't recognize it.

"Possibly," Armsmaster replied. "I doubt they've completely left the area. They likely haven't gone far." Armsmaster's gaze panned over the nearby warehouses. Taylor quickly ducked back out of sight. "Permission to look for them, Director?"

"No," The female voice replied. "I want you to standby there for the time being, wait for the PRT team to secure the area." A pause. "If it's just a new Cape testing their powers out, we'll have another chance to talk to them. But if it's something else-"

"I understand," Armsmaster replied, his face unexpectedly grim. "I'll maintain my position." The window closed as the call ended. Taylor stood there, in the shadow of the building, wondering what her next move should be. More people were on their way – she kind of hoped that Armsmaster would have left and that would have been the end of it. But this... Her shoulders sagged, defeated. Well, playtime's over I guess. She felt her friends' disappointment too.

Putting her backpack on the ground, she placed the tablet computer inside her bag, before her friends hopped in one at a time. Bag zipped up, Taylor set out, away from the Graveyard and back towards the distant bus stop.

Taylor looked up, towards the sun. judging from the height it was getting towards late morning. She still had a few hours to waste before she had to go home. "How about some ice cream guys?" Taylor spoke to her friends. "I know this one little parlor on the Boardwalk that has a pretty wide selection."

Her backpack rustled in approval. Ice cream it was.

An hour or so later, with the sun high overhead, Taylor walked down a secluded alleyway, just off the Boardwalk, four cups of ice cream stacked carefully in her hands. Confident that nobody was going to come by and adequately out of sight, She sat down on a ledge and unzipped her pack, setting it and the ice cream down next to her.

Her friends popped out, glancing cautiously around. Levi was the first to see the treats though. He bounded forward, his claws clutching the edges of the container. He deftly pried the lid off, tossing it aside and exposing the lime sherbet, before burying his head into it. Benny likewise meandered over to the cup Taylor set out for him. She felt Rocky Road would have been appropriate, and he seemed to like it as he scooped tiny handfuls of it into his maw.

As for Simmie, she neatly ate her own chocolate ice cream, one small mouthful at a time, eating the stuff up with a crude scoop she had fashioned on the spot from the lid. Taylor made a mental note to get her a proper spoon, hopefully one as tiny as she was.

Taylor thought back to earlier, about her narrowly-avoided encounter with Armsmaster. A close call, yes, but that was just today. She'd already had too many close calls, with her dad, other people. She rubbed her wrists, where the bracelets were snugly fitted. It's only a matter of time before I have to face the world, she thought. Or at least Dad.

Levi had finished eating his dessert, although how he ate with his lack of mouth was perplexing, to say the least. Despite closely watching him devour his sherbet, Taylor still couldn't ascertain exactly how he was eating it. The only thing she could guess at from her observation was that he was somehow absorbing it through his skin. Benny had already finished as well, and was hard at work making a mess of his styrofoam cup, neatly shredding it into pieces he then stacked in a pile.

Simmie, her belly full of ice cream, floated up and slipped inside of Taylor's hoodie, curling up against the nape of her neck. "A bit too much excitement for one day," Taylor spoke to her, nuzzling her friend. "Might be a good idea to head home early soon-"

Footsteps, coming up the alley, from the direction of the Boardwalk. Crap. On cue Benny and Levi dropped what they were doing and hopped back into the backpack, minding their renewed need for discretion. Simmie however remained hidden within her hoodie, a wing protectively curled around her neck. Taylor had just enough time to reach for the straps of her backpack when a young woman, messenger bag in tow, darted around the nearby corner and ran up the alley towards Taylor, a glint of fear in her eyes as she looked back over her shoulder.

Dark blonde hair, freckled cheeks, bright blue eyes. She's pretty, Taylor noted as she ran past. The girl's momentary distraction from where she was running to look at Taylor though cost her. She tripped, stumbled and fell, landing roughly on the pavement of the alleyway. Taylor jumped up, rushing to the girl's side to help her up.

"No!" she shouted at her, brushing her off. "Get away, they're after me. Run!" Pretty and scared, it seemed.

Taylor blinked. "Who's after you-"

"We got her!" two men ran around the same corner, nearly at full sprint, before coming to a stop near the two girls. These guys, it looked like.

Taylor recognized them from their uniforms as two of the security guards that patrolled the Boardwalk. In the wake of the city's economic downturn, the various upscale shops and restaurants that made up the city's Boardwalk attraction collectively hired a security force to deter would-be pickpockets and thugs. Stories abounded though, how they often weren't much better than the local gang members, or how they'd often take any thieves or vandals they caught and leave them beaten and bloodied in a back alley near the Boardwalk.

Two of these security guards had just run into the alley. That meant that the Boardwalk security was after the girl. Taylor glanced at the woman, now very much looking fearful. She felt Simmie bristle where she hugged her neck, wary of possible danger.

"You, girl, walk away now, this doesn't concern you," one of them spoke. They looked tough, both well over six feet tall and heavily muscled. Two more men approached, from the opposite end of the alley, jogging up with guns in hand. Four men in total, all armed. They were a couple of blocks away from the Boardwalk, Taylor mused. To have chased a girl all that way...

"Heh, you should listen to them," the unnamed girl on the ground spoke. "I'm pretty important to them- no, I'm important to their Boss." She pulled herself uneasily to her feet, dusting off her clothes. "Figures someone powerful would want me eventually, to even gussy up mercenaries like a bunch of third rate mall cops to catch me off guard."

"What? Why?" Taylor asked. The girl didn't have a chance to answer because one of the men grabbed her roughly, causing her to wince and cry out in pain. Before Taylor could protest another man shoved her roughly away. "Leave. Now," he ordered her.

Taylor had been pushed around before. Tripped in the hallways between class, roughly bumped into. Shoved into a locker. But this, this was different,in an entirely different way. Simmie began to make an almost terrifyingly cute low-pitched growl as the feathers on her wings vibrated, and Taylor's backpack began to jostle violently as her other two friends fiddled with the zipper, trying to open it.

Impostors, not good guys, working for man-with-snake-face, they'll hurt her, threaten her, use her. Chew, burnshockburngnawburn. Water, water everywhere, use it to protect her, drown them. The feelings and thoughts came to Taylor, the raw emotions of her friends. And she herself felt angry, furious. She recalled then just a month ago, how she had wanted to be a hero when she realized she was a Parahuman, the disappointment at realizing what her powers amounted to. How she'd never be a hero, how she'd be hated, reviled, if people ever found out what she was. Her friends had consoled her, comforted her when no one else would or could.

She might not be able to be a hero. But like hell was she was gonna let a bunch of assholes kidnap a girl right in front of her.

Taylor stood her ground, drawing her hoodie tight around her face, obscuring her identity. "Let. Her. Go," she spoke, coldly.

Her tone caught the attention of the fake security guards. "You had your chance," the nearest responded, swinging his gun at Taylor's head intent on knocking her out. Only it collided harmlessly with Simmie's shield, rebounding to the surprise of the faux guard.

A look of bewildered shock flashed across the man's face. Taylor briefly wondered what thoughts were racing through his mind at that moment. Fear. Reaction to Danger. Tinkertech. Cape. Escape, Simmie obliged her master as she freed herself from Taylor's hoodie at the same moment Benny and Levi freed themselves from her backpack, claws and teeth and claws at the ready.

"I had my chance? No," Taylor spoke, furious. "You had your chance."

They attacked.

Moral of the story? Don't antagonize the girl that plays with Endbringers. Actually, don't even be in the same Zip Code as her. Possibly as far as the same planet.

Last edited: Nov 29, 2018

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TheMadmanAndre

Oct 12, 2014

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Oct 30, 2014

#152

I'm back Spacebattles! And this time I bring a treat: The next part of the story!

Spectacularly special thanks to Materia-Blade and MarkerIV for helping me with proofreading and betareading this chapter - I don't think I would have been able to do it without their help.

And now, the chapter.

1-3

She attacked.

Or more precisely, her Friends attacked.

Simmie was off in an instant, launching herself from Taylor's hoodie at the guard that had tried to pistol whip her master, slamming into his face with a loud squeak and pummeling him with tiny telekinetic blows. He shrieked in surprise before stumbling backwards into one of his comrades, both of them falling to the pavement. No sooner had Simmie launched her offensive then Levi and Benny did the same. Levi charged into the nearest guard to him, latching onto his right leg and crawling upward inside his pant leg. The man began screaming like a little girl as the he climbed, hopping up and down and batting helplessly at it through his pant leg. Benny roared his fearsome roar, hopping along and lobbing tiny little fireballs at the fourth guard, igniting his clothing while charging at him heedless of danger.

In an instant it had descended into pandemonium. One guard was running down the alleyway in the direction he had come, partially engulfed in flames and screaming before he tripped and fell, landing face-first onto the concrete, Benny latched onto his rear. Another had his pants off, the pants in question having sprouted clawed arms and legs and was still furiously trying to maul him.

Simmie had since finished off her first target, the man having collapsed to the pavement a gurgling mess. She launched off of the now incapacitated guard and towards the only remaining attacker, a wide sloppy grin on her face. Eyes wide with terror, the man tried to bring his weapon to bear on the tiny assailant but he never got the chance as it was wrenched from his grip by telekinetic force, the weapon clattering to the ground at the same moment as Simmie slammed into him, whacking into him in the throat hard enough to barrel the man over. He collapsed, choking and grasping at his neck, futilely prying at Simmie as she choked him with her wings and telekinesis. He desperately clawed at her for a brief moment, before passing out and joining his partner on the pavement.

All the while, the unknown girl screamed. She could have probably been heard for miles around. She only stopped when the last remaining guard, who was shouting incomprehensibly while trying to pry his own khakis from his face, tripped on her bag and stumbled over her, sprawling to the ground in a heap. Only then did the screaming stop and everything returned to relative silence, punctuated by low moans and wheezing from the fallen thugs.

No more than a brief few moments had passed. Just as quickly as the fight had begun, it was over. Taylor never once moved – she never really even got the opportunity to intervene. She stood there amazed at the... efficiency and playfulness? That her friends had displayed fighting. Benny hopped up and down, standing triumphantly on the still smoldering backside of his target as Levi extricated himself from the pants. Simmie floated somewhat aimlessly, carefully preening her wings free of dust and dirt.

None of the kidnappers appeared to be dead or seriously injured at least, as far as she could tell. Taylor chuckled silently to herself. They know not to kill anyone no matter what, my insistence in that to them paid off. Although those burns would leave some nasty scars. As would Levi's claw marks. Despite the apparent severity of some of their wounds, Taylor suspected their egos would be far worse off than their bodies.

"W-w-what the hell are you?!" The girl. She spoke, eyes wide in fright as she looked at Taylor and her Friends, after finally disentangling herself from the last fallen kidnapper. "What the hell are they?!"

"Ah, um, Hi," Taylor stammered. "I'm... a Cape? And they're my friends."

"Rawr!" Benny roared from his low perch. Simmie waved politely. The girl's piercing blue eyes held a look of, strangely, terror, as she scooted away to the far side of the alleyway. As if her rescuer was somehow worse than her kidnappers. She was cute with her freckles and dark blonde hair. Taylor guessed the girl was about as old as she was, maybe a little older.

"Um, so yeah, they're probably not going to bother you again, whoever they are. Or were. Sorry about all of this, I'm really new to being a cape." Taylor spoke, drawing the strings on her hood tight, concealing her face. "So yeah, I guess this is goodb-"

Crap. Her face.

It hit her, the realization. They had seen her face. A total stranger had seen her guys had seen her face. They knew what she looked like and now she was going to be outed as a supervillain and her dad was going to find out and-

She froze. Horrible images of being called a freak, a monster, flashed through Taylor's mind. What the Terrible Trio from school would do to her, call her. She reeled, unable to think of what to do, how to fix this. She looked at the girl she had just saved, to the men her Friends had laid low. She tried to do good. Tried to be a hero for once instead of just a scared girl. And it all blew up in her face. She blew her identity. To these asshole kidnappers, to a girl whose name she didn't even know.

She felt like running, as fast and as far away as she could. Her friends felt her sudden panic and rushed to her side, Levi and Benny scampering over to her legs, Simmie floating up with an expression of concern.

For the first time since then, since she triggered, she didn't know what to do.

But her friends did. They always seemed to. Simmie's momentary concern for her Master passed, before she dropped down to Benny, squeaking at him and gesturing with her arms at the fallen would-be kidnappers. Benny roared and obliged to whatever Simmie had told him to, hopping over to the nearest man.

Benny poked him, a stubby clawed finger on bare skin, and the guard seized, momentarily, as if he'd been shocked. He plodded over to the next, doing the same. The sight snapped Taylor out of her stupor of self-pity. "Benny," she asked, "Don't taze them anymore, they're already going to need doctors and probably counselors-"

"M-memory Loss," The girl spoke up, interrupting. "It's- it's a side effect of electric shock." A pause. "B-b-but I don't know anything about that!"She gestured with her arms, frantically waving them in front of her. One by one, Benny made his way to the other incapacitated men, shocking them each in turn. After he finished the last one he turned to the girl and hopped towards her, his finger held outward and his maw stretched in a wide grin. She became even more terrified it seemed. "Oh, oh nonono please-"

"Benny, that's enough." Taylor pointed at her Friend and then gestured to the ground next to her leg. Benny made a sound that sounded to Taylor like disappointment and his tiny shoulders sagged, but he obeyed and hopped over next to Taylor. The girl relaxed, visibly. "I'm not going to hurt you, and neither are they."

"Thank you." Taylor couldn't tell if she was relieved, or simply glad to not have been tazed unconscious.

"Yeah."Deep breaths Taylor, deep breaths. Play this cool. She walked over to the ledge, scooping her backpack up and off of it. She held it down, allowing her friends access to hop and scrabble and float into it before she zipped it closed. "Just, don't tell anyone I was here alright? I'm trying to avoid publicity."

The girl carefully picked herself up from the ground, scooping up her messenger bag. She looked at Taylor, then at her backpack before turning her gaze back to her savior. "Of course," she replied. "I could understand why you'd want to keep a low profile." A beat, punctuated by an awkward silence. "Can we talk? I, I think I might be able to help you. You look like you've got a whole lot of unresolved, well, everything. I promise I won't do anything that will make you-" Another pause from her. "Or your, um, Friends, electrocute me."

I shouldn't do this, she thought. I don't even know her name. At this point I just want to go home and go to sleep."Talk?"

She glanced at Taylor's bag momentarily before nodding. "Yeah, anywhere's fine. Though if you're willing, I'm partial to this one little café Downtown. It's a bit out of the way and away from prying eyes. It's part-bakery too, and they have a nice selection of baked stuffs. Fresh muffins, cookies and pastries, that sort of stuff. Don't worry, it's all on me, if you're interested." Taylor's backpack rustled, a sense of anticipation emanating from it. "There's a small courtyard there too, more of a small gated-off park really, no one really ever goes in there this time of day except for the occasional customer. Oh, and I'm Lisa, by the way." She held out her hand towards Taylor.

"Um, likewise." Taylor, hesitant at first, took her hand, shaking it firmly but gently. Taylor noted the girl shudder, ever so slightly. Odd.

Releasing her hand, Lisa composed herself, then adjusted the strap of her own bag before stepping over the fallen and half-naked kidnapper. "You don't have to worry about telling me your name or anything like that. You'd probably want to keep your identity- no, your existence a secret, for the moment at least."

"Yeah, that- that would be a good idea."

"So what should I call you in the meantime then? Wicked Witch of the West? Endbringer Girl? Destroyer of Worlds? The Dark Lord Herself?" She spoke, leaning over Taylor, her hands held behind her back and a vulpine grin on her face.

Taylor looked horrified. "Haha, I kid, I kid. Anyways we'd better hurry on then, wouldn't want to get caught up in the lunch hour rush. I said it's out of the way but every hipster college kid in the city knows about the place and they like getting their noon caffeine fix there." She stepped off, down the alleyway towards the general direction of the Boardwalk, Taylor and her ever-hungry Friends reluctantly following after her.

The girl, Lisa as she called herself, had been right – the little cafe and bakery had a really nice selection of freshly baked goods. Taylor could feel Simmie's anticipation for sweets ready to bubble over as she browsed the selection. Although nearly all of it was out of her price range, Lisa had insisted on paying. The girl stood off to her side, ordering a coffee ahead of her. Taylor never cared for coffee personally, she preferred the hot tea that her mom would brew and drink in the mornings to the black, often foul-tasting brews her dad used to wake up in the morning.

In the end she settled on a tea latte at Lisa's insistence, although she would have been fine with a simple cup of regular tea, as well as a pair very large chocolate chip cookies and a large cup of chocolate pudding for her Friends. It was all Taylor could do to will themselves to behave, despite their unbelievable desire for snacks. Sure, they had had ice cream earlier, but now she got the feeling she was spoiling them. Then again they had stopped a kidnapping so they deserved a reward of some sort.

Thinking of the kidnapping, Lisa seemed oddly upbeat about being saved. When Taylor had asked her why, the girl had insisted that they probably weren't going to try again. Like she knew something Taylor didn't. And she seemed to act strange at times, suddenly pausing mid-sentence, as if she had some sort of... insight, mid-thought. Who knows, maybe she is a- what was it- a Thinker of some sort?Nah, can't be, what are the odds of running into a Cape in their civilian identity? And a proper Cape would hide their powers better. Still, she noticed it and it puzzled her. Dammit Taylor, you used to be better at knowing people.

Lisa had been correct again about the courtyard that adjoined the café - despite the café being busy the courtyard was practically deserted. Just as Lisa had said it would be. Quiet, empty, almost serene to an extent, it was a surprisingly good place for the five of them to sit down and talk. Or in her Friends' cases, eat their treats. They sat down at a bench in the far corner of the area, Taylor popped off the lid of the container that held the treats as her Friends pried their way through her backpack's zipper and swept out to descend on the presented snacks. Lisa looked onward as the three began to eat up, a mixed look of fascination and horror on her face.

"At least those were cheaper than a goat..."

"A goat?"

Lisa nodded. "Like, a sacrifice."

Taylor's jaw fell. "Th- That's horrible…"

They both sat quietly after that as Taylor's friends ate, Simmie nibbling away at a cookie twice her size, Benny likewise, Levi with his head buried in the pudding. Taylor saw Lisa, wide-eyed, and decided to try and break the silence. "They're friendly, you know. You don't have to look so... scared of them."

Lisa said nothing for a moment, only watched. "When I see them- eat, like that, all I can imagine are people being messily devoured. I didn't even know they could eat."

"Well, they can," she shrugged. "I found out the hard way when they found out what my refrigerator is for. I almost didn't manage to clean up the mess before my d- Yeah, almost didn't have time." Lisa perked up at hearing her near slip of tongue. Taylor had to be careful while talking. Taylor stirred her tea before sipping on it again, reinforcing her composure.

"So are they housebroken?"

"Um, I guess?" Taylor shrugged. They don't make messes, um, like that."

"Ah, okay. Another question, can they still do their, you know, things?"

"Their 'things?'"

"You know, their powers, do they still have them?" Lisa hesitated at first, but she shook it off, reaching out to gently tap Simmie on her head. The mini Endbringer was so engrossed in eating her cookie she failed to react or even notice Lisa's touch. "The Simurgh? She has this whole thing going where she turns people into walking time-bombs. Ones that might go crazy at some point in the future and start randomly killing people, or worse. That's before we start talking about her telekinesis - she once wrapped Alexandria up in a bridge. A whole entire bridge. And creamed Eidolon with a hypersonic birdbath. And this one," This time gesturing at Benny, who was likewise engrossed in his snack, "manages to horribly kill nearly three-quarters of every group of Capes that they send against him every time, mostly due to the fact he's a walking nuclear reactor with his energy manipulation."

She then reached her hand towards Levi before she stopped. Levi had popped his head out of the pudding cup, four beady eyes focusing through a pudding-smeared face on the girl. "Careful," Taylor spoke, "You might end up with scratches and an Endbringer attached to your arm." Taylor chuckled.

"Temperamental?" Lisa questioned as she withdrew her hand.

Taylor nodded. "He's the middle child and he knows it." Taylor reached out and gently stroked Levi's back, the creature leaning into her strokes before he turned his attention back to the pudding. "And they aren't really that strong, right now their powers are well, weak. Simmie could carry maybe one of my textbooks, and Benny can heat about a bathtub full of water. Levi, he can make waves in it, cut stuff with his talons..."And they can grow to ten times their current sizes and chew apart ships and can make Tinkertech weapons and shields. Taylor kept that last part to herself. She didn't want to instantly freak Lisa out beyond any hope of return.

"Well, that barely qualifies as a one or maybe a two on the PRT Ratings." She sounded... relieved, almost.

"Although-" Taylor was probably going to regret this later. "She made these for me, earlier today." Taylor pulled up the cuffs on her sweater, revealing her gray bracelets to the other girl.

"Whoa, Tinkertech," she said, almost breathless. "That's... really high end stuff. She made those for you?"

And a computer too. Taylor nodded. "Yeah. Back in the alleyway when that one thug hit me with the gun, I didn't even feel it. The bracelet took the hit for me." She tapped the device affixed to her left wrist.

"A personal shield? Nifty. I figured back there in the alley that you had powers when you stood your ground and I saw that guy try hit you. But since we're on that subject, have you chosen a name?"

"That's the second time you've asked me about what I call myself."

"It's a good topic for discussion at the moment, especially for you. And especially for the people you love."Dad. He's involved in all of this in a horrible way and he doesn't even know yet. And I still haven't even figured out how to tell him.

Lisa leaned in. "You wouldn't want to end up being called something like Chubster for the rest of your Cape career now would you? Especially when the PRT and their banal naming conventions find out about you, you'll be lucky to get away with a name that doesn't sound, well, Endbringer-y."

She thought about Armsmaster from earlier at the Graveyard. "I'm not going to let them."

"It's not a matter of if, but when. Especially regarding your powers Miss Endbringer." Taylor recoiled. "Alright, alright, no more teasing. But, will you take into consideration that your friends here probably cause property damage wherever they go? The kind that attracts attention, and the wrong kind?"

Benny had had a lot of fun up at the Graveyard. Simmie too."Yeah, I guess you're right on that part. They can get rather, um, destructive, if I let them loose too much."Crap, maybe too much information there...

Lisa was silent for a moment, like she was thinking for something to say. The silence almost became uncomfortable before she continued. "You triggered on the Fifth of last month, didn't you?"

How did she know? Taylor thought. She didn't get a chance to answer because Lisa continued just as quickly. "Thought so. Look, I'll be honest with you then. The instant they find out about you, the PRT, the Protectorate, and hell, damned-near everyone else, you're screwed. Thoroughly. They'll rank you S-Class right off the bat- doesn't matter if they're cute or cuddly now, it would be simple guilt by association. Legend, Alexandria, Eidolon- well, maybe not him, but the rest of the Triumvirate, they'd be after you. The Fallen, the Teeth, Yangban, they'd all be after you too for whatever reasons. Dragon too, she has this whole hate-hate thing going on with the Endbringers and the Simurgh in particular.

"And even if you just wanted to stay away from the limelight and publicity, they just wouldn't let you. Even if you surrendered yourself peacefully to the Protectorate, the bare minimum I see happening is that they force you into the Wards, but it'd be in name only, a backseat role in a gilded cage with a Sword of Damocles hanging above your neck to keep you in-line. More likely that that, they'd just put you in a box to study. Probably not the Birdcage, you'd be too valuable. It would be some sort of cage though, where they can poke and prod you and your friends through the bars at their pleasure."

Taylor noticed that Simmie had paused eating and had been listening intently. And to be honest, she didn't know what to say. This girl knew things about her. Knew things she probably shouldn't have known for a teenager. What's more, she was right. She never wanted to think about what they'd do to her or her father, if the Protectorate or the PRT ever found out. What would she do when they finally found out?

What would her Friends do?

And Lisa was completely right, if today at the Graveyard had been any indication, it really was a matter of 'when.'

"If- if you were me, what would you do?"

That same vulpine grin from before, just for a moment. "I can't say, I'm not you. I certainly don't envy the idea of being in your shoes right now. But," she paused, for emphasis. "If I found I had triggered with a ridiculously overpowered ability, and did not want to be turned into public enemy number one... I'd go to the PRT, not as a girl with few dangerous pets, but as a Cape. As someone who can command and lead Endbringers. I'd inform the PRT that I was new to the Cape business, give them a name to work with. Not my real name, but an actual cape identity. A moniker, a mask, a costume, preferably something as non-villainous as possible, something someone off the street could point to and say 'A villain? How could that person be a villain?'" Lisa paused, to sip her coffee. "Mainly because the PRT, control freaks they are, literally can't handle unknowns. It's beyond them. They basically spend all of their time trying to find, intercept and contain every potential and unknown threat that looms against humanity. The current MIA status of the Endbringers is the proverbial gorilla in the room right now, so to speak. And something tells me you'll need a costume or at least a mask. Hooded sweaters don't work very well for concealing identities, as you've already realized."

Taylor nodded. No, they actually kinda suck for that.

"So, I would tell them that I don't mean anyone any harm, that I have them in check." She gestured to Taylor's Friends. "And that I'd want to be left alone for the time being. So, now they have something to work with, and they'll have their massive press conferences where they state the Endbringers have been neutralized or removed from the picture or whatever. They'll probably figure out your civilian identity in very short order, who you are and where you live, where you go to school. Can't really hide when someone like Dragon is pulling the strings, looking for you. Not without major help at least. Stay out of trouble and avoid going vigilante or rogue, and avoid rocking the boat to much or making any waves, well, the PRT might, or at least should, keep their distance. Hell, they'd probably work overtime to protect you.

"However," And she paused for a beat to emphasize the word. "That being said, literally everyone else on the planet will see you a lot differently. There are groups out there that would come after you, pretty much guaranteed. It's hard to do much against someone who commands your kind of power, but it won't stop a lot of unsavory people with a grudge or a reason to fight you from trying. And then there are the gangs in Brockton Bay that would either try to recruit you or just kill you. Lung comes to mind, I somehow doubt he would tolerate the one thing he could never defeat being in the same continent as him, let alone the same city."

"You certainly know how to scare someone," Taylor finally spoke, a note of worry in her voice. She recognized that name from her trips to the library, and onto the Parahumans Wiki. Lung. He was one of the Capes that had fought Leviathan in Kyushu before it sank. A towering individual, he was one of the only capes to survive that battle, a battle that cost several million lives. Now he was the leader of the Azn Bad Boys, one of the gangs that inhabited Brockton Bay, A gang that he ruled with an iron fist. A fist that also burned no less. Taylor glanced down to Levi, who was completely oblivious to everything but his pudding cup. This feeling she was experiencing... A sort of dread in the pit of her stomach...

This? This was the first time she was actually scared for them.

"Fear's optional, in my opinion. The danger though is very real. Especially to you." Lisa took a long sip of her coffee. "I should know, I'm sitting at a bench with all three of the Endbringers." She waved a hand at Taylor's Friends. "You have to at least act strong, act the part of someone who wouldn't be brought to their knees by common rabble. You've got power, a lot of it, so you're already half-way there to wielding it."

Taylor was silent for just a moment. "So, go to the PRT, the one thing I'm pretty loathe to do more than anything else. That's your advice to me?"

"That's just what I'd do. If I were in your shoes of course." Lisa gulped down the rest of her coffee. "It's a good plan, more or less. Trust me, I know a thing or two about plans and courses of action."

Simmie gobbled down the last of her cookie, chirping and squealing in delight. Floating up, she hovered over towards Lisa, before making a series of chirps at her and flying back to Taylor.

"What?" Lisa mumbled.

"She said thank you," Taylor stated. "She's good about her manners. Oh, she also said thank you for her brothers' treats as well. I'm still working on their manners, they can be, well, boys, at times." Benny and Levi were only just then finishing up their snacks. Drops of chocolate pudding and cookie crumbs lay scattered around them messily.

"You can understand them?" She sounded surprised.

"Sort of. I can key in, so to speak, on their emotions and basic thoughts. She's expressing a strong feeling of... gratitude. So she was thanking you."

Lisa chuckled, rubbing her head. "I'm not used to getting surprised at every turn." She got up from the bench, her bag in hand. "I want to thank you again for, um, saving me. Oh, and before I go-" She fished around inside her bag, before pulling out a pen and a slip of paper to scrawl something on it. "My number," she stated, handing the paper to Taylor. "If you ever want to talk again, just call me. Normally I'd ask if you had a cell phone but you don't... Err, seem like the person to use one."

No, no I don't."Uh, yeah, thanks."

"Just call if you want to talk or just hang out. I've had a lot of free time lately. Well, see ya." She turned to leave.

"Wait, one last thing, before you go."

Lisa looked back over her shoulder. "Oh?"

"My name, it's Taylor." She had a gut feeling that this was a horrible idea. Although Simmie's chirping and surprisingly calm reassurance didn't equate to her gut. "Yeah, I'll have to talk with you again, maybe ask you for more advice?"

She nodded, her smile wider. "Good, good. It was nice meeting you, Taylor."

"Yeah. Likewise." Taylor watched her leave, exiting out the front gate and into the busy street. She glanced down at the paper in her hand, ten numbers scrawled hastily. She pocketed it, gathering up her Friends into her own backpack and scooping up the half-drunk cup of tea to take with her. Lisa had given her a lot to think about, to dwell on. Possibly more than she could have possibly dealt with in one go. People who would likely be coming after her. Choices she would have to make. A Name. A Mask. An identity.

A Cape.

Taylor was suddenly weary, tired. She paused a moment, allowing her head and worries to clear for a moment, before she picked herself up and soldiered on. She could take the bus home, back to her house in the Docks. She suddenly couldn't wait to go to bed.

She headed west and north, wearily back towards her home.

Well, that's all for now. The Friendbringers causing chaos and stuffing their faces, Lisa up to something sneaky, strange plots in the works.

1-4 and then two interludes will round out the first chapter. Then on to Chapter 2, where things will pick up very quickly.

Last edited: Nov 29, 2018

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TheMadmanAndre

Oct 30, 2014

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Nov 14, 2014

#322

It's a bit later that I Intended, but here it is. The last part of Chapter One. After this I have a pair of Interludes, to flesh out the story so far some, and to act as a breather for Chapter 2. Again special thanks to Materia-Blade and MarkerIV for proofreading and suggestions.

So without further ado, here it is.

1-4

Levi nuzzled his face against Taylor's, eager for attention. She gave it, giving him a back scratch and stroking his tail. He's strong, she noted, as he leaned back into her hands. So energetic still, after a crazy day like felt an excited agreement from him, as he hopped away down to the floor to find Benny.

Taylor leaned back on her bed, Simmie cuddled up at her side and her new computer in her hands, as she did her best to try and relax, to get her mind at ease, while waiting for dinner downstairs.

It was easier said and done. The day's events had troubled her, frightened her even. She replayed in her mind for the umpteenth time, what all that had happened that day. Her trip far away from Winslow to the Graveyard, where she let loose her friends for a change. Her experiments with her powers, how she could influence not only their size but their strength and powers as well. How Simmie had made her new bracelets, as well as her new favorite toy. She recalled how Simmie had quickly carried them all away, before Armsmaster could arrive and spoil their fun even more.

That could have ended in utter horror. Taylor glanced down at the duo as they played with their Ball, the both of them too preoccupied with the contraption to have any other cares in the world.

Then there was the girl, Lisa, that she had saved from being kidnapped by thugs. Taylor could vividly recall how that entire scene played out inside her head even now. And then there was the talk afterward, about what she would have to do. About what she would have to become.

When she had first realized that she had triggered, she had wanted to be a superhero. When she realized and confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt what her powers actually entailedthough, she had been distraught. If I ever got powers, I would want to be a was what she had told herself, no matter I still be that hero, despite this? Despite befriending the Endbringers themselves?

She looked down at the wing-wrapped form lying alongside her. When she had discovered that she had control over not just their sizes but their power scope, Taylor was initially both frightened and intrigued. Now, after the day had wound down she had opted for a simple experiment on the friend of hers that she felt was the most well behaved. She had briefly considered Benny and Levi for this test, but Taylor suspected that their destructive tendencies would be hard to cover up if she upped their sizes in her bedroom. She could only hazard to guess what her Dad would think if he found a six foot tall Benny crashing around inside the house, or an oversized Levi turning her bedroom into a water park.

In the end, Taylor had ultimately decided on Simmie. She had discovered that she could give Simmie and her brothers some of her power from that Source within her, through the tethers, the bonds, that connected her to each of their three little reservoirs. So, she gave Simmie a fair amount of her energy from her Source, what she had chosen after some mental deliberation to call the... thing, inside her that seemed to power the trio.

It was simple and easy enough to 'charge' Simmie - fine-tuning it had been a much more difficult. The Endbringer had felt overwhelmingly... perplexed, as Taylor had manipulated her size back and forth, not enough to completely shrink her, but not enough to get her to her earlier teenager size either. She had realized that by finely manipulating the flow along the tether she could not only control the rate at which they could change shape and size, but she could also effectively captheir size as well, while giving them some freedom to choose their own size and dimensions. The draw from her own Source was notably increased, but manageable. Taylor made a mental note to experiment further, the next chance she got, as the difficulty to keep them at a specific unusual size seemed... difficult. Almost as if they had a few preferred forms.

Regardless, the end result of Taylor's experimentation with Simmie was nothing short of adorable. The Simmie that lay next to her was neither the inches tall animated plush toy, nor the busty and elegant and beautiful teenager from before, but something Taylor found completely unexpected. Her friend now resembled a seven or eight-year old girl, clad in one of Taylor's old shirts. Simmie had initially protested wearing the improvised garment but eventually she yielded, once Taylor had cut several slits down the back with a penknife. After Taylor had slipped it onto Simmie and fastened it at her waist with an improvised belt of cloth, Simmie eventually settled down with only a few chirps and squeaks of protest. Nevertheless she carefully wrapped her wings around her body, as another layer of modesty. Maybe I should braid her hair as well, Taylor thought to herself. She'd look cute with pigtails.

Her brothers though seemed to find her new-found size curious. They had crawled and scrambled around her and then ontoher, nuzzling her and carefully scrutinizing her new appearance much to Simmie's annoyance and displeasure. Taylor tried and failed to shoo them away, until Simmie herself created a method of occupying them, a new toy, of sorts.

Taylor had dubbed the creation the Ball. It was another one of Simmie's inventions, crafted on the spot from an old broken alarm clock and CD player that she had left and all but forgotten about in the back of her nightstand's bottommost drawer. Bits and pieces of the devices littered the wood floor in a corner, discarded by the Tinker. The Ball itself was an evidently simple contraption - a simple, small metallic sphere with a number of thin rounded spokes jutting out from it in all directions. It had the same dull-gray metal surface as Simmie's other devices that she had created so far. It bobbed along the floor, hovering just a centimeter or so above it, floating around with seemingly very little friction. Taylor concluded that Simmie made it to keep Levi and Benny occupied with an indestructible object, as neither in their play had so much as marred or even scratched its surface despite their best efforts to gnaw and claw it.

As her friends played and napped, Taylor focused her own attention on her Slate, the name she had decided to call her new computer. It was light, almost weightless even, cool to the touch and comfortable to hold. She had a dozen separate tabs open on the Slate's web browser, some open to articles about the gangs in Brockton Bay, a few others were on pages about different cape costumes and outfits. The page that Taylor currently read was from the well-known Parahumans Wiki. It was an incredibly short article, little more than a stub - a name of a Cape, and a few lines of text giving a rough description of his appearance.

Coil.

It wasn't much. But what Simmie had seemingly spoke into Taylor's mind had bugged her since that morning. Working for man-with-snake-face. This Coil person was the only person, or rather the only Capein Brockton Bay that seemed to fit that description. According to the article he had a snake motif to his costume, that wrapped around his torso and head. Beyond that and the fact that he employed well-equipped mercenaries almost exclusively, there was no other useful information on the article.

They'll hurt her, threaten her, use , the girl the kidnappers had tried to snatch. As Taylor thought about it, those men from earlier that day had a sort of 'hired gun' feel to them. Did they work for this Coil? What did Lisa even have that Coil wanted? Was Lisa a actually a Cape, like Taylor herself was, perhaps?

And there was more, about how she was going to go about this cape business. About how to confront her father, who slept just down the hall. She thought again about Benny and Levi meeting them, couldn't help but think about all the wrong ways, like Levi popping out of the sink while Dad brushed his teeth, or him waking up in the morning to Benny sitting on his chest. The dad issue aside, assuming she could even be a hero...

She'd have to join the Wards, most likely; specifically the chapter in Brockton Bay. And she'd need to get her father's approval, and of course tell him...

She rubbed her eyes. Too much to think about, too many questions she didn't have answers for. She debated calling Lisa, the number that was scrawled on the piece of paper that lay discarded on her nightstand. Taylor didn't have a phone of her own, aside from the one downstairs. Unless...

She brought up the desktop, scanning the list of applications. Yep, her Slate had a phone too. It seemed to have everything she could imagine. She hesitated though, reconsidering whether or not she should really call the girl. She barely knew her. What would she ask, aside from what she already knew. Aside from what Lisa had already told her?

She shrugged. Taylor tapped the screen in the corner, turning the Slate off and tucking it under her pillow. Tomorrow, she'd have to go back to school, if she wanted to make up for missed time and work. Back to dealing with the inanity, the boredom. The bullies. The traitor Emma and her tag-alongs. Taylor dreaded having to go back. Hated having to deal with all of it for five days a week. But, her friends had somehow made it manageable. Being able to come home, every day, and play with them. To have someone love her for what she was.

She felt sets of claws on her sheets, scrabbling up to cuddle next to her. Benny and Levi curled up on their usual spots next to Simmie, their warmth welcome in the chilly bedroom. "At least I have you guys." She reached over to scratch their heads, the both of them acknowledging her with their thanks.

A knock at her door. Taylor jolted, startled. Benny and Levi likewise popped up, alert, while Simmie only stirred in her sleep. She was either oblivious or unworried, which of those two she didn't know.

"Taylor, it's me. Just letting you know that dinner will be ready in a few minutes." She turned her gaze down to her Friends, then back to the door.

"Um, thanks Dad, I'll, um, just be just down in a moment, I'm kinda... undressed at the moment." A lie. But a white lie, and for a very good reason. As long as Dad didn't open the door and see the Endbringers lounging on her bed. Then again he wouldn't, as he respected her privacy and made a point to do so. "Gimme a few minutes?"

"Of course," He replied, almost enthusiastically. Taylor heard the soft sounds of footsteps on the stairs as Dad went back down to the kitchen, breathing a sigh of relief. My three little secrets, safe for another day. How have I managed this so far?Taylor hoped it was because she implored on her friends to be well-behaved. Or at least to keep out of sight, for their sake. For her sake.

Simmie rose to a sitting position, her eyes and wings fluttering open. Her mouth opened, and she made a single, plaintive squeak, as she gazed at her Master. Her brothers too, they stood nearby, their eyes pleading. She instinctively knew what her friend wanted. What all of them wanted.

"Alright guys, as long as you're staying well behaved, I'll get you some snacks. Promise to keep quiet?"

"Rawr!"Benny hopped over, latching onto Taylor's shoulder as he did, the fiery little Endbringer cuddling her face as he climbed up. Taylor giggled, plucking him off of her and gently scratching his head.

Placing Benny down, Taylor hopped off of the bed Already in her night clothes, she slipped silently out through her bedroom door and into the hallway, then down the stairs below, the smell of cooking pasta and meat sauce heavy in the air.

Dinner was… quiet. Aside from a few acknowledgements and greetings they both ate in silence. Spaghetti and Meatballs, with a side of cut green beans. Simple, but one of her old favorites. It was how a lot of their evenings had been spent, it seemed. Just as the silence seemed to get too intense to bear, her Dad broke the silence. "So," he started, "things might finally start looking up for us. For the city too."

Taylor perked up, quickly swallowing a mouthful of spaghetti. "A good day at work?"

Her Dad nodded. "Well, remember how I said the other day how I had a pretty important meeting today with some people from out of town?"

Taylor nodded. She dimly recalled Dad talking about something like that. She was too lost in thought at the time to clearly remember though - she had been preoccupied with how to keep her Friends in check as their cabin fever worsened. She did remember that he had mentioned something about the Boat Graveyard - that comment was what had given her the idea of the getaway in the first place.

"Well, I met with a group of representatives today from a salvage company down in New York, and they're willing to look into possibly clearing out the old Boat Graveyard. The deal that we worked out, I think it's the best one I've heard yet so far."

Taylor frowned slightly. She had had this conversation with her dad before. "There was a catch though, wasn't there?"

"Yeah." Her Dad ate another mouthful. "The catch being that they want the full scrap worth worth of the derelicts as part of their asking price. Considering the sheer amount of tonnage out there, the scrap worth alone would cover half of it right off the bat. And the price they're asking for their initial advance payment to start, it's well, it's low. Next to nothing, almost.

"That sounds too good to be true, to be honest."

"It does, doesn't it? But they're serious, I think."

"What makes you say that, exactly?"

Her Dad was grinning, almost smiling. Well, afterwards I had a couple of guys look into them from the Association. Turns out they're a subsidiary of the big company responsible for building the Endbringer Shelters - Fortress Construction I think was what they were called." Her Dad took another bite of pasta. "They call themselves Titan Salvage, and they're pretty new too, a really recent start-up. Anyways, a few days ago, completely out of the blue, they approached me and the rest of the Dockworkers, looking into clearing out the wrecks and salvaging the scrap there."

"Aren't they worried about the Endbringers? Like that Leviathan thing?" Discounting the fact that they're in my bedroom, waiting for me to bring them leftovers and cookies, of course,She thought to herself and herself alone.

He simply shrugged. "A lot of people are thinking that they're gone for good, disappeared off to wherever they came from, despite what the Protectorate might say. I'm not complaining, as long as they stay gone, and they don't come back. I digress though, the bottom line is, I'm pretty sure that these Fortress guys want to diversify their assets, for obvious reasons."

"And what would that be?"

"Simple economics Taylor. No more Endbringers, no more need for the Shelters, no more Fortress. Hence, they're reorganizing, re-prioritizing, to head off or at least mitigate an upcoming potential bankruptcy. I've seen it enough times, that sort of thing, when some of the companies we used to work with had troubles."

"Okay, I guess I can get that." She kind of did, Taylor concluded. Her dad could talk with a passion that made it easy to understand and listen to him. His oration was one of the talents that helped him so much in maintaining the Dockworkers' Association. "So, assuming they clear out the ships, what then?"

"If you build it Taylor, they will come. Which brings me to tomorrow - I've got another meeting on my agenda, this time with both the Titan Reps and some Magnates in the old shipping industry. I think they're wanting to get ahead of their competitors in Europe in regards to restarting the global shipping trade. If I can talk to them all on the same level, maybe I can get all of the rest of the funding secured for this. And if I can get that and pitch it to the Mayor, well, we might be able to turn the city around."

"My dad, the hero we deserve." Taylor was happy for him, it was rare to see him so exited. Trying to get the city back on its feet after a decade of decline had been about the only thing that could really get him going. To see him finally making progress after so much failure…

"A hero? Ha, hardly. Sorry Taylor, but I don't wear any cape or costume." Scooping up and eating the last of his pasta he cleaned up his plates and glass, taking them into the kitchen and dropping them in the sink. "Who knows though, maybe I got a secret identity kiddo, and you just don't know it," he called out to her from the kitchen.

She giggled. It was hard to imagine her dad donning a cape and a mask and going out to fight crime.

"Ah, now that I'm really thinking about it, I almost completely forgot. Apparently there was some Cape battle or something up in the Graveyard earlier today. I thought I'd let you know about it from me, since I didn't see anything about it on the six o'clock news."

Taylor's blood instantly ran cold. A Cape fight. At the Graveyard. "Cape fight?" She managed to say, somehow, without breaking her composure. She already knew of three Capes that might be responsible. Upstairs, in my bedroom playing with a Tinkertech ball and snoozing in my bed...

"That's what the guys at work said at least. After the big meeting I had a couple of the dockworkers show the Reps around the Graveyard. The guys said a big chunk of it was cordoned off. Of course they guessed it had something to do with Capes, since the PRT was out there. Anyways the Titan Reps didn't seem to care at least."

"That… sounds interesting. I guess." She did her best not to stammer. She remembered the Cape on his motorcycle, Armsmaster and the conversation she had eavesdropped on. Almost paradoxically, she suddenly recalled that she owned a pair of underwear with his logo on them that she hadn't worn since grade school...

Taylor banished that thought. Banished all of those thoughts. I don't want to spoil it for him. Not now, maybe not ever...

"Are- are you going to bed early Dad?" She stammered. "It, um,sounds like you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow."

He shrugged. "Yeah, I kind of do." He walked out of the kitchen, drying his hands with a dish towel. "Well, I'm gonna go get a shower and some sleep myself. Are you gonna need a ride to school tomorrow?"

She took a breath, nodding. Play it cool Taylor. "Yeah, I might like that."

"Alright. Speaking of which, how is school going for you? Settled back in after the hospital? Nobody's causing you any trouble right?"

I'm being tormented on a daily basis by the bullies from hell, the apathetic school faculty do absolutely nothing, and every day is an exercise in futility, so I skip class pretty often. If I'm lucky, I can eat lunch in the girl's bathroom in peace without drinks being poured on me over the stall's wall. "It's fine Dad, I'm doing okay." It hurt her, to have to lie like that. Anything else though would just burden her dad. Especially at a time when he was so close to accomplishing something so big. So important. She didn't want to, she wasn't, going to take that from him.

"That's good to hear. Bacon and eggs in the morning?"

"Yeah. Goodnight Dad."

"Goodnight kiddo." He turned, headed up the stairs and down the hall, past her room full of Endbringers. It wasn't very often that she could just sit down and have a talk like that with her Dad. Not since her Mom's accident at least.

Taylor cleaned up her own plates and silverware, bringing them to the sink and depositing them there for tomorrow. On her way back up the stairs however she grabbed a small tupperware container, scooping some of the meatballs into it, as well as a couple of sugar cookies from the jar on the countertop. She grabbed a small glass of juice as well.

A few moments later, and being confident her dad was out of earshot in the shower, She slipped back up to her room, her snacks in hand. Her friends were predictably excited, save for Simmie who was positively lethargic, which Taylor was starting to think was a bit unusual. Maybe the day had affected her worse than her siblings. Simmie gave a squeak of thanks to her master as she politely nibbled on her cookies.

Benny dug in, noisily munching on the meatballs and attacking them with as much ferocity as his tiny body could muster, Levi sipped his drink. He seemed to have taken an odd liking to the apple juice Taylor made from the concentrate her dad had picked up, as he alone had drank nearly all of it. She would have to buy more for him sometime in the future.

Simmie unexpectedly finished first - she seemed disappointed almost that she ate her cookies so quickly. "Well, you're a lot bigger than you were earlier. A bigger mouth and probably a bigger appetite." She poked Simmie in her stomach. A bigger belly too." She chirped, loudly, A strange sensation of... ticklishnesswashed over Taylor.

"Wait, you're ticklish? How did I not learn this sooner?" Taylor's hands came up, her fingers forming claws and a wicked grin on her face. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Simmie could only squeak in terror, then laughter, as her master pounced, tackling her to the bed.

A short time later, and almost completely exhausted, Taylor sank into her sheets, her tired mind welcoming the soft comforty goodness of a warm bed. Benny and Levi lay curled up by her head, their bellies stuffed. Simmie lay sprawled on the other side of her, wings laid out every which way, She had collapsed there, worn out from being tickled to the point of almost crying. Simmie snoozed, happily dreaming what Taylor hoped were pleasant dreams.

She closed her eyes and wrapped an arm around Simmie, hugging her friend close. She was warm. A reassuring and supportive kind of warm. Something Taylor was glad for.

Tomorrow was Friday. I hope it's better than today, Taylor thought dimly, as she slipped into sleep.

Well, that's a wrap for now. I might release the Interludes staggered, maybe a day or two apart. I'm aiming towards the weekend before Thanksgiving.

Last edited: Nov 29, 2018

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Nov 14, 2014

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Dec 14, 2014

#505

A wild update appears! It's super effective!

Pokemon jokes aside, here it is. Much delayed but present nevertheless. Special thanks again to Materia-Blade and 00Zy99 for beta-reading and proofreading.

Interlude 1: Coil

For what it was worth, his day could be going worse. A lot worse.

It took all of his willpower not to get up from the sofa and start pacing around the waiting room, to try and work out all of the issues and problems he and his organization faced. He thought about the day before, when his pawn met with the girl. The girl that had become either his greatest boon or biggest threat since... well, ever. On the other hand, knowing who she was, and especially what she was ahead of time – that was one of the few silver linings he'd seen the last week.

His main front company was facing bankruptcy – it was hard not to, when an entire firm's reason to even exist seemingly vanishes literally overnight, and is probably gone for good. Stock in Fortress started plummeting in the wake of last month's events, still was, and showed no change in its direction of freefall anytime soon. Sure, the Endbringer Shelters could be re-purposed, re-marketed as storm shelters, bomb shelters even, but they'd lost their primary selling point. People want a guarantee of safety when an Endbringer rolls through – it doesn't carry the same weight like other disasters. That, and the fact that they were expensive to maintain. Expensive even for him.

His thoughts turned back to the girl. They always turned back to the girl. On one hand knowing about her was terrifying to him, after what very nearly happened. On the other it was fortunate – he could plan around her, maybe even use her - another of his most useful of employees had insured that that avenue could remain open - for the near future at least.

Invariably his thoughts turned back to how it all began, how he discovered her. The job in the Docks a week ago had been simple, virtually impossible for a team like the Travelers to screw up. Yet they somehow did - what should have been a simple theft of an armored car full of cash from the Empire had turned into a Cape fight-slash-car chase through the city after a random Empire goon got the drop on them. It finally ended when the van ran an intersection and crashed into oncoming traffic, obliterating a city bus and a dozen cars in the process and killing who knew how many outright.

It was there that things became unclear. He'd been watching events unfold from his underground base, through cameras carried by his own people and through local traffic cameras. A moment after the crash, amongst the dead and dying, Coil witnessed a young woman, possibly a teenager, crawl out of the wreckage a completely destroyed city bus. Her torso and head were covered in blood, and her right arm hung limply at her side, her left hand clutching a tattered backpack. She cried out, before she stumbled and fell to the pavement, her body clearly wracked in pain.

That was all he saw before every camera feed he had access to cut to static inexplicably. A few moments later, while his team in the control center of his base scrambled to figure out what the hell had just happened, the commander of his fielded mercenaries who he had sent on-site contacted him, or at least tried to - the call itself had consisted of several seconds of screaming before the it abruptly ended.

A minute after that, Endbringer sirens began to sound across the city, the characteristic wail that preceded their wrath. Yet nothing happened in his other timeline, the day altogether normal and uneventful. Before Coil could react to this abrupt turn of events something began to literally tear the roof off of his underground base. Amidst the panicked screaming and confusion and wailing klaxons he remained calm, proceeding to his base's emergency exit.

He remained calm, at least until Behemoth itself exploded downward through his command center's ceiling. Then he started to panic. Although the monster that had presented itself seemed much smaller than Coil knew it should have been, it still crashed into the floor below in an avalanche of melting and flaming debris, showering and burying those unfortunate enough to be caught underfoot.

He could still vividly remember that visage of pure rage its face held as it searched the ruins for someone, the howl of anger when it found what it was looking for and settled its gaze on him, the jagged clawed hand it extended towards him. He didn't want to know what happened, or even what would have happened, because he had collapsed that timeline with his power immediately.

Coil shuddered as the world began to spin around him, putting an arm against the sofa in which he sat to steady himself. He breathed deeply, steadily, until the moment of nausea washed away. A part of him had doubted if it was even real, if he had hallucinated the events. In his alternate timeline the Travelers were still waiting on his permission to begin - but he had all but forgotten about that. With a word to his assistant to call them off he scrambled to act, quickly concluding that whatever the hell happened had been because of the crash. He then proceeded to find out why.

The next several days had been spent by his team painstakingly identifying everyone that had been in that intersection at the time of the crash – the footage of every traffic camera Coil and his team could get a hold of that was aimed at that intersection was scrutinized, studied in detail. Of every face, every individual, a background check thoroughly conducted and a dossier assembled. Virtually all of the people that had been caught in the crash were nobodies – public workers, office drones, generally those who worked in and around the Docks, on their way to work in the morning. An off-duty PRT officer going home after the night shift, a business manager cheating on his wife with his secretary in the car next to him. None of them fit what he was looking for - who he was looking for.

One did.

The girl he saw, horribly maimed in the crash – the bus she was riding in practically destroyed beyond recognition. Coil knew the indicators of a Trigger event all too well, having dealt with capes far too frequently, manipulating them, by being one himself. Getting into a massive car accident could cause a trigger event. That's what he mused, until he read the report that Mr. Pitter, his assistant, had handed him, and what the man had circled with bold red ink - specifically what she was doing, the day the Endbringers vanished.

Getting stuffed into a school locker for most of a day, covered in used female hygiene products and excrement – that fit the bill too. Maybe even better than a crash.

Her name was Taylor Annette Hebert, daughter of Annette Rose Hebert, deceased, and Daniel Hebert. Age: fifteen. Place of birth: Brockton Bay. Occupation: student at Winslow High School. And, as Tattletale had effectively confirmed the day before, possibly one of the most powerful Capes on the planet, bar maybe One.

Much of the past couple of days he spent merely observing her closely and figuring out her routine, albeit from a distance and through a handpicked agent, a former private detective who had a background in covert operations. By greasing some palms the man had netted some information about the girl that his dossier of Taylor only touched upon; she was frequently bullied at Winslow, most commonly by three other schoolmates, one of them a former friend of hers. How they had gotten away with stuffing her into a school locker without so much as a slap on the wrist was... perplexing. The father of one of the girls was a Lawyer by trade, although that alone didn't seem like it could give them immunity. Regardless he had asked an employee of his to investigate the perpetrators - they were likely being protected by someone, someone with power and weight to throw around. It was possible that there could be a problem down the road from that angle.

What her powers were, and how she was associated to the Behemoth had mystified him at first. Not until yesterday, when the tail he had assigned to the girl observed not one but all three of the Endbringers, in the man's own words frolicking in the Boat Graveyard. The man in question could scarcely believe what he was seeing. Neither could Coil, at the time. And his observations seemed to support something else Coil had observed - The Endbringers could somehow manipulate their own sizes and dimensions, eluding observation by being small enough to hide in plain sight.

Perhaps the Hebert girl could somehow control them. That much had been readily obvious. Or maybe it was the opposite - they were controlling her, manipulating her, using her to hide them or conceal them for whatever reason that may be. He idly noted that the last place the Protectorate would probably look for those horrors would be inside a schoolgirl's backpack. He had at first thought that perhaps she had had been the one to have created them in the first place, somehow. He discounted the hypothesis almost instantly. Behemoth, the oldest of the Endbringers, was much older than the girl, predating her birth by several years.

It had become abundantly clear that there was more going on then what was readily apparent. So Coil had called in one of his most useful employees, with a set of instructions to be carried out accordingly. The ploy, really a gambit, had a sort of... appropriateness to it. It was something the once Sarah Livsey would have appreciated, maybe, getting all but kidnapped by Boardwalk Enforcers.

Or, at least looking the part. The girl was nothing if not a good actor.

That girl, I'd have had her killed long ago if she hadn't continued to be useful to me, even when I least expected it. Of course, the best Timeline would have her convincing the girl to run to the Protectorate rather than from it. Still, it was better than the first time, what with having his base ripped apart by an enraged Endbringer.

Coil rubbed his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on. For a moment, he had actually considered calling in his favor to his old masters, paying off the old debt he owed them. All it would take was a single phone call, and he could be rid of the girl, be rid of the gargantuan problem he faced. But that favor? No, not yet. Not when I could still set my hooks into her.

Ultimately, the Hebert girl and her new 'friends' could either be his greatest allies or worst enemies. Killing her was out of the question outright – he'd already experienced what attempting that could cause firsthand. Working around her would simply prove to be too cumbersome and dangerous in the long run. She and her father however could be enticed, maybe, to move to another city. Perhaps with wealth or a job opportunity. Preferably on another continent, that would be great. Working with her? Risky, absurdly dangerous, probably suicidal, but getting on her good side… The reward would far beyond justify the risks.

His thoughts were interrupted when his phone rang, the device vibrating in his pocket. He removed it, glancing at the number calling him before answering. He knew immediately who it belonged to. "Coil speaking," he replied confidently, no hint of discomfort or concern in his voice.

"It's Tattletale, I- I need to talk to you about yesterday." Of course she would call me about her of all things. She sounded... scared. Normally she was far more confident.

"Haven't you already told me?" To be honest her debriefing had left him equally amazed and horrified. His men's injuries was hard enough to accept - the video from their concealed lapel cameras even more so. The Hebert girl however, breaking bread and having lunch with those things was all but impossible for Coil to easily comprehend. Horrors, abominations, and she treated them like household pets, doting on them and feeding them treats.

"That I have," she replied. "However, I've had some, how could you say it, insights, in regards to that girl from yesterday."

"Speak, if it's important."

"There's something I just found out, about her bullies. You mentioned she was being bullied in school and that these bullies were being protected by the Faculty, so I thought to find out about who was responsible for causing her to trigger. And..." A moment of silence. "This is bad. Really, really bad."

Coil hadn't given that topic much thought, as there were much more pressing issues to consider. Like the meeting he was about to sit in on, and the looming S-Class threat over the city. "Please spit it out before I lose my patience."

"One of the bullies, her classmate, one 'Sophia Hess,' um, I..." she paused, for a moment.

"Spit it out Tattletale." His patience was wearing thin.

He heard her take a deep breath. "I just found out that she's a Ward here in Brockton Bay."

The silence stretched onward, almost unbearably. Coil blinked, pinched the bridge of his nose with a hand, then finally got up from the sofa to pace around the room, his mind racing. The girl wasn't home. Lisa had told her to go to the Protectorate. The Protectorate, who, due to her being underage, would then refer her to the Wards, where one of their members might have bullied her to the point she triggered. If she figured it out while in the middle of PRT Headquarters with a backpack full of Endbringers… Coil sighed, heavily. He couldn't really blame Tattletale because he had instructed Lisa on what to say to the Hebert girl – had he known this beforehand... Yes, this qualifies as bad, Coil noted to himself.

"Where are you right now?"

"Standing in front of her house, trying to figure out where she is."

Coil glanced at his watch. It read four thirty-two, about an hour after Winslow released its students. From what he recalled of the girl's schedule, she was normally home at this time of day. It was also time for the meeting – he could hear them filing into the conference room on the other side of the nearby door, exchanging pleasantries. "Listen carefully, Tattletale, find her. You have Mr. Pitter's, my assistant's, number. I will instruct him to give you whatever support you need to find the girl." He nodded to his erstwhile assistant, who calmly nodded in reply before taking a leave of absence himself to carry out his orders. Maybe I can salvage this somehow.

"And when I find her?"

"Delay her, buddy up to her, buy her dinner, I leave the specifics to your imagination. And don't let her on about your relations to me, your would-be kidnapper." There were probably going to be consequences in regards to that little fact later, but nothing he couldn't work around or explain away eventually. "Listen to me: Keep her away from the Protectorate."

"Right," she simply said, hanging up. Coil took a deep breath, trying to relax his mind. Right, back to the business at hand. Getting on their good side.

He straightened his tie and suit jacket, before opening the door to the next room. Inside, he saw several faces – Two he recognized from prior business experience and his own research – two businessmen who represented shipping companies on the East Coast. Their names eluded him at the moment- one came from Texas, the other somewhere in New York. The third man, he recognized instantly - from a mutual acquaintance of theirs, so to speak.

The two businessmen had already taken their seats at the small conference table. The latter though walked over and greeted him warmly. "Mr. Thomas Calvert I presume?" The man offered his hand.

He nodded. "You presume correctly," Coil replied, taking it and shaking firmly. "I apologize after the fact, but Mr. Pitter, my assistant, had to step out at the last minute – family issues you see. I can however act in his place for today's matters. And you may be?"

"Hebert. Danny Hebert. Dockworkers' Union Representative," he spoke with a grin. "I hope we can all help each other out today," he spoke, gesturing to the other men and to Calvert himself.

Coil grinned. "Yes, I most certainly hope we can."

Interludes 1 of 2 for the first chapter. I'll be dropping the next one soon, as soon as I can re-write it. Also, Tomorrow I'm going to add a plethora of written omakes to the Index, as well as fanart and some other stuff.

Last edited: Nov 29, 2018

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TheMadmanAndre

Dec 14, 2014

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TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Feb 10, 2015

#819

People thought I was dead. That I had given up. Well, they were wrong. I'm back from a stint/patrol in the Mojave Desert/Wasteland, and I bring a gift. What's that you hear? The hype for the next chapter. And I aim to deliver.

Special thanks to 00Zy99, as always, for his help as a beta reader. And well wishes to my other beta Materia-Blade, who could not be here today.

Now, Interlude 2.

Interlude 2: Various

Rebecca

The room would have been quiet, had it not been for the constant beeping of the heart monitor in the corner, and the muffled volume of the television. Perhaps to the average human being at least. For the woman sitting in the chair at the bedside, every tiny sound was amplified through her sharpened senses. The inner workings of the TV, on but muted. The steady hum of the electricity flowing through the wires in the walls and ceilings. The fluorescent lighting was getting to be particularly annoying, the ballast was starting to fail and make that infuriating buzz.

For today, for now, it had been her turn to watch over him, as he lay unconscious. The man in the hospital bed. Her friend. Their friend. Of course they would take turns, ever present and ever watchful, in case someone found out the identity of the man in the bed and came to strike at him when he was laid low, to be there when he would wake up. If he would wake up. The woman banished that thought. Of course he would wake up.

A knock at the door, three taps in quick succession. The woman recognized the person on the other side – the sound of his footfalls, his rate of breathing and resting heart rate. There was another with him, who she recognized as a doctor that worked there at the hospital, the one that had been assigned to their friend's care. "It's open," she spoke.

The door swung open, and two people entered – the doctor, and someone she could call a close friend, an ally.

Legend, leader of the Protectorate, and one of the few people she could call a friend. His blue-white costume, reassuring in the darkest of times. Even now it was reassuring, having the man nearby.

"Rebecca," he spoke, a smile on his face. "How's he doing?"

"He's still asleep," Rebecca Costa-Brown replied. "No change." There hadn't been any change for weeks. But she couldn't give up hope. They couldn't give up hope.

"Unfortunate." He walked over, to stand by the sleeping man's bedside. "I'll take over for now. I'm certain you have duties to get to, Director?"

"I'll stay, for a moment." She got up from her seat, the book she was reading discarded at the table beside her. A Treatise on the Endbringers: How their actions have shaped the 20th Century and Beyond. A thick and relatively dry volume, written several years ago by some retired PRT Director. It was somewhat appropriate in regards to recent events. Especially recent events - even in their apparent disappearance, the Endbringers were causing as much chaos globally as they had during their rampages.

"Doctor, I assume the most recent round of lab tests have been concluded?"

"Ah, yes, yes they have." The man flipped through the papers attached to the clipboard he held "Ei- The patient has not shown any signs of change since he was admitted to the secure wing. "All brain scans continue to show no deviation between when he was first admitted and the most recent series of scans prior to admittance, approximately three months ago, the reason for which is unlisted."

The fight with a Master in Germany, a recent trigger that styled herself as Uberfall, Rebecca noted. He'd been concerned that her powers could have lingering effects. His worries had been unfounded however. "Brain wave scans show activity concurrent with what is expected in someone in his current condition. Scans also show no notable or detectable change in activity since or prior his admittance, in either his corona pollentia, his gemma, or the remainder of his brain."

"Same as yesterday, and the day before." She rubbed her temple, an old habit, borne out of being human. Total quantum isolation had ruled out any outside signal or interference, the deepest and most thorough medical scans the Protectorate had access to ruled out virtually everything else. Cranial, her outrageous fees notwithstanding, was off the table – even if she could do anything to remedy his condition, she was too much a risk, the Toybox far too unpredictable. And Panacea, one of the world's most famous Healers, was unable to use her healing ability on the brain of a patient.

The good Doctor had openly considered forcing her to use her powers on him anyways, even if it wouldn't have changed anything anyways since he was physically healthy, even on the off chance something could change. Everyone in the room at the time objected, even Contessa – the final word. Speaking of Contessa, they rarely saw the woman these last few weeks, busy with whatever plans and steps on her Path, presumably.

He was healthy. Which just left his powers. His, what could you call it? Certainly his weakening abilities had been a growing cause for concern to them all. But his... incapacitation? Sickness? It had taken them all by surprise, Rebecca herself most of all. And now of all times, with their, humanity's, nemeses having disappeared.

It was concerning, yes. But it was far from the most concerning fact regarding what they knew about his current status. Regarding even the nature of the condition that had befallen him.

David, Eidolon, had collapsed the same day the Endbringers vanished. Almost to the minute. And as time went on, this significant fact weighed on her, on them, more and more. A proverbial elephant in the room, a little fact that stared them all in the face. A mystery probably only David himself could possibly explain, if he ever woke up.

Rebecca stood up, wearily. Metaphorically. She was never tired. Or drunk, something she regretted about her powers right now, something she was envious of her fellow Triumvirate members, regular people even, for being able to get. "Doctor?"

"Ma'am?" He answered.

"Go home, get some sleep. Nothing you can do here for David." Nothing anyone can do at the moment.

The doctor looked mildly surprised, as did her long time friend. "Rebecca?" He asked.

She walked to the door, a hand on the handle. "There's somewhere I need to be. Business matters and all that." She turned to the Cape. "Keep him company, please."

Legend simply nodded. "Of course. Business, Chief Director?"

She nodded. "Always. Later, Legend." With that she whispered something low enough that the doctor in the room couldn't hear but its intended recipient would, deftly adjusted the tie on her neck, opened the door and walked through, closing it behind her.

The doctor was distracted, looking at his charts on the clipboard. "A mystery, Legend. I'm sorry to say that I wish that there was more that I, that we here at the hospital, could do to help him." He attached the clipboard to the foot of the bed, where the sleeping man lay. "If I was a man of the cloth, I would have to say at this point that his fate was in the hands of God."

"It's okay doctor, you're doing your best." Legend walked to the window, the skyline of New York beyond. A city that had faced the oldest and toughest of the Endbringers, and in the end proved itself even tougher. The scars of the monster's assault long healed, all but invisible now with the passage of time.

"One oddity though, that I noted," The doctor spoke. "After I was read into Eidolon's current... condition, as well as his identity, I took the liberty of checking into his past medical history." The doctor walked over to Legend's side, where he stood at the window.

"Oh, and you found something?"

"Nothing I think that could explain his condition, no. It's more of a compliment, really. He's the healthiest and most fit patient I think I have ever had. Had I not known who he really was, I'd say he wouldn't be a day over twenty-five."

"You are aware of his abilities. And in the years I have worked with him he's never called in sick either so to speak, as far as I know. He's relied on healing powers, from time to time, so it doesn't surprise me he's fit, physically at least.

The doctor nodded, shrugged. "Perhaps." He turned to look at the sleeping man. Something about his patient bugged him. He couldn't put his finger on it though, not enough information. If it was his powers, was one of them active right now? Keeping him unconscious?

Legend eventually turned away from the window, walking over and settling down into the chair. He picked up the book that the previous occupant had discarded, opening it up to somewhere around the two-thirds mark and started reading.

Or, maybe it wasn't the presence of a power, the doctor thought. Maybe it was an... absence of it?

He didn't know. Powers weren't his specialty, human health was. He shrugged, and walked out of the room, into the quiet hospital corridor beyond.

Emily

"-Then tell me this," her counterpart spat, "After a month of searching, of waiting, how is it that we are not a single step closer to discovering where those abominations are?"

"Director Tagg, you will refrain from raising your voice," The Chief Director, Rebecca Costa-Brown spoke, calmly. "And you will keep in mind exactly whom it is that you are speaking with."

The man, Director Tagg, became quiet, although the look on his face was one of a man that had just been slapped. Although, she could almost sympathize with the man – he'd been there on the ground during one of the Simurgh's first attacks, dealing with her aftermath. Almost universally lethally. There probably weren't many people that hated them more.

After all, as a Director herself, Emily Piggot knew what something as bad as an Endbringer could actually do. Ellisburg. Nilbog.

"Ah, thank you Chief Director," the hologram spoke. They all knew who the woman speaking was. Some better than others it seemed.

After all, Dragon was a famous member of the Guild, Canada's resident team of Superheroes, and the greatest Tinker on Earth Bet. In addition to maintaining the Birdcage, otherwise known as the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center and the final word on the fate of the most dangerous capes on Earth, she also worked to monitor a loose global network of sensors, placed to monitor the movements of the Endbringers. There were probably few people, if anyone at all, more qualified to speak on the given subject at hand: Their location, or rather the lack thereof.

"So, we are still at stage one then. No progress whatsoever." said Director Armstrong, from the Boston PRT.

"Not necessarily," Dragon spoke, a small smile on her holographic face. "I've made substantial progress in developing prediction software with the aid of Brockton Bay's own Armsmaster. According to what we have to work with so far, The Simurgh, and less likely Behemoth, will most likely strike at either Canberra, Australia or Wellington, New Zealand next. I should say would, because all of the hard work we put into the software so far has, well..." she trailed off.

"Been thrown out the window?" Director Piggot finished for her. She made a mental note to ask the man himself what progress he had actually made.

Dragon nodded. "Yes, that's exactly how I regard the situation, wasted effort, essentially." She shrugged. "I wish I had more information Chief Director, Directors, but at the present time I simply do not have that information, nor the additional physical and technological means that I believe it would take to find them and learn their whereabouts."

The Chief Director nodded. "I understand. You've been beyond informative as it is, Dragon. I intend to ask the Canadian Prime Minister and the President to both allocate more personnel and funding to help you locate them. At the current state of things they'll most likely say yes, with the request coming directly from me."

She smiled, almost grinned. "Thank you Chief Director. If that is all, I will take my leave now. There's work to be done."

The Chief Director nodded, and Dragon's holographic face disappeared. "So, there's not much new information regarding the Endbringers per se," the Chief Director stated. "So lets move the agenda away from the topic of the Endbringers to the topic of the effects of their absence." In the space that Dragon had vacated, a holographic representation of the world appeared, the landmasses outlined in a political map. One country was highlighted in red. "China. More specifically, the Chinese Union-Imperial, the conventional army they wield, and the force of sanctioned Capes at their disposal, the infamous Yangban."

"Not relevant," a Director flatly stated.

"I disagree," another spoke. "I assume they're eyeing the Pacific as usual?"

"Indeed they are. The globe vanished, replaced with a series of visuals, pictures taken from orbit, by satellites not struck down by the Simurgh. Some of the images were of vast formations of troops, on parade grounds and massive city squares. Others of open countryside and isolated border crossings. "Photography courtesy of Langley, they do good work. As it stands, the old Generals are reaffirming their power over the country, staging enormous parade drills in the last month, apparently to distract the population from the ongoing drought and famine in the region. Also, there have been several reports of serious border disputes in neighboring countries, notably on their shared borders with Russia, India and, interestingly enough, North Korea. In addition, reports of several naval disputes with South Korea and the few remaining naval forces in Japan. The CIA's think tanks and their own resident Thinkers also suspect that the drills are also a distraction aimed at the outside world at large, perhaps to divert attention from a potential future attack – their thinking is that this is similar to their attempt to seize Mongolia some years back - beating the drums so to speak."

"An attempt that the Protectorate working with local Capes there foiled, if I recall correctly." The Director from Minneapolis.

"Indeed. However, Langley thinks they're capitalizing on the Endbringers' disappearance – possibly hedging their bets that they may be gone for good."

"A dangerous gamble," a Director spoke. Piggot saw the woman was young, pretty. Probably a new appointee. "It's a total violation of most of the aid treaties regarding international Cape support during Endbringer attacks. If the Endbringers do return, The global community won't come to Beijing's aid if their nation fell under attack – the CUI and Yangban would be on their own."

"And if they really are gone, the global community won't react to any invasions or land grabs, too scared of their own politics to intervene," Director Tagg across the room noted. "Not in a timely manner at least."

"Regardless, as it stands the PRT and Protectorate have no grounds to act. Orders through official channels are to watch and wait. If the CUI do attempt an attack against a neighbor in the region, the various agencies including ours will react depending on the given situation. Washington has warm relations with most of the nations in the region, if they come under attack, we will respond in kind, through under-the-table means or, perhaps, more direct options."

"Does this extend to the Protectorate? Neither they or ourselves are a military force in the conventional sense of the word."

"The amended War Powers Act can say otherwise, if the situation is dire enough. The Eastern hemisphere falling under CUI hegemony and control could be considered such depending upon the political climate. If The Endbringers don't attack Canberra, the CUI might with their Army and Navy."

"Their military lacks force projection though, Chief Director. The Pentagon's conclusion, not mine." The Phoenix PRT Director. Piggot had a favorable view of the mann, former Army Brass, practical-minded. "Any attempt at such a raid would be one focused around their Cape force."

"Hence the ambiguity of it all, Director. "They are acting unpredictable, crazy even. What their plans are we won't know, until they carry them out. If they carry them out.

Nobody disagreed with that. Global politics was was a fickle game in the best of times. Dangerous and risk-laden as well.

Not that domestic politics were ever any easier.

"Chief Director, if I may make a statement regarding the increasing instability here at home?" Piggot asked.

The Chief Director nodded. "Go ahead, Director Piggot."

"I of course speak about the ongoing problems that I believe all of the Directors in the room face and consider on a daily basis. I am, of course, referring to parahuman criminals. Supervillains."

"I, too, wish to speak on the subject," Armstrong stated. "Boston isn't as bad as the East-North-East, but it's close. Damned close. And in the wake of the vanishing act of the reasons the Endbringer Truce exists? Well, it's going to get much worse. For all of us."

Nods, murmuring of agreement. The Truce kept the gangs in check, the threat of Endbringers an unfortunate pressure, acting to keep the balance of power between the Parahuman Villains and Criminals and the PRT and the Protectorate. A delicate balance of power, vulnerable to the disturbances from outside forces. It was a strange bit of irony that the Endbringers kept the balance, uniting Hero and Villain against a common threat, when that threat arose.

And in their absence, it all threatened to fly apart at the seams.

Already there were rumblings of discontent, of uncertainty amongst the gangs. Most notably the Adepts in New York, posing themselves extremely publically, to act to oppose the other, larger and more territorial gangs in the city. Elsewhere, in Chicago, Boston, L.A., the entire country really, villains were starting to see the writing on the wall - that the Truce was about to end.

Her own city, Brockton Bay? Possibly one of the worst off. Two major gangs of parahumans and their non-powered subordinates fought over control of the city, with a third fighting with both over the scraps. They quarreled for control of territory and money, most of their fighting focused around control of the drug trade, foisted upon the city's large and mostly impoverished population. Empire Eighty-Eight, The ABB, The Merchants. Daily headaches for her. She knew that the other Directors would have their own problems to deal with, problems she fully expected to grow in the near future. Perhaps beyond the control of many of them.

The Chief Director was silent, for a time. Contemplating the reality most likely. "Yes, the various Gangs, especially those composed primarily of villainous Capes, are going to gradually become more and more of a problem in the future. Some more rapidly and more severely than the others." She shifted in her seat. At the same moment, the pictures of China vanished, replaced by a political map of the United States, many of the largest cities highlighted in red. Hotspots for Villain Capes and perpetrated crime, Director Piggot noted, seeing Brockton Bay as one of the more brightly highlighted cities.

"This is something I started contemplating a few weeks ago, to be honest, but didn't give it more than cursory consideration at the time. At the given moment I had… more important things to attend to." She frowned, albeit briefly. "Regardless, funding is something I always see requests for, and I promise you all shall have it, one way or another. I will personally see to it that emergency funding is procured for the PRT divisions that I believe will need it the most. Which sadly will most likely be all of them. another matter I'm going to have to take before Congress and their Budget Committee."

"Funding, Chief Director, is something that I, we, find most agreeable," An elderly director to Piggot's left spoke. Seattle, she noted.

"In the meantime, this particular meeting is adjourned. "However, I'm going ask that we all meet here again, one week from now to discuss other matters and any new developments. Notably a proposal from our associates in Europe and elsewhere for greater cooperation." She paused, a beat. "I look forward to our next meeting, Directors." With that, her hologram winked out, vanishing from the room. One after another the various Directors did the same, nodding and saying goodbyes to their peers and equals. Piggot herself disconnected without a word, Her holographic interface fading from around her head.

She rubbed her temples. A headache, one of many she felt on a daily basis, especially of late.

And if it wasn't the gangs giving her issues, it was members of the Protectorate team under her jurisdiction.

Such as their leader, Armsmaster, who, after wordlessly returning from an incident in the Boat Graveyard that afternoon, had locked himself in his workshop. Which wouldn't be strange, had he not asked his fellow Protectorate members to not disturb him at all, to not let anyone else disturb him at all, and had even ignored her own calls to him. Priority calls, the kind where she needed to get ahold of him, no matter what. And to be honest, that last call from him at the Graveyard had piqued her curiosity. A Cape testing their powers. Possibly a new trigger. Tinker maybe. The Protectorate had a shortage of Tinkers, something generally considered an unfortunate fact. Perhaps a new potential recruit for the Protectorate, or the Wards, perhaps?

Piggot debated calling him again. She doubted he would pick up, since he hadn't the last three times. She leaned back in her plush office chair, losing herself in thought. It was late, and she decided to give the man the benefit of the doubt. For tonight.

Tomorrow though, she expected a full briefing. Or there would be hell to pay.

Colin

Click… Click… Click…

He sat in his chair, less relaxed and more limp. His only movements came from his left hand, flicking the protective glass cover up and down, up and down, that covered a noticeably large and red button on the console at his desk. Two inches wide, slightly dome-shaped, less a button and more a plunger affixed to a switch beneath. It was wired to a completely separate circuit, isolated from the rest of the Protectorate Base's systems. He knew what the button did, what it triggered. He'd pressed it exactly twice before, when the systems it was wired to were annually activated as a test of those systems' readiness. Click. Closed. Click. Open. Click. Closed.

The sound, Armsmaster imagined as a toggle, physical, a binary one or zero. A yes or a no. A do or do not. Interrupting at intervals the sound of the faint workings of the airtight fabrication chamber behind him as it churned and grinded and created his next project. A new Halberd, monomolecular edged and tipped with a concealed tranquilizer needle, designed to deal with one of the nastier villains that called the Bay his home. All but forgotten now, with what lay before him.

Displayed before him, around him, were countless photographs, images, and videos playing in loops, many taken or recorded by the integrated camera in his helmet, others by the PRT personnel that secured the site in the Boat Graveyard.

The site. When someone fires off a fifty-megawatt laser, people take notice. He took notice. Quite a few people took notice, actually. It was just that he got there first, the PRT behind him. He arrived while out on patrol to find a couple of smoking shipwrecks, and gouges and furrows in the beach. The presumed aftermath of a Cape battle to the untrained observer. Which was plausible, but doubtful.

Doubtful, because after he had assembled, collated, all of the information at the scene, he was sitting here, mulling over what he was going to tell the Director upstairs, after he finally pressed the button that triggered the Endbringer Sirens out in the city proper.

Because he was sitting here, looking at a compelling reason to do just that.

Click. Open. Click. Closed. Click-

A knocking at the door to his office and workshop, rapping, firm, the knocks in quick succession. A familiar knock.

"Enter," he spoke, the voice command unlocking and opening the door. He didn't need to look up to see who he had let in. He knew, right away, from the knocking.

"Miss Militia," Armsmaster spoke. "I'm busy." He clicked the glass cover closed, his hand moving away.

"Colin." She entered, striding up to his desk. "You rushed in, directly to your office without a word to anybody, save for a request to not disturb you no matter the reason." She took in the various imagery and video, glancing around, left and right. "This is from this afternoon."

He nodded. "Correct. As you can see, I've been working."

"At practicing photography?"

A joke, sarcastic humor. An indicator in his helmet informed him. "I'm gathering evidence, Hannah."

"For what?"

"For a reason to trigger the Endbringer Sirens." The truth, plain and simple and straightforward. To his benefit, at least, Miss Militia didn't noticeably react to that statement. Perhaps she interpreted his truthfulness as an attempt at a joke on his part?

She frowned. "I don't understand."

"Look for yourself." He gestured to the various images on the monitors around his desk. "Tell me what you see."

She stepped around the desk, standing beside him and leaning down to get a better look at the pictures and video. "Shipwrecks. A beach littered with shipwrecks. The Boat Graveyard." A pause. "A cape battle from the looks of it. Collateral damage, not much so the battle was either brief or the combatants weren't fighting seriously.." She was focusing on the cargo tender, its mangled bow, what was left of it, still glowing red hot when he arrived. The tugboat was in the background, equally damaged.

"Not collateral," Colin stated. "Directed."

"At a shipwreck?" She asked.

He nodded. "It's the only significant damage I found, to anything really. Well, disregarding what I found on the tugboat's bridge that is." He tapped a key on his keyboard, dismissing one set of images and bringing up a new set showing the ship's cramped bridge. Or rather what was left of it, since the it looked as if it had been demolished. What was left of the electrical equipment lay scattered haphazardly around the room. "Tinkers can be messy at times."

"Yes, Kid Win can be a handful. I know."

"I initially suspected that a Tinker had paid a visit here, harvested materials and scraps. But that's not quite all." He tapped another key, an image popping up over the rest. The results of a chemical or metallurgical analysis of some kind, it looked like. "There wasn't one speck of rare earth or precious metals left in any of the broken computer components. Cleanly harvested. All of it. How, is something I'd like to know. Or maybe not like to know."

"So, an independent Tinker? They don't last long, especially in the Bay."

"There's more." Another key press, more pictures. These were of the beach. Of footprints on the beach, jagged and non-human. "Now, tell me Hannah, what do you see here?"

She answered quickly. "Footprints? But how are-" She stopped mid-sentence, as she recognized the distinct shape and patterns of them. They were unique, easily recognizable to veteran Capes - there were only two creatures on the planet that made footprints like them, after all.

Just for emphasis, Colin tapped his keyboard again, a set of pictures popping up, side-by-side comparisons between pictures he took today and pictures taken months ago, as part of case studies and after-action reports.

A long beat. "Holy shit... Leviathan and Behemoth," Miss Militia slowly breathed. "Is this, are these real?"

"Do I lie, Hannah?" It was a rhetorical question.

"Does the Director know?"

"I haven't told her yet. I haven't told anyone yet."

"Why the hell not Colin?"

"Since the city isn't on fire or underwater, their presence, hell, their existence here is questionable. And I don't consider activating the Endbringer Sirens for a false alarm to be a particularly good idea."

"Questionable? It's their footprints! It's them!"

"Look at the scales. On the photographs."

She blinked. And looked closer, studying the numbers on the measurements overlaid on each picture. Her eyes narrowed as she made sense of the numbers and the scale. "What the hell…?"

"An appropriate statement, Hannah, some of these, if the footprints are to scale, would mean that the creatures that made these would fit in a shoebox. They would be mere inches tall."

"Inches…" she trailed off.

"I said 'some.' Some of the footprints I found, were larger. Much larger. The… Endbringers that made those would have been eight to twelve feet tall. Nowhere near as big as before, but still."

"If, if any of this means what I think it means…" she frowned. "Radiation? Sonar detectors?"

"None that are functional in the area. There aren't any sonar arrays in the Bay proper. They'd be useless there anyways, since they only work well in open water. And no, I didn't detect any radiation sources, residual or otherwise. Which is either troubling or reassuring - I still haven't decided which yet."

"At least there aren't any footprints of the Simurgh." It was a poor attempt at a joke.

Colin frowned. "Unfortunately, there's this." He tapped a key, and a different set of photographs appeared. Two, side by side, though one technically was not a photograph.

"The one on the right is a digital reconstruction I made, based on what the Simurgh's footprint would look like if she had ever bothered to make one. The one on the left is a photograph I took of the deck of the tugboat, a bare footprint in the dust. Note the straight toes and high arch, as well as a noticeable lack of friction ridges. A forensic program I used to make the comparison gave me an upper ninety-eight percent chance of these footprints being identical."

"...how big?" she answered after a moment. Almost wearily.

"Between four-nine and an even five feet, approximately."

Colin could tell that her jaw fell open, through her bandanna that covered her face. "So we're looking for a teenager-sized Simurgh?"

A weak attempt at humor, his helmet told him. More of a simple statement of an unfortunate fact. "Yes. yes we are."

She took a deep breath. "Endbringers changing sizes and stomping around abandoned boat Graveyards. I think I can understand why you're hesitant."

"Indeed, there's nothing here a particularly talented Tinker or even a gifted Changer couldn't do, given time and energy. I briefly considered that maybe Uber and Leet may have been responsible, perhaps constructing an Endbringer facsimile, but it doesn't fit their style."

Uber and Leet, a pair of rogue Parahumans with a distinct video game theme, Hannah recalled. They often uploaded videos of themselves to the Internet, role playing video game characters to some degree. "No, they'd prefer an audience, and they often record themselves live. So if not them, then who else? Parian maybe, experimenting?"

Parian was an Independent Cape, a Master whose power focused on manipulating lightweight materials. She was best known for her iconic stuffed animals, which she sold from a shop located Downtown, as well as her uniquely flavored product advertisements that various local businesses would hire her to do. "Definitely not her, she's too… peaceful. And her powers have nothing to do with lasers, or energy attacks, or tinkering, or, well, any of this really, so she's out of the picture completely." A pause. "Neither the ABB nor the Empire have any Capes with a powerset that could do what I saw in the Graveyard, nor does any other Cape I'm aware of in this city, independent or otherwise. And an out-of-town arrival seems unlikely in this case. No Hannah, we're dealing with a new trigger here."

Another key press. One last set of pictures. "And I know who it might be. I found four sets of footprints total. These are the last of them." The pictures now on the monitors in front of him were those left by a worn pair of sneakers. "Her footprints were all over the area, even on the tugboat amidst the debris."

"Her?"

"A sneaker sized for a female, size Eight, which would put her predicted average height between five-six and five-nine. The wear on the soles indicates she has a low arch, curving inward. Not a runner, when taking into account the state of wear on the sole. Going on the assumption we are looking at a new Trigger, which happen most often during the mid to late teens, we're looking at a teenager, somewhere between sixteen and eighteen, possibly. Tall and thin, so she would weigh around maybe one-twenty to one-thirty-five, factoring in the depth of her shoe prints in the sand.

Colin paused for a beat, getting his breath. "I noticed that she sat on a fallen log on the beach, from the way some of the shoe prints were oriented. On closer inspection I found a dark blue thread caught in the bark, specifically of worn denim that had been washed with cheap detergent. I also found an indentation on the ground as well, next to the log. Something heavy and with straps, presumably a backpack, maybe stuffed with textbooks."

"So, tall and thin, old sneakers and worn jeans. Has a backpack, so probably still in school. High School specifically. And in early February she probably has a sweater or jacket, perhaps a windbreaker and likely hooded. That's not much to go on Colin." A thought. "Have you looked into traffic cameras in the area, perhaps CCTV cameras? Also, perhaps asked the local school districts, Winslow, Arcadia and Immaculata?"

"I did and I have, there just aren't any in that part of the city. As it stands I requested a PRT forensics team on-site to collect any fingerprints or DNA samples that our mystery Cape may have left behind, If she left anything behind. Regardless, it'll take time to process even with a twenty-four hour Lab. And the schools and their faculty are largely unavailable at this time of night. Hopefully I will have more information regarding her identity in the morning."

It was a start at least, Hannah noted. "Have you considered bringing in Dragon at least? The two of you are always working together, and I'm sure she has the kind of resources at her disposal that could find her much easier. And quicker."

"I have." He flatly stated.

"And?"

"I chose not to, as I feared she might overreact, much as you did a moment ago. And those resources misused on a false alarm could spell disaster. The fewer people at the moment who know about this, the better."

"So, pragmatism."

"Of a sort," Colin replied. "Anyways, our mystery cape seems to fit the typical profile of local triggers," he continued. "Bad family background presumably, traumatic event most likely at home, less likely during a crime she was a victim of."

"Perhaps." Hannah crossed her arms, in thought. "Where are you pegging her powers at?"

"I don't have enough information for an accurate assessment. To speculate however, the indicated powers are plainly all over the place. Tinker most likely, judging from the tugboat bridge. Only a Tinker would be inclined to do something like that. If she's crafted miniature replica endbringers that behave similarly to the originals, on top of how she harvested the metals, she'd likely have a decent rating, a six or seven easily. On the remote chance that she isn't a Tinker however, a Changer maybe, or quite possibly a Trump. Maybe even similar to Eidolon's overall powerset."

"Eidolon," Hannah flatly stated. "You're thinking we have an Eidolon-lite on our hands?"

Colin said nothing, simply shrugging.

"Speaking of which, where is the guy? I don't suppose you know offhand?"

Colin's face darkened slightly, barely perceptibly. "The last I heard was that he had taken an extended period of time off. A little over a month ago, just prior to the Endbringer's disappearances. Perhaps a death in the family, so to speak."

She nodded, knew better than to pry. Hannah turned, walking over to the wall nearby. tapping a rectangle set into the surface the wall became transparent, revealing the glittering cityscape of Brockton Bay beyond. "Do you think she would want to become a Ward? Would want to be a Hero?"

"The girl? I don't know," Colin said. "She's trying to hide her powers. Conceal them. More often than not that's not a good indicator. Though considering her actions perhaps caution makes sense to her. Regardless, I imagine the PRT would give her incentive to join. If she is a Tinker, Kid Win will probably welcome her with open arms. Perhaps she could even have a positive effect on Shadow Stalker."

Unlikely, that last one. "Yeah, maybe." Hannah turned to leave, walked towards the door.

"Miss Militia," Colin, Armsmaster, called out to her when she reached the threshold. "Something else, for you to hold onto." He reached into one of the compartments built into his armor, fishing out something small and white, before tossing it to her.

She caught it, nimbly. it was small, slightly spongy and rubbery, about two inches in length and an inch wide. A small bit of Containment Foam, molded, shaped like…

A cast of a footprint. Leviathan's footprint.

"I made several with what I had on hand, for future reference. An old trick that I admit I picked up from a PRT technician a couple of years back. The Foam works better than clay or even putty at making molds, if you use it just right." His eyes narrowed, underneath his visor. "A reminder, Miss Militia, of what's at stake here."

She nodded, agreeing. "Thank you, Armsmaster. And I understand." With that, she left, the door silently closing and sealing behind her.

Alone once more, Armsmaster sagged into his chair. The glittering cityscape to his right, visible now through his office window, the light filtering in casting everything in the room in stark relief. After a period of time, his hand, absentmindedly, drifted back over to the red button in its glass case. His finger rested briefly on the metal catch locking it closed before releasing it.

Click. Open. Click. Closed…

Friends

Awake.

Look. Hunt. Seek. Find.

Make.

She arose, alert, aware. The bedroom dark, silent, save for the steady breathing of her Master. Her Master slept, peacefully, blissfully. She was careful not to disturb her rest as she floated above the bed, to settle onto her feet at her side, the cool wooden floor beneath her. Her brothers, they too awoke, aware, awake. Ready.

Heat. Quench.

Forge.

Gently they clambered down, off of the bed. Quietly, to her own insistence and to their chagrin. She floated up, over to the door, the doorknob turning and the door swinging open at her thought. She floated out, into the hallway, as her brothers padded quietly after her. Master's Master slept, just down the hall, his own dreams memories of his past, of past love.

Focus. Stairs. She floated down and her brothers followed, surprisingly easily, considering their unfortunate stature. Although her Eldest brother made some noise as they navigated the terrain. Avoid. Conceal. Hide, she intoned. Even as she audibly bumped into the table with an audible thud. Annoyance. Body unfamiliar. Spatial awareness. Careful.

Large, Her eldest brother teased. She gently whacked him with the tip of a wing. Annoyance.

They scampered onward, following their sister as she floated silently through the house, towards a door past the kitchen. A door that led further down still, to the objects of her, their, interest. That door swung open silently at her thought as they approached, exposing deep inky blackness beyond. Her eldest brother could see the energy of the house around them, flowing through the conduits, the air around them. The next-eldest, the water in the pipes, in the air. She herself could navigate using what little light there was in the environment- thud. The door frame. Body unfamiliar.

Giant, The Eldest noted. She refrained from whacking him again.

More stairs down. This time she scooped up her loudly protesting eldest brother, much to his rumbling protests. The roars would have been deafening had he been any bigger. Ground-Earth-Safety-Shelter-Protection- he all but screeched.

She floated onward, downward, her brother squirming in her wings. When she tried to drop him unceremoniously at the bottom she found that she couldn't - he'd latched onto her wing with his mouth and teeth. She brought him up to her face and they locked eyes for a moment, her two to his glowing one, before he proceeded to continue nibbling and gnawing on the wing he'd latched his maw onto, stubby claws helping hold him in place.

Annoyance, Irritation. She dropped her wing to the cement floor, his body hitting with a reverberating thump. Large. Annoying. He shot back. Pulling himself off the ground. Fat-

Whack. Tiny. She replied curtly, a wing having lashed out, lightning fast and pinning her brother to the floor. Her second-eldest had largely remained silent, but piped up at their squabble. Very Tiny, he agreed, as he silently reached the bottom of the stairs. Her Eldest only huffed in reply. All Tiny. All babies.

She released her Eldest brother and floated onward, off towards the far end of the basement. It was open, more or less, filled with packed odds and ends and discarded objects her Master and Master's Master possessed but did not need. Some of those things interested her. Several large electronic devices, perhaps replaced but still functional. Things she could use for the task at hand. Discarded articles of clothing, packed loosely in boxes stacked up, old, small and not needed, memories perhaps, from another time. She came to a stop, where each pile were equally distant, before sinking to the floor. She then kneeled down, spreading her hands out in front of her as objects began to shift around and move at her thoughts, commands. Work. Her wings unfurled, spreading outward behind her in a majestic display, her feathers humming with power.

Her brothers, they knew. Create. Knew what they could do, must do. For their Master. Fabricate. For her Desire, her Happiness. Design.

Their work began.

Heat. Quench.

Forge.

00Zy99 said:

'This, is a bucket."

'Dear God...'

"There's more..."

"No..."

Well, that's a wrap folks. Lucky for you much of Chapter 2 is already pre-written, to a degree - notebook paper coated with dust from the Mojave -Wasteland- Desert. So I have something to work on for the next week or two.

Among other things. Let's just say that there's a disturbing lack of Arpeggio fics on this site and leave it at that...

Last edited: Nov 29, 2018

912

TheMadmanAndre

Feb 10, 2015

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

May 15, 2015

#1,577

Well, it has been a while, hasn't it Spacebattles? But here I am, back and kicking with another chapter of With Friends Like These. I also went and added a metric crap-load of links to various omakes on the front/index page.

And as always, special thanks to 00Zy99 for his help in Beta-reading and brainstorming. I hope you like it.

2-1

She awoke to a warmth at her side, of something lying next to her. Small and feathery, its appendages wrapped around her snugly. Initially she was confused, before she managed to pull the covers off of her, revealing a sleeping Simmie, snuggled up next to her. Her much larger form that Taylor had managed to give her was curled up next to her, radiating a comforting warmth. The others were there as well, piled neatly next to where her head had lay on her pillows. Benny was sprawled out, his maw agape, with Levi curled up tightly next to him. A warm and fuzzy feeling swept over Taylor as she saw them laying around her, asleep and without a care in the world.

Disturbed by Taylor waking up, Simmie's eyes fluttered open before she yawned, a long drawn-out squeak escaping her lips. She pulled herself up, stretching her arms and wings. "Hey, good morning," Taylor told her, putting a hand on Simmie's head and scratching and rubbing it. She responded, reaching up to grasp her hand where it rest on her head and holding it in place as she scratched her, giving a chirp of encouragement. "I hope you slept well."

Simmie nodded, a grin spreading across her face. Untangling herself from Taylor she floated up and out of bed, hovering just above it, all the while watching Taylor. Although much of her time she spent floating by the window, sunning herself when they weren't playing or doing something else. She almost reminded Taylor of an actual angel, from the way she looked so peaceful and content and the way the morning sunlight silhouetted her.

Elsewhere on her bed her other Friends stirred, awoken by her. Benny sat up, his eye blinking, before turning and looking up at Taylor. "Rawr!" he greeted her.

"Good morning to you guys too." She reached over to scratch his spiky head, something he'd always liked her doing. Levi had popped up in an instant, head darting this way and that, his eyes blinking. Seeing Taylor he scurried over and climbed up her arm to her shoulder and neck, his head nuzzling hers as he settled in the crook of her neck.

This had been how they had woken up in the mornings for the past few weeks, cuddled up and keeping each other warm and safe. Although she wasn't used to having a much bigger Simmie in bed next to her, clothed in one of her old dresses. At least Simmie seemed to like it - the modification to the back to allow her wings freedom of movement no doubt helped in the matter.

Taylor hauled herself out of bed, planting her feet on the floor and standing up and stretching. Picking her glasses off of her nightstand she glanced at her clock. Six Fifty-Five, enough time to take a quick shower and get ready and eat breakfast before catching the bus to school. She felt Levi clamber down from her shoulder, down her arm and hop off back onto the bed, landing nimbly on her pillow with a plop. They were their usual selves, more or less. Although, something seemed... off. They were tense, as if waiting for her. Or for her to do something? There was something not right here...

"Okay guys," Taylor asked in the best maternal voice she could muster. "What did you do?"

"Rawr!" Accomplishment. A squeak and a chirp, a flurry of wings as Simmie gave a cheer. Anticipation. Levi lay on the bed his little head cocked to one side. Creation. Construction.

That was when she saw it, saw them, sitting on her desk, folded neatly and presentably. It was a stack of several objects, gray-silver and gleaming even in the low light of her darkened bedroom. How she hadn't noticed them until that point... She flicked on her bedroom light and walked over to her desk, wary of what she was looking at. She was aware that all three of them were watching her now, waiting. Waiting for what?

Anticipation. Accomplishment. On closer look Taylor saw that it was actually a stack of clothing of some sort, dull yet still somehow reflective and metallic in appearance, much like Simmie's creations. Boots, pants and a long jacket. A single full-body garment that looked to be some sort of underlayer. And a smooth, relatively featureless concave object that Taylor thought might be a mask of some kind. As she picked it up she noticed how light it was, almost nothing at all. She saw pads and cushioning, no doubt to protect the face in was placed on from shock and blunt force, and a rounded black screen, not unlike that on her new computer. Along the sides and upper lip she spied what might have been extra segments, retracted into its edges.

As she placed it to the side Taylor picked up the jacket, which was equally lightweight, she couldn't help but marvel at the texture and appearance of it. The clothing felt soft, pliable, but looked almost like a flowing sheet of metal, the way it draped and folded over her hands. Amazing,she thought. It was like she was holding a superhero outfit, almost like-

And then it hit her, full speed. What she was holding, looking at.

They had made her a costume. An actual costume, the kind a Cape would wear. The kind of costume a superhero would wear.

For a long pregnant moment she was at a loss of words. She worked her mouth, but no sound came out, until it did, and a smile spread across her face from ear to ear and she was making the strangest high-pitch squeal that she had ever heard and something she actually didn't think she could make with her voice.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygodyou guys made me a hero costume and oh god I don't know how to thank you enough-" She all but shouted, the garment forgotten as she turned and wrapped a nearby floating Simmie in a bear hug, squeezing her tightly. "Thank you thank you thank you!" She repeated.

Gratitude! Simmie exclaimed. Teamwork! Wait, Teamwork?

"Rawr!" Forge! Make stuff! Benny exclaimed.

Agreement, Levi affirmed. Between her new gift and their friendly thoughts in her head all at once, she felt overwhelmed. Dizzy, almost. Something made not by just one but all three of her friends, a gift they worked together to make.

A small part of her, the part that wasn't hopping excitedly and happy at that moment, was lightly terrified of the implications of it.

"It's, umm..." She stammered, for a moment. "I honestly have no idea how I'm going to thank you all for this."

SnacksDrinksSweets!They exclaimed simultaneously. Taylor felt soft wings on her face and skin as Simmie returned her hug, wings wrapping around her and she rubbed her face on Taylor's shirt contentedly.

"Snacks and stuff? Yeah, I can do that. Of course I can do that." Speaking of which, she could catch the smell of breakfast cooking downstairs. Dad was up early, she realized. That was… unusual.

Taylor turned to leave as Simmie again slipped out of her grasp. "Well, I'm going to go get ready for school, not that I want to go today. But I have to."

Leave? always seemed to get that way. Taylor figured they simply didn't quite understand the concept of school, and having to go, no matter how shitty it got. "Don't worry guys, I'll be back. I just have to leave to go do something for a few hours. 'A place of learning so to speak."

Learn? Confusion. Rejection.

"I'll bring snacks back." Their responses were predictable, chirps and roars all around.

"Now that's more like it. Cheer up guys, I'm not going anywhere just yet." With that, she stepped into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Fifteen minutes later, her teeth brushed and clothes changed, Taylor was sitting at the dining room table, a noteworthy breakfast laid out in front of her. Her dad had cooked quite a bit, evidently due to being in a much better mood than typical.

"So, another day at school?" Danny asked her across the table, as Taylor ate.

She nodded. "Mhmm, I'm looking forward to the weekend." Away from the Trio, and with my Friends. "How's work? Is it going to be another long workday for you?"

"Probably, but it'll be worth it, I hope anyways. I got another meeting with Fortress. More one-on-one time with the CEO." Danny took a sip of coffee, draining his cup. " Calvert, Thomas Calvert is his name. He's a little, how can I put it, strange, but a lot of business execs can be like that."

"Really?"

Yeah. But I get the impression that he really wants the Dockyards back up and running, so his eccentricity is fine by me." he shrugged. Although if I didn't know any better I'd honestly say that they were all, well..."

"Pushy?" Taylor asked.

"No, I was going to say impatient. I guess they don't want to waste time after all, and time is money to these people."

"Isn't that true for everybody?"

"That it is." her Dad continued, taking a bite out of his eggs. "Maybe I can persuade him to send some money towards the Ferry. I just need to spin it right to sell it."

The Ferry. It was her Dad's personal side project. The ferry service that had run between the north and south sides of Brockton Bay had been shut down after the Dockworkers' Strike years ago and never reopened. As a result, the Market on the north side dried up and the Docks descended into poverty, the way it still was today. The Ferry had been something her Dad had been trying to persuade the City Council and Mayor to reconsider funding for, in an attempt to bring back life to the city. "Do you really think he'd go for it?"

"I dunno. Can't hurt to ask though," he spoke, finishing up the last of his plate before picking up his dishes from the table and placing them in the sink. "Well, it's about that time for me, I'm heading out."

Taylor glanced at the clock on the wall, noticing he was leaving much sooner than he usually did. "Early meeting?"

"With Titan and Fortress? No, late meeting. There's always a mountain of stuff to be done at the Dockworkers' Union on a Friday. I want to get a head-start on it today, especially today. Are you going to be alright getting to school? Need me to give you a lift?"

"No Dad, I'll be fine. Anyways, you'd be going out of your way."

He shrugged. "True, I suppose you have a point there. Just be sure to keep that can of Mace I got for you close at hand, it's dangerous out there. And if you need to tell me anything Taylor, or need anything at all, just let me know." He turned, looking at and settling his gaze on her with his best overbearing parent look. "You don't need to keep secrets with me."

No, I don't. Unless the one I'm keeping keeping would give you a heart attack. "I'll be okay dad."

He sighed, heavily. "Okay Taylor. Just," and he looked at her, perhaps more sternly than he had been before, "If there's anything going on with you or at school, just talk to me, alright?"

She nodded. "I will dad." When the time comes...

He simply nodded. "Good." Her dad had finished eating so he got up, taking his dishes to the sink. Finished eating herself Taylor rose from the table, gathering up her plate and empty glass and following. "So, off to work now?"

"Yep."

"Tell me about the meeting when you come home?"

"Of course," he replied. "I'm hoping I'll have plenty to talk about." A moment later, he was leaving the kitchen, he had gathered up his coat and briefcase and moved on to the door. "What do you want to eat tonight? I'm in the mood for spaghetti and meatballs myself."

"That sounds great Dad," Taylor replied back from the kitchen. "Looking forward to it." Somewhere off nearby she felt feelings of Anticipation and Elation. She grinned, the feelings warming and reassuring to her. Maybe she could persuade her Dad to make extra later on.

"Alright, I'll pick some stuff up for dinner on the way home. See you later Taylor."

"Bye Dad," she said to him as he walked out the door to work.

As the door closed she sighed, relieved. One more morning down. She heard a thump from upstairs, then scratching at her bedroom door as the cute little abominations inside struggled to get out. A loud roar, audible even from downstairs, followed by another, louder thump, almost a hollow whack. Annoyance. Irritation.

Taylor popped open the fridge, fishing out the carton of orange juice before pouring some into a glass. She scooped up her leftover breakfast, plate in one hand and glass in the other. She set off upstairs, all the while hoping they didn't manage to destroy her bedroom or at the very least her door.

A moment later she opened her bedroom door, and was all but swarmed by Endbringers, her Friends. It took all her care to not trip as Benny and Levi darted around and through her legs excitedly. It took all her effort just to reach her bed, placing the plate of leftovers and juice glass on her nightstand before sitting down with her Friends.

A sudden blur, a flurry of wings, a pulse of power in one of her intangible tethers. A brief gust of wind as a gown fluttered to the floor and a slice of bacon vanished from the plate. Taylor only caught a fleeting glimpse of Simmie in her miniature form as she sped by, snatching her treat in an instant. She came to a stop over by the window, her meal in her small hands, and began nibbling it contentedly. Benny gobbled up a chunk of scrambled egg, chewing audibly and enjoying himself. I wonder if he likes them with ketchup or salsa or at least pepper, she pondered.

Levi scampered over to the glass of juice, hesitant. Taylor realized that he'd never had orange juice before. "Orange juice," she said to him, nudging the glass in his direction. "I think you'll like it."

He approached the glass, hesitantly, wary. Reaching it he peeked his head up over the rim of it, before dipping it inside. He held it there, partially submerged, before popping back up, beady eyes peeking through dripping juice before it disappeared, absorbed into his skin. Delicious, he matter-of-fact stated.

"See, I told you you'd like it,"she said to him giggling. "Benny likes scrambled egg too it seems."

"Rawr!" He exclaimed, between mouthfuls.

"Simmie, what about you, do you like bacon? Dad makes bacon the best I think, with maple syrup. The real stuff, not the crappy sugary stuff."

Agreement, she stated, nodding with a small smile on her face before taking another big bite.

"Well, there's plenty more, I saved a few pieces just for you guys. Just be sure to share with each other, okay?"

"Rawr!" Benny had scarfed down his own portion of eggs and had fallen backward, sighing contentedly. As the others ate and drank Taylor scooped up her backpack, making to the bedroom door. She remembered the costume, the coat of which was haphazardly discarded over her desk chair. Her bracelets and computer, which sat next to the plate of food, or what was left of it. A hero, she pondered.

Although, not just yet.

Better safe than sorry, just in case Dad comes home. She scooped up her new costume, then her bracelets and computer slate. With the items in hand she dropped them into her top dresser drawer, closing it up. Out of sight and out of mind, for the time being.

Satisfied she turned back to her Friends as they lounged, eating. "Well guys, I need to go now. I have to catch the bus to go to school."

Rejection?

"No sillies, I told you earlier, just have to go to school for a few hours, I told you I'll be back later. We got the weekend ahead of us so I'll think of something for us all to do, okay?"

They seemed strangely confused for a moment. Simmie in particular, as she seemed momentarily lost in thought. We wait, she stated with an enthusiastic chirp. Benny agreed as well, with an enthusiastic roar.

"Okay guys," she spoke as she tightened the strap over her shoulder. "Wish me luck at school? I have a test in Mr. Gladly's class I really want to pass."

Luck, Simmie squeaked, the grin still on her face.

"Hah, thanks. Don't burn the place down while I'm gone?"

"Rawr!" Won't! Benny exclaimed.

"Okay, I'll be back soon." With that, Taylor turned and walked out the door, closing it behind her, before heading downstairs. A moment later she closed and locked her house's front door behind her, and had set off for the bus stop and school beyond.

Taylor walked through the double doors, her head down and her sweater hood brought low, keeping as best a low profile as she could amidst the crowd of her fellow students all trying to get to the same place she was.

Winslow.

She hated the place. The building that smelled of cheap floor cleaner and mold. The gangs that openly displayed their colors and affiliations. The apathetic Faculty and school staff, oblivious and uncaring to the plight of the students they were supposed to teach and safeguard.

And the bullies. Especially those. Every day The Trio tormented her. Whispers and teasing, tripping her in the hallway, throwing spitballs or trash at her. Sometimes it had been worse, damaging her textbooks, her gym clothes. Stealing her Mother's flute.

Nothing she could do about that now. Nothing she could do about the bullies either. The school faculty's lack of interest in stopping them had made that clear these last few weeks. All she could do, it seemed, was muscle through every day she could care enough to actually go to school, just enough to meet minimum attendance. As she strode through the hallway to class intent on getting to her Homeroom as quickly as possible, she kept an eye out for any of the Trio's hangers-on so as to avoid them. She spotted a few, huddled in a small group off to the side. With luck though, she went unseen, blended into the crowd as she was. A small bit of luck that she hoped lasted the rest of the day.

A moment later and Taylor walked into Mrs. Knott's class, shuffling in through the doorway with the last few of her fellow students. She guessed that she was fortunate to have Mrs. Knott as her Homeroom, as it was the only class that the Trio couldn't interfere with her work due to the assignments being digital, and that none of the three shared the class with her.

Taking her assigned seat she booted up the ancient relic that passed for a computer at Winslow. She wondered if the other schools had better stuff - more than likely they did, having more funding and better resources than Winslow ever had. Not that she'd ever get the chance to see any of it, with the way her grades were in the toilet she would never be able to get into Arcadia assuming the months-long waiting list didn't exist, and Immaculata cost money, something that her and her Dad didn't have.

Taylor shook her head, focusing her attention back to her work. The assignment for the end of the week was simple enough - design and implement a simple webpage that incorporated the different design elements that the class had gone over the past few weeks, into a single presentable product. Even despite the fact that she hadn't been in class for much of the past month, first due to being hospitalized after the Locker incident and then due to skipping to avoid the bullies.

Regardless, she still managed something halfway presentable, finishing before most of her other students. She saved her work and sent it off to the teacher, her mind now turned towards other, more distant thoughts. Thoughts regarding her new Friends.

Distant. She could feel the three of them, at the edges of her mind, the tethers that linked them all to her snaking off beyond her perception. Through those tethers she could still hear them, feel them, albeit muted and distant like being at opposite ends of a tunnel. She felt contentment, some boredom from them. Curiousness, oddly. Determined seemed a bit out of place - maybe Benny was chewing on something, or trying to catch the Ball...

Right, back to work, she could daydream later. Opening a web browser Taylor focused on what she needed to look for - information about being a Cape.

A mask. A name. Lisa's words from yesterday still rang in her head. She had one of those things, but she still need more. She needed information, most of all. She had to get serious. Well, more serious, she doubted she was anything but serious, having taken care of her Friends for the past few weeks.

And although she had been a regular at Parahumans Online and the related Wiki, she had never seriously researched any Capes beyond looking at the pages of some of her personal icons - Alexandria, Armsmaster, the Heroes that she had adored growing up. But now she needed to look for information that would be actually useful in a Cape fight, especially if she was going to be a Hero.

The forums related to Brockton Bay were buried deep in the website, one of many hundreds of sub-boards, one for each of the big cities in the country, the world even. She found it easily enough, navigating to the right place out of memory and habit. Sifting through the parent and sub-boards she found the link to the section related to known Capes confirmed to live there in Brockton Bay.

A start, sort of. She knew the big names in town already The big Supervillain-led gangs - The ABB, E88, the Merchants. There were a few others, Rogues mainly, that called Brockton Bay home - Uber and Leet most notably, Parian was another. There was New Wave too, an independent group of Public Capes. But it was the gangs that interested her right now, and the various Villains that commanded them.

Lung, for starters, lead the Azn Bad Boys, or just ABB for short. Taylor had learned about him from her research into Levi. An Asian-only gang, they held notable chunk of territory in the city, mainly in and around the Docks. Despite its size though, the only members that were actual Capes were Lung himself and another, a man by the name of Oni Lee. According to his page he was a Mover, or more precisely a Teleporter that could leave temporary copies of himself in his place that turned to ash after a few seconds. Even though the Gang had only two Capes they were considered to be one of the strongest in the Bay, if only because of their leader. He had brawled with Levi before after all, and lived to tell the tale, Taylor noted as to why.

There was also the Empire, or Empire Eighty-Eight as they liked to be called. They had well over a dozen Capes total, more than even the combined number of Wards and Protectorate members. They were led by Kaiser, most recognizable for his costumed styled as a suit of armor and his ability to create jagged spikes from any nearby metal surface. They also most notably had Purity, a Flier and Blaster nearly as strong and capable as Legend, who himself was one of the strongest Capes in the world. The list of the other Empire capes was a long one, and Taylor saved it for later reading, bookmarking it.

And finally there were the Merchants. A gang composed mostly of Drug Dealers and those hopelessly addicted to their wares. The gang, if you could even call it as much, was lead by a man named Skidmark. There were a couple of other Capes in the 'gang,' A Tinker named Squealer, another named Mush. From their descriptions on their Wiki pages Taylor got the idea that they smelled just as bad as they were described. Despite having just a few relatively weak Villain Capes, the gang had an endless supply of regular gang members, something they leveraged to their advantage against the stronger and more numerous ABB and Empire.

There was a lot to go through, to read up on. Far more than she had time for in one sitting. I need a notebook to write stuff in,she realized. Something to buy with what little she got as an allowance. As it stood, her home was also home to some really nasty people. Some really scary people she didn't want to be caught in a fight with.

Taylor sighed, and decided to change the topic to something more lighthearted. Closing out of the forums and Wiki she opened a new tab, this time looking for something to get her friends. Maybe some sort of snack or delicacy, something they'd really like to eat. Then again what does an Endbringer eat?

Taylor immediately regretted typing that into the search bar. The top results all mortified her. Distressingly the only answer that anybody seemed to agree on in any of the links she actually clicked was 'People.' And to a lesser extent 'Heroes,' 'Villains,' and most horrifically 'willing sacrifices,' according to the one Endbringer Cult's website she had found that somehow wasn't blocked by the school's subpar web filters. Another answer she found further down was 'The Souls of the Wicked and Unrepentant,' as stated by the spokesperson for a well-known Christian-themed team of Capes.

She sagged in her chair, a headache coming on. On the flip side that last website had a really cool homepage. she made a mental note to bookmark it, maybe look at the source code at a later date to see how they did those really cool animations...

Taylor had been so engrossed in her web browsing she almost missed the bell ringing, signalling the end of the period. Logging off and grabbing her backpack, she filed out with the rest of her fellow students, eager to be done with the day. I'll just stop by a convenience store on the way home, grab some snacks for them there, she decided. Maybe-

She was knocked out of her thoughts when an arm violently grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, and she was suddenly face-to-face with and Emma and Madison, sneers of disgust on their faces.

Crap, she thought.

Well, that's a wrap for now. I apologize for my, well, lateness in updating. I'm working towards being more punctual in the future. :D

Last edited: Nov 29, 2018

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TheMadmanAndre

May 15, 2015

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Threadmarks Interlude 3

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Nov 16, 2015

#2,048

lots of people said:

Is he ded?

other people said:

he did dead

lots of people said:

Yes, he super ded.

TheMadmanAndre said:

Nope.

Well, normally I would have included some sort of lengthy and detailed explanation as to my prolonged absence from Writing. To put it simply I don't want to get into it. At all.

But You? I haven't forgotten. Not in the slightest. Thinking about this story was one of the few things that has kept me going the last few months. But enough about me, I think I know why you are here' aren't you...?

As always, special thanks to 00Zy99 for beta-reading. Can't do this without him.

And now, on with the show.

Interlude 3: The Calm

Colin

His eyes snapped open as he awoke. Another dreamless sleep. A glance at his bedside clock indicated that he'd slept roughly four hours and that the alarm would sound in another three minutes. He preemptively clicked it off, hauling himself out of the bed in his quarters aboard the Rig. Colin stretched, his joints popping and cracking as he did, and the collection of aches and pains that were his memoirs of past fights and battles were there, as always, reminding him of their existence. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he made his way to the bathroom, to start his morning ritual of getting ready for the day.

Normally, he would have worked through the night, as per his usual routine. But after the previous day's discoveries he wanted to be fully refreshed for whatever the next day threw at him. And after fifteen minutes in the bathroom he felt such, after having brushed his teeth and trimmed away what little stubble had accumulated on his face and around his beard. After a few more minutes of suiting up into his costume, he noted the time. Eight-fifteen.

He took a moment to message several people, text only. The messages were short, concise, straight to the point about what he needed done that day. They will understand, he told himself. He considered messaging Dragon, his long time friend, as well, but decided not to. Not yet.

"Miss Militia," He spoke after a moment, his helmet's Comm automatically contacting his teammate at the sound of his voice.

"Armsmaster," he heard back. "Good Morning. What is it that you need?"

I'm headed out to Winslow High, personally," He replied back, collecting his Halberd from its display by the entrance to his quarters.

"You're going to Winslow?" she asked, surprise evident in her voice.

Armsmaster paused at his door. "Yes. Originally I was simply going to let the PRT handle obtaining the data we need, but I decided to go investigate the student body there firsthand. And, if our mystery Cape is still going to school, I strongly suspect that it would most likely be Winslow. Even if it's not the case, at the very least it's a start. Also, I want you to go to Arcadia and contact the faculty there, for copies of their student rosters. just to cover all of our bases."

He could practically hear her mulling over his words. "What about Immaculata and Clarendon? They're possibilities too."

"I'm going to ask Assault and Dauntless to go to each of those, respectively, for the same reasons."

"Have you told them?"

"No," he replied. "It's still just you and I. And I'm keeping it that way, keeping the rest of the team in the dark until I can be completely sure." He made to leave, the door silently sliding open at his approach, and closing just as quietly as he left. "When the time comes, I'll tell them, as well as the Director."

"Okay, what have you told them?"

Striding down the hallway, he reached one of the elevators for the Rig, that would take him down to the one of the docking platforms below for the ferries to and from the city proper. After tapping the appropriate button on the access panel he continued, "Only that I am arranging an impromptu Wards Tour. Speaking of which, send word out to the Wards, that their duties preclude them from attending school today."

There was a pregnant pause as his words sank in "Seriously Colin? A Wards Tour, now of all times?"

"If our mystery Cape were to be in attendance, it might help to send a positive message to her," he flatly stated. The elevator arrived and he briskly boarded it, tapping another button that would take him to the ground floor, metaphorically speaking. "And If I'm observing the audience, I may be able to identify the Cape based on my profile of them and any reactions or facial cues." Through his comm-link he heard the tap of keys as Miss Militia got to work on her end, quickly coming up with a schedule for the day's change of events. Around him the elevator began moving, quickly descending down the shaft.

"Okay, we can start with Winslow. Then Clarendon, Immaculata and finally Arcadia, in that order. That's the usual order of precedence when we do these." A beat. "How are you going to pick out the right person from a crowd of students?"

"Just leave it to me." The elevator stopped and the doors silently slid open. Stepping out he was greeted by the quiet and somber pier beneath the Rig, the pair of PRT Troopers standing watch snapped to attention and saluted him as he walked by to the waiting ferry. He nodded, and they returned to their standing duty. "A Ward attends Winslow, correct?"

"Yes, Shadow Stalker. She preferred to continue to attend Winslow rather than transfer away."

"Ask her to be standing by and waiting for me. I want to question her personally about her fellow students."

More tapping of keyboard keys from her end. "Okay then, I'll contact the school Principal to arrange for a conference room to be set aside. Apart from the soon-to-be-upset Wards, is there anything else I should be concerned about?"

Armsmaster stepped aboard the ferry, nodding to the pilot to take him ashore to the PRT Lockup where he normally stored his bike, away from the Rig. He also noted the hint of sarcasm in his teammate's voice. "Yes, one last thing. In my office you're going to find a metal box on my desk. Inside is a remote with a single button on it inside a protective flip-up case."

A pause. "And what does it do?"

"It's a bypass for the Endbringer Sirens. Normally in the event of a potential attack it falls upon either the ranking Protectorate Cape or local PRT Director to make the call, but in her absence, or if I'm not there..." he trailed off.

"You want me to. Right. It's a breach of protocol, but that won't matter much if your worst case is a reality."

"Yes." The ferry motored away from the Rig, towards the nearby shore and lockup. "And Hannah, one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. Thank me after all of this Colin, for trusting you."

"And if I'm right?"

"We'll have bigger problems to worry about, either way it goes."

Armsmaster allowed himself a small smile. Hannah, Miss Militia, was one of the very few people he could trust in the world. He was honestly glad to have her as a teammate and friend. "For now, get ready. "When I'm done at Winslow I'll get back in touch."

"Right, I have a fair amount to do. Miss Militia out." The connection closed, ending with a beep.

Armsmaster turned his mind back towards the task at hand. Winslow. More than a few Capes had come out of that place, in Brockton Bay's history. A few had been Heroes. Many others, not so much.

Maybe today will be different. He tapped his helmet once more, to contact his other teammates.

Sophia

Shadow Stalker paced back and forth in the conference room. It was all she could do. Her mind raced as to what was going on.

She hadn't so much as set foot out of her bedroom that morning, when her PRT phone buzzed with a priority message. Wards Tour. Exempt from class, until no longer needed. Standard circuit, meet at Winslow. A second message had consisted of the specific details, how to get there, when to show up, personalized for each Ward. Hers had been simple, Just go out as if on Patrol, and arrive in costume and standby. In just a few text messages, her well-cultivated plans for the day had been trampled. Her plans for the Hebert wimp, specifically, who had been coming to school less and less.

She could already see in her mind how the morning would proceed, she'd done it a couple of times before. Principal Blackwell would go onto the intercom during Second Period, maybe Third, asking for all of the students and faculty to gather in the school auditorium. After which she'd march out onto the stage and announce that the Wards would be conducting a presentation. She'd sat through a fair number of the presentations herself, and had stood up on the stage herself once before, towards the end of the year before. It was so tedious. Frustrating.

They, her and her fellow Wards, were all already on edge enough as it was. Even if people were celebrating out there, reveling in the apparent disappearance of Mankind's sworn enemies, The whole of the PRT and Protectorate were anything but. If anything they hadn't been off of a heightened state of alert since they...

They had vanished. The Endbringers, from the face of the Earth. Poof. Gone. And it scared people. Weaklings.

Then again she really couldn't blame any of them, could she? Sophia herself was a little frightened of them all herself, deep down. She could admit that much to herself, as much as it pained her to do. She'd been to one of the Behemoth's fights, not too long ago, pulling Search and Rescue. She had seen the damage and destruction and raw chaos that that thing was capable of.

That morning, on her way to Winslow Sophia had considered venting some of that stress and frustration on a hapless gang member or two on the way. But she reconsidered after getting yet another message, this time from a different source altogether.

I would like to speak to you privately before the presentation. Your Principal has arranged a place to meet for us, the message had read.

And it had been signed by Armsmaster.

Armsmaster, who was the leader of the Protectorate in Brockton Bay. Why would he want to meet me? she debated. Why now? Had he found out about the Wimp? Unlikely.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the door opened inwards into the room, and the man himself strode in. "Shadow Stalker, Ms. Hess, I trust you're doing well today?" He seemed courteous at least.

She had snapped to attention as he entered. "Sir," she spoke curtly.

"You're fine Shadow Stalker. Please, take a seat. We shouldn't take more than five minutes." He strode up to the table, taking the chair at the end nearest to him, placing a manila folder he had been carrying atop it before him.

She briefly hesitated before sitting down as well, taking a seat at the end and to his immediate right. "Sir, may I ask why I'm here?"

"I have some questions about the students I'd like for you to answer." He flipped open the folder, displaying the contents. Inside was a thin stack of loose papers, faces and names of various students that either were or had been attending school there. She recognized a couple, just from the top page alone. "Long story short," he started, "the Protectorate yesterday learned about a potential new Cape in Brockton Bay that I believe to be an extraordinarily capable Tinker. Normally the PRT and Protectorate let Capes come to them, but in this case we'd like to find her instead."

"Her?" Shadow Stalker asked.

"Yes, we suspect that the Cape in question is female, and most likely attending school still, specifically high school. Possibly this one, hence why I'm asking you to help me, at the moment."

She again briefly hesitated, although she was mildly relieved. "A Tinker." Those didn't last long in the Bay. Either the gangs scoop them up, the Protectorate did, or they ended up dead. "Sir, how can I help, exactly? Aren't Tinkers, like, what you do?"

"I might be a Tinker, but here and now you would know this person better than I would." He pushed the list of students towards her. "I have a basic physical profile of what she may look like, her presumed height, weight, the likes. I'd like you to go through the list I've compiled based on those parameters, and see if anyone stands out in particular, based on your interactions with them."

Oh, well that was easy enough to do, she noted silently. "Okay, I'll take a look, I guess." She scooped up the thin stack, about twenty pages or so altogether. Most of them were Juniors or Seniors, with a handful of other grades mixed in. Some of them had dropped out, or had simply disappeared altogether, scooped up into one of the gangs to be used as one of their playthings. Nobody 'stood out' really, most sane people would keep their Trigger and powers hidden in their civilian identity, and Sophia hadn't really suspected anyone of being a Cape-

Then she saw the name and face on the eighth page, last on it at the bottom.

Taylor Hebert. The Wimp.

Sophia's face betrayed no reaction. For the moment she was just another student. For the moment. "Most of these girls I haven't really gotten the feeling that they're secretly a Parahuman," she eventually stated. "Emily Barker is an airhead. So is Tracey Dilmer." Barbara Fort I think dropped out to go join the Empire. The Hebert girl, she's harmless as well."

Armsmaster said nothing. "Do any of the others on the list stand out in any way?"

Sophia continued, flipping through to the end of the stack, scanning the faces as she went. "I can't say anyone really stands out, sorry."

Armsmaster nodded, reaching over to scoop up the papers to shuffle back into the folder. "Thank you, Shadow Stalker, you've been helpful."

"I don't really feel that way Sir." Sophia picked up her mask where it lay on the table. "I don't suppose I can go now, Sir? My teammates need me."

"Go ahead. And Shadow Stalker, make a decent first impression."

She nodded, affixing her mask to her face before turning to walk out, closing the door behind her and leaving Armsmaster alone in the room.

Armsmaster

He counted to ten, making sure he was alone and nobody would be waiting to walk in after Shadow Stalker left. "Miss Militia," he spoke into his comm, "Are you busy?"

It took a moment to connect. "Miss Militia here, what is it Armsmaster?"

"I questioned Shadow Stalker about the students at Winslow. She told me that there was nothing suspicious about any of the students. Which is about what I would expect, normally." A pause. "However…"

"However?"

She referred to one of the students here… differently." He again flipped open the folder, setting aside the first seven pages and revealing the eighth. "One 'Taylor Hebert.' Unlike some of the other students she referred to by their full name, she referred to this one as, and I quote, 'the Hebert Girl.'

"Perhaps she knows this student personally?" In the background Armsmaster could hear traffic, a car horn. He guessed Hannah was driving towards Arcadia at that moment, to roll out the red carpet, so to speak.

"Possibly. But I detected a hint of, well, derision, in her voice. Almost contempt." He tapped a finger on the portrait of the student in question - a bespectacled, slightly narrow face, with slightly wide lips and framed with curly brown hair. "I'd like to ask you to look into her the next chance you get."

"Do you think that this Taylor Hebert is somehow connected?"

"Maybe, maybe not." He rearranged the papers back into the folder before closing it shut. "More than likely she's unrelated. But at this point I'm preferring to track down every possible lead I find.

"Alright, I'll pass it along to the PRT. I don't think they'll mind a background check, to see if anything's amiss in her private life."

"Thank you. Armsmaster out." He finally got up, turning to leave the conference room, folder in hand. Although a general background check might be able to reveal something about that tangential lead, Armsmaster decided to ask someone who might know more directly.

Patricia

"Miss Taylor Hebert?" she replied to the blue and silver armored Cape standing before her desk. "Yes, I think I'm familiar with her. What is it you'd want to know about her?"

Principal Blackwell had been, suffice to say, upset at being abruptly informed about an impromptu Wards demonstration. Angry, almost. Normally it was a good thing having, having Heroes show up to the school, even for an hour. The wannabe gang members in the student body, the troublemakers ne'er-do-wells, kept their heads low to the ground, walked a little straighter for a few days afterward, having been reminded that they were all bottom feeders. The lowest rungs on the ladder. There would be less graffiti on the walls for a little bit, fewer students in detention. Good things from an academic standpoint.

But this? Out of the blue, with barely an hour's warning or even a head's up? It had been a frustratingly maddening hassle trying to get the faculty to get ready on such short notice. To get the ready, to get prepared. She'd called the school Superintendent already, voicing her anger and displeasure. Frustrating and maddening yes, but still not as the situation she found herself in now.

Armsmaster was in her office.

Asking questions, about people he shouldn't know about.

"Okay," he spoke. "Do you know if she's been acting strange or unusual in the past few days or weeks. Has anything happened to her that would be, would have been, extremely stressful? A fight, an injury, something of that nature?"

She's bullied on a daily basis by several members of the student body. "Nothing that would warrant my personal attention, Mr. Armsmaster." she spoke with a straight face.

A beat. "Okay then, has she missed any classes then? Unexplained absences during the morning or afternoon?"

She's barely coming to school since last month. She shook her head. "As I said, nothing that would warrant my attention. When I said that I was familiar with Ms. Hebert, I was implying that I mainly knew her name, and that her father works with the Dockworkers, and that her grades are satisfactory for the standards of Winslow." They aren't, she's barely passing most of her classes. She is one name out of a thousand here at Winslow, give or take."

"Alright. One more question: Would you know if she has any relation with Sophia Hess? Do they share classes, interests?"

So it was her. She made a show of tapping her chin, as if in thought. "Obviously they're classmates. They're both Sophomores, and likely share multiple classes. She made a show of putting her hands down, flat on her desk. "Mr. Armsmaster, I'm not in the business of disclosing personal information about the students here at Winslow. Not without a court order at least."

"I'm not asking for anything personal, Madam Principal," he flatly replied. "I'm simply inquiring as to what you know about her."

"Which is sadly very little, and I get the impression that what I do know isn't what could help you find whatever it is you're looking for. I assume you're looking for her, correct? She would be in her Homeroom right now."

"Not at the moment, no." He paused. "Her name came up in an ongoing investigation and I decided to use my presence here to inquire further."

"And I'm sorry that I can't help you, Mr. Armsmaster. Is there anything else that I can

help you with?"

Armsmaster said nothing at first. "No, you've actually been very helpful, Madam Principal. I'll take my leave now. And thank you." With that he turned, and briskly left the office.

And she contemplated. Sophia. She was a problem. A problem among many.

Principal Blackwell reached across her desk, picked up her telephone. She had a call to make. Many calls, actually.

Dragon

The greatest TInker in the world was faced with a problem.

A problem that seemed unsolvable. Unwinnable.

Most problems were nothing before her. Simple obstacles that she took no effort to overcome. Some were marginally more difficult. Others, far tougher. like one of her long-time self-styled adversaries.

But this one. An evolution of an already absurdly difficult problem, in and of itself. One that had been seemingly unsolvable.

The Endbringers. She had to find them. And for a month now, she couldn't.

She'd spent nearly all of her time during that month on finding, locating the Endbringers, scouring, acquiring, collating and collecting every last potential scrap of data she could conceivably lay her metaphysical hands upon. She had compiled and aggregated data and information from countless myriad sources into a virtually complete picture to provide an answer to her that she had hoped would put her to ease.

And the answer that she had was simple. Straightforward even.

The Endbringers were gone. Just, gone. As if they had never been there. As if they'd always ever been a figment of Humanity's collective imagination.

And it scared her.

The Endbringers were far and above some of the scariest, most powerful and inhuman entities that the human species had ever encountered. Literal forces of nature without equal, save for perhaps Scion. The Protectorate, the Triumvirate, her own Guild for that matter, all wanted her help, needed her help, to find them. To scour them out, seek them under whatever proverbial rock they had decided to hide under and drive them back out into the light.

And all she had found was static. Silence.

Nothing.

At some point she had even begun to question if she was able to find them. If she was capable. Maybe she had finally found a problem she couldn't best-

She killed that line of thinking, that thought process dead as soon as the thoughts had formed. She didn't have room to doubt herself. Not now. Doubt was the one thing she couldn't afford. She would find them, no matter what it took.

For a while she had been chasing pointless thoughts in circular loops, daydreaming really, when she received a priority communication request. From Armsmaster.

Putting her thoughts both metaphorically and physically back on track, she answered the Protectorate Tinker's- her friend's- call. "Armsmaster, she spoke, "How are you? "

"I'm doing fine Dragon. Yourself?"

Splendid, I think." A lie. "What is it that you need?"

"Well, I'm in a school."

She raised a pair of metaphysical eyebrows in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's the reason I called. I went back to school. A school, Winslow High to be specific."

She brought up a search. Winslow High School, located in Brockton Bay. "Armsmaster, what's going on?"

"I need a favor." Well, he was at least upfront and honest. "I need some information about a student that attends class here. Actually I might need information about a lot of students but one thing at a time."

"That would be difficult to get, Armsmaster," she replied. "There are a lot of privacy laws and regulations that protect personal information and identifiable data, and I'm bound by those laws." Maybe if she was anything but what she was she would have been more than slightly intrigued, though. But depending on the who and the why and so forth, I could make some exception. Is there a specific reason as to why you need this data?"

"I have a good reason to believe that there's an extremely capable Tinker in Brockton Bay that recently triggered. And I want to recruit her, before the gangs do, or she gets killed."

"Oh." Well he was certainly straightforward. "Her?"

"Yes, I think I might also have a name. More of a hunch, really."

Metaphorically she sighed, heavily. "A hunch. Okay, what's her name? Maybe I'll see if this hunch pans out."

"Her name is Taylor Hebert. She's a student here at Winslow."

"Taylor Hebert. Pronounced 'a-bear.' Right." and like that, in the span of just a few seconds, she knew almost everything about the girl. Possibly more than the young Miss Hebert knew even about herself. Altogether though, there wasn't that much, but nevertheless she started at the beginning.

She had been born on June 19th, 1995, to Daniel and Annette Hebert. Dragon noted from her memory, oddly interestingly, that that was the same day Behemoth assaulted Moscow. Aside from having a notorious birthday, Taylor had mostly lived a quiet and uneventful life, according to her combined and aggregated personal data. A facial recognition search had turned up a picture dated four years prior of a girl playing a flute in some sort of school event. She knew grief no doubt, as Dragon uncovered the death certificate of her mother, two years old. Car crash, during a storm.

A moment passed and she had an archived copy of her school transcript. The contents of which surprised her to a degree. Outstanding performance through Elementary and Junior High, up until the death of her mother. A sharp downturn at that time, no doubt explained by the sadness and depression brought on by loss of a loved one. Her grades and performance though climbed until she reached High School, where those grades took a sharp downward turn to barely passing, and stayed there. As did her attendance - she had suddenly started missing a fair number of days, compared to before. Troubling to say the least.

"She isn't doing well in school, according to her transcript. She's actually failing several classes. Technically speaking she should have been held back due to poor performance and attendance."

There was silence again from Armsmaster. This time for longer, which Dragon thought was oddly uncharacteristic. "How recent?" He finally asked.

"Not as recent as I think you would have liked. the document I have only goes up until prior to Winter break of last year. Hold on, I've gotten her medical records now. Let's see here... Brockton Bay General needs to desperately update their IT infrastructru-Oh." She had ended mid-sentence. Something she normally didn't do. But did, because what she saw horrified her.

January fifth of that year. The first day back from that Christmas break. She had been admitted in the afternoon, having been discovered in the hallway outside her locker badly injured and delirious and barely conscious. According to the attending physician's notes, she had been locked inside a school locker for several hours if not longer, with, as he had put it, 'biological waste and used hygiene products.' Although her stay was short, as she was discharged only a few days later that following weekend, having made 'an incredible recovery' according to her doctor.

At the same time her criminal background check of Ms. Hebert finished. All she found was a police report with her name on it, dated the same day of the same month, that detailed what the first responders to the scene had observed. It was verbose, to say the least, filled with details of the crime scene that would have made Dragon retch if she had the ability to do so. She had to give credit to the Detective that wrote it at least, as she glanced over the School Principal's statement. he had been well-versed, his own personal conjecture stating that it was most likely bullying, or a prank gone awry. Which seemed to be a valid assumption…

But there was no follow-up. Just the initial report and no follow-up investigation. Which considering the circumstances just wasn't right-

"Dragon? Is something the matter?"

She became aware that she'd been silent for almost thirty seconds. "Armsmaster, Colin, she was in the hospital last month. Attacked and forced into a locker full of human waste."

"What?"

"I'm reading her medical records from a month ago. She spent several days in the hospital as a result of that." A related police report that I found stated there was a bio-hazard and the Principal had to call in people to clean it up-"

"The Principal?"

"Mrs. Patricia Blackwell, Winslow High School Principal. A detective interviewed her. She claimed in the report that she knew nothing of why someone would do that to a student, especially not Miss Hebert. Her words."

"She knew her? By name?"

"That certainly seems to be the case, judging from the nature of her statement."

More silence. Dragon interrupted it. "Armsmaster, what's really going on here?"

"When did all of this occur?"He finally answered, after a beat.

"According to the documents? On January the fifth, the morning of. Hmm, isn't that the day that the Endbr-"

Dragon didn't have a chance to finish, because the call abruptly disconnected.

He'd hung up on her.

Colin

Around him, the world spun. The hallway rotated, dizzily, and he felt the lockers on both sides close in towards him, as the incredible reality he was having so much trouble comprehending crashed down onto him. It was a strange feeling, knowing, realizing, something of great magnitude all at once in its entirety, even before understanding any of it. That magnitude spoke volumes, all on its own.

He reached an arm out to his right, to the row of lockers the logical part of his mind knew were there to steady himself. He took steady breaths, calming his racing nerves and allowing his mind to work through everything one thing at a time. He looked at the locker he leaned against. Plain and nondescript, like a thousand others in the school. Big enough to put a backpack inside, loaded down with textbooks and toy-sized abominations.

Or a teenager, stuffed in against her will by malicious assailants.

Taylor Hebert.

He considered, for a moment, What could have happened. First and foremost he had been lied to -that much was obvious. He had to give credit to the Principal where it was due though, she was a decent liar, and his helmet's built-in lie detector had had a much larger margin of error than typical when he was checking the validity of her statements. Then again she had the air of a politician, in his experience they were better at deception than most. Even so his helmet had detected that she was being deceitful or at least not telling the whole truth, after he had dropped Ms. Hebert's name. But he hadn't been sure why, at the time.

And now he knew, courtesy of the world's best Tinker. But it had led to more questions. More non-answers. Part of him wanted to turn around and storm back into her office and demand the truth, but he had a feeling she wouldn't react very well to that. She'd probably ask for a lawyer and he had a feeling that whatever was going on might warrant such. A lot of such. Police had been involved and a student hospitalized. He presumed she was most likely on the phone with one at that very moment.

There was something going on at Winslow. Something terrible. Taylor Hebert was a part of it. Somehow. Tinker or not she could probably use the help. And if she really was his Mystery Cape Well…

She had Triggered in that Locker, he realized. And not just on the same day, but the same hour the Endbringers had vanished. And with a potential power set that allowed her to mimic them... He remembered his own conjecture to Miss Militia from that night before, why she likely hadn't gone to the PRT, stayed hidden away. She's trying to hide her powers. Conceal them. More often than not that's not a good indicator.

It wasn't looking good for her. Or him. And here he was, trying to drag her out into the light. He wondered if, in hindsight, how much of this had been a good idea. Was she in one of the classrooms to his left or right at that moment, learning and unaware? Was she even at the school at all?

He checked the time. In just a few more minutes the bell signifying the end of the school period would sound, and signal the start of the next. If he was caught out in the rush of students as they were let out of their classrooms, then… Yeah, he was trying to keep a low profile, at least until the assembly in the auditorium was called. Meaning that, at least for the next two hours he would be preoccupied with keeping up appearances. But after? When the Wards would be sent on to Arcadia and he was once again free to keep looking? Yes, he'd get to the bottom of this. The Principal. Taylor Hebert. His Mystery Cape. All of it.

Standing upright, assured, he strode forward, through the empty hallways towards the school's auditorium, his steps even and confident. Before he completely forgot, he sent a quick message to Dragon, apologizing to her for the abrupt call and citing work related matters as the reason. He'd have to make a formal apology later on, but it could wait. There were more pressing matters to attend to, at the moment.

No matter what, Armsmaster felt that it was going to be a red letter day.

Menagerie

Boredom, The Oldest noted, as he milled about in their Master's bedroom.

Impatient, the Youngest stated. She lounged, stretched out on the windowsill of the bedroom, basking in the sunlight, a look of contentment on her face. He had long since eaten, but again he grew restless. Hungry.

Appetite. Bottomless, his younger Brother annoyingly noted.

Baby. He hopped up from where he lay on the barren dinner plate, walked over to the edge of the nightstand and hopped off to the floor below, landing with an ungainly thump on his face as he did. He half-scrambled, half-hopped back up onto his feet, pausing long enough to take note of his younger brother's antics. The Second swiped at their toy with his talons, chasing it around the room and enjoying himself, preoccupied with the tantalizingly indestructible device. Tiny, he stated, before turning his attention back to his quarry, far away and almost out of his reach. Almost.

Giant. He walked over to the bedroom door, the threshold looming far above him. He gazed up towards the top, then back to the base. He observed the hinges that let the great door open and close. He regarded the handle well above him that sealed the door in place, and well out of reach of him. Or not.

Metal! he concluded. Focusing on the handle he reached out to it, tugging on it and drawing it towards him, slowly it inched downwards and to the side. As he pulled on the handle, objects in the bedroom shifted as well, drawn towards the Oldest. But before anything could be damaged or moved out of place the door handle clicked open, releasing the door to open inward and whacking him in the face, sending him skidding backwards. Free! he roared triumphantly.

Idiot! the youngest accused him. The Youngest had hopped up from her place on the windowsill, floating over towards him with a flash of annoyance on her face, before trying to nudge the door back shut.

Smart! Snacks! He roared back, leveraging the door open with his body before his Sister could close it and slipping out to the hallway. His Sister, then younger Brother followed him, the latter amused and the former irritated. He bounded along, until he came to the top of the stairs just down the hallway. A precipice, the top of the flight of stairs that led down to the ground floor. Fun! Reaching the edge of the topmost step he hopped off, leaping into the air beyond. his lower body caught the edge of the second step down, flipping him end over end down the stairs. All the while he roared excitedly as he bounced down.

He crashed into the floor below, his spiked head scratching the wooden floorboards before he bounced again, careening towards the front door. Just in time his Sister caught him to his irritation, before he would have crashed into it and maybe through it. There were interesting things outside Master's house. Things like Snacks, and things to chew on. Nibble on.

It took him a second, but then he realized that he was floating in the air, a foot or so above the floor and upside down.

Ground! Safety! Panic! Earth-

He fell, landed on the wood floor with a thump. -Shelter. He hobbled up back onto his feet. Snacks.

Mindless, she scolded.

Fat-

Whack. In a blur she was at him and then the Oldest sailed a short ways through the air, bouncing off the cushioned side of the living room couch before landing on his face. Baby.

She stuck her tongue out at him. Their Master might have found it adorable if she were there. In the meantime though, snacks.

He began bounding off towards a doorway that was through two more rooms, behind which held what he was looking for. His Sister again stopped him, grabbing him with her power. He tried moving forward but couldn't, his feet pawing helplessly at the wood floor.

The Second had been watching them silently, amused by his antics. Her antics as well. He plodded over to his immobile brother, looking at him closely before raising a talon. Funny.

Hungry!

The Second cocked his head. Amusing.

Boring! The First shot back.

Practical, he plainly replied.

The First continued to struggle against his restraints for a minute, before giving up and turning towards his sister. Snacks!

Idiot!

Yes!

No!

Teeth, the First noted, brandishing them along with his stubby claws. Chew, he stated.

"Eep!" The Third squeaked audibly, clutching at one of her wings and recoiling in fright, and abruptly releasing him. in the process. He nearly lost his balance as he started moving again, before catching himself, turning and hopping onward towards his Snacks.

He passed tables and chairs, neatly arranged. Through the kitchen, full of interesting things. Some snacks. Others, also snacks, but for later. The cabinets high and low full of snacks. The large metal box full of flowing liquid constantly cooling. That held snacks, lots of snacks. But mostly for Master and Master's Master. Although the Fluffy Yellow Snack was delicious. But the door that was now in front of him though held a snack meant just for him.

His, ever since his sister told him it existed.

He looked up. It was mostly the same door to Master's room. Metal hinges and a metal handle. But there was no lever to pull down on this one, just a ball sticking out from the door. He thought, then thought some more, and decided that if the door was in his way he'd simply eat it. For the snacks.

He walked over to the door, mouth open. Tasty.

Master! She exclaimed.

Home. The second turned his head toward the front door.

A sound, from Master's home's front door. Steps beyond. A key in the lock, releasing it to open.

And Master sweeping in, the door slamming shut behind her, Despair and Sadness and Disgust and Pain heavy in her mind and tears streaming from her eyes. She blew past them in the kitchen, oblivious to them as she raced up the stairs and into her bedroom.

The three of them had watched her, from the kitchen. Two of them had been perplexed and frightened. Their Master was hurting. But why?

The third of them, the Youngest, saw what to do to fix it. She flew into action, a mere blur in the kitchen, all the while rallying her siblings to help her.

To help their Master.

This is the part of the story that writers refer to as 'the build up.' As to building up to what? Well, stay tuned. Also, C&C is always welcome.

See you guys in a couple of weeks.

Last edited: Nov 2, 2017

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TheMadmanAndre

Nov 16, 2015

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Jun 5, 2016

#2,627

So I'm back, after a long hiatus. Fortunately I brought the next part of the story with me. I'm hoping you like it. As always, special thanks to 00Zy99 for beta-reading and providing advice.

Now, back to your scheduled programming.

2-2

Taylor barely remembered the bus ride back, after her confrontation with her former best friend. Or her half-run back to her house. She had opened the front door, slamming it behind her before running upstairs to her bed.

And there she huddled under her blankets, crying herself away. To sleep, to another place, anywhere but here.

"Taylor."

"Emma."

"You haven't been coming to school lately," Emma spoke, venom on her lips.

"I guess not." Taylor stepped back, putting another foot between them.

She curled up, grasping at the covers. Why do they have to try so much to hurt me?

"So, you think you can just walk away? Away from us? That you can go home and cry yourself to sleep?

Her face drew back into a sneer, a response already forming on her lips. "It beats coming here every day to look at your ugly face."

She heard the scrabble of claws on her bedroom floor. Her friends?

The sting on her face, as her head was shifted sideways. Emma had actually slapped her. For a brief moment she was actually surprised. "You don't have the right to talk to me like that Taylor," Emma snarled. Madison stood behind her, merely grinning.

Taylor's hand rose up to touch where she had been slapped. She didn't have words. The look on her face probably reflected that.

"Nothing to say? Left your tongue in the locker?" She leaned in, grinning savagely now. "Or your mom's coffin maybe?"

More scratching. By her bedside. Her nightstand. She ignored them.

That had stung. Far worse than the slap. Far worse than anything they, the Trio, had done up until then.

"Why does she even still come to school anymore? It's not like she's of any use to anyone here." Madison, finally chiming in.

Taylor had been frozen. Her mind seizing at Emma's spiteful words. Until Madison spoke, and something clicked.

"You're right," Taylor finally muttered, flatly. "Why do I still come to this place."

Her mind made up, she turned, almost mechanically, towards the direction of the entrance and started walking, away from her tormentors. Only for one of them to violently grab her sweater to stop her, hard enough to rip the sleeve. "Where do you think you're going?" Emma it would seem. "I'm not through with you yet-"

She turned back to her old friend, anger and rage evident in her own eyes. For a brief moment, Emma was taken aback, distracted. Just long enough for Taylor's own palm to strike her.

She could make out the sound of claws on her nightstand, climbing up in a practiced manner.

The sound of her slap caused a brief hush amongst the surrounding students and onlookers. A mixture of surprise and shock. Emma herself was briefly paralyzed, more from shock than hurt.

Taylor didn't care to stick around long enough to hear any more of her words, her poison. She turned and left, the School at her back and tears in her eyes.

Her self-pity was interrupted, when she felt something prod at her from beyond her bed's comforter, chirping meekly as it did. Simmie.

She wanted her to go away. But she didn't. Refusal, Help. Hurting, Pain. The prodding became more insistent, as she heard a faint 'Rawr?' Hurt? from somewhere beyond. Capitulating, she broke the veil of the comforter, only to be greeted by Simmie's tiny face mere inches from her own. Help? she chirped. Beyond her, standing atop her nightstand were Benny and Levi, each watching her from their perch, Concern and Worry and Help evident through her tethers to them, just as much as Simmie. All of them, they all wanted to help her.

Whatever loathing and self-pity Taylor felt for herself evaporated as she saw her friends - her real friends, as they came to her aid, trying to help her in any way they could. She doubted they could help her with Emma or the rest of the Trio, but here and now, she needed someone - someones, to curl up next to.

It was then that she caught the aroma, drifting on the air. Freshly brewed, mint and lavender. A fragrance she hadn't smelled since…

Since her Mom died. Taylor recognized it almost instantly as the fragrant aroma of the tea that she used to make, something that Taylor never could get right the few times she tried to brew it since… then. Before she had a chance to speak up, she finally noticed her favorite mug on the nightstand where she hadn't left it, next to the spotless cup and dish from that morning's breakfast. And she also noticed the floating, swirling sphere of dark liquid hanging in the air directly above it.

Her mind briefly hung, trying to figure out the scene before her, before the scene played out and the sphere floated down and settled into the cup, filling it almost to the brim as Benny exclaimed Hot! Drink! with a hearty roar. Agreement, beverage, Levi chimed in. Taylor blinked, as she worked through the thought process of what they had done - They made her a cup of hot tea.

And not just any cup of tea, they made it the way her mother made it for her.

How? Who cared about how? She sat up in bed before reaching out and taking the proffered cup, almost reverently. Bringing it to her lips she breathed in the aroma. Memories of her mother. Taylor didn't know how they had managed this. How they had re-created this for her. She didn't want to know, questions better left unanswered. But she understood the meaning of it all the same, even as tears began to form once again in the corners of her eyes.

Simmie floated up to her cheek, nuzzling her face into it. Hurt?

Taylor allowed herself a small smile, steam wafting up from the mug in front of her. "No, I'm fine Simmie. I'll be fine. I… thank you." She was at the verge of tears with their gesture. Kindness, caring, was what it was, something she felt she almost didn't deserve.

Rawr? Leave? Benny asked. Taylor knew what he was asking about.

Taylor considered it. No more Winslow. She had no intention of ever setting foot in that place ever again. "No, I'm not going to leave you guys. I'm not going back to that place, not after today."

Today? Levi asked.

"Yeah, today." She was quiet for a brief moment. "Not after today."

Taylor told them about Emma, or the Trio. She never even considered it. Taylor didn't want to ever make them worry about her.

But they deserved to at least know about what had caused her so much pain.

"A long time ago, I had a friend," she started. Like you guys. But, different. We did, girly things, each other's hair, that sort of thing. We'd have sleepovers, gossip about the guys we liked. About the Capes we had crushes on. About what kind of powers we'd have if we became Capes ourselves." She squeezed the mug, tightly. "But, she changed."

"She abandoned me, turned on me, abused me to no end, hurt me, stole my Mother's flute." Her grip tightened on her mug. She looked up, her gaze falling upon Simmie. "Then she threw me into that locker, where you found me a month ago. Just, left me there, trapped in filth."

She was silent for a moment. "And then you guys came along. Simmie, then you two," she glanced down at Levi and Benny. "You've been better friends to me than anyone else ever has. I..." She choked up, unable to continue, save for intermittent sobs.

They gathered around her, piling onto her lap. She felt their thoughts, Comfort and Sympathy. All three of them, there for her. She scooped up Benny, squeezing him in her arms before flopping back onto her bed. Simmie floated meekly nearby, ever present, as Levi clung onto her shoulder, head against hers, trying and succeeding at drying the tears on her cheek. Her opposite cheek still stung from the slap that Emma had inflicted on her. It stung, even now, although the pain had dimmed into a dull ache.

But that didn't hurt the worst. The malevolent apathy and veiled hostility from the faculty. The total refusal by them to do anything about them, even with the evidence she had compiled. And being forced to keep quiet, as the school swept it all under the rug. Humiliation. It surged within her, and for the first time since the Locker she felt anger at them, at all of them, over what they did, what they refused to do. Hate. Pure unadulterated hatred. Hatred of all of them. She wanted to see them burn, to suffer.

Wait…

She'd despised them, yes, but this? Those thoughts weren't hers. They were different. Worse. More hatred than one person could possibly feel-

Her friends, she realized. She was feeling their own hatred of the Trio, of the School, reflected back to her and it dwarfed her own by a staggering margin.

Benny growled, his face taking on a terrifying visage. Levi stilled, save for the errant flicking of his tail and twitching of his talons. Simmie floated, her face passive and serene. They wanted to burn them. Drown them. Break their bones one by one, over and over. Boil their blood and melt their flesh, until their minds shattered.

They… wanted to kill them. And as bad as the Trio was, the hatred for them coming from her new Friends horrified her.

Maim and burn them.

No.

Drown. Crush them.

No…

Kill-

"No!" She threw herself upward, dislodging Levi from his perch and almost sending the other two flying - one metaphorically. Her arms grasped Simmie, squeezing her tight to her chest. "Don't! Don't Be like them!" she practically shouted.

"Rawr!?" Confusion!?

"Don't… don't be like them," she stammered out. "Don't lower yourself to that level, please." Tears began to well up and her hug around Simmie tightened further still, eliciting a squeak from her. It's not… not worth it to hurt them. As bad as they are, hurting them would only let them win."

"Rawr?" Win? Victory?

"...Yeah, they'd win. Even though they'd lose." Simmie slipped out of her hug, floating up to look at her with worry and confusion written across her face. Even if you'd kill them they'd win." Levi's head cocked sideways, trying to understand it. Benny, from his own expression, had already given up trying to understand anything, his single eye gazing towards her bedroom ceiling.

"Guys, promise me that you won't hurt them, that you won't hurt anybody. Please?"

They all looked… confused. So confused, torn between wanting to help her any way they could and to protect her in the only way they knew. Thankfully, for Taylor, their desire to help her won out.

"Rawr!" Pro… mise.

Promise.

Yes!

Taylor felt a warmth wash over her, as happiness returned to her. She felt a weight lift up from her shoulders, feeling almost lighter than air. It was… relief. It had always been a concern of hers that they could hurt people. Well, innocent people, the rent-a-cops from the Boardwalk yesterday notwithstanding. She flashed back, to a walking pair of pants and Benny's fireballs. And what they could do to a person…

"Also, Benny," Taylor addressed him, "promise not to set anyone else on fire, okay? At least people who can't handle being set on fire, like non-Capes?"

He was silent for a moment, before answering. "Rawr!" Pro… mise!

Taylor nodded, "Good. Not for my sake, more theirs. Burns can leave bad scars." Taking a long sip, she placed her mug back on her nightstand, before flopping backwards onto her bed. Yeah, dad needs to know about them, she decided. He already knows I'm hiding them. Tonight I tell him, no matter what. She turned over onto her side, watching the three of them. She wondered what they'd like for lunch, since she would have to make something for them in a little bit. Wait…

She had promised them that morning, not two hours ago.

SnacksDrinksSweets! was their immediate reply, reminding them of the promise she had made that morning, only a few hours ago.

She had a problem though.

"The thing is, I don't have any money."

Money? Strange looks of confusion from all three of them.

"Yeah guys, I'm sort of, well, out of it, sort of. Not enough to buy more than a candy bar at least. I'll show you." Taylor got up, walking over to her dresser and fetching the change purse out from inside that held what little currency she possessed. "Money, it's what I used to get you guys ice cream yesterday, before we met that Lisa." She unzipped it and peered inside, noting just how little money she had, no more than a few dollars in change. "I- you need it to buy stuff. To trade for things you need or want."

Want! Snacks!

"Yeah, me too Benny." Taylor walked back to her bed, flopping down unceremoniously. "I suppose I could talk to dad about it, maybe see if he'd give me a little more for my allowance. I…" She trailed off, briefly. "I'm guessing I'll have to tell him about you guys if that's the case." Simmie floated over, nuzzling her neck. Help, she offered.

"Help Dad?"

"Rawr!" Help!

"Ha, yeah, he's probably going to need help. Medical help, after he has a heart attack at seeing the three of you." With two fingers she ruffled Simmie's hair, eliciting a squeak from her. She floated upward, out of her reach and off towards her dresser, where she had stuffed her new tablet and her costu-

Her costume. She had completely forgotten about it. Simmie latched onto the top drawer's handle and started tugging, slowly leveraging the drawer open, before flitting inside and reemerging with the Slate. As Taylor watched, Simmie again disassembled the device as she had done yesterday in the Boat Graveyard, the strange esoteric components revealed yet again. From within Simmie extracted a thin, rectangular piece, colorless and featureless as the rest, shaping and molding it slightly before reassembling the rest of the device. Taylor noted that Simmie's face had once again taken on that serene expression, strangely reminiscent of her previous form. Or maybe she just loses herself in Tinkering, Taylor wondered. She remembered reading, on PHO or somewhere else, that Tinker Capes could lose themselves for hours to whatever project they were working on.

Regardless, Simmie set the modified tablet aside and floated back over to her Master, the component clutched awkwardly in her tiny arms. She presented it to Taylor with an almost reverent squeak, and Taylor took it, carefully, turning it over in her hands as she did. "Umm, what is it?"

Money! She chirped.

"Huh." Taylor examined it, or what little there was to examine. It was a few inches wide and about a couple of inches tall, thin and flexible and with a slight plastic-like feel to it. It looked more or less shaped like a credit card, like something out of her dad's wallet, but aside from the dimensions there was little else - blank and featureless and dull silver-gray like all of Simmie's creations. "I, um, don't think this is what they'd call 'legal tender' Simmie, I can't exactly buy anything with this."

She merely chirped and smiled, with that large sloppy grin of hers. And then Taylor nearly jumped as she watched and felt the card morph in her grasp.

The surface began to distort, change color, as patterns formed in its surface. It began to tingle in her hands and she almost dropped it in surprise. Letters and numbers began to rise out of the surface, as if embossed by an invisible and intangible press. In a few brief moments, Taylor held what was indistinguishable from any other credit card.

It looked official, almost regal, from her viewpoint at least. Her first and last name in capital letters across the top in raised lettering, a series of numbers below. The design said the card belonged to Brockton Bay Central Bank, right there in town, the bank's logo prominent on the background. Even the back was official, complete with signature line and even the Bank's phone number. Even fine print about obtaining technical or customer support. After almost a minute of holding it, looking at it, all Taylor could manage to say was a flat "What."

"Rawr!" Snacks!

Taylor looked up to Simmie floating in front of her. Back down to the card. Back to Simmie. "This can work, I think," she spoke, grinning. "Assuming I can actually use it to buy something."

"Yes!" Simmie exclaimed. Taylor decided that settled that matter. If Simmie said it would work, that it was more than likely going to work. Everything else she had made so far had worked flawlessly. Which got her thinking about what else was in the drawer.

Taylor stood back up, placing the card aside for the time being. Striding back to the dresser she reached into the top drawer, scooping out all of the contents into her arms, before walking back to her bed and placing it all down. There were her bracelets and tablet from yesterday, still there, as was the costume. The large single piece, the pants and coat and the pair of boots. And the mask, diminutive and unassuming. She tried yet again to imagine herself wearing what was laid out on her bed in front of her but failed, mostly because she had trouble seeing herself wearing anything but what she had become so accustomed to wearing - dull, dark, baggy clothing that hid and obscured her form and figure. Her Friends' creations was anything but that - the antithesis to her drab wardrobe. Shiny and new to her old clothing's worn and dull.

"So," Taylor spoke, "I guess you guys want me to try it on?"

Yes, Levi replied. Will look good. He raised an arm, pointing a talon at her. Will look cute.

Yes! Simmie chirped. On cue she dove into the pile of costume, latching onto a garment, the large single piece specifically and dragging it free, pulling it towards Taylor in her hands. First, she squeaked.

Taylor took it, holding it up and out in front of her. It was most definitely skin-tight or very close to it, Taylor embarrassingly noted, thinking of how awkward and gawky she looked when she checked herself in the mirror. But Simmie was wanting her to wear it. And she trusted her. "Okay," Taylor replied. Let me get out of my clothes first."

Quickly she disrobed, shoes, sweater, pants and t-shirt, down to her panties and almost-unnecessary bra, before those too joined the pile of discarded clothing on her floor. She wasn't exactly embarrassed, standing in front of her friends nude as she was, having long since gotten over being nude in front of them. They too were sort of naked themselves, save briefly for Simmie last night. She wasn't even sure if the terms even applied to them, seeing how they weren't quite human.

She studied herself in the mirror yet again, noting how thin and gawky her figure really, truly looked - almost boyish and frog-like, out-of-shape, a paunch forming around her waist. She was fifteen, almost sixteen, and almost not a single hint of anything resembling effeminate qualities, be it her chest or hips. Only her long and wavy hair betrayed her gender.

Sighing heavily at her own poor physical appearance, Taylor picked what she was going to start calling the underlayer back up, holding it to her body. The material was cool to the touch, almost electric, and nearly frictionless - it glided across her skin almost as if it wasn't there. She was unsure of how she was going to get into it until she noticed the back was split, almost to the tailbone. Carefully she stepped into it, one leg at a time, followed by her arms, her limbs slipping easily, readily into it. And then it was on, clinging to her skin, and Taylor was unsure of what was supposed to happen next.

And then she felt it flowing around her body.

Taylor suppressed a brief flash of panic, imagining in her mind's eye the underlayer strangling her. Simmie darted up to her, eye level, filling her mind with Reassurance at her moment of panic. Quickly, she started to dart around her legs, tugging on the underlayer here and there, almost as if she was tailoring it. Which Taylor concluded was exactly what she was doing, as after a few brief moments the fabric stopped, and Taylor saw someone completely, physically different standing before her in the mirror.

Her gangly physique had all but vanished, replaced by a thin but subtly lithe body. Despite being virtually a second skin she felt comfortable, as if the subtly athletic body before her was really her own. She breathed in, out, noticing how her now slightly-amplified chest rose and fell. At some point during the suit's metamorphosis, the back seam had sealed itself up to her neck, all the way to where the suit ended at her collar, just short of her head and jaw. Briefly she wondered how she was going to get out of it, but she dismissed it for later.

Now the rest. The pants, then the jacket and boots. The pants were pretty much what Taylor would call nondescript, plain and seemingly uninteresting. And definitely lacking pockets, she noted to herself as she slipped them on. The jacket was the same, although it was less a jacket and more of a long coat, the bottom extending to just past her knees, almost like a cowboy duster. Simmie darted around her, tugging here and there with her telekinesis as the underlayer began to automatically adjust to the shape of her body, or at least the version her underlayer had somehow magically molded it into.

The boots were somewhat less boots than merely shoes with a high top. The soles and outsides were smooth and completely textureless, the same silver-gray as was the interior when she glanced into it. They looked to be the right size of shoe that she wore, but she'd have to put it on to make sure. She glanced up at Simmie, who nodded encouragingly back at her, and slipped into them, first one and then the other. As she had begun to expect, they began to morph, changing their shape ever so slightly to comfortably match the shape of her feet. Taylor rocked back and forth on her soles, noting how comfortable her feet felt - her brand new boots were somehow more comfy than the sneakers she'd long since broken in.

Now all that was left was the mask. "Okay, one last thing." She picked it up from the bed, Benny having briefly scratched at it out of curiosity. The last part of her costume was light, almost like a feather, the outer convex side was a featureless dull silver-gray just like the rest. She flipped it over, studying the interior. The rounded black screen and cushioning around the edges and where her cheekbones would rest inside of it indicated which way it went on at least. Although the seemingly retracted segments at the edges she was unsure of. As well as how she'd be able to see out of it - there were no eye holes as far as she could discern. The screen on the inside, maybe?

"Simmie, is there any way to keep it on after I put it on?"

Face, she chirped. Floating up in front of Taylor she held out her arms, cupping her hands before bringing them to her face and covering it with a chirp. Taylor didn't need elaboration, she immediately understood. "Well, here goes nothing," she spoke, turning to face the mirror once more before removing her glasses and repeating Simmie's actions, bringing the mask up to her face.

For a moment nothing at all happened, the foam pads squishing against her face, the interior darkening her vision. And just like that the mask came alive, animating in her grip. The padding flowed, conforming to her face inside the mask. Abruptly there was light, the empty black screen powering on and flooding her view with an image of her bedroom, and her reflection in the mirror.

It briefly took all of her self control not to freak out, to rip the mask off of her face. As Taylor looked on she saw and felt the outsides of the mask morph and shift. She felt it flatten down her hair as the outer edges extended, encompassing her head as it did and forming a full-fledged helmet. At the same time a cloth-like material extended down from the bottom edge of the mask, flowing down and out to meet the collar of her underlayer, meeting with and then merging with it, fusing to form a single continuous layer protecting her neck.

Just as sudden as it happened, it had stopped. And as she looked at herself in the mirror, one word formed in her mind:

Awesome.

She looked incredible, resplendent in the costume. She looked like, like…

A Hero.

It was only after another moment that she realized the mask was featureless. That there shouldn't be any way to see through it. She brought a gloved hand up, bringing it to her face- her mask. It abruptly stopped as it came into contact with the surface - from her point of view, just a couple of inches from her eyes. Not only could she see the surface of her hand clearly, she could see everything clearly, even though she didn't have her glasses on. Perhaps even better than her glasses. "Huh, so I can somehow see through it?"

Viewscreen! Simmie chirped.

"Cool, I think," Taylor replied. She noticed that her voice seemed slightly distorted through the mask, even though her hearing didn't seem impaired. Just like her sight it seemed better, somehow augmented by the mask. Taylor turned to her friends, Benny and Levi at the edge of her bed, and Simmie floating nearby. "Well, I... For the first time in, well, a long time, I'm happy. I…" She realized before she spoke how cliche the phrase was. "I actually do know how to thank you guys," she smiled.

"Rawr!" Snacks! Benny exclaimed, before losing his footing and tumbling off the bed to the hardwood floor.

Taylor suppressed a chuckle. "Yeah, let's go eat. But first I need to change back."

Change? Simmie chirped, questioning.

"Yeah, I can't go out wearing this. Maybe if I wore some of it underneath my regular clothing. Although I'll need a few minutes to figure that part out-"

Simmie darted over to her, squeaking. Costume can change, she chirped excitedly. Concentrate.

"As in, I can change what my costume looks like?"

She nodded in agreement, grinning.

"Umm, okay. Concentrate, right." Although she wasn't sure how to. Still, taking a deep breath she closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax. Change, she thought, as she visualized in her mind's eye her plain costume, She thought about stylized designs, like her childhood hero Alexandria, or Miss Militia, her favorite cape from Brockton Bay. But for the moment she focused on her regular baggy attire. While doing so she felt something there, at the edges of her perception, tugging at her. Something almost intangible, a metaphorical muscle alongside those of the tethers that tied her to her friends.

She opened her eyes and shrugged, seeing Simmie smiling barely a foot away from her face. "Is there anything special that I have to do? Like flick a switch of some sort?"

Nope, she chirped back, before pointing at her. Already Changed.

"What-" Then she noticed, out of the corner of her eyes, what she was wearing. She had somehow changed back into her regular outfit, baggy sweater and jeans and sneakers. Not her glasses though, even though she could still clearly see. Taylor turned back to the mirror, confirming it. Even though the clothes she was apparently wearing were still laid out on the bed. How?

Bringing a hand back to her face confirmed it: She was still wearing her mask, her costume. It just looked like she wasn't. Experimentally she moved, and the illusion moved with her. Even her glasses were there on her face, despite in reality being atop her dresser. From her perspective at least, it looked like the real deal. "Well, that solves that problem, I guess." She felt Benny latch onto her leg, saw him in the mirror climb up her body to sit on her shoulder. She reached over, to scratch his head. "Snacks?"

"Rawr!" he agreed.

"Well then, let's go."

Honestly, I'm pretty ambivalent about this chapter. One of the reasons for the long delay was her costume - It's gone through about three revisions in my head and a process of me actually nerfing it down somewhat. Still, I think I did a decent enough job describing it. In the next part she'll get to learn just how versatile and capable her costume is.

As she got ready for the rest of the day, gathering some things for that afternoon into her backpack, Taylor had just one question eating away at her in her mind:

Where did it all come from?

Her costume. She thought about it as she poured the remnants of what had once been her old alarm clock into the trash bin downstairs. So far, all of the things Simmie had made or had crafted had been recycled from existing stuff. The Slate and the Bracelets from the contents of a tugboat's Bridge, the Ball from the guts of an alarm clock. She had glanced around upstairs, in the closets and bathroom and her dad's bedroom, but nothing was amiss. There was nothing that was out of place or missing. Not downstairs either, all of the electronics and appliances were still there and most importantly they were all intact. There was... what was in the kitchen and on the countertop, but that didn't exactly count. The attic was out as well, there was a bunch of stuff up there but no electronics - mostly some clothes and books. Not downstairs and not upstairs, which left only one place left to look.

The basement door was closed, had been since, well, ever, really. They rarely went down there anymore, either her or her dad. There was boxes of old stuff, Mom's stuff, things they didn't need and were worth putting in storage, stuff that would be too bulky or cumbersome to get into or fit into the attic. Was there anything down there Simmie could have used to make it? Her train of thought was briefly distracted by the sight and sound of Benny, tumbling down the stairs to the living room below. Taylor turned her head just in time for him to go sailing past the doorway, his eye meeting hers for the briefest of seconds. She heard a heavy thump as he smacked into the front door below, and a hearty "Rawr!" Door! afterward. "Don't cause any damage guys," she called out to them.

"Rawr!" Safe! He replied back. Now, as for the basement…

There were things down there, that they could have used. Several old appliances, a microwave and a toaster and a blender, none of which worked, and hadn't for a while. There was also an old television, which likewise had given up the ghost. Dad never had gotten around to either fixing it all up or tossing them out and likely never would, so down there they languished. Taylor reached out, turning the handle. The door swung out, revealing the darkened gloom behind and below. As she stepped through the threshold, Taylor flicked the light switch, illuminating the previously-suspected and now-confirmed carnage below.

She let it soak in, for a full beat. And then she turned off the light, stepped back and closed the door in front of her. "Guys, we're going to have a little talk later. Especially about you Simmie," she called out.

Taylor could practically see Simmie go pale from somewhere else in the house Well, paler than she usually was. Trouble? She meekly asked, a distant squeak emanating from upstairs.

"Not too much," Taylor replied back, but we're going to have to talk about cleaning up after yourselves." Which left the other mess at hand.

There was a substantial... disaster on the countertop, as several different tea ingredients were left out and scattered every which way. Tea leaves strewn everywhere. A bag of sugar was ripped open, grains of the stuff strewn across the surface. The products of their earlier endeavour. She noticed Benny and Levi's footprints outlined in the grains, around an empty circular space where the mug and saucer had been.

Sighing, Taylor set about cleaning, packing up the packages of tea bags and other stuff they had drug out of the cabinets and placing them back where they had found them and sweeping the scattered sugar into the dustbin. She reminded herself that she would have to to ask them how they made the tea. She never could get mom's recipe right, even despite watching her make it more than once, years ago.

A nudge on her shoulder and she was aware of Simmie there with her. She slipped onto her shoulder and curled into her neck, hugging her with her wings. She noted she could feel her normally, even though she was wearing an effectively invisible costume. Tinkers. Taylor reached up with an arm almost instinctively to scratch at her head. "Show me the recipe later?"

Okay, she chirped, nodding.

"And for now, can you help me tidy up?"

Yes! she chirped. A blur as she darted down the the countertop scooping up the box of tea bags and the bag of sugar. As she worked, Taylor turned, looking at the fridge. She'd have to leave a note, just in case she wasn't back by the time Dad came home. Fetching a pen and piece of paper from the adjacent drawer, she got to work, penning something short and to the point. I went out with a few friends. I'll be home later. Love, Taylor. Satisfied, the clipped it to the fridge with a magnet.

She felt a tugging on her pant leg. Swim?

Looking down, Levi tugged expectantly with a face full of puppy dog eyes. The Boat Graveyard was a no-go - she had no doubts that the PRT would be keeping an eye on the place for a while. But there were plenty of other places she imagined that were just as abandoned. "Sure Levi, I think I know of a place or two."

Swim! Levi looked ecstatic. Simmie had finished clearing the counter and had joined Levi, adding another pair of puppy eyes to the mix. She wanted to scold them a little for the disaster beneath her feet but it could wait until later. For now…

Snacks! Benny exclaimed, a roar emanating from the living room.

"Of course," Taylor replied. "But first-" And she opened her backpack where it sat on the dining room table- "everyone into the bag."

"Bag!" Benny roared, rounding the corner and crashing into her leg with a thump and started climbing upwards. Simmie and Levi floated in, the former carrying the latter with her power. Taylor reached down, prying her most rambunctious Friend from her waist and placing him alongside them. "Be nice to each other in there okay? Just like yesterday."

"Rawr!" Nice! Yes. Agreement! They all chimed. Taylor zipped up her bag, ensconcing them inside.

And with that, she was finally ready.

The trip to the Boardwalk was… uneventful. A brief walk to the bus stop and a short wait, briefly sparing a glance at the corpse of the nearby stray cat that had been struck and killed by a car as she boarded. She took the bus south and east, changing once before getting off right at the Boardwalk proper. By the time she actually arrived it was already well into the lunch hour, and the Boardwalk showed; it was crowded, with people visiting the shops and restaurants on their lunch break to grab a bite to eat. Not unlike herself, and three of her friends. She tightened the straps on her backpack, and dove into the crowd.

One of her first stops was a food truck parked there, a pair of cooks manning the cramped interior, preparing orders for a line of waiting customers. Taylor had seen it parked there a few times before, selling gyros and kebabs in little cardboard cartons. She had never eaten anything from there before though, the prices far too great for her meager allowance - what little there was left after going towards repairing and replacing what the Terrible Trio broke or destroyed. But today was different. She had money for food. And for snacks. An enthusiastic Rawr! Emanated from her bag, thankfully muffled by the fabric.

She placed her order, and the young man at the counter took the plastic card that Simmie had made barely an hour before. He swiped it as Taylor held her breath as worst case scenarios of Capes bursting out of nooks and crannies all around to arrest her played out inside her head, alongside that of the much-more-likely scenario of the card being declined. Neither of those things happened, much to her relief and the gentleman handed her card back along with a receipt and pen to sign her name. And just like that a few minutes later she had a small plastic sack containing little cardboard takeout boxes of exotic food and assorted goodies. She felt restless rustling from her backpack, her friends no doubt smelling the treats. "Not just yet guys," she whispered back to them, and the quieted.

Next stop: the cafe that she had visited yesterday with Lisa. The same woman that had been manning the register the day before was there again and recognized her. Taylor, still holding her card, purchased hot tea and cookies and cups of chocolate pudding just like yesterday, and again paid for all of it with Simmie's magic credit card. Another plastic sack, with a cup of tea and wrapped cookies.

Finally, the ice cream shop. They had loved the stuff, scarfing it down yesterday with a vengeance, and she again purchased their favorites - Rocky Road, Lime Sherbert and Dutch Chocolate - and this time, a tiny spoon. Taylor left with a third sack on her arm, filled with scoop-sized ice cream cups. All that was left to do was find a nice and quiet alleyway where she and her friends wouldn't be disturbed, at least farther away from the Boardwalk than yesterday.

She walked down the street and off of the Boardwalk proper, down the next street and then the next alley, the very same one from yesterday - the only traces of the altercation barely a day before being an auspicious scorch mark low on on a lamp post - one of Benny's errant little fireballs. She kept walking, trying to shunt nervous memories and what-if scenarios out of her mind as she did.

Where else could she go? Visualizing the map of the city in her head, she noted she would eventually exit into the heart of the Dockyards if she kept following that chain of alleyways. Even then she wasn't that far from the Graveyard and its cordon of PRT police tape. closer by however...

Taylor grinned. She knew exactly where she could go.

"Hey guys, wanna go see the Ferry?"

The Ferry. Dad's Ferry. Well, the City's Ferry. The way her dad talked so much about it, Taylor often couldn't help but imagine that he owned it and not the city of Brockton Bay.

It was still moored there, at the southern edge of the bay near the Boardwalk, rusting away at its moorings. The dockside area and terminal were fenced off, but Taylor knew of a place that she could slip through the chain-link to get inside.

Walking around to the far side of the terminal where the chain-link fence and asphalt ended and muddy sand and muck began, she carefully stepped around and just like that, she was inside. And probably trespassing, she grimaced. She frowned again at the sight of graffiti and vandalism as she walked past the old terminal, walls covered in gang tags and most of the windows cracked or broken. She wondered if Dad knew about the damage. Even if the city re-opened or re-started the Ferry service, it would be a long time yet before normal service could have been restored, as precious time and money went towards having to be spent to fix everything.

Her thoughts were pulled away from dark places by yet more grumblings from her backpack. Snacks! Drinks! Sweets! She didn't even need to ask which one as all of them were chanting what was fast becoming their collective catchphrase now.

Beside the boarded-up terminal building stood a series of enclosed waiting areas, where passengers could stay out of the elements while waiting for the Ferry on those cold or rainy days. It was here on one of the benches that Taylor set her food and backpack down.

No sooner had she grasped the zipper and undone it, did her backpack practically burst open with all three of her Friends exploding outward and freeing themselves. Levi climbed up to perch on her head looking about, as Benny tumbled off the bench and onto the ground. Simmie was more graceful, merely darting around the waiting area before settling down to hover over the waiting food and treats. Taylor could practically feel her mouth watering as she gazed expectantly at the sacks of goodies.

"Alright, just as I promised guys," she spoke. Hopefully you'll like?"

"Rawr!" Yes! Snacks! Benny hopped over to stand directly beneath the bags of food on the bench, gazing up to where they were and futilely hopping upwards towards them. Taylor chuckled, reaching downwards and plucking him up, before setting him down on the bench. Levi slid and climbed down her arms from her head to join him, scratching at the sack from the coffee shop and the contents inside.

"Now, let's see what we got." She opened the food truck sack first. "Chicken wraps, for Simmie and Benny. They look really tasty and I hope you enjoy them," she smiled. Opening the little cardboard boxes, she placed them down by her two friends and they got to work immediately, Simmie and Benny digging in, neatly and messily respectively.

"Next up," and the coffee shop bag was opened next, "pudding for Levi. His favorite." She had no sooner plucked the cups free then Levi pounced, wrapping himself around them and deftly using his claws to peel away the lids before his head disappeared inside. "Yes, he likes them," she chuckled.

"And of course, for me," she peeled the plastic bag free from the last carton, "shawarma, courtesy of Habib the Food Truck Guy." She popped the lid, gazing inward on the savory spit-roasted meat, her own mouth starting to water. She swallowed, and with her fork in hand speared a piece and took a bite. "Delicious," she spoke, and dug in.

She burped. That had been pretty delicious. Backpack behind her she reclined lengthwise on the bench, sated. Simmie and Levi likewise, each curled up on their favorite spots on her chest. Benny was still amidst the pile of crumbs that was all that was left of his chocolate chip cookie, scooping into his maw every last crumb he could get. He was mostly done with that, only a few errant morsels left to nibble.

Benny and his mission aside, Taylor's own thoughts once more turned back to what exactly she was going to do. As bad as dropping out of school was, She didn't see any other solution to her problems. She couldn't get into Arcadia, Immaculata was out of the question, Clarendon was on the far side of the city. She was hoping that maybe her dad would let her be homeschooled - it would let her spend more time with her Friends, allow her to keep them more supervised so they didn't eventually turn the entire house into some sort of giant tinkertech contraption. Yet again she began to dread telling her Dad. Even if he didn't pass out at the sight or have a heart attack, he was going to freak out at the very least. His daughter, Master of the Endbringers.

And she hadn't even thought about the PRT or the Protectorate. Taylor somehow doubted that walking into either building and introducing her Friends to the Heroes or the Wards would end in any other way than somewhere between 'full-blown panic' and 'entire city quarantined.' A mental image of her Friends flashed through her mind's eye, the three of them, strapped to cold metal tables as they were poked and prodded by sinister-looking robotic implements and overseen by a stern-looking Armsmaster. Benny trying and successfully nibbling any articulated arm that came close-

Taylor gave a giggle. Yes, Benny would somehow managed to do just that. Simmie nuzzled up into her arms, and she gave her a gentle hug and a scratching of her head as she did. It was her tiniest friend that had done so much good for her. She didn't want to let her or any of her friends be hurt, or terrified. Levi clambered up to the crook of her neck, curling up on her shoulder. Benny…

Was gone. While Taylor had been distracted and lost in thought he had disappeared from the shelter, nowhere to be seen. She glanced around, trying to figure out where the little mischievous guy went. Although the windows were yellowed from age and caked in grime, she glimpsed movement through them, something small moving around on the cracked asphalt at the edge of the ferry mooring.

Taylor sat up, Two of her three friends clinging to her sweater- to her costume, she had to remind herself, as she was still in fact wearing it. Walking out and towards Benny she called out to him. "Find something interesting?"

"Rawr!" Glow Metal! He loudly roared.

"I… what?"

"Rawr!" Dessert! He roared. Before She could stop him or ask anything further, Benny turned and hurled himself enthusiastically off the edge of the dock, and into the murky water below with a giant splash.

Taylor's jaw fell open, at what she just witnessed. She didn't know how she was going to get him out of the water. She didn't feel particularly inclined at the prospect of swimming around in the Bay in the middle of February either - The water there was deep, and cold - even if the Bay's weather was frequently and unusually warm, the water at that time of year rarely was the same.

And then an idea came to her. And she gave a push on her thread to Benny.

At first nothing happened. And then a swirling disturbance in the water as it was displaced from below, and Benny's rapidly-enlarging head broke the surface, a giant sloppy grin splayed across his face as bay water dripped off of it. "Rawr!" Lots of glow metal! he exclaimed, voice echoing around the dock.

"Benny, what's 'glow metal?'"

"Rawr?" What is? He cocked his head ever so slightly, however much was above the water. It disappeared once more as he seemingly reached down through the water and brought something up, holding it up to show her. "Rawr!" Glow Metal! He repeated, before bringing it to his mouth and started to loudly munch away.

Taylor blinked. It… was a barrel. One of those big steel drums used to store all sorts of stuff. Rusting and corroded, as if it had been on the bottom of the Bay for a very long time, years maybe. Taylor wanted to ask Benny again and was about to do just that when her blood went cold as she recognized the symbol on the side, faded but still legible and completely hidden, until Benny had moved his hand to position the barrel in his now oversized maw. A symbol permanently associated with disaster and death.

A trefoil, in yellow and black.

tl;dr nuclear waste tastes great when you're a walking siege engine of destruction. In related news I've got plenty of free time now, and I'm aiming for substantially faster updates now that I actually have time to write.

Last edited: Mar 10, 2017

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TheMadmanAndre

Dec 25, 2016

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Mar 10, 2017

#3,345

2-4

"Benny."

"Rrrghrf?" Yes? He got out between mouthfuls of radioactive waste.

"You're eating nuclear waste."

"Rggrf!" Glow Metal!

"Why?" She all but shouted.

He swallowed a mouthful, looking down at the tattered half-eaten barrel. The faded trefoil label fluttered off, splashing down into the dock water and sinking out of sight. He looked back up at Taylor. "Rawr!" Tasty snack! He declared, and continued munching at the barrel.

"I… just…" Taylor sighed, a hand rising to her face to rub her temples, only to stop at the cool surface of her invisible mask. Of course Benny would like nuclear waste. It… it fit him perfectly. It sounded just like the sort of thing he'd eat as some weird dessert. Shrugging, she looked down into the water. There's no way that was the only barrel down there. If so, how much then? And there was no way she was going for a swim now - not implying she had plans to.

But she needed to know. "Levi, I need you to do something for me."

Swim? He asked. She felt his talons twitch, even through the shape-shifted costume.

She looked down to see him gazing back up at her. "Umm, sort of. Could you go down there and, well, move the water out of the dock? So I can see what is on the bottom?"

Levi's head craned towards Benny's, jutting out of the water. Yes, he decided.

"Okay." She reached up, letting him hop off onto her hand and arm from from her shoulder and placed him down at the edge of the dock, letting him hop off into the water below. As he did, she pushed on his thread, her connection to him..

Like with Benny she felt that rush of energy leaving her, going out to her Second Friend. He splashed into the water with his brother, already rapidly growing. Let's see how much is down there. Even as she thought the water started to flow, the contents of the inlet simply flowing out into the bay in a single smooth transition, retreating from the far end of the dock. As Taylor watched the muddy bottom was uncovered - a large heavily rusted truck, fallen from the side and resting on the bottom. A fair amount of trash and assorted debris. And the barrels, in various stages of rust.

And more barrels.

And even more barrels.

And then the dock was completely dry, and Taylor took in the sight before her.

There had to be at least two hundred drums on the bottom of the ferry dock, some roughly neatly stacked aside each other atop rotted wooden pallets, but the majority were simply heaped in a rough pile towards the back, atop which Benny sat. She noticed that while the neatly stacked barrels were thoroughly rusted, the more haphazardly piled barrels were less so. They'd been dumped there, over years and years. She realized.

"My god," she muttered breathlessly. Does Dad know about this? No, no way he does, he'd get the whole Union together to crucify whoever did this, possibly literally. She didn't know what regulations there were for storing nuclear waste, but she doubted the bottom of a ferry dock a quarter mile from Brockton Bay's Boardwalk was legal. She gazed down at the glorified throne of nuclear waste that Benny had taken as his own, and the snack he was munching away at. Yeah, Dad's going to freak when he sees this. This much… They might have to abandon the city. Or cover it in concrete...

Taylor hung her head, lost in thought. Who could have done this? The Gangs maybe? The Empire or the ABB? This wasn't making any sense to her, at all. The Merchants? She could see a bunch of them doing that somehow, if it meant getting money for their next fix. There had been other gangs too, before the Big Three took over the Bay. The Teeth led by the infamous Butcher. Marquis' Gang, and others. Questions, possibilities.

Down below her, Levi, now substantially larger than before, plodded over to the barrels before clambering onto one of the larger stacks. With an outstretched talon he scratched at the grimy rust-coated metal, scraping away the muck and revealing the faded yellow paint beneath. Here and there on the barrels Taylor noted more of the nuclear trefoils, some in black but many more actually red. And some of the barrels had different shapes too - some were bigger and had more rings around them, but others were the more typical industrial drum. Different sources maybe?

She tried to think back to her brief barely-high school level of knowledge regarding anything nuclear-related - it was far away from her favorite subject. And as far as she could recall from her instruction at Winslow was 'it's bad and don't be around sources of radiation.' Something else about storing nuclear waste in big pools of water, to contain it-

Her train of thought froze. She looked down at the massive pile. Then to the deceptively solid-looking wall of water at the Bay-end of the dock, over forty feet in height.

Simmie chirped next to her ear, getting her attention. Bad stuff?

"Am I immune to radiation in my costume Simmie?" Taylor blurted out.

Simmie blinked, cocking her head to the side, chirping confusedly. Radiation?

Taylor got the impression Simmie was unfamiliar with the word, the way she spoke it back to her a syllable at a time. "I mean, what Benny calls, umm, 'Glow Stuff?'"

Simmie grinned, nodding with a smile seemingly too big for her face. Yes!

Oh, well that was good then. If Simmie said yes, she was going to believe it. "And yeah, bad stuff. Really bad stuff, put here by really bad people." A clanging from below and Benny now had another barrel in his claws, number three and noisily chewing away. And he'd just eaten a burrito, Taylor mused. Atop his own neat stack of barrels Levi nudged a one of them free, letting it fall into the mud with a splat and watching it as it settled. This was very bad, yes. But maybe she could do something here and now?

"Levi," Taylor called out to him, "Is there any water inside of any of the barrels?"

Levi craned his head up to look at her his head cocked sideways ever so slightly, and then looked around him, panning his head to look at the jumbled barrels. None, he stated.

"Okay." It made sense, she supposed. Nobody knew about this as the water, despite damaging the barrels over time, had worked to contain any radioactivity. She didn't want to think about the bay being full of radiation, what that would do to the city. For a brief moment she actually thought about letting Benny continue doing what he was doing - to let him eat all of it. Three barrels down already, and he was on his fourth and soon-to-be-fifth. Knowing Benny's nigh bottomless stomach and propensity for snacks, the little guy actually might be able to do it by that afternoon, at the rate he was going.

However, she needed proof that someone had tried to poison her city. As bad as barrels of nuclear waste were, they were evidence of a crime. If she wanted to be a Hero…

"Simmie?"

Yes? The tiny Endbringer chirped.

She turned to look at her third Friend. I know this might be a bit much to ask for, and I don't know if you can do it, but, umm," her words hung for a moment, as she tried to describe how to phrase what she wanted to say. "Like how you made my costume, Could you to make something that can protect all of these barrels from the seawater and weather? A sort of protective shell or barrier around them, if only for a while."

A pause, as she briefly looked lost in thought, her tiny eyebrows scrunched up in concentration. Okay! She finally chirped after a beat, and Taylor felt a pull on the thread to Simmie as she darted away. Taylor obliged, and flooded her tether with power.

She became a blur, rapidly expanding into not the busty Amazon from yesterday, but the child-like form from the night before. Taylor didn't have a chance to so much as comment as she darted away, the padlocked doors of the ferry terminal thrusting open and allowing her entry as she dated through and disappeared inside. She briefly moved to follow her, but after considering the carnage that seemed to be left in Simmie's wake after a bout of tinkering wisely decided against it.

As Simmie went about her own devices, Taylor turned to the Dock and the other two below. "Benny, Levi, I need you to pile all of the barrels down there into the center into one single pile. Can you do that for me?"

Levi looked up at her. Yes.

"Thank you. What about you Benny?"

Benny scarfed down the last of his third barrel. "Rawr!" Yes! He hopped up, deceptively agile, before losing his balance as the stack he was perched on shifted, sending him falling flat on his face and sliding down the side into the muck, squashing barrels in his path. She suppressed a giggle as he hopped back up with an excited roar, stray barrels all around him levitating, floating over to the pile before dropping onto the top.

Levi sprang into action as well, snake-like tendrils shot out from the watery wall, stretching across the dock and grabbing at the furthermost barrels and piling them up. As Taylor observed two tendrils wrapped around not barrels, but the upside-down truck and began dragging it towards the stack. Before Taylor could question why she got her answer - the decaying tarp its bed was covered with was sheared away, revealing many of those yellow and red barrels strapped in place. And then, in what felt like mere seconds, the two brothers had effortlessly accomplished their task. And now the pile had gotten even larger, an assortment of reds and yellows and crowned at the very top by the truck itself. Perhaps high enough to break the surface of the water.

Taylor felt that they'd done an excellent job, even as Benny began snacking on barrel number four. "Levi, one last thing."

Thing? He asked.

"From that truck sitting on the top. I need you to get something from it for me…"

When Simmie -or at least she fairly certain that it was Simmie- re-emerged from the terminal after a few minutes, Taylor could only assume it was her. What floated out of the doors resembled some sort of massive wad of silvery-gray fabric not unlike that which her costume seemed to be made of, the material held aloft with the aid of her wings. She glided over, her face emerging from the folds of fine smooth cloth. Radiation Proof! She firmly stated.

"Radiation Proof? Exactly what we need. Will it cover the entire stack though?"

Yes! She chirped, floating down into the dock towards her brothers. Hovering over the precariously perched truck she let go of the enormous bolt of cloth, the fabric flowing down onto the vehicle. Grabbing a corner she flitted down, dragging a section of the stuff as she went before planting it in the mud. She repeated it three more times with three more corners, before the entire stack was shrouded from view.

And then something amazing happened. As she watched the cloth began to sink inward, almost flowing around the pile and outlining the contents as if everything was being shrink-wrapped, sealed away from the rest of the world. In but a moment it was over, their hard work paid off.

Well, for the most part. "Benny," she asked, "Why do you still have a barrel in your hand?"

Barrel number five, grasped in his oversized hands. "Rawr!" Glow Snack!

"You do realize that we still have ice cream to eat right?"

"Rawr?" Ice cream?

"I have your favorite, Rocky Road."

"Rawr!" Benny jumped, clearing the edge of the dock in the blink of an eye and landing on the concrete, cracking it heavily as he did. Behind him his siblings climbed and floated out as the waters of the Bay re-flooded the dock, immersing all but the top of the barrel stack in water. Hopefully someone could clear out the waste, but that was something for another day. If all else Benny could just come back.

"So, let's go eat some ice cream."

Her friends agreed.

"This is the source?" Battery asked.

Miss Militia shrugged, thankful that her fellow female member of the team was accompanying her.. "According to the sensors on the Rig, yes." She turned off of the street, pulling the jeep up to the gate to the long-disused Boardwalk terminal of Brockton Bay's abandoned ferry line. She opened the door, stepping out onto the cold asphalt. In front of her stood the ferry terminal and the chained and padlocked gate across its main entrance. The building itself looked derelict to say the least, broken windows and graffiti apparent even from the gate. Setting her gaze on the padlock and chain sealing the gate, she stepped up to inspect it. "Zip-tied."

"Zip-tied?"

Miss Militia nodded, less picking up the lock and more hefting the deceptively heavy object. She noted the small plastic bind that secured a link of the chain to the lock. "It's old, been here a while. Odd." She turned the lock over in her gloved hand. "Only looks secure from a distance. And there's a few old ones on the ground nearby." She looked back up at the terminal, then back to the lock. Her powers shifted, the automatic pistols on her hips flowing into a small, thin knife she used to expertly clip the tie. Free of the temporary binding the chain clattered free onto the asphalt. From her belt she unclipped the piece of kit she kept on her pretty much all of the time now, especially since yesterday evening.

The dosimeter in her hand was a small and relatively simple affair. Small and round, made of ruggedized rubber and black plastic with a digital display on one end and mass-issued to all PRT troops. She pressed the button on the front, turning it on and hearing soft beeping. The insidious beeping, as it detected and confirmed her fears that there was a source of radiation in here somewhere.

"So, is it safe to enter?"

Miss Militia studied the display, her memory flawlessly and easily recalling the dry textbooks she read concerning radiation and maximum dosages. "An hour at most. Not even that if need be."

"Damn. That bad?"

Miss Militia nodded, grimacing under her bandana, before tapping her earpiece with her free hand. "Miss Militia to Assault, we're going in. The readings I'm seeing confirm what the Rig detected. It's not as high as the spike was an hour ago, but the local readings are still elevated. It should be safe for a brief period though."

"Roger. Should I contact Panacea just in case?"

"Maybe, if we encounter any 'hot spots.' I'll get back to you. Miss Militia out."

The line disconnected. "Hot spots?" she heard Battery inquire.

She nodded. "The thing with radiation is that the source can migrate, so to speak. It can concentrate or thin, depending on the weather or the wind." She began walking forward with Battery just behind her, close by. "The Rig however detected this barely an hour ago, so this is something new. Whatever the source we should be able to deal with it."

"Well, that's good to know at least," she replied. "You know, I have an aunt that lived just upriver from Three Mile, back when that happened. Still lives there. It's been, what, twenty years now?"

Miss Militia said nothing. Wordlessly she walked forward, caution in her step and the detector in hand. Her other hand hovered over one of the automatic pistols at her hips. "If it starts making a loud and solid tone,we fall back and wait for backup and Panacea. I know she can heal radiation damage but she can't fix brain tissue." in the distance they heard the wail of the PRT vehicles, speeding toward the Ferry and ready to cordon off and secure the area.

"Of course. Worst case then, what are you expecting?"

Tiny Endbringers. A Backpack full of tiny, possibly-Tinkertech Endbringers. She didn't voice her thoughts to Battery. "No clue. Stay alert." They rounded the Ferry terminal building itself, passing countless filthy or broken windows. As they passed it, and stepped out into full view of the dock and the surroundings, her detector started beeping, louder and faster than before.

Miss Militia took it all in, automatically committing the scene to memory. A wrecked moving truck, perched atop a pile of… something, barrels maybe of some kind, in the middle of the dock, all of it covered in something grayish-silver. A heavily corroded barrel, nuclear trefoil still starkly visible despite the flaking paint and rust and stood near the outdoor waiting area. The source of the radiation, presumably.

And finally, topping everything off was the rusted, faded license plate, carefully propped up atop it. "So is that-"

"A barrel of waste. Nuclear waste." Her photographic memory again at work.

Battery swore, stepping back, back around the terminal as Miss Militia lingered a moment longer to absorb the scene in its entirety. She noted the trash near the barrel, fast food wrappers and empty take-out cartons. And she noted the damaged pavement by the barrel, a spiderweb of cracks-

-In the shape of Behemoth's footprints, Her memory dutifully provided as her blood turned to ice.

Welp, part 4 of chapter 2 is a wrap. See you next time.

Also, special thangs to Tisaku for doing a spot of proofreading on the last few chapters.

Also, I've basically worked out an ass-backward workflow/process to get posts from Google Docs to SB and SV somewhat effectively:

1: Convert Document to BBCode format.

2: Paste into SB's BBCode Editor.

3: Conduct basic editing, since this process doesn't preserve paragraph spacing.

4: Convert the SB post back into BBCode, paste to SV's BBCode Editor.

5: Convert that post into Rich Text, as well as the SB post.

6: Curse the unknown name of the higher power forcing me to jump through these hoops.

If anyone can suggest a better way to do this, it would be much aprreciated, trust me.

Last edited: Apr 19, 2017

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TheMadmanAndre

Mar 10, 2017

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Apr 19, 2017

#3,458

Hello! I bring Words! Many, many words. And plot progression! And an encounter, of a sort.

2-5

Taylor had two words, only two words, that were best suited to describe her costume.

Freaking, and Amazing.

She sailed through the air, landing and coming to rest in the classic three-point heroic pose so iconic of her childhood hero Alexandria. She bolted upright, sprinting to the other end of the warehouse, leaping to plant her feet on the wall, squarely onto a cross section of steel support and impacting hard enough to flake away the rust. She sprung off of the wall, upwards toward the ceiling, angling her body to land onto the rusting second-level catwalk where her Friends had set up their own impromptu viewing stand, composed primarily of her backpack placed on a old wooden desk and the remaining snacks she had for them.

"Rawr!" Fast! Benny cheered.

"I feel fast." It wasn't an understatement either. She felt everything - stronger, faster, more agile. Deep down she knew it was the suit and not her actual physical ability, but…

It felt natural. Like this was what she was meant to do. She wasn't going to let anyone take this from her, not if she could help it. Not her suit. Not her Friends.

Glomp. She felt the small feathery form of Simmie plop into her chest, her Friend doing her best to hug her in her diminutive size. Awesome! She chirped enthusiastically. Levi hopped up and onto her, climbing onto his usual spot on her shoulder.

"Thanks Simmie. And that goes for the rest of you too, thank you," she smiled. She was glad that she had opted to practice using the suit, rather than merely wearing it. It had reverted to the silver-gray sheen that seemed to be its normal default state. It looked and felt like a proper Cape costume, albeit a little… drab.

At some point in the past, the warehouse they were in had been a storage area for what had once probably been a furniture store of some kind. From where she stood on the catwalk, there were still some pieces of furniture, dotting the warehouse floor: ratty and rotten couches and sofas, old tables and desks. Dressers and wardrobes, and several vanity tables that looked identical to the one her mother had. The only difference being that these were all decrepit and crumbling, with peeling paint and cracked mirrors.

Taylor had pried the mirror out one of them, or at least the largest unbroken piece of it, and had propped it up on the desk near her Friends. It was fortunate that the skylights above were letting in as much light as they did, allowing herself to effectively take some time admiring herself in it, allowing herself a small measure if vanity. She looked bony and lanky without her costume, but in it, she came off looking practically like a model.

Still, she was curious: If she could look like herself while wearing the costume, could she look like anything else?

"Simmie, can I change my appearance? Like how I sort of made the costume look like, umm, me?"

Simmie floated up to look at Taylor's reflection in the mirror. She seemed lost in thought for a brief moment, and Taylor could practically feel the metaphorical gears turning inside her tiny head through the link to her. Yes! she spoke firmly.

"Okay." The only problem was she still wasn't quite sure how the suit part worked. Maybe Simmie didn't quite know? Was it was one of those Tinkertech things she had read briefly about, how Tinkers usually couldn't understand each other's' work? She thought back to her bedroom, how she had simply relaxed herself mentally and the costume had somehow changed back into regular old her. Maybe it required visualizing herself as what she wanted to be?

She thought about people she felt she had a decent mental image of. Emma and Sophia and Madison all came to mind - she realized grimly then and there that she had gotten pretty good at picking her bullies out from a distance. She visualized Sophia - the track star, dark skin and braided hair and permanent scowl, all lithe muscle from head to toe-

She had blinked, and nearly toppled backward and over the railing, because Sophia was looking back at her in the reflection of the mirror and oh god-

"Aaaahh!" she half screamed, nearly sending Levi flying from his perch on Sophi- Her shoulder. "What- I'm Soph- Holy crap I sound like Sophia!" She really did sound like her bully.

Changed! Simmie stated helpfully.

Holy crap I turned into Sophia fucking Hess. It was definitely her. She looked down at her- no, Sophia's body; she was wearing what she had been several days ago, jeans and the blue blouse she seemed fond of. Her well-toned arms and legs and her chest and breasts. So that must be what having breasts looks like from your point of view-

She shook her head, suddenly keenly aware of Sophia's braided hair somehow whacking into Levi, still dug in on her shoulder. Until he wasn't, and was now entangled in her- Sophia's hair. It felt like hair, coarse and about what she'd expect a black person's hair to feel like. Levi had swiped out at the strands swatting him, only to get tangled into it. Trapped, Help, he pleaded. Completely entwined in the braids.

She lifted Levi up, his eyes glinting back at hers. You look different.

"Yeah," Sophia's voice spoke. "Different." She carefully separated the hairs from his talons, freeing him from the accidental prison. It must take her hours to do these, she thought. Taylor turned back to the mirror, only this time she imagined Emma, her ex-best friend.

And like that, Sophia blinked into Emma, black hair changing into red, dark skin into fair. It was instant, one millisecond she had been Sophia Hess, the next Emma Barnes. More Different, Levi said.

"Yeah, this is going to take some getting used to. And some practice." She had once admired Emma. Once. Her chest was larger still than Sophia's. Wider hips as well. She quickly tired of seeing her bullies in the mirror and relaxed and imagined herself, and she was back to her old drab self. Simmie seemed pleased, thankfully not at Emma's… assets, but rather at her work being used effectively.

Taylor smiled at herself in the mirror. Oh, there were so many possibilities. So many ways to get back at her bullies by being them, So many...

She stopped herself. Deep down she wanted to be a Hero, and Heroes didn't stoop to petty contrivances and high school capital-d-Drama. No, she was better than that. She had to be better than that. A Hero…

She looked at her watch. It was mid-afternoon, and she'd been messing around in the warehouse for a couple of hours now, allowing herself to get used to the suit. She felt she was doing that, however...

She'd probably be terrible in a fight. An actual proper Cape Battle, with Brutes and Blasters and Superpowers being thrown around. She could practice hopping around a warehouse like a Mover, but in a fight…

"I need to practice fighting," Taylor spoke out loud.

Practice? Simmie chirped.

"Yeah. I err-" she fumbled for the words, "I need to practice being a Hero, and that means actually knowing how to fight other Capes and Villains, not just being quick and agile, or becoming physically fit." Speaking of which... She brought her hands to the surface of her stomach, only slightly weirded out by the odd mismatch of sensations saying that the paunch of belly fat that should be there wasn't. "I'm probably going to have to exercise a bunch, now that I'm thinking on the subject." She looked down at her friends, felt their confusion. "Cardio, exercising, those sorts of things."

Cardio? Levi asked, head cocked in confusion.

"Well, running and jogging." She mimed the act of running with her arms. "It builds up your endurance, so you can fight or go on a patrol for longer."

"Rawr!" Fight!

"Yeah, that's part of the idea," Taylor smiled. "Anyways, I need to know how to fight, and so do all of you guys too."

"Rawr!" Fight! Benny hopped up, brandishing the lollipop he had been gnawing on like a miniature club. He waved it menacingly at Levi, who merely raised his own tiny talons back, as if ready to strike. They were in the mood at least.

She stepped up, placing her hands on them and scratching their heads and backs, calming them as she did. "Well, before you two start scuffling, I need to figure out how and what we can do to train."

Levi slipped out from under her hand. Train?

Taylor nodded. "Training. Think the three of you can help me?"

"Rawr!" Help! They exclaimed. Well, they wanted to help, and Taylor had the perfect idea, as she thought it over, of just how to begin.

She took it back. This had been a terrible idea.

She leapt to the side, narrowly dodging the fireballs Benny lobbed her way. Well, the ones he didn't keept trying to eat. Meanwhile Levi pursued her, Taylor doing everything she could to avoid his swipes and jabs. It was a clever start really, something that was all too common in Parahuman fights: Capes getting outnumbered and ganged up on by their opponents. Something that unfortunately was all too common in Brockton Bay, what with the three-to-one Villain to Hero ratio. Only maybe she'd bitten off more than she could chew here, now that two of her friends were larger than she was, and were trying to attack her.

Levi caught her with a back swipe his talons, sending her stumbling backwards across the bare concrete floor. She rolled and landed on all fours, letting the momentum carry her to her feet. Levi chased after her, bounding across the gap between them. Deciding to go on the offensive in their sparring, Taylor sprung forward herself, running towards her friend determined.

Levi swiped again, only this time Taylor was expecting it - she ducked, sprawling almost all the way to the floor, rebounding back up and delivering a punch to Levi's flank. With her added strength and agility her suit gave her it would have been a solid blow to any other opponent, but Levi was unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, made of solid stuff. In a flash he'd wrapped his arms and body around hers, detaining her in place. Captured! He stated firmly.

Taylor giggled. They were learning. Well, for the most part. At first they were hitting hard enough to send her sailing across the warehouse, but now most of the attacks they'd been sending at her were the kinds of attacks she expected to give the unpowered gang members and druggies they might fight a hard time. Hopefully she could get them to stick to as much non-lethal stuff as possible: attacks that would only lightly injure regular people. Best case, the bad guys would surrender on the threat of what they could do. And she knew that first hand - she was glad her costume was so incredibly tough.

"Heh, that was kind a fun," Taylor spoke. "I feel a little winded, actually."

"Rawr!" Fun!

"Yeah," Levi let her go, uncoiling his body from around hers and she stood up, patting herself down. As far as she could tell, there was virtually no damage to her costume at all - nothing beyond some dust and dirt from where she had landed on the floor. "Still, Benny," she turned to look at him, where he was currently in the process of trying to eat a single large fireball burning between his hands, "you'll need to focus better in a serious fight. The bad guys will be serious, so we need to be serious too."

Benny looked up from his improvised snack, letting the flames evaporate. "Rawr!" Serious! While Levi was quick to catch on to what she had been trying to teach them, She had to be creative with Benny. When she had propped up an old mannequin that had been discarded in a corner of the dusty warehouse and had asked Benny what he would do if it had been a bad guy or villain, well… Taylor glanced over at the now headless dummy, before looking back. "Remember," Taylor gestured with a finger and thumb, holding them close and almost touching, "Nibble."

"Rawr!" Nibble! Well, it would work, sort of, for now at least. Hopefully any Villains they fought could handle Benny nibbling on them if they refused to surrender.

"Good. Well, we've been going for a while now, might as well head back home." She had to admit to herself that she'd been putting it off, almost terrified of telling her dad. She also had to admit that it was almost hilarious, how she was standing here surrounded by some of the scariest friends a girl could have, and she was still more scared of simply talking to her dad.

Still. Looking around at the warehouse, Taylor was at least glad that Simmie had found it. It could make a great lair or hideout, assuming she put in some work to make it cozy.

Taylor forced those thoughts out of her head. She looked up through the skylights, at the rapidly fading sunlight outside. "Alright, are you guys ready to go home?"

Home! Simmie chirped. She'd mostly spent that afternoon watching Taylor fight and practice, and to a degree coaching her brothers, sort of. If you could call angrily chirping at them if they hit Taylor too hard during their practice and sparring 'coaching.' It was good then that Simmie caught on surprisingly quick - she had been pretty careful yesterday in that alley. She seemed to understand that people were more fragile than her and her siblings, and they all had to be careful of that fact in a battle.

She tugged on her tethers to them, shrinking them back down. But rather than have them climb into and hide in her backpack, she let them perch on her shoulders. Well, Benny and Levi perched, as Simmie floated close by. She'd go home as she was, show her Dad her Friends and her costume. She'd tell him everything tonight, she decided. "So yeah, let's go home."

"Rawr!" Home! They agreed.

She had to admit, after she had practiced and trained and mock-battled all afternoon in her suit, Taylor was starting to feel confident. Not entirely 'go out and fight superpowered gangsters' levels of confident, but more 'stop a mugging' levels.

Which was why, when she heard shouting and a scream somewhere between the beginnings of the Docks and the edges of Downtown she was moving faster than even she had expected to ever be able to from her initial training. She was moving, an utter blur through the encroaching gloom of night as Benny and Levi gripped her shoulders, the Former roaring his cute roar with glee. She cleared a jump from one rooftop to another across a two lane street, plus sidewalks, as easily as jumping over a puddle, clearing the gap with ease. She cleared a vertical obstacle, jumping up three floors from one roof to the next. Easy. Simmie kept up just as easily, unhindered by something so simple as gravity. She took pleasure weaving around and darting through the metalwork of a fire escape, chasing after Taylor and chirping the whole way.

And there, on the sidewalk of by an intersection and beneath a flickering street lamp, she found the source. A man and woman - no, two teenagers, surrounded by Empire Eighty-Eight skinheads menacing them. The Empire. Her knowledge of the gangs was admittedly limited, but she knew enough. They were arguably the largest gang in Brockton Bay, composed exclusively of racists and supremacists. They had the largest number of Parahuman members as well, outnumbering almost everyone else in the city. And they were getting more Capes and non-powered members all the time, from all over America and beyond.

She perched on the rooftop above, a little off-center of the group below. There were seven gang members altogether, surrounding the pair. Outnumbered.

'-picked a bad street to come down," she overheard one of them, presumably the leader say. "Me and my boys are gonna have to ask you to pay a fee."

The older teen moved the younger girl behind him, his eyes darting every which way. "You don't want to be doing this. Trust me, walk away."

"'I don't' you say? Well I think I can do whatever I want to a coon. What you say boys?"

Grunts of approval from the others. "So I'm feelin' generous so how 'bout we make the fee cheap? Let us have some fun with the little lady over there, and we'll leave ya'll be. Fair enough?" More chuckles and jeers from the gangsters and Taylor decided she'd heard enough.

"Benny?"

"Rawr?" Yes?

"Remember how we were training earlier?" She pointed a finger at the skinheads. "Bad guys. Nibble."

He followed her finger down to the gang members below and metaphorically locked onto them. "Rawr!" Nibble! He threw himself off of her shoulder, plummeting to the street below. Levi and Simmie needed no such prodding; they were away and falling and flying below right after their oldest Brother.

The leader realized something was amiss first. He realized it when Benny crashed into his bald and tattooed head, latching on with claw and tooth and roaring his cute roar with glee. The man started screaming, trying to pry him off but before any of his fellows could even react they came under assault too; Levi landed at the feet of one, springing onto the hapless skinhead and digging his own long talons into soft spots as Simmie darted around the remaining five, delivering deceptively powerful blows with swipes of her wings. Taylor herself followed, dropping down and landing in the practiced pose.

One skinhead, the only one who had yet come under assault, reacted to her. "Cape!" he screamed, turning to run-

Only to get bowled over by the older teen, his fist impacting the man's face and sending him sprawling. Even as he went down so did the rest, either to Levi's claws and tail, or Simmie's wings.

The Leader of the group and the last one still standing finally pried Benny off of his head, hurling him to the ground. He swung the baseball bat he held, striking him, only for Benny to instead latch onto it and start gnawing away at the aluminum.

For a moment, everything seemed to pause.

The leader held the bat up before him, looking at Benny.

Benny looked back, his single eye staring into the gang member's two.

And then he shocked the hapless skinhead through the metal, and with a yelp of pain he too collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Taylor turned and smiled at the stranger, even if he couldn't see it. "You should be safe now," she spoke, "No need to-"

"Endbringers."

Taylor blinked. "What-"

"Brian, she's got baby Endbringers!" the younger of the two exclaimed. "That's so cool! I mean, it's evil, but cool!"

The older one, Brian apparently, kept his gaze firmly on her Friends, stepping firmly between his apparent sister and Taylor as he spoke. "Hero or Villain?"

"What?"

"Are you a Hero or a Villain?" He intoned, stressing those two words.

Oh. Taylor could understand how her Friends could cause confusion. "I- I'm trying to be a Hero."

"What are they?" he asked next. "Projections? Tinkertech?"

"I- well," she stammered. "They're my Friends." She wondered from the terms he dropped, in the back of her mind if the guy was a Cape geek like she used to be. Well, still was, as long as she disregarded all of the research on Endbringers she had undertaken.

His gaze remained unchanging. "Doesn't answer the question, but I know when to not pry." He seemed to relax, if only just. "Regardless, you keep strange friends." Technically true, she had to be honest. Benny was still chewing on the baseball bat, Levi sat propped on the hapless gang member he'd latched onto, said man moaning in pain and moaning louder if he tried to move. Simmie hovered close by, watching the two teenagers. She waved with a chirp when she saw Brian look at her.

"Friends." He looked from the gang members and her Friends to Taylor, resplendent in her silvery costume. "Do you have a name?"

"A name?" A mask, and a name. Lisa, from yesterday. "I'm sort of still working on that."

"So you're a new Cape then! Did you make them?" The girl spoke, excitedness evident.

"Aisha, be quiet."

"Did I make them?" Taylor paused for a moment, in thought. "Well, I suppose yes, I did." Taylor really didn't know how true it was herself.

"So Tinker?"

"Uhh," she paused again. "Yeah, I'll go with that." From beside her, Simmie floated over to the girl, Aisha, all smiles and meekly waving and chirping. Or tried to, as Brian glared at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Simmie paused, hanging in midair a look of pure innocence on her face.

"Are they dangerous?" A flash of concern in Brian's eyes.

"Well, only when they want to be?" Taylor shrugged. "They do get into trouble a bit."

"Trouble." Brian looked down at the moaning and unconscious skinheads, and seemed to relax of only just. "Well," he sighed with a small chuckle, "as long as they make trouble for the Gangs they're fine in my book."

"Can I pet her?" Aisha interjected.

"I- what?"

"The little one with the wings, she looks cute!"

Cute."Simmie?"

Yes! She chirped.

"Sure, she's fine with it."

Aisha cupped a hand and Simmie floated over to settle in it, letting her stroke her wings and head. A feeling of contentedness wafted through their shared tether, so she was definitely enjoying the attention.

"So, I asked about your name, because the Police are going to want to know who did this," Brian stated. "I'm going to go ahead and assume this is your first night out as well?"

Taylor nodded. "Yeah, it sort of is."

"Well then, take my advice, and think of one fast." He shrugged. "Or you could just leave them here. No matter what these E88 assholes tend to be out of jail pretty quick, no matter what anyone does." He kicked the thug nearest to him, eliciting a grunt of pain from the fallen man. "And here I was hoping the new neighborhood would be safer than uptown."

"New neighborhood?"

"Yeah," the teenager shrugged. "I just moved in down the street. Wanted to show Aisha the apartment I got for us." Taylor glanced briefly at the girl, noticing that she was even bustier than Emma somehow, despite likely being much younger. She suppressed a brief spike of jealousy as Brian continued. "Problem is this isn't supposed to be Empire territory. We're closer to the ABB's turf. Odd, unless these guys were..." He seemed briefly lost in thought for a moment, before he suddenly perked up, some sort of realization hitting him. "Aisha, we're not going to my place. We're staying with some friends tonight."

Aisha looked up from the new friend she had made. "Those friends?"

Brian squinted back at her. "Yeah."

"You know our mom doesn't like it when I stay out late."

"Don't care right now." He turned back to Taylor. "Look, thanks for the help tonight, really. And take my advice from someone who has some experience. I know you want to be a Hero and all that, but head home and stay in for tonight, trust me."

Taylor looked at him, quizzically. "Why? What's going to happen?"

"I don't know," he shrugged and replied. "I just have a bad feeling. Let's just say I cast something a friend told me in a new light. Aisha," he turned to his sister. "Time to go."

"Okay." She gave Simmie's head one final scratch before letting her float away. "I gotta go, but we can play again later, alright?"

Simmie chirped back. No translation was necessary. "Well, take care of yourselves," Taylor told them.

"We'll be fine, don't worry about us." With that, they left, walking briskly down the street towards the Docks beyond. Taylor saw him fish a flip phone out of his pocket before they turned the corner, walking quickly out of sight.

Which left Taylor and her friends, and a sidewalk covered in injured and unconscious Nazis. Perhaps she should call the cops, but with what Brian said…

Making up her mind, she fished her tablet out of her backpack, turning on its screen and looking for the one of the icons from yesterday. She reached to press it but hesitated. Taylor looked down at the gang members still moaning and unconscious. Looked to Simmie and the rest of her friends.

She tapped the button, her mind made up.

The invisible speaker in the Tablet produced a ringing tone, and then a click of someone answering a phone. "Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?" A young and female voice.

"There are seven gang members on the corner of-" She looked up at the nearby street sign, bent and faded but still legible. "Levert Avenue and Thirty-Ninth Street. They will need medical assistance as well."

"Ma'am, are you injured?"

"No." She paused. "I'm not staying to make a statement either. So please send someone quickly."

"Ma'am you nee-"

She ended the call. "Well, let's get out of here guys." On cue her friends climbed up to her shoulders. "Also, for the rest of you," she nudged one of the gang members who was slowly coming back to consciousness with a foot," don't go anywhere. Or Benny will nibble on you some more."

"Rawr!" Nibble!

The only response she or Benny got in reply was a moan from the gang member at her feet. Taylor only shrugged in return and leapt upward, landing on the roof she'd dropped down from to wait, and to think about what Brian had said to her earlier. She regretted not pushing him for information - it was as if he knew something. Or someone. As the minutes ticked by, Taylor made up her mind about what to do, after the police showed up.

She didn't have to wait long. The police cars came around the block, lights flashing but no sirens. Satisfied that the police would be able to handle it from there Taylor took off, hopping across the rooftops, not towards home, but towards the heart of the docks.

Aaand that's a wrap for now. Certainly quicker than my last update, I suppose.

I will admit that most of this is merely setup for the next chapter.

Anyways, C&C always welcome, as usual.

Last edited: May 15, 2017

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TheMadmanAndre

Apr 19, 2017

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

May 15, 2017

#3,574

Hello once more! I bring words, lots of words. 5k words. I've got the best words. I'm going to stop saying 'words' now.

Anyways, on with the show. This chap's a doozie.

2-6

With her friends at her side, Taylor ghosted along the decrepit rooftops of the Docks.

She was still in the 'inhabited' part. Inhabited, in the sense of 'there were still a few holdouts living here.' people who otherwise were unable or just plain unwilling to find somewhere new, away from the decaying and dilapidated buildings that would have been condemned had Brockton Bay's local government cared enough to have them inspected.

She came to a stop on a rooftop above yet another street corner, the thin waning moon only just starting to climb into the sky and barely visible through the clouds. What very few streetlights still functioned cast little of any light of their own, drowning the area in darkness and making the whole scene incredibly eerie. If it hadn't been for the apparent capability of her mask to see in seemingly any level of light she'd have been lost, both literally and metaphorically.

She felt the urge to scold herself for thinking it would be a great idea to go on an impromptu patrol, when she should really have been talking to her Dad about, well, everything. She really should have left things as they were. Or at the very least she really should have asked the boy- the guy- Brian, what he had been referring to.

But nope, she was in the middle of the ABB-occupied Docks, on what was likely a wild goose chase, on what was likely a whim.

"Damn it Taylor," she heard herself mutter.

"Rawr?" Help? Benny asked.

"You're fine Benny," Taylor replied, reaching up to gently scratch his head. "It was a terrible idea to come out here. Really, we should be going home."

Bath, Levi plainly spoke. She felt his claws twitch reassuringly on her shoulder through her costume.

"Rawr!" Dinner!"

"Yeah, a bath and dinner sounds really nice right about now." But...

Taylor eased herself to the dirty gravel on the rooftop, sitting cross-legged. "But, if there's trouble and people were hurt or worse, and I could have done something..." she trailed off. "I don't think I could forgive myself." It wasn't hard to see that she was going about this all wrong. Blindly. She needed information. Regretted she hadn't asked back there on that street corner.

The solution came readily.

Careful not to dislodge her Friends, Taylor slid her backpack off, placing it in front of her and unzipping it. Her notebook, a single change of clothing. A few errant snacks, mostly just candy now, and a few odds and ends. And finally her Tablet. Taylor fished out the device, the screen coming to life in her hands as she set it in her lap. "Simmie, can you help me with this?"

Help? She chirped.

"Yeah, umm..." Taylor paused for a moment, trying to parse out what she was trying to ask Simmie to help her with. "Can I use this to find other people? Like, say, any nearby villainous parahumans, or someone committing a crime?"

Simmie scrunched up her tiny eyebrows for a brief moment, looking at the Tablet in Taylor's hands. Yes! She chirped after a moment. She floated down to the screen, hands and wingtips dancing across the surface. As Taylor and her other two Friends watched, mesmerized, Simmie got to work, tapping several icons and bringing up a bird's eye view of the city. She zoomed the image in, dragging her tiny wings away from each other on the screen. The virtual view flew down, before focusing on the grimy rooftop upon which they were sat.

The view then abruptly jerked away, floating over to the far corner of the block of buildings. Three small dots, clustered together, were centered on the screen and blinking brightly. Taylor was about to ask Simmie what they were before she began moving the image once more, settling on a spot further away still. Another four dots, a second group of three clustered together, with the fourth and last still further away. Seven dots total, all within a couple hundred yards.

Taylor was briefly confused, before the realization hit her. "Simmie, are those Parahumans?"

Yes, she confidently chirped.

"Oh. Oh wow." She briefly wondered how scary it was that Simmie could do that, find Parahumans on request. "So, is it possible to find out what are they doing?" If they were just doing whatever it was Capes did in their free time, she would leave things be. Otherwise...

Simmie nodded and chirped. The image of the clustered dots vanished, and Simmie tapped another icon on the screen and Taylor nearly jumped when an image of her own featureless mask filled it instead. Initially confused, she continued to watch as the view panned away from her face, moving over across the brightly visible skyline of Brockton Bay before jetting across the rooftops. What was going on? She wondered, How is this even possibl-

"A camera," Taylor suddenly realized. "But how?" She looked up, seeing nothing that looked like the source of the video on her Tablet moving away from her. Some sort of weird invisible drone? The way the camera view moved reminded Taylor of the video drones that would follow Uber and Leet, two of the city's more notorious Capes, in some of their videos.

Easy! Simmie chirped.

"Easy." Of course it would be easy. Taylor decided she didn't want to know the how of it after all. "So you can control it?"

Yes!

"The nearer group then, can I see them?" There were probably rules against this sort of stuff, peeking in on Parahumans and all but unmasking them. She reminded herself to ask Lisa about what the dos and don'ts were, the next chance she got to talk to her. Simmie bidded her request, aiming the invisible and intangible camera-slash-drone-slash-thing at roughly which building she deduced the first group of three were inside.

It was a warehouse of some sort, multi-floor and taller than the rest of the buildings on the block. The camera came in over the low rooftops and along the darkened street. Not a light was on in the building, save for the very top floor, on the corner of the building overlooking the intersection below. Maybe an office of some sort?

The camera view drifted up, leveling off over the building before settling down over it. As Taylor watched, Simmie angled the camera downward, aiming it at and through a skylight roughly directly over the office below. And seeing what- no, who was inside made Taylor's blood run cold.

Lung. The leader of the ABB. He was easily recognizable: Barrel-chested, muscled and absolutely covered in Asian-themed tattoos. And he wasn't alone. Oni Lee, his long-time subordinate was there too, recognizable in his sinister demon mask and red costume. He was best known for his suicide bombing clones he could create, using his own unique form of teleportation. There was another there, but Taylor didn't recognize her - she had no mask, and as far as Taylor's understanding went the ABB only had two Capes. A regular person maybe?

All of them were right over there. Lung is right over there. Taylor looked up and away from the screen towards the distant warehouse, and was suddenly, keenly aware that she was eavesdropping, quite literally. She was briefly startled when she heard a deep and rumbling voice nearby before suddenly realizing the camera could transmit sound as well.

"-ere you sit, seeking to join my organization," Lung's voice rumbled through the tablet. "You claim you seek protection and safety from those following you. Why?"

Taylor took in the scene before her. Lung was sat behind a large and ornate desk at the center of a relatively spartan office, almost directly beneath the slightly-ajar skylight. Across the desk before him and to his left sat Oni Lee, his henchman. And to his right sat the mystery woman, a large duffle bag at her side by her chair.

"I'm a Tinker," she replied. Taylor could clearly tell that her voice was tinged with a hint of nervousness. "You can make use of me."

"No," Lung replied. "I have use of those who can fight. Not those who run with their tail between their legs."

"Those bastards at Cornell wimped and called the Protectorate," she all but spat. "If only I had a proper workshop and time-"

"I have heard 'if only' many times, girl. To be fair though, it really doesn't matter."Taylor saw he had something in front of him. Food actually, apparent from the typical styrofoam tray and chinese takeout boxes. You are fortunate then, Bakuda, that I can be lenient. I will overlook the cowardice you initially demonstrated by not fighting those who came to stop you, and allow you the privilege of having a chance to join the ABB." Chopsticks in hand he lifted a morsel of food to his mouth, the silence of the room punctuated only by him chewing and swallowing. "You will have tonight to prepare, girl. Tomorrow, you shall duel Oni Lee."

"D-duel?"

"Yes." He placed down the chopsticks, gesturing to the oni-masked man. "A simple fight, of honor. Prove you are willing to fight for me, against a proper opponent."

"I will not go easy on you, Bakuda," Oni Lee flatly intoned, speaking for the first time. He sounded about how Taylor expected him to - flat, and without emotion.

"I-" the girl, Bakuda apparently, seemed to falter, briefly glancing at the man to her right before she sat straight and looked Lung in the eye. "I will."

"Good." Lung resumed his eating. The girl moved to get up, reaching for her duffle as she did, but what happened next was abruptly obscured by something moving directly in front of the view. Almost automatically the camera zoomed out slightly to compensate-

Revealing Benny standing at the edge of the opened skylight. She reached up to where he had been perched, feeling nothing there. How? When?

Simmie squeaked in surprise. Idiot, Levi intoned.

Dinner! She heard and felt him distantly exclaim, before leaping through the open skylight and plummeting towards the Villains below.

Plop. He landed perfectly, face-down into the open tray of takeout in front of Lung.

Oni Lee jumped up, his chair flying backwards, his hands on the swords at his back. The other girl, Bakuda, had been mid-way through getting up; she turned and spun and tripped over the chair, landing roughly on the bare floor. Lung himself remained unmoving, his chopsticks still in hand as he watched Benny sit up, his mouth full of food. Taylor's hands went to her masked face, palming it in disbelief.

"Kyosuke," Lung spoke.

"Kenta," Oni Lee replied.

"There is a miniature Behemoth in my sashimi."

A moment of silence. "There is." The girl with the duffle bag dragged herself to the corner, eyes wide and clutching the duffle to her chest.

Lung reached out and grabbed Benny as he messily devoured what looked to be a slice of raw fish, jabbing him with his chopsticks. "This is not an illusion." The man in the demon mask looked up at the skylight before turning gray and ashen-

And appearing directly in front of Taylor, drawing his swords. Or at least he tried to, as Simmie moved, a tiny blur crashing into the ogre-masked Villain and knocking him out with an audible whack. Oni Lee crumpled to the gravel roof in a heap, unconscious and unmoving. Bad guy! She angrily chirped. It happened so quickly Taylor barely had any time to register it - one moment they were alone, and the next, an unconscious Oni Lee next to her.

Instinctively Taylor pushed on her tether to Simmie, her Friend suddenly growing to her teenager size from the previous day. Chirping gratefully, Simmie proceeded to disarm the teleporting Cape, her telekinetic touch removing his swords and bandoliers of grenades and tossing them off the roof to the ground below. She then folded her wings back behind her, directing a short and final angry chirp at the unconscious Villain.

"You are eating my food," Lung growled elsewhere at the pint-sized Endbringer in his hand as it ate. He didn't hear what had just transpired above it seemed. Taylor focused back on the scene unfolding on her tablet.

Benny stopped munching, oblivious to his predicament. He looked up with his single eye and into Lung's two.

Back down to his purloined meal.

Back up to Lung.

And back down at Lung's sashimi, and resumed loudly munching.

Tiny Idiot, Levi repeated. Taylor looked over to him, and say him holding a taloned hand to his face.

Taylor just started giggling, not knowing what else to do, amazed at the blatant absurdity of what she was witnessing.

And then a mass of whirling steel blades and hooks fell from the sky, crashing into the skylight and through the roof of the warehouse.

Her head jerked up at the sound of the crash, then back down to the Tablet. The camera's view was obscured by dust and smoke. Oh no, Benny. "Come on, let's go!"

Taylor hopped to her feet, shoving the tablet into her backpack and throwing it over her shoulder as she moved. That… thing. It could have only meant one thing. Only one Cape. Hookwolf. The infamous and murderous enforcer of the Empire 88. She hopped across the gap between that building and the next, dashing towards the distant warehouse. She was hearing explosions now, as Lung and the Nazi Cape began to fight. Simmie glided along beside her. Brother, help! she chirped.

Taylor agreed, although how she was going to help Benny when he was caught in the middle of a battle between two of the strongest Capes in the city that, judging from the way the warehouse was now catching fire was in full swing. Then she decided 'screw it,' and pushed on his tether. What effect it had on the battle she didn't immediately ascertain-

She was yanked to a stop by Simmie, her wings abruptly wrapping around Taylor and jerking her backwards and causing her to narrowly avoid getting crushed by several tons of concrete suddenly falling from the sky. It hit the rooftop and kept going, crashing through the floors below all the way to the thankfully-abandoned building's basement. Taylor looked up, seeing two Capes floating above her. Were they from the Empire like Hookwolf? At least she thought they were from the Empire.

The first - possibly a girl, judging from her form-fitting red costume - stood on a platform of floating broken pavement, her face concealed by a dark red mask and emblazoned with a large distinct celtic rune. The other stood next to her, definitely a guy and adorned in a stylized suit of medieval armor, holding a very long spear in hand. "Identify yourself!" he commanded, shouting down at her.

"Levi, Simmie, are they bad guys?"

Yes! They replied in unison.

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

Simmie moved, chirping with glee as Levi leapt from her shoulder with force Taylor didn't think his tiny body possessed, growing rapidly as Taylor pushed on his tether. The Nazi Knight had no time to react as eight feet of Levi adhered itself bodily to him, his claws digging in as his tail wrapped around the Cape's body. He and Levi fell backward and off of the impromptu platform as Simmie bodily tackled the other Cape, arms and wings wrapping around the red-costumed Villain as she was carried backward and away. The concrete slab abruptly plummeted, falling through the building like the one before it. Like the gang members from earlier that evening, they tackled the problem quickly and in this case quite literally.

In a blink of an eye Simmie and Levi had stripped the two Capes down to their underwear and had piled them at her feet. On her insistence, Taylor allowed the two unconscious Nazis to keep their helmet and mask, at least to protect their identities. The sense of accomplishment was short lived however, as the burning warehouse exploded from within, fully half of it shearing out and away from the force of the blast. Through the flames and smoke she spotted Hookwolf, greatly reduced in size and running for his life, literally with his tail between his legs. A second later she saw why; Benny was giving chase, his mouth full of Hookwolf's metal blades and his hands lobbing fireballs at the fleeing Nazi. the E88 cape fled into the darkness, Benny hot on his heels.

"Benny! Stop!" Taylor shouted after him.

Benny slowed to a stop, turning and looking up at Taylor. "Rggrph!" Snack Man!

"Snack Man?" Did- did Benny give Hookwolf a nickname? "Look- no, just, enough for tonight," she scolded him. "We're going to go home, and you're going to learn patience, understand?" She leapt easily from the rooftop, landing on the street below. Hopefully she could still somehow slip away in the chaos before anyone with a camera showed up-

The rest of the warehouse exploded, a towering fireball climbing into the night sky. And Taylor looked towards the cause of it with dread. Lung, digging himself explosively from the rubble.

Or, it used to be Lung - now the ABB leader was fifteen feet of burning rage dragon, barely even resembling a human. She briefly flashed back, back to her research on Levi, how the ABB leader could endlessly escalate a fight. This could get bad. Very very bad. Taylor realized there wasn't an easy way out of this, even if she ran he'd pursue them. Or at least Benny, maybe. And Lung had rarely if ever been beaten in combat, as far as she had read. Even his fight with Levi had ended in a stalem-

Levi. He stood at her side, facing the dragon, tail twitching ever so slightly. Lung looked right back, his gaze settling on Taylor's group in general, and Levi in particular. "Ooo," he spoke. You.

Levi looked right back, almost quizzically, head cocked to the side. Opponent?

Opponent! Simmie confirmed with a chirp.

"Rggrgh!" Bad guy!

"Guys, wait, maybe we can-"

Levi bolted, his taloned hands and feet digging into the cracked asphalt, pulverizing it as he moved. Lung himself roared, belching flame as he charged and kicking up a cloud of fiery debris as he leapt clear of the remains of the warehouse towards Levi. They slammed into one another mid-air with a titanic crack, almost rebounding away from the force of the impact.

Levi's tail grabbed Lung's leg, wrapping around it and tripping him, sending the now monstrous cape to the ground. Before Levi could capitalize Lung was back up, tacking Levi and sending them both crashing into the building across the street. The facade sagged before abruptly collapsing, bricks and mortar raining down on both.

Taylor was suddenly jolted from her slack-jawed spectating as Simmie whisked her up and away, carrying her away from the battle and back to the rooftops above. Safety! She chirped. Taylor nodded, silently agreeing with her assessment. Her costume might make her tough, but Lung's rage dragon mode would likely test its limits.

It would likely test Levi's limits too. Taylor pushed on his tether, forcing more energy into it. Below here and down the street, she saw him grow even larger, dwarfing the draconic Villain. Lung merely roared and charged, apparently welcoming the challenge and slowly growing ever larger himself, ever more monstrous as they fought.

"This has escalated pretty quickly," Taylor spoke to nobody in particular. "Benny!"

"Rawr?" Fight? He asked back to her.

"Yeah! Help your brother!"

"Rawr!" Fire Man! And now he'd given Lung a nickname. Taylor didn't have time to dwell on the implications as Benny finally finished his meal of metal blades and hooks and was now bounding towards the battle between his brother and he ABB leader, roaring with glee as he did. Taylor reached out to his tether and pushed, Benny himself growing to over thirty feet in height and dwarfing even his brother. Levi and Lung at least seemed oblivious at first as the latter attacked Levi, his now-inhuman maw closing around Levi's neck and attempting to rip it out. Levi's tail wrapped around Lung's own, wrenching it from his body with a horrific crunch. And then Benny tackled both of them, sending them crashing back into the now ruined building. The ruined building finally collapsed entirely, burying all three under the rubble.

But not for long. Benny was literally hurled from the rubble, her Friend sailing down the street and forming a crater when he landed, bouncing and rolling to a stop. Lung himself followed, chasing after Benny and aided by the pair of dragon wings that had sprouted from his back and his newly-regenerated tail. Levi burst from the rubble last, chasing after lung and latching onto and bodily wrapping himself around the Cape, both of them crashing to the street. Benny hopped up utterly unfazed and plodded back towards the pair as they thrashed and fought on the ground. "Rawr!" Pile! he roared, before leaping into the air and landing atop both of them.

As the brothers and Lung thrashed and fought below, Taylor watched on. "Simmie," she began to ask, "Is there a way to end this? Lung's just going to get stronger and stronger, and I don't think Benny or Levy can keep fighting him forever."

Maybe, Simmie chirped, turning to Taylor. Fall asleep, she chirped with a wide vulpine grin. Taylor was reminded briefly of Lisa, from the morning before yesterday.

"Okay." Below, the ever-more-monstrous Lung had once again pried Benny off of him, hurling him into yet another building. It was impossible to see anything human-like about the burning armored monster below - four arms tipped with hideous claws grappled with Levi, as all four of his wings struggled to lift them skyward. his jaw opened and hinged in ways Taylor didn't think was even possible, as he once more tried to bite into Levi's neck. Levi had wrapped his long tail around Lung's waist, crunching the armored plates there and causing the ABB leader to bellow in pain. With a roar of rage Lung hurled Levi away, sending him sliding across the pavement.

And above it all, Simmie floated, serene, looking down at Lung with that wide smile on her face. Lung looked back up at her, taking Levi and Benny's sister. He tried to speak, although whatever he was trying to say was lost amidst the now inhuman draconic roar.

Sleep, Simmie chirped, before gracefully executing a spinning forward kick directly into Lung's skull. A forward kick powered wholly by her vast telekinesis, causing his head to hit the street at roughly mach speed. The ground shook. The buildings shook, windows in nearby buildings shattered from the force. But Lung most certainly did not get back up, still and unmoving. Already he was starting to shrink, the dragon features dissolving and rapidly replaced by human flesh and limbs.

Feeling confident enough to approach, Taylor once more hopped off the roof, landing and then approaching the now incapacitated ABB cape, now surrounded by her Friends. "Is- is he going to be okay?"

Yes! Sleeping, Simmie politely chirped. It was punctuiated by a moan from the rapidly shrinking Cape.

"Well then, good work guys," Taylor said. "And Benny, we're going to go home and and you are going to learn the virtue of patience," she spoke, slightly and menacingly emphasizing the last word.

"Rawr?" Mistake?

Whack. One of Simmie's wings lanced out, striking him on the head. Dummy, Simmie chirped.

Idiot, Levi added, leveling a talon at his brother.

"Benny, I was going to go home and make us all dinner," Taylor started. "You didn't have to go and steal someone's food, even if they were a Villain." She looked down at the now mostly-normal Lung, only to blush at the sight that he wasn't wearing much if anything at all, save for his dented mask. "Well, I guess we all all still go home and eat."

"Rawr?" Not Angry? Benny looked almost bashful, somehow.

"Maybe just a little. I mean, just look," she pointed at the Cape at their feet. You all fought and beat Lung. That goes for all of you." And not just Lung, but Oni Lee and the two others up on the rooftop as well. "I mean, Hookwolf got away, sure, but you can't win them all." Taylor was starting to feel that she was forgetting something important until Simmie abruptly darted away with a chirp, back towards the smouldering ruins of the former warehouse. A moment later there was an exclamation of surprise as Simmie floated back sedately, someone clutched in her wings.

The girl from earlier, that was talking to Lung. Did she say her name was Baka? No, Bakuda. "Argh, let me go you monster! Let me go!" She shouted, panicking.

"Hey," Taylor spoke up. The girl stopped struggling and Taylor finally got a good look at her. She might be younger than me, she realized.

Bombs, Simmie chirped, the duffle from earlier floating behind her.

"Rawr!" Snacks! Benny exclaimed. He plodded over, nearly stepping on and crushing Lung as he did. Taylor realized that they were all still absolutely gigantic and and appropriately tugged on Benny and Levi's tethers, letting them shrink - not quite back to their pocket-sized bodies, but most-way. Benny, now merely ten feet tall, took hold of the duffle bag and began to promptly munch. Even after eating Lung's dinner. Even after nibbling on Hookwolf, he still had an appetite.

The girl, Bakuda, merely stared at Benny in horror. "Wha- How?" she all but cried. She looked to Taylor, her eyes wild. "What the hell are they!? What the hell are you!?"

"I'm, umm, sort of new, I guess," she answered honestly, scratching the back of her helmet.

"Endbringers! Goddamn Endbringers!" The girl shouted hysterically, struggling in Simmie's grip and abruptly launching into panicked muttering in a language Taylor didn't understand. Chinese maybe? She was going to try and console her or get her to calm down when she was blasted forwards, into Simmie's chest.

The duffle bag Benny was nibbling on had exploded. Wings wrapped around her, shielding her and the other girl from the worst of it. Dummy! Idiot! Simmie chirped.

"Heh, my best work," Bakuda muttered, uncomfortably close to her. "So far, at least. Armed it, before the Ziz grabbed me..."

Taylor slipped out of Simmie's wings enough to see what had happened- no, what was still happening. There was, something, a dark void of some sort, swirling in the middle of the street, fierce winds whipping all around it. Chunks of concrete and masonry were whipped all around it, sucked in and vanishing from sight. Levi had thankfully retreated safely away, Lung wrapped safely in his tail. Benny on the other hand stood directly in front of it - Taylor saw his face, distorted around the thing, the light shifted into myriad reds and blues. It took a moment for taylor to comprehend what exactly she was looking at.

A black hole. An honest-to-god miniature black hole. Best work indeed. And Benny simply walked up to it, his face hilariously distorted by the bending light, and grabbed and started to eat it. "Rrrrf!" Tasty snack!

Bakuda looked on, restrained by Simmie, and started to laugh as Benny ate. She laughed, and laughed, until Simmie gently whacked her with a wingtip, knocking her out cold. The winds died down as Benny finished, actually burping as the winds finally died down enough that Taylor could safely stand upright. "Benny, thank you."

"Rawr!" Tasty snack.

"Yeah." All around her was fire and destruction. The buildings and warehouse burned from their confrontation with Lung and the rest of the Capes. Most of which were unconscious and in various states of undress. This was going to be hard to explain. Or easy to explain. I sicced my Friends on them, they fought but lost. "Guys, we're going to go home in a bit, but first I'm going to call the PRT and let them know they can pick these guys up." She moved to take off her backpack, but suddenly felt someone's eyes on her. Her Friends turned in unison to look up at the person, the Cape, dressed in almost all black, crossbow in hand as she dropped from her perch and floated down to the street.

"Don't need to, I've already called for backup," the Cape spoke. Taylor recognized her quickly - Shadow Stalker, one of the members of the local Wards. "Also, that was possibly one of the coolest fights I've ever seen. Scary, but cool." Her tone shifted, ever so slightly, and Taylor thought it briefly sounded familiar, and Oh crap there was a hero here and she was talking to her-

"Rawr!" Hey! Benny roared and waved. Simmie chirped and Levi waved too, greeting the newcomer.

Shadow Stalker flinched, her grip on her crossbow visibly shifting.

"They're harmless- well, mostly," Taylor quickly spoke. "And, umm, thank you for calling." She was tired, and probably dirty and sweaty under her costume, and just wanted to go home and shower and sleep. "I'm going to go ahead and leave then-"

"Please don't," She insisted. Odd, she had heard her voice somewhere before. "Armsmaster and Miss Militia are on their way, and the way they were sounding, they were really wanting to talk to you. Sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to stay."

"I- fine. But I'm leaving right after." Shadow Stalker merely shrugged.

"It's going to be a couple of more minutes. So, are they tinkertech? Projections of some sort?" Her voice, she'd heard it before, definitely. And with a bolt of hot red anger Taylor recognized it.

"Sophia," Taylor snarled in disgust.

Shadow Stalker froze. "Wha- Wait," her grip tightened on the crossbow. "Hebert?"

"How?" Taylor shouted. "How the fuck are you a Hero!?"

A wild cliffhanger appears! But I jest. I've been looking forward to this chapter for a while now, since it's Taylor's first big Cape Fight, and I've tried to get her to handle it as well as her circumstances allow. Next chapter's going to be an Interlude, from the viewpoints of several other characters. It'll shed light on the events of today so far, and explain some goings-on behind the scenes.

Last edited: Nov 29, 2018

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TheMadmanAndre

May 15, 2017

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Threadmarks Interlude 4

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Nov 1, 2017

#3,792

Halloween update time.

Interlude IV

Brad

Brad Meadows was often considered by other Capes, both Hero and Rogue to be a simple dumb brute. A chained dog on a leash, no more and no less. A powerful and dangerous dog, but still.

He liked to consider himself anything but. At the very least he felt he was of above average intelligence. He learned, some time ago, that intelligence as a whole could best be described with something called a bell curve: In terms of numbers, most people fell in the middle, right at the top of the bell, with a few smart people down one side and a few really dumb retards on the opposite. Just like a cross-section of a church bell, hence the name he figured. He'd seen the slavering, slack-jawed morons that threw themselves at the Empire's cause, the ones where it was arguable that the only thing that any of them had going on for them was their skin color. He seriously doubted that many of them were high up on that curve, and wagered that the fact he could recognize the lack of intelligence of the Empire's rank-and-file meant that he had to have been intelligent himself. He felt he was right at the top of that curve, maybe a little towards the smart side - not smart, not stupid, just right.

And it made sense in another way. He managed most of the city's dogfighting rings, after all. The phrase 'business acumen' came to mind, and he doubted that any of the middle school dropouts that made up most of their gang's 'workforce' possessed it. It took a degree of intelligence, of savvy, to manage a business. And really that was what the rings were - a cash business. He wasn't the best businessman in that sense of course - he'd made a fair few mistakes along the line. Bad business decisions, and just as bad deals. But he'd learned, and compensated for the gaps in his skills with the right choice of sufficiently-skilled henchmen. A couple of which he would admit were smarter than he was in most cases.

And sure, if he used education as a standard to judge people based on their knowledge and intelligence, than he was ultimately no better. He'd had to drop out of school himself. However... He looked down at his hand, the skin scarred and leathery, to where it met the plain white dress shirt he felt so out of place wearing. His own circumstances had been different. Most people weren't forced into a gladiator pit as a young teenager, for the amusement of rich assholes...

He absent-mindedly tugged at the collar of the shirt, where the front of the tie sat on his neck. He preferred to go shirtless. And with a mask. But Kaiser had called him that morning. Come to Medhall. Noon. Business attire. He knew what the latter meant.

He liked to think that their esteemed leader understood him. That Brad wasn't some mindless attack dog but someone with a degree of measurable intelligence. Kaiser - no, Max Anders for the moment - had to have understood this by now. He wouldn't be sitting outside of his office and across from his pretty blonde Secretary if he didn't.

It was rare for him to call up members of his own Gang during business hours, even if ostensibly they were all 'part of the Medhall Family'. Brad understood why the kept the different sides of the Empire separate, even if most of the Empire didn't, or didn't want to: It was simply good to keep up appearances. Hence the Dress pants and shirt and the polished shoes. He looked down at them, could see his reflection in the mirror-shined leather. He briefly wondered where else he would be in life if he never got powers. Never had a narcissistic racist drunkard of a father and an enabler of a mother. Maybe he'd be like one of the nameless office drones he saw on the way up. Or dead in a ditch somewhere. Who knew, since he didn't.

"Mr. Meadows, Mr. Anders is ready to see you now."

Brad was yanked from his thoughts by the Pretty blonde's voice. Ms. Biermann, better known as Fenja. 'Mr.' this, 'Ms.' and 'Mrs' that, titles people were handed at some point and everybody used. A little like Cape names in a certain way. For now though, it was Ms. Biermann and not Fenja. And he understood that.

Brad stood up, adjusted the tie around his neck, before opening the large oak door to his Boss's office.

"You want me to kill Lung?"

Brad regarded the man sitting across the large mahogany desk, and what he had just been asked by him to do. Clean-shaven, sharp, almost chiseled features, and piercing blue eyes framed by short-cropped blond hair. Max Anders, CEO by day, Leader of one of the largest Parahuman Villain gangs on the East Coast by night.

"Yes," Max spoke. I need you to kill Lung. It should be easy enough. Lung is only a man before his powers let him ramp up, so to speak."

"Easier said than done. I've fought him, you've fought him. As long as he's even aware of a threat, he becomes… difficult." Brad wanted to say unkillable, since he basically was in a fight. The man had fought Leviathan to a stalemate after all. But it wasn't quite true, as nobody was truly invincible.

"At the end of the day though, he's just another chink with a mask." Kaiser- Max stood up, walking to one pane of the massive room-spanning window of his office. "Just like today. And let's just say that I know exactly where he will be, in a few hours."

Brad blinked. "How?"

The man shrugged. "I have my sources. An unexpected source, but a source nonetheless. I have reason to believe that the information is true regardless. A, prospective employee if you will, is in Brockton Bay to see about joining his little gang. He's going to interview her tonight."

Brad understood. "You want me to take him by surprise. Assassinate him."

"Yes. Although assassination is too… regal for the likes of Lung and his ilk. 'Pest Control' is a better way to describe it."

Brad was silent for a moment before standing himself. He walked over to Max alongside the window before speaking. "His death will probably cause the Empire a lot of issues."

"None I haven't anticipated."

"Another question: Why now?"

Max turned to look Brad in the eyes. "Do you watch or read the news any?"

"If nothing else is on." Basically true, when Brad ever felt like watching TV. Which was rare, as his preferred form of entertainment were more visceral than that of most people.

"Than you should realize that the world is changing. Very suddenly and very quickly. And it will pay to stay ahead of that change, Mr. Meadows."

Brad blinked. "The Endbringers."

"And the truce that went along with it." He walked back to his desk, and Brad followed. "The Endbringers are gone, and for all intents and purposes the Truce that brings Hero and Villain together to fight them is gone along with it. Do you understand what that means?" Max took a seat, and Brad did the same.

"Things get harder for everybody." A truthful answer. It was suddenly unfortunate that he never gave it any thought.

"Yes. A month ago the world was a different place, Mr. Meadows. And in a month it's changed faster than it has in decades. This balancing act, this 'Heroes versus Villains' game that the news agencies so love to talk about, it's only lasted as long as it has because of that Truce." Max steepled his fingers, leaning forward on his desk. "And it's all about to come to a screeching end. Say, can you tell me what's the largest Gang in Brockton Bay?"

The Empire Eighty-Eight, Brad was going to answer almost on reflex. But no. That's what his Lieutenants, Cricket and Stormtiger might have said. What the rank-and-file morons would have said. He knew the answer.

"The PRT, and by extension the Protectorate," he confidently answered after only a beat.

"And you are correct Mr. Meadows, as much a bitter pill you would think it would be for me to swallow, I acknowledge that we are second place. You might wonder why I say that, when we have more capes than even all of the Heroes in this city combined? Because the PRT is national. The Protectorate is national. If they suffer losses, they can replace those losses far better and far more quickly than we can our own.

"And if someone oversteps their bounds? Becomes too great a threat? Then they will call in outside help. Be it more Capes from Boston or New York or wherever, or even the Triumvirate. For all our bluster, even the Empire can't risk a pyrrhic fight like that." His eyes narrowed. "And that fight is soon coming, Mr. Meadows, which is why we need to become the dominant power in Brockton Bay as soon as possible."

Brad blinked as he came to a sudden conclusion. "Power consolidation. The Empire needs to stay off of the back-foot, and therefore it can't afford fighting on multiple fronts."

Max smirked. "As simple of an assessment as any. Yes, It's about time the Empire deals with the lessers of the city. As quickly and efficiently as possible. And while I will readily admit that it's been a long time coming, it's also because of extenuating circumstances. So tonight, You will kill Lung. and in the Coming days, help rid the rest of the city of it's, how should we say it… infestations."

"The Merchants?"

"They, among others. If they oppose the Empire, they will be destroyed. Or driven off, or removed from the picture. No matter how, the outcome is the same." He leaned back in his chair. "Now goodbye, Mr. Meadows, I leave you to your devices. Jessica will give you everything you need or need to know on the way out."

Likewise, Brad said his goodbyes, leaving the Empire's esteemed leader to his thoughts. As he promised, Fenja- Jessica, he reminded himself, was standing there by the door, a plain yellow envelope in hand. He took it with a nod and left, heading back to the elevator and the way he came in. He had a lot to think about, and already he was working on a plan.

"You want us to do what?"

Hookwolf stood in the dingy office of what had once been someone's place of legitimate business, years and years ago, now given over to dog kennels full of strays for his Dog-fighting rings. A just-as-dingy warehouse, in a corner of the territory he administered. Many of the members of the Empire had a stretch of territory given to them by Kaiser, either for one reason or another. Perhaps as a test of intelligence, to see if they had the capacity to command, or perhaps because they had a history or reputation in a given line of work. He'd once been a pit fighter, a glorified gladiator like Stormtiger and Cricket, two of his preferred Lieutenants. Now he had control over anything to do with the subject, be it animal - or human. But it wasn't those two who were standing in his office, in costume.

Meryl and Justin. Better known as Rune and Crusader, respectively. Brad had thought about how he would have preferred to end Lung, what Capes or personnel he would need. He'd seen the picture of the warehouse that Max had shown him, through where a substantial portion of the ABB's drugs were stored and moved to and from. A warehouse, almost like the one he stood in, only with drugs instead of dog kennels.

It even had the same skylight above the office. And Hookwolf knew how to kill the Dragon of the Bay. And the how was why he had the Empire's resident Flyers in his office. He had asked Kaiser for their assistance, and their Leader had presumably commanded them to come, and so they had. To not do so would mean displeasing their leader.

They two people standing before him weren't pit fighters by any stretch of the imagination, nor did they even look the part of a fighter whatsoever. Out of costume they looked almost pathetic. A high school kid and college student, side-by-side. Had they not already proven themselves to Kaiser in their own ways, he would have thrown them into the Pits as chattel or fodder for his more seasoned combatants. But they were members of the Empire and therefore his teammates, despite whatever disdain he might allow himself towards them. And tonight they would be proving themselves all the more.

"You will help me kill the Dragon, Lung," Hookwolf repeated. "I do not like repeating myself."

Meryl, better known as Rune, stood across from him and his desk. Justin, better known as Crusader, did the same. Both looked uncomfortable, and Hookwolf mused it was because of the present company they found themselves in, and not the decor. He liked to think that he had a way of being intimidating that way.

"Lung is the strongest Cape in the city," Rune started. "Not even the PRT could put him down-"

Hookwolf's eye twitched ever so slightly beneath his mask. As if he didn't know that. He disliked back-talk, but kept himself in check. "The Dragon's just a chink, outside of a fight. You can kill him as well as anyone else, before he 'ramps up'."

Crusader had yet to speak, remaining silent, pondering his new mission. The young man had always come off as a follower to Brad. Not much of a Leader to be had in him. Ironic, considering the nature of his powers. "You want us to act as a distraction for Oni Lee. Specifically me, because I can counter that teleporting bastard better than most."

"Clever. Yes, that is why I asked for you. And as for you Rune," he turned to face the teenager, "Your job is simple. Bring me to him, above him, and I will do the rest. Help Crusader deal with Oni Lee if he shows."

Rune nodded. "This warehouse," she asked, "Will he- will they be there?"

"Kaiser had good information. Whatever mole gave this to him," he tapped the map on the desk before him, "was sure of his presence. He will be there." As of late, the Dragon seldom went anywhere without his preferred Henchman. Oni Lee, the only other parahuman member of the so-called 'Azn Bad Boys' who had a penchant for using teleporting clones for suicide bombing. One of the more dangerous Capes in the Bay, to be fair.

"Okay. I- I'll help Crusader with Oni Lee, if it comes to it."

"Good. As for the overall plan, it is simple." Before Hookwolf and on his plain metal desk were the contents of the envelope Fenja had given him - a map of the city, with the location of Lung's drug safehouse circled in red. An aerial picture of the building with its skylight beside a diagram of its floor plan. A transcript of a phone conversation with someone that Hookwolf felt was probably from the PRT. And a grainy picture of a girl - young, plain and Asian, that gave the impression to Hookwolf it had been cropped out of a surveillance feed. She was in a crowd, a duffel bag over her shoulder. The time stamp on the picture was from the morning before - A new arrival to the Bay, coming to leave her mark upon it.

"Rune, you will fly us all to this place," Hookwolf tapped the red circle. As high as you feel is necessary to avoid unnecessary detection. Crusader, your role is simple: Deal with Oni Lee. Distract him long enough for me to kill the Dragon. If you are able to, kill him, and whoever this third Parahuman is."

Crusader was silent for a moment, before nodding. "I can do that."

"Excellent. Then I leave you to prepare yourselves, accordingly. Return here before sundown, and in costume." He sat down in his plush leather chair, to contemplate the coming battle. The two Capes took that as their cue to leave and they did so quickly, closing the office door behind them.

Lung. The Dragon. Hookwolf had to admit he didn't like him. But he didn't particularly hate him either. He had been from Kyushu, the island that the Leviathan had infamously sunk. Brad could almost relate to whoever the man was, beneath the mask in that regard - he too knew what it was like to lose one's home.

The Empire liked to dehumanize its opponents. Call them 'subhuman' and compare them to animals. The problem with that was one of arrogance. If you stopped considering your opponent to be human, you stopped treating them like one. And you then stopped thinking like one yourself when you fought them. You started underestimating them, and then they would destroy you.

Brad forced away those thoughts, and instead focused on what lay before him on his desk. He had preparations to make.

Sundown came quickly. Rush hour came and went, and soon the sun had set beneath the horizon and plunged the city into twilight. And soon enough, three Empire capes were floating through the sky, just beneath the clouds towards a spot deep inside ABB territory.

Hookwolf sat in the center of a section of ripped-up concrete sidewalk, held aloft by Rune's powers. He had asked for something substantial enough to support his wolf form for when he changed - as he had explained to Rune and Crusader, he would transform and then drop off of the slab from the sky and onto Lung. And, if everything went as intended, the Dragon would die before he realized what was happening.

Floating nearby, Rune and Crusader floated on their own, smaller platform. She was in her costume. It was skintight save for armored panels around the knees and elbows and torso, and a shade of dark red. Hookwolf didn't particularly like it, for some reason, and neither did Crusader apparently. the other Flyer had suggested to her earlier that she should go with green as it would be easier to see in the dark compared to red. And to perhaps go with something more akin to flowing robes that would better conceal the armored components of the costume, something that would more complement the 'wizard look' she claimed she was trying to capture. Hookwolf had only half-paid attention to the conversation, having been focused on his own thoughts.

After that though, they flew onward in silence, Rune focusing on flying them to their destination and Hookwolf readying himself for battle, psyching himself up as one might say. Crusader sat next to Rune, a pair of binoculars in his hands and to his eyes. They were a blocky affair, expensive and with some sort of night-vision capability. "Hookwolf, we are almost there, but we have a problem."

"Explain," Hookwolf commanded, before standing.

"I'm pretty sure that's Lung in the Office," Crusader spoke. "Two other people, and I'm pretty sure they're Oni Lee and that girl. But…"

"But?"

"There's a fourth person, a couple of buildings over on the rooftop. Might be a lookout of some sort."

"Who are they? A Cape?"

"Maybe." a pause as Crusader adjusted the binoculars. "Their costume's white, maybe gray. They're laying low, looks like they have a device of some sort. Tablet computer maybe."

In his head, Hookwolf ran through a list of Capes with white or gray costumes. In the Bay, the list was… interesting: They had Purity of course, who Hookwolf struck off immediately - she'd be flying in the air and not on the ground, and it was hard for her to hide with her particular power set. Occasionally the two idiots that called themselves Uber and Leet might put on something similar to what Crusader had described, but they always went out together. There was about two-thirds of New Wave with costumes like that, but he struck them off his list for the same reasons he did Purity - they were mostly Flyers with flashy powers. Which left some brat named Clockblocker, one of the Wards in the Protectorate. Which also didn't make any sense, since as far as he knew the Wards always traveled or patrolled in pairs. And they never came into the Docks, not without good reason.

"Deal with him or her after I drop," Hookwolf hissed. "If they aren't one of Lung's just talk or keep them distracted. If they are, deal with them, same as Oni Lee." He crouched down and let his body shift, let the metal flow across him and encase him. Let his true form out.

A monster, to slay a monster.

"Right Boss," Crusader said. "We'll go down and- oh shit."

"What happened?" Rune asked before Hookwolf could.

"Th- they just took out Oni Lee!" he exclaimed.

He was out of time. In seconds the Wolf gripped the platform, paws clutching at and digging into the edges, cracking them. "Deal with them," he repeated before he leapt off of the slab and dropping into the darkness towards the warehouse below.

He covered the distance quickly, falling silently towards his quarry. Only a layer of glass shielded the unprotected Dragon from his claws. He got closer and closer, seeing the Man himself at his desk, holding what looked like some sort of doll- Wait, what?

But he didn't have time to analyze what he was seeing as he crashed through the glass, his teeth and claws and blades sinking into his quarry as his tremendous mass and bulk sent them through the office floor and into the warehouse below. He frantically mauled at Lung all the while, desperate to kill the man but realized with dread that his attacks had nowhere near the effect they should have - Lung had already begun ramping up. And it wasn't because of him. They crashed into the warehouse floor, obliterating everything in the way - containers of stored drugs, wooden boxes and crates and packing pallets, most of a load-bearing wall that had been directly beneath the office. Debris from above crashed down as they impacted, burying them both in rubble as he and Lung were forced apart by the impact.

He'd failed to kill the Dragon. He was already ramping up, his healing factor having insulated him against the worst of his strikes. Something had caused him alarm, a source of danger. The Cape on the rooftop? If so, they would die a gruesome death at his hands for causing him unnecessary difficulty. No, wait... he had been holding… something, something oddly familiar…

Hookwolf shrugged the debris pinning him to the floor off, and he craned his neck around, seeking out Lung. He could still end the man if he killed him quickly enough, crush and mangle his head or rip it from his body. They had fallen through the floor of the office and into the warehouse below, crushing and splintering empty and rotted wooden crates. He saw the man himself then, digging his own way out of the rubble and moved to lunge-

And then he saw it, standing off to the side. And Hookwolf nearly recoiled as a jolt of fear went through him.

The Behemoth. It stood, head nearly touching the remnants of the underside of the office above. It regarded Lung, watching with its single bale eye. Even as…

Even as it munched on a take-out tray of food. It was… almost comical. Almost wrong.

And then reality finally caught up to Hookwolf, the analytical part of his brain catching up as he realized the thing before him couldn't be the real Behemoth: It was too small, and that so-called 'kill aura' they said the Behemoth possessed would have killed Hookwolf and probably Lung where they stood. This… this was a trick. A projection or illusion of some sort.

Lung stood up, glaring at Hookwolf, even as he bristled and grew ever-larger against the third unexpected threat. The three of them stood there, in a sort of triangle. The Dragon, the Wolf… and the Monster. None quite willing at that moment to make the first move.

The not-Behemoth had finished its meal, noisily munching and growling as its mouth worked to swallow whatever the take-out tray had been full of. Its head pivoted to look at Lung, before turning to look at Hookwolf. For a brief moment, everything seemed to slow. And then the not-Behemoth roared as it began bounding towards him.

Hookwolf reacted, countless hooks bristling in his metal body as he lunged in turn, crossing the space between them in a single bound before wrapping steel claw and tooth around the fake. He would deal with it, then deal with Lung- He could hear the man laughing nearby. He was going to kill that chink so goddamn much.

Only his attacks had practically no effect, as his hooks dug and cut and spun into the not-Behemoth only to be met with a flurry of sparks. And the not-Behemoth simply roared, not in what Hookwolf felt was pain…

But glee. They crashed together through another wall, debris raining down onto them, and of the three of them the wall fared the worst. The not-Behemoth, even as he did his best to slay it, merely wrapped its arms and legs around him and dug its maw into his shoulder. And then he began to feel chunks of his metal body simply disappear, one bite at a time as the monster gnawed on him. And then Hookwolf realized, in terror, what was happening - the not-Behemoth was eating him, even as his claws and hooks had absolutely no effect.

Hookwolf struggled to break contact, to get away from this… this Monster. It was roaring in happiness, Hookwolf instinctively realized with dread as it seemed to like what it was eating and wanted more. He felt them careen through another wall and sensed some of the warehouse's structure give way, but he didn't care as he had to get away, he had to get away get away get away-

He got his chance, managing to squirm and twist away from the monster, bodily launching himself through a rolling door and into the street beyond. He felt himself having been reduced by the Monster as he rolled to all fours, his metal body having shrunk by nearly half. He looked over his shoulder - what was left of it - to see the Monster, with a stuffed mouthful of his own hooks bounding towards him with renewed vigor.

He bolted in terror, away from it and into the Docks, what was left of his tail between his legs as he fled into the night.

Spoiler: Author's Notes:

Last edited: Dec 10, 2017

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TheMadmanAndre

Nov 1, 2017

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Dec 10, 2017

#3,898

2-7

"How? How the fuck are you a hero!?"

It explained everything.

Absolutely everything.

Why her tormentors never, ever got in trouble for bullying and borderline torturing her. Why the school faculty did their best to ignore her, rather than help her in any way. Why all of her attempts to get help fell on deaf ears. Why it always seemed as if somebody was protecting them.

Were the Heroes protecting her? Had they covered up the locker? Swept her under the rug, to protect their reputation?

It… almost made sense. A sick, perverted sort of sense. "You're a Ward?" Taylor asked, her anger growing more and more palpable. "You're a Ward and they let you do all of that to me?"

Sophia hesitated for an instant before she drew her crossbow from her back, bringing it down to aim at Taylor and shifting to her shadow state as she did. Or she tried to as Benny lunged, tackling her mid-jump and knocking her to the ground. She struggled as Benny wrapped his arms and claws around her, holding even her shadow form in place and growling angrily all the while he rolled himself to a sitting position. "Let me go!" she screamed. "Let me go you fucking monster!' Benny utterly dwarfed her in comparison - Sophia wasn't going anywhere, not with her other Friends around either.

Taylor trembled, eyes stinging as tears began to well up. "Monster," she almost whispered. "No." She strode up to the pinned Sophia, grabbing her mask and ripping it from her face and casting it aside, the object clattering away in the firelight. "Two years. Two years you've tried and succeeded to make my life a living hell." Taylor was struggling to reign in her emotions - her friends were angry, her emotions bleeding through the tethers to them all. "Give me a reason not to give it all back to you, right the fuck now."

Sophia just struggled. "What the hell are these?"

"My Friends."

"Really Hebert? You're friends with fucking Endbringers? How much of a pathetic fucking wimp can you possibly be to preten-" She was cut off as Benny's claws dug into her costume, electricity arcing between them. Sophia howled in pain as she flickered in and out of her shadow state, and a part of Taylor was left wondering why the light zaps were having such an effect. But she couldn't care less at the moment.

"Rawr!" Zap!

"Yeah. Benny, if she keeps struggling, 'zap' her some more."

Simmie floated over, coming to a rest by Taylor's side. Bad Person, she chirped, visibly angry. Levi likewise sauntered up, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the angelic teenager. Hurt? He asked, leveling a single claw at the still-defiant Sophia.

He wasn't asking if she was hurt.

"No, not right now." Taylor became increasingly aware of the still-burning fires from the wrecked and ruined buildings nearby. "And yeah, she's very, very bad." Taylor leaned in towards her, eyes settling on Sophia's.

"Bad?" Sophia spat back through clenched teeth. "Says the wimp who makes Endbringers with her powers."

"Wimp. You keep saying that." Taylor reached down, picking up the discarded crossbow that Sophia had dropped when Benny grabbed her. Holding it in her hands and looking down at it in disdain, Taylor twisted, the metal and polymer of the weapon straining until it gave as the weapon simply crumpled in her grasp. "Reality check Sophia, I'm not a wimp. I never was."

Sophia scowled. "You never fought back," she hissed.

Taylor leaned in, looming over her. "You weren't worth it."

Sophia said nothing. She only spat on Taylor, spittle harmlessly impacting her blank mask.

Taylor chose not to react right then, only stepping back to where she previously was, discarding the mess of metal and plastic that had been the crossbow as she did. "You know, I told them about you, how you and Emma and Madison bullied me on a daily basis. They all wanted to rip the three of you limb from limb." She gestured up to her largest friend, still growling. "They care for me that much. And Benny here," she pointed up at her Friend holding Sophia, "he's still wanting to do that. But I told them that that would be the worst thing to do, that killing you would solve nothing. However," and she looked up at her first Friend. "Benny?"

"Rawr?" Yes?

Taylor pointed to Sophia's head, and her tightly-braided hair, tied back into a bun. "Her hair. Nibble."

"Rawr!" Nibble! Sophia's eyes went wide and she started to struggle and scream, just as Benny's mouth latched onto her head, chewing on her braids.

Sophia liked those braids, thought they were so much better than her own hair. Emma had bragged about how much better their hair was compared to Taylor's. Punishment enough. She turned back to the ruins of the former warehouse and nearby buildings, the fires started by Lung beginning to spread, and began to think. If heroes were on their way...

"Levi," she called over to her Friend.

Yes? He was quick to reply, eyes glittering in the firelight as he watched his brother nibble.

"Can you put the fires out? Before the whole city goes up?" Taylor gestured to the nearby fires.

Extinguish, Levi spoke with a nod and darted off, bounding towards the nearest growing blaze. As he plodded along water materialized around him, condensed from the air.

It occurred to Taylor then that with the exception of Simmie, none of her Friends had really used their powers or abilities when fighting the Supervillains earlier. A testament to their self control? Or perhaps simply that they were more than capable of using their innate strength and sheer toughness most of the time, without resorting to their various extra powers? Something to think about for another time. "And Simmie?"

She had been floating close by, merely passively watching Sophia become Benny's new chew toy. She seemed pleased at least, with the turn of events as she turned and looked at Taylor, acknowledging her with a chirp. "The villains we left on the rooftop earlier; could you go get them for me? I don't think it would be a good idea to leave them up there."

Yes! she chirped, flying off into the sky and arcing over to the rooftops nearby. Leaving just Taylor, an unconscious Lung, Bomb Girl, and of course Benny and Sophia, the latter reduced to a sobbing wretch in the former's clutches.

Sophia Hess. Shadow Stalker. She looked at the mask on the ground with disdain. Hadn't they called it a 'stern woman's visage' on the PHO Forums? 'Playing on Shadow Stalker's nature as an Antihero,' was something else she seemed to recall. They had to have known, the PRT and Protectorate, that she was a terrible person. Why else would they try to build a character around it?

Wait... Come to think of it, Shadow Stalker would have only been a Ward for a handful of months, if she remembered correctly from what little research she had actually done. Didn't she join the Wards sometime in the middle of last year? Yet again that day, she found herself regretting her lack of focus into the local cape scene...

Taylor set her musings aside for later. Simmie was the first to dart back, three villains wrapped carefully in her many wings. She set them down neatly atop the other two before setting upon the task of preening her wings, and it was all Taylor could do to keep from gawking at the sight of it - in one night, on her first night out, she had made a decent dent in one major gang and wiped out another in its entirety. It… It was just…

Fun! Simmie finished for her with a happy chirp. Well, 'fun' was one way of describing her day so far, even if she didn't quite think so. 'Chaotic' might have been more appropriate, and justified with how everything on the street had either been demolished or set on fire. Levi trotted back soon after, a veritable sphere of water having formed over his head. No more fire, he announced triumphantly. From the sudden absence of firelight on the street, it was clear that he had made efficient work of Lung's mess.

"Thanks Levi. You did good." Levi walked over and lowered his head, and Taylor couldn't help but reach up to scratch between his eyes.

With the last of the fires sputtering out and inky darkness returned to the street, Taylor became aware of how dark it had gotten. Save for what light was cast by a nearby solitary streetlamp - miraculously somehow the last one still lit on the street - it had become eerily dark. Only the thin sliver of a moon above, peeking through scattered clouds offered any additional illumination.

Which made it all the more jarring when she heard the rumbling sound of an approaching motorcycle, the distinct electric hum of the motor signifying to whom the bike belonged to: Armsmaster, the leader of the Brockton Bay Protectorate. Sophia had been telling the truth about that. Taylor looked at the pile of unconscious Villains. At her Friends, Simmie preening her wings carefully, Levi fixated on his newfound ball of water, giving it an occasional swipe to send it lazily spinning in the air. Benny, still nibbling on a sobbing Sophia. This… wasn't going to look good to anybody.

She didn't have any time to think further on what to do, as the motorcycle sped around the corner and the Heroes arrived, and her vision was filled with the blinding light from the bike's headlamp. Even through the glare Taylor could still see the occupants - Armsmaster, recognizable in his armor and Miss Militia, seated behind him. Around her, her Friends looked towards the approaching heroes and Simmie even meekly waved. Yep, definitely not going to look good.

Friends/Opponents/Snacks? They asked.

"I don't know," Taylor replied. "I hope they're not here to fight."

The bike came to a stop, and Taylor watched as Armsmaster and Miss Militia dismounted, wary of those assembled before them. Considering her present company they had every right to at least be that. She regarded Armsmaster, now clearly visible to her: Tall, imposing, seemingly immovable in his power armor. Miss Militia seemed almost diminutive standing next to him. In any other universe, she imagined the old cape geek in her would have probably swooned, standing before them. At least before learning about who Sophia was.

Right now, they looked… well, Taylor couldn't really tell. From their body language, wary would be the word she'd use. She didn't blame them.

"Are you hostile?" Armsmaster questioned, his armored visage panning across Taylor and her Friends behind her. Across the villain pile, which was moaning a little now.

And across Benny and a still-sobbing Sophia, the former still nibbling on the latter's hair.

She saw his hand go to the halberd on his back. "Please release Shadow Stalker," he immediately ordered.

Well shit. Taylor grimly realized that she really should have had Benny let Sophia go before the heroes arrived. "Benny?" she asked, looking over her shoulder to him.

"Rggrrhf?" Yes?

"Let Sophia go."

"Rggrhf!" Let go! Without hesitation he let the bully go, Sophia simply collapsing to the ground with her hair an unrecognizable mess, thoroughly singed and covered in Benny-slobber. It was all the once-bully could do to pull herself into a fetal position, her sobs growing muted as she did. She had seen a brief look of surprise flash across Miss Militia's face, perhaps when she spoke Sophia's name.

"Thank you," Armsmaster said. He looked from Benny, to Sophia on the ground and back to Taylor. "Again, hero or villain?"

"Hero," Taylor stated. Now's not a good time to say anything else.

"Why have you assaulted and unmasked a Ward?"

Taylor looked down at Sophia. Looked back up to the hero. She almost felt pity for her. Not really. "It's complicated." Which was sort of true.

The hero grimaced. "Then I'm going to have to ask you to explain yourself in full." His hand didn't move from the halberd. And considering the appearances of Taylor's Friends... Yeah, she'll explain herself.

"Sophia and I have a… history," Taylor started. "She's bullied me in school, among other things." Taylor managed to catch brief looks of surprise on what little of the heroes' faces that were visible.

It was Taylor's turn to be surprised. "You aren't lying," the hero spoke after a pause. "Do you have a name, miss…"

"I don't have a cape name, not yet."

Armsmaster nodded. "Okay. Are you and your.. projections I assume, willing to come to the PRT headquarters then? To explain what exactly is going on in full?"

Projections? She could go with that. "I think that..." Wait.

"No," Taylor replied. "I don't know what you know about Sophia. If you knew what she did to me and, and…" She balled her fists, hostility creeping into her voice. "No. I stay here."

Armsmaster opened his mouth, closed it, seeming all of a sudden to be at a loss for words. Miss Militia then spoke up for the first time, picking up the slack. "Look, we're all off to a bad start here," she began. "Whatever Shadow Stalker did to you, you can explain it to us in detail and maybe we can figure out what to do from there-"

"A bad start?" Taylor shot back. "Do you have any idea of the hell she put me through for most of two years?" she jabbed a finger at the sobbing girl on the ground. "Or if you did, would you even care?"

She was shouting now, at Sophia on the ground. At the heroes. At… the whole universe. Her Friends were now visibly angry, Simmie was scowling at the two heroes with her arms crossed, Levi's ball of water began spinning faster and faster, Benny was growling louder.

And then Armsmaster drew his halberd and brought it to bear, the weapon telescoping to its full length. And from Taylor's perspective, everything went to crap.

Armsmaster had tried to say something, but never even had the chance to as Simmie hurled him across the street with her telekinesis. Miss Militia reacted, stepping back and away from Taylor and her Friends while the grenade launcher that had previously occupied her back reformed into her hands as a massive rifle of some sort. She took aim at Levi but before she could fire Taylor's Friend was upon her as Levi swiped her legs out from her with a well-placed strike from his tail, even as a tentacle of water lashed away her weapon.

Armsmaster meanwhile was up on his feet, taking aim at Levi with his halberd as the head detached and rocketed towards Taylor's Second Friend. Levi only had time to look towards the incoming projectile before it knocked him away, back towards Taylor and the rest.

"Rawr!" Fight! Benny declared, bounding towards Armsmaster in his usual hopping gait with his stubby arms outstretched towards the Hero, who had somehow found a replacement for the head of his weapon and was bringing it to bear. Likewise, Levi was back on his feet, bounding back towards Miss Militia, who now was once again sporting the grenade launcher from before.

"Don't hurt them!" Taylor shouted, not sure if she was even talking to her Friends or the Heroes. Or both. Simmie hung close by her, levitating the now discarded halberd in front of her. Taylor was briefly distracted away from the abrupt fighting by the object as Simmie seemed to study the levitating object. "We need to get out of here."

Yes, Simmie chirped. Teleporter! She took hold of the halberd head, gesturing to Taylor with it.

"What do you mean by that?"

Home! Simmie declared, and before her eyes the halberd began to shimmer as Simmie worked her powers on it.

"And what do you mean by ho-" Taylor managed to say, before the world abruptly vanished around her to be replaced by momentary blackness. Only to be suddenly replaced, with the sound of a loud pop, with her house's living room.

Taylor couldn't keep herself from stumbling from genuine shock as she tripped forward into the coffee table and nearly tumbled over it before Simmie saved her from calamity with her outstretched wings. Levi appeared next with a pop, having apparently been mid-leap when he appeared as he went sailing from one side of the room to the other before crashing into her dad's chair with a loud 'ooph!' Wait.

Taylor looked at Levi. He'd grown four extra limbs? No. Oh no.

Levi had crashed into her dad, she realized in horror. Her dad, who had been sitting there, probably dozing and waiting for her to come home before Levi had unceremoniously tackled him. Judging from his abrupt flailing he at least seemed to be okay, as he struggled to push Levi off of him. And then he stopped, as he got a good look at what was lying on him. And then Simmie. And then her, his daughter, in costume.

Levi then lowered his head and gently nuzzled her dad's cheek. Kiss, Taylor heard him say.

And then her dad started screaming.

He shouted and thrashed, trying to push Levi away.

"Dad, I can explain!" Taylor all but shouted, her hands going to her mask and trying to pull it off to no avail. She gave up and instead willed her costume to transform into her normal appearance. "I can explain, just- don't panic, please." At the same time she willed her friends to shrink back to their normal sizes, energy flowing back up through their tethers to her in a rush.

He stopped screaming and struggling as Levi shrank into his lap and looked directly at her. "Taylor? Is- is that you?"

Taylor didn't have a chance to reply. A final pop was heard, and she bore witness to a loudly-roaring something appearing above the couch and flying across the room before crashing into the wall above the staircase with a loud crunch.

Taylor recognized what it was almost immediately - Armsmaster's helmet. It fell, clattering down the stairs before landing upright at the base and revealing Benny, now stuck in the wall butt-first.

Benny's arms and legs waved comically from where he was embedded in the drywall. He looked up, away from his prize and towards Taylor, a giant grin on his face. "Rawr!" Beard Man! He declared.

Taylor sagged her head, brought her hands to meet her face and started to sob.

They sat on opposite sides of the dining room table, father and daughter.

Taylor's school bag lay propped up against the chair next to her, her hands resting on the table atop her mask. It had actually been trivial to remove it once she- once they had calmed down - all she had had to do was to think about it coming off and it began to retract and separate from the rest of her costume. Presumably the same would apply for the rest of her outfit. She didn't really want to take it off not at the moment and not at all, really, what with the instant curves and female figure it provided her. Her Friends, back in their tiny forms and perched on her shoulders, were there to provide her comfort and support. Levi nuzzled against her neck, Benny was likewise gently hugging her as best as his tiny size could. Simmie had perched right next to Levi, hiding behind her wings from her dad.

Her dad. His head rested in one had as it massaged his temple, the other lay on the table. Taylor noticed the plates laid out, presumably for dinner when she eventually came home - he'd probably had had a good day at work. Taylor also noticed that the note she left for him on the fridge was gone from the fridge. Considering the odd hint he had left her that morning before leaving to work, Taylor wondered what exactly he had expected to find out when she came home. She doubted he was expecting this though.

"So, Taylor, you're a…" Her dad stammered. "You're a Parahuman."

Here she was, finally telling him, she thought, terrified. What was fighting supervillains and local heroes so easy compared to this?

"Taylor?" He asked again.

She finally nodded. "Y- yeah."

"So, the locker…"

"Yeah. I… I got powers then." More like Friends. Taylor felt a lump rise in her throat. Her friends hugged her more tightly than before, no doubt picking up on her distress. She would have found it comical in another time and place - she could command her Friends fearlessly, but she cowered in terror at holding a conversation with her own dad.

"You could have told me."

"I…" Taylor started before trailing off, trying to think of something to say. It was hard, given the circumstances, but she managed. "...didn't want to scare you."

To her surprise she heard a low chuckle from her dad. "Well you managed that already a little while ago."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, kiddo," He replied. "Hell of a way to wake up though, getting kissed by the Leviathan."

"I…" She kept trailing off. "His name is Levi," she spoke after a brief moment of silence, reaching up with a hand to scratch Levi's flank. "The guy on my other shoulder is Benny, and last but not least is Simmie. I thought I'd give them cute names, proper names. Something better than... calling them by the order they showed up and…" she stopped herself. "Well, Dad, they're my Friends, and I hope you can get along."

"Well speaking of, I remember him, and her-" he pointed to Simmie, "being a bit, well, bigger when I first saw them."

"Oh yeah, my friends can change their sizes," Taylor replied. "When Levi accidentally tackled you I thought he might have hurt you."

"Friends," her dad spoke. "So, after you were… trapped in the locker…"

"They showed up," Taylor finished. "Well, Simmie showed up first, right outside my locker. She actually got me out if it." Her hand moved over to Simmie, scratching her wings. Her tiny winged friend chirped in Satisfaction as she did.

"And the other two, dare I ask?"

"Levi… appeared while I was in the Hospital. He showed up outside the window, walking around on the glass, trying to figure out how to get inside." Taylor chuckled, remembering the sight. She had been almost as startled as her dad had been earlier, waking up to see Levi looking at her. "And Benny, well… remember when I came home, the first day?"

Danny nodded. "I remember you were in a good mood when I came home that evening, yes... I thought that, well," he went silent. "I'll let you finish."

"Benny showed up, about an hour after you left. He was scratching on the outside of the kitchen door to the backyard. I opened it and, well, there he was, covered in mud and happy to see me. He'd apparently dug his way up out of the backyard, from… somewhere." A rumbling sort of burble from Benny, as he rubbed his face into her shoulder.

"Yeah," Danny said. "I asked you about that too. You claimed it was a stray cat." He chuckled again, "well, it all explains a lot."

Taylor hung her head just a bit lower. "I… was starting to suspect you knew. I didn't know how much. I was terrified that you'd probably have a heart attack or something. I… needed time to think. To figure out how to tell you, and I guess Simmie here figured it out for me."

"Yeah. Well Taylor, I thought you'd found a… well, actually, I might as well just show you." He got up then, walking to the pantry just off of the kitchen. He leaned in just enough to fetch a bag off of the shelf, before bringing it back to the table and setting it down.

Taylor recognized it immediately. And suddenly understood the implications. "You bought… a bag of puppy chow?"

Her dad nodded. "I thought you had found a dog, Taylor. I thought you found a puppy. I saw the hole in the backyard, and I've been finding… scratches and chew marks here and there, on the kitchen counters and furniture. And there was the other night, when I heard you in the bathroom playing, and, and…" he trailed off, bringing a hand to his face. "I came to the wrong conclusion."

Taylor was going to reply but before she could get the chance to, Benny - whose tiny red eye now glittered as he gazed at the bag of pet food - hopped with a cute roar off of Taylor's shoulder. He landed on two feet onto the table and began immediately plodding towards the bag of food before bodily tackling it, tipping it over as he did. "Rawr!" Tasty Snack!

Her dad watched Benny, all but speechless. "I think you've made a friend, dad."

"I…" He sagged back into the chair, as Benny continued to cuddle the bag of dog food. "They're a handful, aren't they?"

"Yeah. They've gotten into a little bit of trouble already."

A silent moment. "Such as?" her dad said.

"We…" Oh. Oops. Well, no going back now. "We… might have fought some supervillains?"

Taylor watched the color start to drain from his face. "Might have?"

"Umm…" Fuck it, just tell him everything. "Yeah. A while ago, before I suddenly appeared in the living room, I- no, we ended up fighting Lung and Oni Lee. And a Tinker they were trying to recruit."

The color continued to drain from his face. "Also Benny might have, umm, nibbled on Hookwolf some. And Simmie and Levi fought some others."

Her dad was white as a bedsheet and his eyes as wide as they could possibly be. His head finally sagged to his hands. "'Nibbled.' The ABB and the Empire."

"I… yeah," Taylor replied. "But we beat them! And none of us even got hurt, We even left them for the..." Oh yeah, she almost forgot about them. The Protectorate. Armsmaster and Miss Militia and...

Yeah.

"Dad, I… I ended up fighting the heroes too. And I figured out why the school didn't do anything to my bullies."

He looked up at her. "Heroes? The school? What do you mean Taylor?"

"One of the…" She briefly wondered if she was breaking some sort of law telling her dad. Considering how well the law had helped her as of late, she decided she didn't care. "One of the Wards, Shadow Stalker, goes to Winslow. She... " Taylor took a deep breath before finishing. "Her name is Sophia Hess, and she was one of the people that put me in the locker. And I think the heroes knew."

Taylor was afraid of how her dad would react. If he'd explode, if not at her than… something. Taylor knew her dad had had a temper, something that made her coming out and telling him almost scary. But thankfully, it seemed that his self control won out.

"Taylor…" he trailed off, and wa silent for a long moment as she watched him simply sit there and think, head in his hands. "I… I am so sorry. For all of this. You… you don't deserve this, any of this."

Taylor said nothing in reply. She was at a loss for words at the moment. It took her another moment to find something to say. "No dad, I'm sorry. About tonight, and, everything."

"You mentioned heroes," he said. "I suppose this has to do with the things on the coffee table in the living room?"

Armsmaster's helmet and halberd. "Yeah," she nodded. Admittedly she had probably made a horrible first impression on them, what with fighting them and stealing their stuff, even unintentionally. Even if on the chance they didn't know about Sophia…

"Yeah. I, my friends…" Taylor drew a breath. "I didn't want to fight them. Everything happened so quickly. If it wasn't for Simmie here, I don't know what would have been."

"Did- did they hurt you?"

"No dad, they didn't. They never even got the chance to."

He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry."

"I'm okay dad," she tried to encourage him. "I've got friends to lean on. And I got my dad too." She scratched Levi's side again, and felt him cuddle her hand back. "And as for Winslow, there's no way I'll ever set foot in that place ever again. At this point, I think I'd rather drop out." She heard a tiny chirp of Encouragement and Happiness from Simmie on her shoulder.

"I… don't know," he replied. "I don't think your Mom would have appreciated you saying that."

Taylor was briefly taken aback. "Yeah, you're right. But I don't know what else to do. I have my Friends to take care of, and they hated it when I was gone even for a few hours and..." her head dropped down. "I'm so tired, dad."

Taylor heard his chair pushed back, before suddenly feeling his arms wrap around her. "I'm here kiddo," she hear him say. "And I think the little ones are too now I guess." A pause. "You're not the only one that's… feeling overwhelmed."

"Dad?"

He straightened up. "I think we should both get some rest. It's… probably been a long day for you, and me. We… we can talk more in the morning about, well, all of this."

"Okay dad," she made to stand up. "And thanks, for not freaking out."

"I think I did, for a moment there," he replied. "But Taylor?"

"Yeah dad?"

"They…" he gestured to her Friends on her shoulder and to their brother on the table, still cuddling the pet food, "Aren't the actual, you know…"

She knew what he was implying. "I don't know, dad." She felt Simmie float to the top of her head to curl up. "Even if they used to be monsters and nightmares to people, they've been better friends to me in the last few weeks than anyone else ever has. They're my Friends now, first and foremost, and they're here for me. And you too, dad," she smiled. "I won't let them hurt anybody if you're worried, not unless they try to harm me or you first."

"I…" he started, before rubbing his forehead. "Alright. I'll take that answer Taylor. I trust you to take care of them. So let's both get some sleep. And Taylor, thanks for telling me, even if you were scared and worried."

She nodded, before standing up herself and looking over to Benny, who was still hugging his newfound snacks. "Alright Benny, you've eaten enough things today." Some of which I'll wait to tell dad about," she thought the last bit to herself. On command Benny hopped up, before plodding over to hop onto her outstretched hand. But not before stopping to look at her dad. "Rawr!" Dad Man! He exclaimed with a wave of a stubby arm.

Danny blinked. "I'm going to assume he says thank you?"

Taylor nodded, letting Benny climb back up her shoulder. "He does. Like I said, friend for life."

"Well, go get some sleep kiddo, I'll talk again in the morning."

"Breakfast?"

"Of course."

"G'nite dad." With that, she fetched her mask and school bag and turned to leave the dining room, her Friends on her shoulders. Wearily she climbed the stairs and walked into her room - it had felt like days since she'd last been home, rather than the mere hours it really was.

Her friends hopped off of her shoulders and landed on the bed, or in Simmie's case floated down to settle in, while Taylor went about fussing over the rest of her costume, willing the strange silvery fabric to relax. She was relieved when it came off at her command, that it really was as easy as taking off her mask. She stripped out of the garments and her bracelets and her shoes, letting them pool around her ankles in a small pile of silvery cloth and metal next to her discarded backpack.

Nightgown! Simmie chirped, helpfully fetching one from her closet with a smile on her face.

"Thanks," Taylor replied as she took the proffered garment and slipped it on. "Simmie, I have a question for you."

Question? She chirped.

Taylor nodded, sitting down on the bed. "It's about… earlier, when we fought the two heroes. Armsmaster and Miss Militia. You- well we sort of attacked them first."

Simmie chirped in embarrassment. Mistake?

"I- I hope not." Taylor reached up to stroke Simmie's wings. "I just hope we don't end up being the bad guys here."

Simmie looked up at her, with her large eyes it was easy to see the worry and concern painted on her miniscule face. Would have hurt you, Simme chirped. She floated up to hug her neck with her wings. Protect.

Taylor smiled, satisfied with her explanation. "If you say so Simmie. And as for all of you, I… I want to thank you all, for today."

Gratitude? Levi asked quizzically, looking up at her.

"Yeah. I, umm, this was a… really hectic and chaotic day." She sagged into bed, reaching to pull the comforter up. "I, no, we made some friends, maybe. I found out a… a lot of crap, about everything. We fought some actual supervillains. And Benny ate barrels of nuclear waste."

"Rawr!" Glow snack! She felt him curl up next to her shoulder, felt Contentment and Happiness from not just him but Levi and Simmie as well, as they all settled in for the night next to her.

"Yeah. I mean, not just that, but the Heroes too. I…" she trailed off. "Armsmaster's helmet and his halberd-thing are on our coffee table and…" she sighed. "It's a mess. But I got you guys."

Protect, Levi spoke. His head nuzzled her chin. Safe! Simme likewise declared.

"Yeah," Taylor replied with a yawn, feeling drowsy. "I'm just going to worry about everything else tomorrow. Good night guys."

Her dreams weren't exactly pleasant. But they weren't horrible. With her friends at her side they never would be ever again.

Spoiler: Author's Notes:

Last edited: Nov 29, 2018

978

TheMadmanAndre

Dec 10, 2017

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Threadmarks Interlude 5

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Mar 19, 2018

#4,319

Spoiler: Author's Preface

Interlude V

Emily

Director Piggot closed her eyes, leaned back in her chair and tried to pretend that nothing bad had happened that day. That the city's entire villain population had all collectively turned themselves in. That her department had received all of the additional funding it it so desperately needed. That her kidneys had magically fixed themselves so she could feel comfortable with downing the entire bottle of bourbon in the bottom drawer of her desk without worrying about messy health complications like toxic shock or sudden painful death.

Except, it was all a lie to herself. Wishful thinking and delusions and all sorts of flights of fancy. Whimsy, trying to distract her from the grim reality that had befallen her and her subordinates and the whole goddamn city. A grim reality that only tangentially included the apparent toxic waste dump just discovered downtown. She leaned forward, bringing her hands to her temples while massaging them, realizing to a degree that the sheer impact of what had befallen her had still yet to fully sink in. "Explain to me Armsmaster," she began, "how it took you almost a full day to inform me that there's a cape loose in my city making replica Endbringers."

Across the desk from her stood Armsmaster and Miss Militia, the first and second ranking Protectorate heroes in Brockton Bay. The former stood at parade rest, trying to look as stoic as possible for someone in his unfortunate position while Miss Militia stood more relaxed. Piggot noted that Armsmaster was wearing a different helmet from his usual; an older helmet, the one he wore before upgrading to his current helmet. Piggot wanted to know the reason for the sudden downgrade, and she suspected she was about to find out.

"Yesterday, we became aware of a potential new parahuman in Brockton Bay. The sensors aboard the rig detected what at first glance appeared to be a battle of some sort between capes, as I am sure you were aware of."

She recalled the day before, ordering the man before her to investigate the happenings at the Boat Graveyard. "Yes. Continue."

He nodded. "Upon sweeping and investigating the immediate area and analyzing the… signs of battle, I came to the conclusion that that was not the case."

"Not the case?"

"It wasn't a battle," Miss Militia said. "It… appeared to be a test of some sort. Either of one's Powers, or their… their creations."

"So a cape testing their powers? A master or a tinker?" Piggot asked.

"Yes, but not exactly as we later discovered," Armsmaster began. "Earlier today I paid a visit to Winslow High School. It was a part of the Wards tour I arranged to be conducted today, and my intent was to perhaps show our mystery cape that joining the Wards had advantages and merit. I was also seeking out information regarding their student body. I also did the same at some of the larger schools, but it seems I found what I needed at Winslow: Information regarding students matching a physical description I had come to a determination about last night, based on evidence left at the Boat Graveyard. Upon an interview with Shadow Stalker at the time, as well as a conversation with Dragon, I…" The man took a long deep breath, before continuing. "I determined the potential identity of the cape in question."

Piggot grimaced, the files on her desk open The one at the very top was a school record, with the picture of a teenage girl on it. Taylor Hebert. Student at Winslow High. And she was shaping up to be the source of one of the biggest headaches she had ever had since becoming a PRT Director. "Before you explain the rest of today to me further, what is the connection between this Hebert girl and Sophia Hess?"

Armsmaster grimaced. "I managed to go over all of the documents we assembled in full and… there is a lot. Taylor Hebert, currently codenamed 'Tiamat', was apparently a victim of a two-year long bullying campaign perpetrated by Shadow Stalker in her civilian identity as well as two civilian accomplices, and we suspect that it was during a recent incident of this campaign that Miss Hebert triggered."

Piggot was silent for a long moment, as she contemplated what she had heard. A Ward had made a student trigger. "The details, please."

"I discovered that Hess and her accomplices forced Miss Hebert into a school locker filled with, as the relevant police report put it, 'used feminine hygiene products.' She was locked inside of it for several hours, until someone presumably released her."

"Presumably?"

"We don't know. The school's janitor found her lying outside of her locker. In all likelihood it was a good samaritan."

"Presumably." More unknowns. "And what of this evening's events?"

A beat, before Armsmaster resumed speaking. "Several hours ago, console received an urgent message from Shadow Stalker," Armsmaster began. "She had separated from Clockblocker and had broken away from her designated patrol route to, and I quote, 'check something out at a warehouse,' unquote. She was then witness to a sudden battle between the Empire 88 capes Hookwolf, Rune and Crusader and Lung and his associate Oni Lee, as well as an unidentified cape currently in our custody."

"Keep going."

"Said battle appears to have been interrupted by Tiamat and her… minions, who proceeded to make short work of all of the Capes present with the exception of Hookwolf, who managed to escape and remains at large."

Five Capes. In a single night and most likely her first night out, Taylor Hebert had single-handedly wiped out the ABB's Cape presence and dealt a major blow against the Empire. And the how of it… "When did you and Miss Militia arrive?"

"Miss Militia and I were on patrol when we were contacted by Shadow Stalker and informed of the ongoing events. I ordered her to not interfere and wait for our arrival. We proceeded there immediately and arrived to find Tiamat and her Endbringer creations there waiting for us."

"And Stalker?"

"She was, ahh, detained by one of Tiamat's creations," Miss Militia spoke. "The one that resembled Behemoth was holding onto her and… chewing on her hair."

Piggot sighed heavily. Attacking and apparently unmasking a Ward was a serious offense. But if even a portion of what she did to this 'Tiamat' was true? "How did Miss Hebert come to determine Shadow Stalker's identity? And what are her reasons for ignoring her orders not to engage?"

Both Miss Militia and Armsmaster glanced at one another. "Presumably, through conversation. And as for her ignoring orders, we've yet to fully question Miss Hess in detail as she is currently being treated for her injuries in the infirmary downstairs."

Hess would be dealt with in due time. "And as for the part regarding the ensuing fight?"

A pause, before Armsmaster resumed speaking. "When we confronted Tiamat, she was hostile. And despite our best efforts to… de-escalate the situation, things came to blows. Tiamat attacked me without warning, although I suspect that it wasn't her per se but one of her Endbringer creations."

Piggot brought a hand to her face to massage her temples. "Explain."

"Her recreation of the Simurgh seemed to demonstrate a measure of telekinesis, which it used to fling Armsmaster several dozen meters. At that point I myself was accosted by her simulacrum of the Leviathan, with which I was engaged with until both Tiamat and her creations disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"During the battle, I attacked the Leviathan with my Halberd by detaching and firing the axe-head of my weapon at it. I believe while her Behemoth engaged me, the Simurgh somehow… modified my Halberd. It contained a short-range teleporter that would allow my weapon to return to my hand on command and-" he stopped himself. "I believe that is how Tiamat and her creations escaped, by turning my own equipment against me."

"And of your helmet? The new one, not the one you are wearing right now."

"The Behemoth stole it."

Piggot blinked. She honestly had not expected that as an answer.

"What Colin means to say is that the Behemoth attacked him by trying to chew on his head like it did Shadow Stalker," Miss Miitia said. The man in question somehow managed to grimace even harder, and while Piggot felt that her so-far brief explanation was glossing things over, she elected to not insist on knowing them. "And in the ensuing struggle it pried his helmet off of his head. Like the others, it too teleported away."

"With his helmet?"

"Yes."

Piggot leaned back in her chair, sighing heavily. She doubted she would be going home tonight. Or rather today, considering the time. All the while the bottle of liquor in the bottom drawer grew more and more attractive. For a while she merely sat there in silent contemplation of her peculiar situation. She wanted to laugh at her predicament; she had wanted relief for her city; Funds, personnel, materials and equipment. Ironic, that in all likelihood she'd be soon getting them. When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers, she remembered, a remembered quote from years past. "Armsmaster?"

"Director?"

"What happened on the 5th of January, last month?"

"The Endbringers disappeared, ma'am."

"What else happened on that day?"

"I-" he began, before cutting himself off, answering his own question before Piggot could.

"Exactly," Piggot spoke. "What if they aren't gone? What if they're right here in Brockton Bay?" Piggot leaned forward to look the Protectorate team leader in the eye. "What are the odds of this Tiamat having control over the actual Endbringers?"

"Ma'am, with all due respect, someone controlling the actual Endbringers is impossible," Miss Militia said. "The few that have tried to master them have all failed or died in the attempt."

"And both myself and Dragon have… other theories in regards to them," Armsmaster continued. "We haven't discounted all of the possibilities. Interdimensional travel remains a possibility most notably."

"Yes, I know. But what if Tiamat succeeded?"

A beat. "Then that would make her the most powerful cape in the world," he spoke.

"And our problem."

"Director, you can't possibly be serious-"

"I am, Colin. The same day the Endbringers vanish, someone get the ability to create miniature replicas of them. Except, what if they're not replicas?"

"Ma'am, the Simurgh is fifteen feet tall, not five," he replied.

"But they can change their sizes. Or Tiamat can, or…" Miss Militia trailed off.

The most powerful cape in the world. Piggot said nothing, already coming to a decision she didn't like. Most of her wanted to find the girl, capture her and bring her into custody. But there was a chance that her creations weren't facsimiles and replicas, and if that were the case… "Armsmaster, what is the possibility of Tiamat controlling the Endbringers?"

Armsmaster said nothing for a moment. Eventually though, he spoke. "There is a possibility I am considering. The end result of that possibility involves pressing a button in my workshop."

"You're not going to press it, because the Bay isn't on fire yet. And I know exactly how we're going to go about this for the moment."

"Director?"

"If there's even a chance that this is all some absurd coincidence, we play it safe. And as much as it pains me to say it, we stay away from her for the time being at least." She looked to Colin. "Armsmaster, you are going to go find Stalker and force her to come clean about Miss Hebert. And she's done, as far as the Wards are concerned. And Miss Militia," she turned to look at the other cape, "You are going to find out everything you can about Taylor Hebert. Her past, her present, everything. And as for myself," she reached across the desk to her desk phone sitting in its cradle, "I have a phone call to make, because we need reinforcements, and the Chief Director needs to know."

Sophia

Sophia silently wept as the PRT medics tended her.

She knew she should have been strong. Should have been a predator. Not… weak, like Madison was. Like Emma was. Like Taylor…

Like how Taylor was supposed to be. Not whatever that was, with her voice. It couldn't be her, it was impossible. Taylor was a clump of mud on the bottom of her boot. She never, ever fought back. So how did she get so strong? Strong enough to command those, those things?

Benny? Her hair. Nibble. Sophia suppressed a shudder as the memory of that thing's mouth latching onto her, of it chewing on her braids. Of the others there, glaring daggers at her.

No way was it the Behemoth, and no way that those were the Leviathan and the Simurgh. No way would Taylor call things like, like those things her friends. She was going to find that bitch, put her in her place. She had to get out of her predicament first, though.

Her predicament… When she had awoken, she had realized she had been handcuffed to the gurney on which she now lay. And not with regular handcuffs, no; Armsmaster's special tinkertech shock-cuffs, the ones he had made specifically for her. And there was the PRT Squad there in the infirmary with her, six heavily-armored troops all carrying containment foam sprayers. She didn't need to ask them to know that they were there in case she made any moves to escape. If she so much as tried. She-

A sudden, loud pop as the Medic working on her scalp suddenly jerked backwards, holding something in his hands. Just as abruptly, Sophia felt a sudden cool breeze across her scalp, something that didn't make any sense. Sophia got a long hard look at what the now-surprised medic was clutching. It was-

It was her hair, Sophia realized in horror. Her hair, what was left of it, melted and fused into a single solid mass. Which- which meant-

Sophia looked at a nearby wall-mounted mirror, and looked at her now completely bald reflection in the eye.

She began to weep.

Max

Max Anders, otherwise known as Kaiser, was displeased. But only slightly, which was fortunate for the man kneeling at the foot of his spiked, ornate throne. Admittedly, while being one of the most-powerful Parahumans in Brockton Bay he had encountered his fair share of strange and perplexing situations. And as the leader of the Empire Eighty-Eight, he had received more than a fair few reports from his lieutenants that quite frankly could boggle the mind. There was very little that was impossible in this world of Parahumans, but this…

This, however, took the cake. "Please explain to me what you mean by 'The Behemoth tried to eat me.'"

He knew Brad Matthews, Hookwolf, to be fearless, relentless and utterly terrifying to behold in a battle, especially in his preferred wolf form. But to see him there, quivering as if the fear of God had been cast upon him. It unnerved the gang leader. Whatever had happened to Brad had truly terrified him.

"It… was horrible," he spoke with a whisper. "The… the Behemoth- no," he stammered, looking up to Max. "It looked like it, yes, but it- it was a fake, an imitation."

"Explain."

"It… it was small," Hookwolf began. "Ten feet at most. And… that kill aura they say it has, it didn't have it. But…"

"But?"

"But it was tough. Invincible. And… and it was eating me Boss," he repeated, a desperate tone creeping into his voice. "Like I, I was some sort of snack. I couldn't so much as scratch it, I tried and tried, but-" The man was a messy mixture of emotions; fear, embarrassment, shame, and anger. "I ran, boss, that's all I could do. I thought that Rune and Crusader could get away being able to fly, but…"

"But they were captured, under your watch. Your orders."

"They were," Hookwolf spoke, defeated.

Kaiser was silent. "And now they are cooling their heels in the PRT's lockup in their headquarters downtown. And I am sitting here hoping you had a better explanation for this compound failure of yours, beyond 'the Behemoth tried to eat me.' Well, Hookwolf?" His throne began to shimmer, as his power took hold of the metal. All over its surface, tiny spikes began to protrude, formed by his power. "Something, Brad. Give me something."

"I…" he stammered. "No, Crusader, he saw someone on a nearby rooftop. A cape. I… I think that maybe she was connected to, to what had happened, somehow. Thinking now… yeah, that thing might have been her doing."

"You think?"

"I…" he trailed off. "I know, Boss. She humiliated me."

Kaiser said nothing for a moment, before finally speaking. "I believe you."

"Boss?"

"A mole of ours inside the PRT informed me of new and powerful Cape. A woman in a silver costume. She engaged the PRT after your retreat, and…" he paused for a moment, to consider his next words. "He could not access all of the details, but…"

"But she had that fake Behemoth?"

"Indeed she did, Brad."

"I…" Hookwolf's face flashed a myriad of emotions before settling on anger. "I am going to kill that bitch."

"Not yet Hookwolf, not yet," Kaiser spoke. "For now, you will rest, and contemplate your failure tonight. And in time you shall plan and orchestrate the rescue of your teammates. And most importantly," the spikes on his throne flared as he intones that last word, "you will not fail again. Am I clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Now be gone."

Hookwolf did as he was ordered, leaving quickly. In mere moments he was again alone with his thoughts. And the raced, as he tried to contemplate, to mull over the evening's events.

Hookwolf had failed to a degree, yes. But he had also succeeded. The ABB were no more. Rune and Crusader were casualties yes, but only temporary; in time, they would be freed. And there was Brockton Bay's newest Cape, and arguably one of its strongest to date; Someone how could create illusions? A Tinker perhaps? Or… something else? He had not told Brad the entire story, there had been replicas of the other two there as well. The Leviathan and Simurgh, alongside their 'brother.'

Could she be recruited into the Empire? Kaiser had no idea if she was white or not, his mole didn't have that information. If not, then she had to go. And ultimately, she was yet another problem he had to contend with. Another obstacle he had to deal with.

The only question was how.

Coil

Thomas Calvert had arguably had worse days than today. Arguably. They were few and far between; those horrific few hours in Ellisburg, so many years ago now. A couple of close calls, early in his career as a villain.

Today had been going so well. It would have ranked high, high on his list of better days in his life. But that girl…

That girl. Taylor Hebert, the source of one of the worst headaches he had ever had. And her little minions too. In one timeline he massaged his scalp, trying to get the after-images of the insides of that- that thing's mouth out of his mind, while in another he rummaged through a wall safe in his office, looking for a specific phone number written down long ago. The morning had proceeded swimmingly in stark contrast to the evening; He'd arranged for a meeting between the Dockworker's association's head of hiring and a couple of business associates, a meeting that had proceeded well enough. The frantic phone call from his own minion had been a minor mess-up, and one quickly rectified. A good day, with a single hiccup. It had been the last few hours where everything had jumped the tracks and derailed.

The girl had inexplicably come home early from school, only to leave for the city an hour later. And somehow his observation team had lost sight of her at the Boardwalk. But Coil suspected that the PRT response and resulting mess at the old Ferry terminal had something to do with her. If the reports his moles had intercepted were true, he was going to have to change his plans. Considerably. There were things he could tolerate, but a literal cesspool of radioactive waste on his doorstep was not one of them.

His people had finally managed to track the girl down in the Docks, hours after they had lost sight of her. He had first tried to send a small team of his mercenaries and his body double to attempt to intercept her just after she had stopped what appeared to have been a mugging by a group of Empire thugs. The team had scarcely made contact when everything went awry - one moment he had been overseeing the mission from his command center in his bunker, and the next-

The next… The sounds of screaming, as his mercenaries were set upon by the Endbringers, as they were attacked and assaulted and… chewed upon. He had collapsed that timeline almost immediately, not caring for a repeat of events he had already experienced. He next tried sending a smaller team next - his body double, as well as an unmarked limousine. About as civil as he dared risk being. That timeline had ended about as well as the one before it.

Ultimately he had ordered his men to observe for the time being, to reconsider his options. It had been then, right after giving that those orders to his team that he had begun to reconsider his course of action, to reconsider trying to bring the girl under his metaphorical wing.

When it was reported to him that she and her Endbringer minions had wiped out the ABB single-handedly, before fighting the Protectorate… he had let go of the notion of trying to recruit her altogether. He briefly lamented not dealing with the Rogue-turned-Ward differently - he should have forced her into the Undersiders like he had briefly contemplated doing. But he killed that line of thought; despairing over what-ifs and could-have-beens would only distract him.

For some reason, he had made one last attempt; something he should have been smart enough not to have done. A small team, the same one as the first attempt, disguised as PRT agents. He had had no intention of hostile actions, of trying to grab her; merely to extend a line of communication to his alter ego of Calvert. And everything still went to shit.

Only this time… This time it hadn't been his Mercenaries getting chewed upon, no: it had been him. He had not even had the chance to order his men to proceed when he had suddenly been teleported from his command center to the Hebert's' dining room, landing with a heavy thud on their dining room table and surrounded by those- those things. Without warning he had been scooped up in the clutches of the Behemoth itself and, and…

"Benny, bad guy. Nibble." He desperately shook the memory out of his head. Of all the things he had expected to probably do in his life, seeing the inside of the Behemoth's mouth had not been on that list. He never wanted to ever see that ever again in his life. Thomas was a smart man, or at least he thought he was. And he was smart enough to well and truly back off, especially now with this girl announcing herself to the world and attracting attention from the PRT-

His thoughts ground to a halt. He had found it, tucked inside a random manila folder. In another timeline, he reached across his desk to pick up his telephone from its cradle and dialed the number on the scrap of paper.

"Thomas Calvert?" a woman answered on the very first ring. "We were not expecting you to call."

He drew a long steady breath. "Are you an agent of Cauldron, I presume?"

"Indeed," she spoke, "you have presumed correctly, Mr. Calvert."

"I…" he trailed off. Now or never, he thought. "I would like to pay off my favor to Cauldron."

"Interesting," she replied. "What is it that you wish to offer?"

"I have… information."

"Pertaining to?"

He took a deep breath. No going back now. "I have information regarding the second-most, perhaps the most powerful Cape in the world."

A beat, and Thomas could almost see the raised, patronizing eyebrow through the telephone line. "I am quite certain Mr. Calvert, that Caudron possesses more information regarding Eidolon and Scion than you ever will."

"I am not talking about Eidolon or Scion."

"Oh?" the voice sounded amused. "Well now, you have our full attention…"

Friends

Danny dozed fitfully on the recliner in the living room.

He had stayed up for a spell, long after Taylor had gone upstairs to bed. He hadn't bothered trying to sleep, not that he even could considering what all weighed on his mind. Not just from his job, but from his personal life as well. That, and his daughter's.

His daughter, a cape. To a degree, the realization had yet to fully sink in, despite the proof sitting on the coffee table before him in the form of a hero's helmet and weapon. She had somehow gotten powers from the incident that had hospitalized her, those powers apparently allowing her to control a trio of small, cute monsters that greatly resembled the Endbringers. Or actually were the Endbringers; the day he had gotten a call from a police detective informing him that his daughter was in the hospital had been the same day they had all vanished. If what Taylor had told him was true...

He didn't want that to be true, because he had no idea what to do if it were the case. He had played their conversation in his head over and over, wondering if there was something, anything he could have done better, or could have done differently. He kept at it until he passed out on his recliner. He… had been a terrible parent, he had realized. He had neglected to care for Taylor while mourning Annette. And now he wasn't sure if things would ever be the same. So he had sat there, wallowing in his misery and reflecting on his failings until he passed out.

He had awoken hours later to an odd sound coming from upstairs. At once he was suddenly alert, trying to figure out and pinpoint the source. The stairs, he realized, it was coming from the top of the stairs- or rather, just above the stairs.

He saw them then, two of Taylor's creations- minions- things that she had shown her. The ones that resembled the Simurgh and Behemoth, respectively. The former seemed to be chirping and squeaking at the latter, held fast in its plethora of wings. Abruptly the one Taylor had called Benny was dropped, and it tumbled loudly down the stairs, making a rumbling excited growl the whole way down. It face-planted with a thump on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, and for a long moment, nothing happened.

Danny sat there, having watched the spectacle. And at once the thing was back up, back standing on its two stubby legs. It gave a small excited roar as it saw him, and Danny suppressed a small bolt of fear. The creature began half-hopping, half-jogging towards him, giving a small roar the whole way.

"Eep!" he suddenly jumped, turning to the source of the sudden sound to see the second of the pair floating a foot away. "Eep!" it repeated, waving its arms as if to grab his attention.

Danny blinked. "Hello," was all he could muster to say.

"Eep!" Again it squeaked and waved, and at once Danny felt a clawing and tugging at his pant leg as something was climbing up, and before he could properly react the miniature Behemoth had climbed up past his knee and into his lap to sit down and look up at him with its single eye. It roared with its tiny meek roar and waved, flopping onto its back.

"And hello to you too," he told the little guy, caving to the urge to reach over and scratch its belly by doing just that. It gave a small excited roar as he scratched its head and belly, and to his surprise its skin was warm to the touch. "You are Benny," he spoke to it. "And you," he looked up to the tiny winged creature floating beside him, "must be Simmie."

It chirped and waved, smiling all the while. "Taylor really likes the two of you. The other one as well. Taylor…" he trailed off, suddenly at a loss for words and let his head flop back on the recliner's headrest. "I… haven't been very good to her. To my daughter, I mean. Since- since my wife, her mother died I…" He felt a pang of loss, then. "I lost myself in my guilt and now… Now I don't know." He rubbed his forehead. "All of this, the three of you, it's all so, so overwhelming."

A chirp, meeker than before. Danny had no idea what the creature was trying to say, but he got the impression it was encouragement, somehow. "Now I'm talking to you and…" he chuckled. "I don't think I've ever found myself in a stranger place, chatting with the Simurgh. Or something that looks like her, I dunno."

The tiny Simurgh chirped again. Danny wished he could understand it- or maybe her. In his lap the one called Benny stirred, sitting upright with a roar. It hopped up on his lap, before hopping off of it and onto the floor. At once it was half-running, half-hopping away towards the kitchen. And at once the winged one that Taylor had called Simmie was at his arm, tugging on his shirt cuff.

"I- what are you wanting?"

A chirp was his only response. And then Danny realized; She wanted him to take her somewhere.

He stood up, letting Simmie lead him into the kitchen. He found Benny there by the foot of the refrigerator, gesturing and growling up at the appliance as if it were some sort of worshiped edifice. Simmie darted off to the handle and began fervently tugging on it, yet she was unable to budge the door. Something Danny was easily able to do with but a pull. Instantly she darted inside, an a second later she came out with what Danny realized was a package of bacon, clutched tightly in her many wings. But why was she- oh. Danny looked at the wall clock, at the current time. Of course, he realized, suddenly making sense of her request of sorts.

"You want me to make breakfast?" He asked her.

With a chirp she shook her head, yet continued to gesture with the pack of rashers. "No," he realized, "You want me to make Taylor breakfast?"

She nodded, chirping and gesturing down towards Benny.

"And not just Taylor, but you too. All of you."

An enthusiastic chirp confirmed his suspicions. She set down the package of bacon on the kitchen counter and dashed back into the open refrigerator, several eggs wrapped in her wings. Benny followed her from his place on the floor, but Danny suspected he was actually following the eggs. To his surprise he began to scale the cabinet door, his stubby claws finding purchase, and Danny once more made the connection between the claw marks in the furniture and the tiny Behemoth-like creature before him.

It reached the surface of the counter and promptly leapt at one of the eggs, tackling and clutching the white orb to its body. Danny heard a low, rumbling growl of contentment, and he got the distinct impression that Benny really liked eggs. He was suddenly met with the sight of a small, red and glittering eye. An honest-to-god puppy dog eye, from something that was nether a puppy nor a dog. Simmie was doing it too, giving him the same exact look. Danny sighed, and said the only thing a man in his absurdly surreal position really could.

"Alright, let's make breakfast."

Spoiler: Author's Notes

Last edited: Nov 29, 2018

1050

TheMadmanAndre

Mar 19, 2018

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Nov 27, 2018

#4,565

Spoiler: Author's Preface

Taylor woke up to something warm and smooth pressing against her cheek, nuzzling its tiny head against hers. It tickled a little, and she groggily pulled a hand from her covers to scratch at whatever it was that was fiercely cuddling her cheek.

"Mmmph," she groaned out. She had tried to say 'go away,' but that had come out instead.

Drinks! Food! She heard a voice plead for her as the nuzzling and nudging became more insistent. Finally, Taylor opened her eyes to stare at the four glittering orbs mere inches from her face.

Levi was plopped next to her head on the pillow, gazing back at her. Taylor reached up and scratched his back and neck, something that her Friend greatly enjoyed. "Food?" she mumbled.

Breakfast! Levi eagerly replied.

Breakfast? Oh right, it's morning. Taylor blinked the sleep away as she shrugged off her covers, swinging her legs over to step out of bed. Levi scurried up her arm to perch on her shoulder and wrap his tail around her neck like he always did. For a moment she expected her other two Friends to do the same.

But Simmie and Benny weren't on her bed, or anywhere in her room. And as Taylor tried to figure out why, she suddenly remembered.

The night before. Lung, Hookwolf, Rune and Crusader and the Protectorate. The fighting and the fires. Shadow Stalker… The world briefly spun as Taylor suddenly felt light-headed. She had fought supervillains and won. And Shadow Stalker was Sophia Hess, but compared to everything else that happened-

She suddenly felt Levi curled around her neck, and was instantly reminded that she had her Friends and that everything would be fine. That everything would be okay. "I… I'm a superhero," she told her Friend. "I think. Maybe?"

Hero? Levi asked.

"Yeah," Taylor said. "And I think you guys are heroes too. Thanks Levi, for helping me." In response she felt her Friend eagerly cuddle and nuzzle her neck and cheek. But the moment was fleeting as Taylor was distracted by the grumbling of her stomach, reminding her that she had basic needs. "How about we go find something to eat? Or I guess drink?"

Juice?

"Yep," she chuckled, "Although now I'm wondering where your siblings are." She remembered the night before, seeing her dad dozing in his recliner downstairs before Levi accidentally tackled him. And the conversation that followed in the dining room as Taylor had explained as best she could to her dad that she was a parahuman and had Friends.

Taylor was quick to dress herself in her usual baggy attire of pants, shirt and a dark gray hoodie. She had briefly considered putting her costume back on, but for now at least she wanted to wear something a little more normal. To feel normal, after last night's events.

Feeling as ready as she'd ever be, she opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway, where she was immediately greeted by the smell of breakfast cooking downstairs. "I really hope he's not mad."

Protect, Levi spoke from inside her hoodie, his tail squeezing ever so slightly and reassuringly. As Taylor walked down the stairs she once more began to feel nervous, unsure of what to expect in the kitchen. It didn't help her mood when she saw the gaping hole in the drywall part-way down, left there by Benny's dynamic entry into the house. At the foot of the stairs she braced herself, before reaching the floor and turning to look through the threshold and into the kitchen.

Her father was standing at the stove. He had brought out the old cast-iron griddle with bacon, sausage, and eggs cooking and sizzling atop it. And sitting there next to the griddle was Benny, nibbling away on a bit of scrambled egg, and Simmie, hovering above a large bowl.

Danny, her father, looked over his shoulder to see Taylor standing there. "Morning Taylor. Hungry?" Benny and Simme looked up from their snacking and mixing and greeted her as well with exuberant roars and chirps. "The little guys came down early to help me with breakfast."

"The… little guys," Taylor said. Her dad was wearing an apron and smiling at her while her Friends helped him cook.

"Well, Benny and Simmie, right?" he asked. He looked over at Simmie, who had her wings wrapped around a large metal whisk as she focused on mixing the bowl's contents. "Feels a little weird, saying it, to be honest." Simmie lifted the bowl and its contents into the air, before floating over to the stove and waiting skillet and pouring a glob of pancake batter into the pan.

Her dad cautiously patted Simmie on her head, and she heard a chirp of happiness from her tiniest Friend. "Once I gave them some instructions, they got right to work. I was worried they wouldn't understand me, but it seems they do. And Benny here's saving me a few dollars on gas, so there's that."

"Uh, yeah." Taylor noticed that the stove burner was unlit.

"We still have a lot to talk about you know," her Dad said. "But I'm willing to wait until breakfast. So how about you two get some concentrate from the freezer and make a fresh pitcher of OJ?"

Juice! Abruptly, Levi leapt from his perch on her shoulder and fell to the floor, landing nimbly and bounding towards the fridge. Quickly he scaled the front before leveraging open the freezer door and scrambling inside, before just as quickly popping out with a tube of frozen concentrate clutched in his tail. Taylor fetched an empty pitcher from the cupboards and got to work filling it with water as Levi brought over the tube.

"I- umm," Taylor mumbled as she opened the tube and began mixing in the juice. "Do- do you like them?"

Her dad was watching as Simmie flipped the first of many pancakes onto a waiting platter, before pouring another glob of batter onto the vacant spot on the griddle. "Well, they're certainly helpful."

"Yeah, they are."

"And I have to admit, Benny here is oddly cute for some reason." Her dad scratched his head and she heard a roar of approval from her Friend, who now had a fresh glob of scrambled egg in his maw.

"He is," Taylor could only agree.

"Which is weird, considering that a month ago the three of them were a lot bigger, and meaner, and scarier." Satisfied the scrambled eggs were done, he scraped them up from the griddle and into a waiting bowl. "Although I do wish you'd told me about them earlier."

"I-" She started, before falling silent for a brief moment. "Yeah. Me too."

Danny fetched a bit of scrambled egg and handed it to Benny. "Rawr!" Fluffy Snack! He exclaimed, immediately scarfing down the offered treat.

"I was wrong last night, you really did bring a puppy home."

Taylor laughed. "Thankfully he's housebroken."

Danny hummed for a moment. "I was about to ask."

"Well Taylor, I'm still a little uncomfortable around them," Danny said between bites of food while keeping an eye on her Friends. "But I think I can manage for the time being."

Benny sat on the dining table, a saucer stacked high with scrambled eggs before him. He had fallen onto his back, lost in his munching and making small, cute sounds as he chewed bites of egg. Also by her was Simmie, who had made for herself a stack of miniature pancakes. She was using her telekinesis to cut slices out of the stack with a fork and knife between bites of maple-glazed bacon. And finally there was Levi, his face occasionally popping up from its immersion between sips from his own short glass of juice.

"So," her dad said, "How does, ah, Levi, you know… Do that?"

"Drink? I'm pretty sure he just absorbs it through his skin," she answered.

"No mouth, right," her dad figured.

Levi briefly pulled his head out of the orange juice to look up at Danny, drops of juice dripping from his face before dunking it back into the glass just as quickly. Taylor hoped Levi and her Dad would be able to get along as well as her other Friends were with him.

"You know, they like your cooking," Taylor told him. "Especially Simmie. She really likes your bacon." She glanced down to see Simmie doing just that, taking small, neat bites out of a rasher of her maple-flavored treat. "As you can see, of course."

"Huh," her Dad shrugged, before resuming eating. After a moment, he asked something else. "So you've been sneaking them leftovers?"

"Yeah."

"Huh. Well, that answers another question too."

Taylor giggled. "Yeah. The first day I was in the hospital, Simmie tried a little bit of the food they brought me. She liked it more than I did at least. And the first day I came home, I made some broccoli with cheese, something light like the doctor said. Benny really liked that."

Benny paused, mid bite. "Rawr?" Cheesy Snack?

"Maybe for lunch Benny," She told him while pushing around the last few scraps of food on her plate. "You really aren't mad at me Dad?"

Danny was silent as he sliced off another portion of pancake. He ate and swallowed it before speaking. "Yes and no Taylor. Yes, I'm mad that you didn't tell me about your, ah, your friends sooner," he said. "And I'm also mad that there's a hole in the drywall by the stairs, and my chest is still a little sore where I was tackled by an Endbringer." Her Dad brought a hand to his chest, rubbing it absent-mindedly. "And then there's those things in the closet, from last night."

Armsmaster's Helmet and Halberd, Taylor remembered. "I honestly have no idea what to do about them," Danny resumed. "And with what you said about fighting the Protectorate… I'm probably going to have to call a lawyer for us."

"Oh," was all Taylor could manage to say at that moment.

"But with all of that that said, you're clearly happier than you've been since I can even remember, and it's hard to be mad at you when you're happy Taylor. I know I haven't been the best father, but know that whatever happens, I'll try and be there for you."

Taylor smiled at his words. "Thanks, dad."

"Don't mention it," her dad said between bites of pancake. "Now that we've got that sorted for the moment, do you mind clueing me in about the disaster in the basement?"

Oh. Yeah. That… "Umm, what do you mean Dad?"

Her father just chuckled. "I'm just going to go ahead and assume that it was the work of your friends here."

Simmie froze mid-bite, as her Dad's withering gaze fell upon her. She tried her best to hide behind her wings, only the end of her fork visible. But it was a futile gesture. "Am I right?"

Help! Help Taylor! Was all she could manage to chirp, her fork slipping from her grasp and falling to the table as her wings formed into a protective ball around her.

Taylor sighed. "The three of them wandered off last night, I'm guessing when I was asleep. They… did something, to make my costume. They were digging through the boxes and stuff downstairs for materials." She reached over to scratch Benny's head. "You aren't going to make any more messes, right Benny?"

He paused in eating his bite of egg to look up at her. "Rawr!" Promise!

She heard her dad chuckle at the opposite side of the table. "A costume. I remember you were wearing it last night. Can I see it again later? I'm curious to see what it looks like in better circumstances."

"Sure thing Dad," she smiled. They finished eating, and to her surprise Simmie helped to bus everyone's plates, floating the dishes and empty cups with her telekinesis to deposit them in the sink. "They are being really helpful today."

"That's a good thing," her Dad spoke, "since now that we've finished eating, you're going to go downstairs and clean up the mess your friends made. Well, you and Simmie, that is."

Taylor had been expecting some sort of punishment, but the specifics threw her off. "Wait, not Benny and Levi?"

"Nope," her dad said, bravely scooping up Benny in his hands, her Friend giving a meek roar of surprise. "Mister property damage here is going to help me fix the butt print he left in the drywall."

"Rawr!" Fix! Her Dad placed Benny on his shoulder and he held onto his shirt with his stubby claws, before looking at Levi next. Her second Friend looked back up at him, head cocked to the side in curiosity. "And Levi here is going to clean the dishes while you and Simmie clean downstairs. Sound fair?"

Levi looked over to the sink, now filled almost to the brim with dirty dishes before looking back at Danny. Clean? He asked, cocking his head.

"Yes," her dad said. "The dishes won't clean themselves now, will they?"

Clean! Levi darted off the table, landing on the floor below. He scrambled up the counter to the countertop before perching next to the sink. Taylor watched as the faucet handles were opened wide by unseen hands and the sink began to fill with water. Clearly he had used his hydrokinesis on them somehow, but seeing it had still been a little unsettling, almost as much as-

"Wait, dad, you heard him?"

"What?"

"Levi. You were talking to him." She pointed at Levi, who was now standing on the bottle dish soap they kept next to the sink and was coaxing its contents into the steaming water below. "You heard him?"

Danny chuckled. "I didn't hear anything, Taylor," he said. "But I think I'm starting to get the idea of how Levi there communicates. Although if you want to play translator from here on out, you certainly can. Anyways, grab a broom and trash bags from the storage closet before you go down, you're gonna need them from the looks of it."

Taylor stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking at the carnage in full. She had glimpsed the mess yesterday, but seeing it up close hammered home the scale of the mess that her Friends had made. The basement never had that much stuff in it. A few spare appliances, boxes of random odds and ends, a set of weights that her dad owned and had stopped using around the time she was in elementary school.

And her Friends had gotten into all of it.

One of the appliances, a microwave, had been completely dismantled and destroyed, the remnants of which were strewn across the floor. The boxes had likewise been ransacked, and their contents were likewise scattered. The weight set was haphazardly piled up, and most of the weights were warped or melted. Some even had chunks missing, and Taylor could see Benny's teeth marks on some of them.

"Simmie?"

Taylor? Simmie chirped.

"The next time you guys want to make something for me, please let me know, alright?" She chided her winged Friend. "I know you wanted to surprise me, but… this was a bit much." She picked up an unidentifiable part of the former microwave, warped and bent by heat. Part of the device seemed to be missing outright, cut apart unknown means. "Honestly, I'm not mad. More impressed, really. You made my costume out of a microwave?"

Yes! She chirped. Other stuff too!

"What other stuff?"

Dresses, she stated.

"What dresses- oh." Taylor suddenly remembered. Some of her mom's old clothing had ended up downstairs as well, tucked away in one of the cardboard boxes. Taylor saw the box, or rather what was left of it, and noticed the absence of any intact clothing in the floor. Which meant-

Taylor looked down at Simmie, as she floated over the debris. She hadn't been wearing just her costume yesterday, but something made from her mom's belongings. She remembered how amazing and beautiful she had looked in the mirror, how she had at least for a time had curves and a chest. Just like her Mom…

"Simmie?"

She spun to look up at her, and Taylor somehow knew that she knew. But she wasn't angry. Taylor?

"Thank you," she said. "For giving me something of Mom's. Really."

Help! She exclaimed, darting over and glomping Taylor's chest. She scratched Simmie's wings as her Friend chirped with happiness.

"Yeah," Taylor said. "Let's get to work on cleaning this all up."

It didn't take as long as Taylor had expected to clean the basement. It took just a few trash bags to hold all of the trash and junk that had been scattered about, and most of the weight set was intact more or less, save for a few teeth marks where Benny no doubt gave them a nibble. Taylor couldn't help but chuckle as Simmie began tugging on one of the full trash bags. It was all she could do to even budge one of the heavy sacks, let alone move it with her diminutive size.

"Hold on Simmie, let me help you with that." Taylor pushed on her tether, and all at once Simmie swelled in size, up to her kid form. Abruptly the bag lifted upward, and Simmie began floating up the stairs with the sack clutched in her wings. Taylor followed her up, two bags in hand.

As they left out the door to the basement and floated and stepped into the kitchen, Taylor looked over to her left at Levi. The kitchen sink was stacked high with suds, and she could catch a glimpse of her Friend moving around within, attacking the dishes. She watched as a perfectly clean dish emerged from the sud tower to float over and into the drying rack next to the sink. And then she glanced towards the stairs, half-way up to where Dad was working on the damaged wall.

He was kneeling on the stairs, working a fresh square of drywall into the portion he had cut out around where Benny had damaged. Benny himself however was nowhere in sight. "Finished already Taylor?" her Dad asked her.

"Yeah, there wasn't much thankfully. And Simmie was a big help."

"I can see that," he saw as his eyes followed Simmie, now as big as a child as she deposited her trash bag by the back door. "Taylor?"

"Dad?"

"Why is she the size of a ten year old, and why isn't she wearing any clothes?"

Taylor's eyes widened. Oh, yeah. "Hey, Simmie, could you go get your gown from upstairs?"

Clothes?

"Dad."

Simmie looked down at herself.

And then up to Danny, who was sitting on the stairs trying to look anywhere but at her.

"Eep!" She chirped in embarrassment, becoming a blur as she darted up the stairs past Dad and into her room, the door slamming shut behind her.

Her Dad's hair settled down from the abrupt gust of wind, and the pictures on the wall stopped swaying on their nails. And Benny stuck his head out of the bucket of paint next to dad, his red eye standing out against the white paint dripping off of his face.

"Rawr!" Mix! He exclaimed, before his head disappeared back into the bucket.

"I, uhh, well," her Dad stammered. "I mean, she had those wings covering her and, umm…"

"I modified one of my old nightgowns to fit her. She's putting it on now."

"Alright. Just as long as she stays modest." Her bedroom door opened and Simmie drifted out, now clothed in the gown that Taylor had made for her the other night. She floated over the railing and onto the couch below, settling in on the middle space with a content chirp.

"Also, Dad, why is Benny in the paint bucket?"

"He tried to eat the jar of spackle before I could put it on the wall. So now he gets to re-mix the paint." On cue the paint can jerked ever so slightly as her Friend did whatever it was he was doing in there. "He's actually doing a good job. It was pretty dried out and separated since I haven't painted in a while."

Mix! Taylor heard from inside the can. Her dad fetched a paintbrush from the toolbox next to him, dipping it into the can before wiping off the excess paint on the rim and applying it to the fresh wall. "Maybe you should go check on Levi? Things have gotten quiet in the kitchen."

Taylor watched the paint can jerk again, ever so slightly. "Yeah, I'll go do that."

By the time Taylor went back to the kitchen Levi had finished with the dishes. She couldn't help but feel impressed that all of her Friends were being so helpful. Then again, she hadn't really ever asked them to help her with the few chores she did. As Levi used a bubble of water to float the last dish onto an impressive stack of clean cookware and cutlery, she reminded herself that he needed a reward. Maybe she could take him to visit the Lord's Market ferry pier instead? Show all of her Friends the ship her dad wanted to get going again. Something to think about for another time.

She glanced back to the entrance to the kitchen and the living room beyond, to where Simmie was curled up on the sofa. Her wings were splayed around her, draping onto the floor and across the back of the couch. Strangely she felt the urge to curl up next to her winged Friend to take a long nap, probably because of the large meal she had just ate.

Nap? She heard Simmie chirp.

"Yeah, maybe in a bit," Taylor replied back.

"Not so fast, Taylor," her Dad interrupted as he stepped around the corner, buckets of spackle and paint and toolbox in hand. "You two still have things to do."

Taylor blinked. "I thought you couldn't understand her?"

"I'm your dad Taylor, I know when my daughter's trying to shirk responsibilities." He walked over to the storage closet, opening the door and dropping the buckets and toolbox inside before closing it. On his shoulders was Benny, perched like he had been earlier, except -

He was white. Completely white, save for the red of his eye and mouth. He hopped off her dad's shoulder, landing on the floor with a heavy thump and with all of the grace of a falling brick. He hopped up to look up at Taylor, a grin on his face. "Rawr!" Paint!

"I can see that Benny," she reached down to pick him up and put him on her shoulder. "You smell like you just swam in a bucket of house paint. Good thing you're dry at least."

Her dad shrugged. "He was dry when I reached in to fish him out. I was worried he'd dried the paint out too, but all the rest in the bucket is still good." Danny glanced at Taylor's other Friend. "And Simmie, puppy dog eyes don't work on me."

Simmie had floated over to the threshold to the kitchen during their conversation, hands clasped together and a look of pleading readily apparent in her eyes. It was too bad that her nap with Simmie would have to wait. "What else do you need us to do Dad?"

Danny opened his mouth to speak, but before he had the chance to, there was a knock at the door.

A jolt of panic ran through Taylor, as the events from the night before flashed through her mind. Lung and the villains. Shadow Stalker. The heroes fighting her Friends. Simmie darted over to her, putting herself between Taylor and the door. She felt Levi scamper up her leg and side to perch protectively on her other shoulder.

"Expecting company?" Her dad asked.

"I- I don't know." After last night, she didn't know what to expect. "I'll answer it."

"With them on your shoulders?"

Taylor didn't say anything in reply, walking past Simmie and her Dad towards the front door. When she reached the door she paused, breathing in and out for a moment before opening it.

It wasn't an army of heroes ready to capture and imprison her or her Friends, or a legion of PRT dressed out in their faceless armor. Nor was it an army of Villains from one of the gangs seeking revenge against her and her Friends. It was…

"Hey Taylor," Lisa grinned, stuffed plastic grocery bags in hand, "I thought I'd swing by and say hello. I think you could use another friend."

Spoiler: Author's Notes

Last edited: Nov 28, 2018

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TheMadmanAndre

Nov 27, 2018

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Feb 2, 2020

#4,661

Spoiler: Author's Preface

"Well, are you gonna let me in?" Lisa repeated, shrugging to gesture to the sacks in her hands. "My arms are getting a little tired here."

"Oh, sure, of course!" Taylor stepped out of the way to allow Lisa in. "We already had breakfast a while ago but-"

"That's fine! I had a little something on the way over." Lisa brushed by her before Taylor closed the door.

"How did you-?"

"Find you?" Lisa finished her sentence for her. "Phone book." She walked into the kitchen, and Taylor followed. "There was only a single Hebert, so it was an easy guess. I knew I was at the right house when the taxi stopped at the driveway." She dropped the bags on the dining table, before spinning around to face her. "Also, you should really fix the first step, I nearly fell on my face coming onto the porch."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"No worries Taylor. So, how are they?"

"Th- they?"

"Your friends, silly," Lisa gestured to her shoulders and Simmie, who was now floating beside her.

Taylor had briefly forgotten about Benny and Levi. "Oh. Oh! They're great!" She reached up to scratch each of them on their heads. "They've been keeping me on my toes. And they've been helping with chores too."

"I don't suppose that has anything to do with Benny there being covered in house paint?"

Before Taylor could answer, her dad interrupted, having been briefly forgotten. "So, Taylor," he asked, "Who is this?"

"Rawr!" Snack Lady! Benny declared.

"Oh, dad, umm, this is Lisa," Taylor stepped aside, gesturing to the other girl. "I met her the other day. She was being harassed by the security guards at the Boardwalk and, umm…"

Lisa turned to meet her dad, grinning as she did. "Taylor's minions got them off my back. You should have seen them when they got a bunch of mini-Endbringers to their faces."

Pants, Levi reminisced.

"Right. So, Taylor," Her dad crossed his arms and looked at her with a lidded stare, "When were you going to mention her? And she knows about your Friends here too."

"I… forgot to," Taylor said. "It kinda slipped my mind, with everything that's happened."

To his credit, her dad just shrugged. "Well, she seems nice Taylor, and the kids here seem to approve of her too. Am I going to get any more surprises today?"

Taylor began to speak but Lisa cut her off with a grin. "Taylor fought two gangs at once and won."

"Rawr!" Snack Man! Benny reminisced.

"She already told me about that."

"Oh, well, then maybe?"

"Maybe?"

"Well Mr. Hebert, your daughter here has three little troublemakers at her beck and call. Every day is probably going to be a surprise with them around."

Danny chuckled. "Isn't that the truth."

"Anyways," Lisa said, spinning back to the bags on the table. "I brought gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh."

Taylor blinked. "What?"

"For you and your Friends," Lisa explained. "Or should I say my new Endbringer Overlords and their teenage accomplice?"

"W-w-what?" Taylor sputtered.

"I brought snacks and things they'll like." Lisa reached into the sack, digging around in the contents inside "Simmie, I have a very special treat for you."

Simmie was all but drooling as she floated over, watching and waiting in anticipation. Sweets? She chirped.

"Behold!" Lisa held aloft a large bulky bag of-

Gummy worms, Taylor recognized it. A giant bag of gummy worms. Simmie all but pounced at the offered treat, scooping it up into her wings. With a swipe of her wing tip the bag was opened, and a single gummy worm floated out and into her mouth. She settled down into a chair to daintily nibble on her newfound treat, all but oblivious to the world.

"And for you Levi, I have something too." From one of the other sacks, Lisa pulled out not one but two six-packs of glass bottles, the contents clinking against each other as she placed them on the table before her Friend.

Drinks? Levi asked, his head cocked to the side.

"Yes, sodas in fact. Variety packs of gourmet soda, all for you," she grinned.

Levi looked from Lisa to the bottles before him, his head bobbing in approval. Drinks! He declared, before leaping off of Taylor's shoulder and onto the table. One of the bottles floated out of its cardboard case and onto the dining room table, its cap popping off and letting the contents flow out into a fizzy sphere that hovered in the air just above the table. Levi scampered over to the sphere, sticking his head into the floating bubble and sipping on the soda. Delicious, was Levi's statement.

"And last but not least," Lisa reached back into the sack, "Something for Benny." She pulled out a tube of jumbo-sized novelty jawbreakers, each almost half the size of Benny. She popped the tube open, pouring one of the spheres into her palm. "Something tells me that you might like these."

"Rawr!" Snacks! Benny followed his sibling and hopped off Taylor's shoulder, faceplanting the table in the process. He hopped up and plodded over to the treat, grasping the jawbreaker in his hands. Taylor got the impression that his eye was glittering in anticipation of nibbling on the giant candy. Or at least he attempted to, as the jawbreaker was almost comically large compared to Benny's head and mouth. Her Friend's teeth simply scraped along the surface, although it didn't stop him from trying to take a bite nevertheless, making cute growls all the while.

"Well, I think that'll keep them all busy for a little while." Lisa turned, now face to face with both Taylor and her dad. "So, we should probably talk about things."

"Like what?"

"First, we should go sit down," she gestured to the living room. Lisa led the way, plopping down on one end of the couch while Taylor sat on the other, right where Simmie had sprawled herself out earlier. Danny sank back into his chair.

"So, the PRT know who you are, for starters."

A bolt of fear went through Taylor. She thought about her Dad, her Friends in the next room. "What? How?"

Lisa was quick to answer. "Don't jump to any conclusions, they just have you under surveillance it looks like. Two, no, three cameras trained on your house. There's a few too many panel vans parked around the surrounding blocks too. One of them advertises a flooring company that went out of business two years ago, so that's a tell. Honestly, I'm kind of surprised they let me by, since I'm pretty sure there were a few parahumans inside of one of them."

"Oh," Was all Taylor could manage to respond with.

"Anyways, the cab I took would have been stopped had they, say, been massing for an attack against you. There's still traffic outside, people going to work. My guess is the PRT figured out your identity right after you ran into Armsmaster and Miss Militia last night. Honestly, they might have figured it out before that and you just confirmed it for them. I'm not exactly sure what happened between you and the Protectorate last night, but I can speculate it wasn't anything good."

Taylor didn't answer, only nodded as she remembered the events.

"How about we start there then? Tell me everything that happened and we can work through it?"

"I…" Taylor trailed off. "Alright. I guess I can say, if you really want to know."

"Oh, trust me, I do," Lisa grinned.

"Uh, sure. Dad?"

Danny shrugged. "Taylor, you seem to trust this Lisa. And as far as I can tell, your Friends seem to trust her too." He glanced towards the dining room, where Taylor's Friends were devouring their treats. Or in the case of Benny, attempting to. "Although that's not a hard thing to get from them, to be honest."

"I have nothing but the best intentions for your daughter and her minions," Lisa said with a smile. "In a way, I guess you can say I am groveling before my new Endbringer Overlady."

"I- I don't want to be the overlady of anything," Taylor said, doing her best to sink further into the couch. "I'll just tell you what happened."

She started at the beginning, telling Lisa about the events of the evening before. She started with discovering Lung in the warehouse, how he seemed to be trying to recruit someone into the gang. How Benny had started everything by pouncing on Lung's dinner. The interruption by the Empire, and how almost all of them had been soundly defeated by her Friends, save Hookwolf who had fled the scene.

Then how Sophia, Shadow Stalker, had appeared, and Taylor realized that the Ward had been one of the girls she'd been bullied in school by. How she had made Benny nibble on her hair, only for the Protectorate Capes to arrive moments later and see Benny gnawing on one of their Wards and jump to the wrong conclusion, albeit justifiably. Finally, she told Lisa about how Simmie had teleported them all away, back into her home's living room and to the surprise of her father by using Armsmaster's halberd, and how Benny had somehow nicked his helmet too.

"I didn't mean for things to happen like that," Taylor finished. "I'm trying to do good, trying to be a hero."

Lisa chuckled. "Something tells me the PRT and Protectorate won't see things that way."

"I… I didn't mean to fight them. It was a misunderstanding."

"And I believe you Taylor," Lisa told her. "I can see you're a good person. A proper villain would have, well, handled the situation more villain-y? You aren't a villain, Taylor. And believe me, I'm good at judging people." She spoke those last few words with that grin Taylor had started to associate the girl with. "Well, despite everything that's happened, we'll have a little bit of time to figure out how to approach this from our end. I mean, how to convince the PRT that the big bad Tiamat isn't actually all that big and bad."

"Who?" Taylor asked.

"Oh, no computer, right," Lisa said. "Well, aside from that crazy tablet you have. Tiamat's what the PRT are calling you for the moment. It's one of the names they reserve for Endbringers, in case any more show up. Honestly, I think it's kind of fitting for you, 'mother of monsters' and what the name implies," she said with a grin.

"Tiamat…" Taylor let the name trail off. It had been a while since she had read up about ancient mythology, but she recognized the deity that once carried the name.

"I kind of like it, Taylor," Danny told her. "It sounds dignified."

Taylor didn't share her dad's opinion. "I- I'm not a monster."

"Not in the slightest, but you're literally the mother figure to three cute terrors currently eating snacks and making a mess in your kitchen."

"Mother figure?"

"Yep, that's the impression I get."

"I…" Taylor wanted to say something, anything, but she didn't know what. "How do you even know that?"

"About you being the team mom?" she grinned.

"No, not that," Taylor said. "My cape name."

"Oh, the name the PRT gave you? It's in the press release about the events last night. It was posted over on PHO..."

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Topic: New Cape In Brockton Bay

In: Boards ► Brockton Bay

Bagrat (Original Poster) (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member)

Posted On Feb 6th 2011:

So, in case you haven't heard yet, there's yet another Cape in Brockton Bay, per the PRT press release you can find here. And boy oh boy did they pick a way to debut. Right out of the gate they're making waves.

According to the PRT release, an unnamed cape, tentatively identified as Tiamat per the release, appears to have intervened in a battle between the Empire Eighty-Eight and the Azn Bad Boys, or the ABB to you non-natives of the Bay. She managed to not only take down freaking Lung and Oni Lee, but apparently an unnamed Tinker that the PRT identified as none other than the Cornell Bomber, who's been at large for weeks now. On top of this, she also managed to take out both Rune and Crusader, as well as send none other than Hookwolf packing with his tail literally between his legs.

She is tentatively described as a Tinker with a potential secondary Master rating, due largely to what they revealed in the press release about her powers. Apparently, Tiamat took on all capes present with 'Tinkertech minions' as the PRT described it. Apparently her creations? Robots? Managed to do quite a number on a city block, as evidenced by pics you can find here. The PRT still has the whole area cordoned off as they sift through the rubble. The bomb squad showed up too, because hey, what better way to spice things up in the BB than with a would-be bomb tinker, amirite?

Apparently, by the time both Armsmaster and Miss Militia, two of the resident members of the Protectorate ENE finally showed up, she had everything in the bag. Five villains stacked in a pile waiting for pickup, and the only thing missing was the bow and wrapping paper. Unfortunately, the press release basically ends there, with a statement that the PRT were assuming that Tiamat is an Independent Cape.

So, that's about all there is at the moment. The press release was a little shorter than usual, but you get the gist of it: The Bay's got a new cape with a hell of a power. Hopefully they stay Independent and don't join in with the gangs. Anyone else got any info or thoughts?

(Showing page 1 of 41)

►noble31

Replied On Feb 6th 2011:

A Tinker huh? Although with a name like than, The PRT's taking her serious.

►Love_-_-

Replied On Feb 6th 2011:

I saw the fires from downtown. Oh man, I hate living here some days. I mean, I love it most days, but I hate it others. Now we have villains that can summon armies of robots.

Fuck this shit, I'm out.

►Bruce Lao

Replied On Feb 6th 2011:

Tinkers always fascinate me. It sounds like this one is a lot more prepared than most other Tinkers who've made their debut.

Hopefully she joins up with the Heroes.

►TUDATE

Replied On Feb 6th 2011:

Well, goodbye BB, I'm shipping my ass up to Boston. Lived down the street from where this all went down. Whole damn street is still rubble.

►Clockblocker (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied On Feb 6th 2011:

Well, figured I'd chime in. Stuck at PRT HQ along with the rest of the Wards right now because of this. One of the official PRT agents will chime in here in a bit, but yeah. I for one really hope she joins the team, just from what I've been told.

►White Fairy (Veteran Member)

Replied On Feb 6th 2011:

Godspeed Brockton Bay, we hardly knew ye.

ClockBlocker: Hey, one of the Wards! I have family in Brockton Bay, should they be worried?

►Posh_Brit

Replied On Feb 6th 2011:

I was about to move to Brockton, since Medhall there hired me on. Now there's Tinkers running around blowing up chunks of the city.

I guess I've got to tend my resignation before starting my first day. Blooming lot of wankers down there.

►QwertyD

Replied On Feb 6th 2011:

the guy above Re-read the post. The bomb Tinker was one of the villains. Tiamat seems to make minions.

My favorite Tinkers are the ones that have armies of robots at their beck and call. :D

►XxVoid_CowboyxX

Replied On Feb 6th 2011:

You know, the PRT said she was a girl. I wonder if she's cute, if you know what i'm saying.

►Acree

Replied On Feb 6th 2011:

Dammit Void, go skeev somewhere else.

►Chilldrizzle (Veteran Member)

Replied On Feb 6th 2011:

One thing I noticed is that the press release didn't include a discription of Tiamat. I guess she's the kind of cape that you know who she is just from seeing her.

►Deimos

Replied On Feb 6th 2011:

So, anyone want to speculate as to what her powers are? Besides creating minions that is?

►Sanford

Replied On Feb 6th 2011:

No clue. The could look like anything. Giant scary robots, Endbringers, Robot Endbringers.

The release said she's Master 5, Tinker 5, so she probably has fine control over her creations.

►Haaank (Verified Cape)

Replied On Feb 6th 2011:

Good thing I live and work in Nevada. I know some crazy guys and even they don't want to tangle with someone like this. Damn Tinkers don't play by the same rules as other capes.

►BadSamurai (Kyushu Survivor)

Replied On Feb 6th 2011:

West of the Docks here. I guess it's time to leave like that dude further up is.

I thought the Bay would be safe after what happened in japan. I guess I was wrong.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4 ... 39, 40, 41

Taylor looked at the posts, scrolled down on her tablet to look at the replies. Saw there were forty more pages of comments already. She dropped her tablet onto the couch beside her before burying her face into her hands. "Oh god, why me?" she muttered.

"Honestly, it's not bad for a first night out," Lisa spoke. "It could have gone a lot worse."

"I've pissed off the Empire."

"Well, yeah, there's that."

"I've pissed off the ABB."

"Technically, there isn't an ABB anymore to piss off."

"I've pissed of the Heroes."

"Ehh..."

"They gave me an Endbringer name."

"It's not too bad," Lisa tried to encourage her, "You could've been named Chubster or Clockblocker."

"B- But Tiamat," Taylor spat, "That sounds like what they'd call an Endbringer."

"Well, considering the circumstances…"

Taylor lifted her head up to look at Lisa. "Is there anyone I haven't pissed off?"

"Me?" Lisa answered.

"You don't count."

"Your dad?"

"Dad doesn't count either."

"The Merchants?"

Her head fell back into her hands. "My life is over."

"Far from it," Lisa said. "If anything, taking down this many big-named Capes at once basically earned you a whole lot of cred. A complete unknown, single-handedly taking out Lung and sending Hookwolf packing? Most Capes are going to want to steer clear of you. Even the PRT will be careful in their dealings with you from here on out."

"The gangs?"

"One doesn't exist anymore, and the other is going to stay far away from you after what you did to three of their members. The Merchants don't even count."

Taylor kept her face buried.

"Look Taylor, one thing I noticed from the info the PRT put out is that they're massively downplaying your powers. They didn't even mention your Friends in any meaningful sense. The only explanation I have is that they want to recruit you, so they're making every move not to cause a panic in the city." A beat, and Lisa drew a breath before continuing. "They're trying to set the ground for an amicable meeting."

"That, makes sense I think," Danny spoke. "No one wants the city to burn down."

"I…" Taylor spoke before trailing off. "I just wanted to get them something to eat. And then… all of that happened. The pier, then that mugging and- oh."

"What's 'oh?'"

Taylor's head pivoted to her Dad. "Dad, you… didn't already hear about the Ferry wharf, did you? The one by the Boardwalk?"

Her dad blinked. "What about the Ferry?"

Lisa looked to Taylor, and Taylor glanced right back. "Oh. Uh, you're going to want to stay sitting then."

Her Dad, understandably, had been furious. It had taken a lot of consolation from both her and Lisa to keep her dad from flying off the rails, too keep him sitting in his chair in the living room and to not call and yell up a storm at anyone who would pick up the phone.

They had only been partly successful.

"Nuclear waste!? Really!?" Danny shouted. "They dumped it in the wharf? By the Boardwalk!? What insane assholes even thought that was a good idea!?"

"I'm pretty sure it was the Teeth," Lisa answered.

"The Teeth?"

"They held the Boardwalk before they got kicked out and the city renovated it. And look on the bright side Mr. Hebert, we have a way to clean it up."

Danny gripped an arm of his chair, knuckles white from the strain. "Wh- How are we going to clean up something like that!?"

Lisa grinned. "Benny is how. He's capable of eating literally anything, including stereotypical barrels of toxic waste. Isn't that right Taylor?"

"Y-yes," she answered. "How did you know though?"

"That he decided to just chow down?" Lisa trailed off. "Let's just say I have my ways."

She's a cape! Simmie chirped. At some point she had floated into the living room, still nibbling on gummy worms. The giant bag floated behind her, never more than an arm's reach away.

"Wait, what?" Taylor asked.

Cape! Simmie chirped again.

Lisa spun to look at Simmie, before looking back to Taylor.

"Problem, Lisa?" Danny asked her.

The girl's shoulders sagged, as Taylor connected two and two together. And four equaled Lisa being a…

"Well, damn. I'm surprised it took this long. I was planning to tell you when the time was right."

"Taylor?" Her dad asked, "What's going on?"

"Simmie just told me something dad. Lisa, you're a cape?"

The girl huffed. "Yeah."

"Oh, that's kinda cool," Taylor said. "You're the first cape I've ever personally met then. I… kind of wondered about you the other day, when we went and got tea."

"Yeah," Lisa said. "I was trying to figure out a good time to just tell you, when you were in the right headspace. Leave it to Simmie here to out me." Lisa shrugged. "There's… something else I want to tell you Taylor, and please don't freak out."

"I think I can manage Lisa."

"The other day, those Enforcers that were after me…" Lisa trialed off, rubbing her forehead with a hand.

"When I ran into you, Simmie said something," Taylor said. "Something about a 'man with a snake face.'"

Bad man, annoyance, Simmie helpfully chirped. She floated onto the couch, and to Lisa's momentary alarm, right into the girl's lap. Taylor gave the girl credit, as she handled the situation much better than she did her first meeting with Simmie. Carefully, she wrapped her arms around Simmie's waist as Taylor's Friend nestled into Lisa's lap. For a moment Taylor felt envious, but she stamped it down.

"Yeah," Lisa answered. "That, would be Coil. He's… He's my boss."

Taylor blinked. "What?"

"Basically, he's an evil mastermind that recruited me at gunpoint a few months ago," Lisa started. "He… He wanted me to meet you, but didn't say why. I guess he found out about you somehow, before even the PRT did. He's had eyes on you, and staged that little meet and greet back there. The Enforcers were some of his hired mercenaries in disguise. He didn't even tell me who exactly you were, just to go there and pretend to be a damsel in distress." Lisa shook her head, gently hugging Simmie as she did. "I wasn't exaggerating back there you know, when I was on the ground screaming at them all."

Taylor pondered what Lisa said. "I never noticed anyone watching me or following me."

"I've never even heard of this Coil," Danny spoke up, eyes narrowing as he looked at Lisa. "Are you here because he told you to come here?"

"Not at all!" Lisa was quick to respond. "I'm here of my own volition. I was being honest when I said Taylor could use a friend to talk to."

Her Dad continued to glare through narrowed eyes at Lisa, and Taylor was worried he'd show her a little of his famous temper. After all, she'd just confessed to being employed, albeit unwillingly, by a supervillain. Finally, her dad seemed to relax. "Alright. However, I'll have my eye on you. Simmie will too, won't you Simmie?"

Yep! She chirped, rustling her wings in Lisa's lap.

"Thanks. You know, I really wish I could hear them talk," Lisa said, "I- well, my power is filling in the blanks, but even then it's guesswork."

"Can I ask what your power is exactly?" Danny asked, rubbing his forehead.

"Well, it's nothing special like your daughter's. I didn't win the superpower lottery like she did," Lisa said. "My power basically just turns me into a super detective. Think Sherlock Holmes on uppers and you're in the right area. It connects dots for me, helps me figure things out." She sighed, before continuing. "I like my power, but I dislike it at times too. Thinker headaches are a frequent occurrence for me."

"Oh, alright," Taylor said. "Is your power how you knew what snacks to get my Friends?"

"Yeah, about that. I, well, it's hard to explain. I can't really 'look' at them with my power. "You're the same way actually Taylor, my power kind of draws a blank with you too. Funny thing is, as far as I knew it worked on the Endbringers before last month. Now though..." She trailed off.

"Go on," Taylor told her.

"Your power, for starters. And don't even get me started on the mess of secondary powers that your Friends can use, I literally can't figure any of it out. I think you have some sort of Master power with a secondary Thinker effect that allows you to, well, not control per se, but... I guess interact with them, guide them? "

Taylor crossed her arms, nodding. "Yeah. It's like there are these connections, tethers to each of them. It took me almost a month to figure out they were there. Before I found them, all I could really sense from my Friends was feelings, emotions. In turn, they could sense mine too. But after I found those tethers, I could feel them a lot more clearly. I could hear them as they spoke to me. I also figured out that I could sort of push or pull on those tethers, and I could change their sizes accordingly. And their strength too, come to think of it." Taylor gestured to Simmie. "Simmie has a hard time moving a textbook, but she could probably send Benny flying right now."

Lisa said nothing for a brief moment. "Their powers scale with their size? Bullshit, such… such bullshit," she muttered. "Although the size part sounds like someone I already know, actually. You honestly could almost get away with telling people you have an absolutely overpowered Master ability, if it wasn't for the little fact that the Endbringers vanished basically the exact minute that you, well…"

"Triggered," Taylor finished with a grimace. "You didn't finish explaining things before we got sidetracked."

"Well like I said earlier, it's hard to explain. A lot of Thinkers though have had trouble with the Endbringers. Very few Thinker powers seem to work in regards to them. For me, using my power on them, your Friends rather, is maddeningly confusing, and I keep getting strange or incomprehensible answers." Lisa shifted uneasily, as she found herself being blanketed by Simmie's wings. Almost reluctantly, Lisa began to stroke one of them, much to Simmie's warbling approval. "Take Simmie here. My power is telling me that her feathers are somehow simultaneously soft and fluffy and sharper than any knife edge on earth. Case in point, the bag of worms she sliced open with a feather. My power's also telling me her skin and flesh is both soft and pliable, while having densities ranging from that of uranium to neutron star matter depending on how deep you poke her. My best guess is that she isn't Manton limited, and can instinctively use her telekinesis on herself to a ridiculous degree."

Taylor blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah. Crazy answers like that," Lisa stated. "You're only a little better, and my power keeps giving me weird and contradictory answers when I point it at you I know you had bacon and eggs for breakfast from the dishes in the sink, but my power is torn between that and a half dozen other things. However with all that said, my power helps me with building models of sorts. Maybe a little cheaty, but it's working so far. For example, I know Benny doesn't care for beverages, while Levi is the opposite. He doesn't care for solid food, and fruit sherbet is the most solid treat he seems to like."

"Which is how you knew which things to get them?" Danny said.

"Yeah. As for Simmie here, she really, really likes sweet things, as you can see. The consistency doesn't even matter." She gestured to Simmie, having finished her gummy worm and picked another from the bag. Sweet drinks too, like juice or soda. Anyways, I sort of made models of them in my head, although they're kind of inaccurate."

"How inaccurate?" Danny asked.

"I figured out that Simmie here wants to try some of Levi's soda about ten seconds ago, at the same moment I figured out she also likes drinks and beverages herself. The models are a work in progress."

"Ah," Taylor said. "Don't worry Simmie, I'll get you some. Although if you ask Levi nicely, he might part with a bottle."

Sweet stuff, Simmie warbled.

"This is really comfy, I'm envious." Lisa said, mindful of the winged girl in her lap. "Speaking of, emotionally and developmentally they're basically children. In my mind I'm sort of going with the fact that they're basically rambunctious preschoolers with absolutely insane superpowers. So far, they're fitting that part of the model to a T."

"Preschoolers? Yeah, that would make sense." Danny stood up, stretching as he did. "You know Lisa, Since you mentioned it, I don't suppose you could Sherlock up a solution to something else?"

"Mr. Hebert?" Lisa asked. Before either her or Danny could say another word, a door a room away opened, and Armsmaster's helmet and halberd tip floated into the living room, setting down on the coffee table. "Oh, right. Of course." Lisa said.

Prizes, Simmie chirped contentedly.

"Yeah," Danny said, sitting back down. "Was going to get those. Thanks kid."

Helping! Came Simmie's chirp.

"Anyways, yeah, a way to return them to their owner without getting me or Taylor arrested in the process would be helpful."

Lisa scrutinized the helmet and halberd, before looking down at Simmie nestled in her lap. "You Tinkered with it, didn't you?"

A little, Simmie chirped in reply.

"You made it better too?"

Simmie didn't answer, but she nestled further into Lisa's lap.

Lisa wrapped her arms around Taylor's winged friend, hugging her and chuckling as she did. "So many Tinkers are going to hate and love you so much."

"So, any thoughts or ideas?"

"Oh, right. Um, well," Lisa stammered, trying to find the words. "I'd say give them back, obviously. Maybe in a cardboard box, gift wrapped with a bow tie on top, with a handwritten note that says 'I'm Sorry' about a thousand times. Drop it off at the front door of the PRT building and then book it. Maybe Taylor and Simmie here can offer favors to the PRT or Protectorate as a way to make up?"

"Favors?" Danny asked. "Would that even work?"

"Maybe?" Lisa told her. "I mean, they know who you are. You can either wait until they come to you, or you can go to them."

"Oh," Taylor answered with a sigh. "Maybe I shouldn't have told Armsmaster that Sophia bullied me last night."

"Like I said, they probably knew who you were before that even. At the very least they suspected," Lisa told her. "I know they paid a visit to Winslow yesterday, ostensibly to show off the Wards, but really Armsmaster was just there to look at their student records."

"I must have missed them."

"You skipped class?" Lisa asked. "Of course you did. Anyways, yeah. They had maybe a few dozen suspects, but now they have one. Also, Simmie?"

Yes? She chirped.

"You did disable the tracking devices in Armsmaster's gear right?"

Yep! Simmie chirped.

Did you disable the secondary and tertiary trackers too?

Simmie blinked. She slowly looked up at Lisa, then back to Taylor. No, she warbled sadly.

Lisa looked at the two offending items on the coffee table. "Well, they definitely know," was all she had to say.

And then there was another knock at the front door, much heavier than Lisa's had been.

"Are you expecting company?" Lisa asked.

"That's my line," Danny answered.

Taylor stood up, facing the door. "Benny, Levi."

"Rawr!" Fight! Came their answer as they charged into the living room, Benny still clutching the oversized jawbreaker in his hands. Simmie likewise floated out of Lisa's lap, nibbling dejectedly on another gummy worm as she floated over to Taylor.

"No fighting," Taylor told them all. "Not unless they start something first, alright?" She walked over to the front door, taking an unsteady breath as she did. She regarded the handle for the briefest of moments, unsure of what exactly to expect. But she had her Friends with her, and that was all she needed to feel safe. Taylor opened the door, stepping back and letting it swing open.

Taylor was still expecting Armsmaster, helmetless and weaponless and frowning, the rest of the Brockton Bay Cape roster behind him and an army of PRT troopers behind them. Maybe some news helicopters, just to rub it in.

She didn't expect the man standing- no, floating above her home's front porch.

"Apologies if I'm interrupting something," Legend, the leader of the Protectorate spoke before settling down on the welcome mat beneath his boots. "I was in the neighborhood, and a good friend of mine asked me to come say hello. She told me you might need to talk to someone."

Spoiler: Author's Notes

Last edited: Feb 4, 2020

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TheMadmanAndre

Feb 2, 2020

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

May 29, 2020

#4,819

Spoiler: Preface

"May I come in?"

For a brief moment, Taylor just stood there, dumbfounded. There stood Legend, the Legend, one of the Triumvirate, on her front porch. "Umm, yes! Sure, come in. I mean, if that's okay with my dad."

Behind her, Simmie floated serenely, her bag of gummy worms still clutched in a wing. The Hero and her friend locked eyes for a brief moment, and for that same moment Taylor was worried there would be trouble. "Well Simmie, is he going to be a problem?"

Nope! Simmie chirped, and waved meekly at the hero. It seemed enough for Simmie to give her approval.

"Taylor, please let him in," her dad called out. She could hear a tinge of exasperation in his voice.

Taylor stepped aside, and Legend strode through the door as she closed it behind him. "I- we I guess, weren't expecting someone yet."

"Well, there were a pair of agents from the local PRT that were going to come by and pay you a visit."

"What?"

"Nothing bad, really," Legend explained. "The PRT just wanted to establish contact with you and extend an olive branch. As I said I was in the area, so I volunteered to come ahead of them. Smooth things out, I guess I could say. Also, do you prefer I call you by your name, or would you prefer another?"

Another name? Oh, right. The PRT had called her Tiamat. "Oh, okay. And Taylor is fine. Umm, do you want something to drink?"

"I think I'm fine. Thank you for asking though," Legend smiled.

Legend had stopped just inside of her living room, his gaze locked on Simmie, who floated before him. Taylor was also aware of Benny and Levi both staring at the newcomer, with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

"Hello there," Legend said to them without missing a beat.

Blue man! Benny said. Levi remained silent and apprehensive, merely watching the costumed hero intently.

"Heh, well," Legend said, "This was not how I envisioned this day starting out. You two are… actually you're a little cute. Although I was expecting something bigger."

Cute? Levi cocked his head.

"They're harmless like this," Taylor said. A snort came from behind her on the couch. "Well, mostly harmless. If you want, we can go sit down?" Taylor asked as she scooped up Benny and Levi.

"Certainly." A moment later, Legend was sitting next to Lisa and across from Taylor. Simmie had plopped herself back into Taylor's lap, still clutching her gummies while Levi had found his way to her shoulder. Benny returned to his treat and resumed nibbling away at it. Taylor saw that Lisa had put on a purple domino mask while she was gone.

"I guess you already know who me and Taylor are," Danny spoke. "Though I'd be keen to know how."

"Simple detective work, I'm sure," Lisa explained. "Although the fact a certain someone left some trackers active certainly helped." She turned to the newcomer to address him. "Before you get any wrong ideas, I'm just here for moral support, nothing nefarious," she smiled, offering a hand to shake. "I'm Tattletale. I'm kinda sorta a family friend. And no, I'm not interested in a job with the Protectorate right now, but I might be open to the idea at a later date."

"Alright then. It's nice to meet you, I think," Legend said, shaking her hand. "Are you a hero or a villain?"

"Let's just say that I bring snacks to Taylor's friends, and I hope that gets me into their good graces regardless of anything else."

"I see. Speaking of, may I ask what they are, exactly?" He turned to ask Taylor.

"What do you mean?"

"Your 'Friends' there," Legend said, stressing a sense of disbelief. "Are they some kind of projection, or are they something else?"

"Oh. Well, they're physically here. I mean, they can eat and drink stuff. Do projections eat and drink?"

"You might be surprised. Do the others have names?"

"Yeah. The one in my lap is Simmie. Benny's the one with the jawbreaker, and Levi's the one watching you from my other shoulder here."

"An… interesting choice of names. And judging from the size difference, I assume they can change dimensions, and… color too?"

"Yeah. I can make them change size, just by thinking about it. I'd demonstrate, but these two are a little clumsy when they're larger, and Simmie's comfortable where she is. Benny is just covered in paint at the moment."

"There's a story there I suspect."

There is. From his chair, her dad merely chuckled.

"Alright. Well, with the introductions out of the way, you probably know one of the reasons I'm here."

"Yeah, I doubt this is a friendly visit," Danny spoke up, leaning forward. "I have a few pointed questions of my own, regarding the PRT."

"Yes. Miss Hebert, Mister Hebert, I wanted to get your side of the story, if you're willing to tell it."

"Our side of the story? You mean how one of your Wards apparently bullied my daughter for the better part of two years? There's a lot more than our side of the story there pal." It was subtle, but Taylor thought she saw the Hero flinch at her dad's tone. She'd only mentioned the broad strokes the night before, but it had been enough to paint a not at all pretty picture of how her past couple of years had gone by. She knew her dad had a famous temper, and while he had kept his anger had been in check for the most part, recent events had probably stressed the limits of his patience.

"Saying it like that? Yeah, that sounds terrible."

Taylor wrapped her arms around Simmie and hugged her, squeezing her friend in her lap. "Did anyone know?" She found the courage to ask. "The person or whoever is in charge of the PRT?"

Before Legend could respond, Lisa, now Tattletale apparently, spoke up. "No, Director Piggot didn't know," she said. "No one at the PRT knew about Sophia Hess or her actions."

"What?" Legend asked in surprise. "How do you know?"

"I just know things," Tattletale continued without missing a beat. "Like about Shadow Stalker's case worker. She looked the other way about her charge's activities in school, as did Winslow's principal. She was paid to, I think. I'm pretty sure there is - was some sort of corruption going on between her handler and said principal. There's money being funneled from the school accounts to her, but I haven't had a chance to dig too deep. Although to be honest, you don't need to use your imagination to figure out what's really going on."

Taylor ruminated on what Tattletale just said. "Of course Blackwell would be covering up the bullying," she spat. "Why am I not surprised."

Legend frowned, and was silent as he mulled over her words. "That level of corruption is disconcerting."

Tattletale just laughed. "Well, I barely had to dig to find it, because it was all right there in the open. There's a lot that stinks in the Brockton Bay PRT, and this little affair is just the tip of it." Despite the mask, Taylor could see the smugness on Tattletale's face, and maybe hinting at something else. "But yeah, if you want, I have a copy of what I found, not that you won't find it if Watchdog or whoever went looking themselves. I already plan to give a copy of it to Danny."

"Thank you," her dad said. "But when were you going to tell us about this?"

"Now?" She said. "I wasn't expecting any company right away, maybe in an hour at most. There was a bunch of other stuff I wanted to talk to you two, but then, well," she gestured to Legend sitting on the couch next to her. "I gotta improvise."

Danny simply sighed in response.

"Well, in regards to Shadow Stalker, I want you to know that she is- was, a probationary Ward." The hero crossed his arms before continuing. "As I understand things, she joined the local Wards team as an alternative to juvenile detention. And as it stands, it seems she was effectively one misstep away from going back. Ms. Hebert, would you be willing to come into the local PRT branch and give your testimony regarding this matter?"

"Testimony?"

"Yes, regarding your past history with Shadow Stalker. It will help the case you've made against her."

Her lips tightened. It wasn't what Taylor had been expecting, but she hadn't known that Sophia, Shadow Stalker, was apparently on such precarious footing. "I could do that, I think."

"That's good then," Legend spoke. "Please believe me Taylor, she will face punishment for what she did to you. I'll make sure of it. No Ward should ever act like she did." A beat, before the hero continued. "Bullying someone to the point of triggering is something I cannot and will not condone."

Taylor was aware of how tightly she was squeezing Simmie, who thankfully didn't seem to mind. A part of her wanted to push for something worse, some sort of stronger punishment, but did she? She had told her Friends that hurting her Bullies like they hurt her would only make them as bad as the Trio. That, and Benny had already nibbled and slobbered all over Sophia.

Another, heavier sigh from her dad. "I can't so easily accept that," her Dad spoke. "Taylor's told me the broad strokes, but one of your Wards tormented her for years. I can't easily let that slide. No, I won't let that slide."

"I understand Mr. Hebert," Legend replied. "I've already talked to the Directors of the local PRT, and they're prepared to offer recompense to you and your daughter, so long as it's within reason."

His eyes narrowed. "You want to pay us off then?"

"Basically, this is them placating you and your daughter," Tattletale interjected. "Crossed with a softball recruitment pitch."

"Recruitment?"

Legend was about to open his mouth, but Tattletale spoke first. "Remember what we talked about the other day? They'd want to recruit you…" she trailed off. After a moment, Tattletale sighed. "Damnit, this is hard."

"What is it?" Legend asked her.

She took a breath, looking up to Taylor. "Taylor, when did you trigger? That would be a good start."

When did she trigger? "You know, don't you?"

"They don't."

"Oh," she said. "I… The day that-"

"The Endbringers disappeared," Tattletale finished for her. "The day, the hour. Hell, the very minute. The PRT knows or at the very least suspects they have an S-class Master in the city, and they're trying to avoid a panic." She gestured toward Benny, where he was sitting on the couch, oblivious to the rest of the universe beyond the jawbreaker in his mitts. "You suspect, don't you? Well you're not right, but you're not wrong either. That's not a projection or some weird master power: that's the Behemoth, according to one Taylor Hebert. Except it's not. It's- It's like a version of the Behemoth, if that makes any sense. It's not burning the city down or irradiating everything, it's attacking a piece of candy.

"And the same goes for the rest. Whatever they were before a month ago? That was the Endbringers according to… I don't know? Someone else? They're made of the same stuff, even have the same powers, kind of. When Taylor triggered, something happened that made them change. But I can't figure that out, not without getting an instant headache."

"The same powers?" Legend echoed.

"Yeah," Taylor spoke up. She wanted to talk about them, try and convince Legend that they were actually nice. "They all kind of have the same powers as… before. But weaker, I guess? They aren't as strong when they're tiny and cute."

"But they get stronger when they get larger?"

"Yes, but just a little," Taylor explained. "Benny can heat things up and make fire, Levi can push and pull water and Simmie can move stuff. They get a little better at it, a little stronger if I push on them to get bigger."

Legend said nothing, momentarily lost in thought.

"Simmie can fly, and well, make stuff," she continued. "Tinkertech." Taylor patted Simmie's head between the wings there, ruffling her hair as she did. "They can probably do other things too, to be honest."

"What about their passive effects?"

Oh, those, she remembered. The Behemoth had had a 'kill aura' that would instantly fry all but the toughest of Brutes, while the Leviathan had a water echo that was as the name implied a watery echo of itself. And the Simurgh had her Scream, which would drive anyone crazy if they heard it too long, and was often the sole reason that cities she fought above were often quarantined.

"No," Taylor shook her head. "Nothing like that. The worst Benny can do I think is make a fireball."

"Alright. How do you communicate with them, exactly?"

"Well, I just do?" Taylor said. "I can hear them and understand them. My Dad and L- Tattletale can't understand them though."

"A Thinker power perhaps? Interesting," Legend said. "You mentioned Tinkertech?"

"Yeah. She's made me a bunch of things. Simmie's the only one that tinkers though, but Benny and Levi can help her if she needs it. They worked together to make my costume."

"Okay. Another question I have is Ms. Hebert: do they remember… before?"

"Before?"

"You obtained them, is I suppose how I could phrase it."

Taylor thought back to the first couple of days, when she was still in the hospital. When it was just her and Simmie, the latter hiding in her backpack in her hospital room and nibbling on the fruit that came with her meals. She hadn't been as verbal then beyond her warbles and chirps, mainly thoughts of contentment and happiness that practically radiated off of her. Benny and Levi had been much the same - distant, pleasant thoughts reflecting their own personalities, that got stronger and clearer as they got closer to her before eventually they landed in her lap.

Most notably though, they reacted with novel wonder at everything. When they discovered food and drink, when Simmie would flit around and play in her bedsheets. When Levi first swam in her tub and when Benny nibbled on his first bar of soap. Lisa was right: they really were children, in a lot of regards.

"No," Taylor shook her head. "I've always got the impression from them that I was the first person they ever met."

Legend seemed… surprised? "Could they have forgotten?"

"I don't think so," Taylor shook her head. She looked down at the fiorend in her lap, softly warbling as she continued to work her way through the candy. "It's like they never had memories in the first place, if that makes any sense."

"Huh," was all that Tattletale said, before visibly wincing. She slid a hand into her pocket, bringing out a small, folded up package. She opened one end, before upending the contents directly into her mouth and dry swallowing.

"Thinker headache?" the hero asked her.

"Yeah, thank you for asking. Anyways, meet the new boss, nothing like the old boss, and thank heavens for that. Whatever rulebooks people had regarding them might as well be tossed out. Like I told Taylor and her dad before you showed up, they're basically superpowered preschoolers. And like Taylor said herself, they're mostly harmless. Emphasis on mostly, because attacking their mother figure or her dad is not going to go well for anyone. Just ask all the villains she threw in jail last night."

Legend was silent for a moment. Taylor was quiet as well, as was her dad. The only sound for a time seemed to be that of Benny's teeth scratching on the jawbreaker, still stubbornly intact.

"This is a more complicated matter than I expected," Legend finally said.

"Understatement of the century pal," Her dad told him. "I feel like I should talk to a lawyer. I used to think I had one as a friend." Alan Barnes, Taylor noted.

"That is understandable, all things considered. I'm glad you're both at least willing to hear what I have to say."

"You've got more to say, so I'm listening," her dad told him.

"If Miss Hebert is willing to officially register as an Independent with the PRT, I can guarantee that she'd get help and guidance with her powers. With that, she can come into the local PRT branch for powers testing, and learn how to use her abilities in a safe environment."

Taylor mulled over what he said. "The PRT would let me do that?"

Legend nodded. "There would be a catch, of course. Generally as I recall, the PRT would want a way to stay in touch, as well as a promise to help out with cape-related matters if they come up. S-class threats, and the like."

"Yeah." Taylor nodded. She knew about New Wave, how their team would often work with the PRT from time to time to capture and arrest some of the more dangerous Parahumans in the city. "It's something I'll have to think about."

Her dad rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What exactly does the PRT do for Independents?" he asked the hero. "Normally, of course."

"Well, the PRT is willing to provide resources and information to Capes that wish to remain independent for one reason or another," Legend spoke. "For example, general counseling to new capes, or perhaps material suppliers for independent Tinkers. New capes are often hesitant to join the Wards or the Protectorate outright, but still have heroic intentions overall. That's the official spiel." Legend glanced at Simmie, still sitting in Taylor's lap. "If what has been said is true, I think a great many people will want what's best for your daughter, Mr. Hebert, and would be willing to go the extra mile if you and your daughter reciprocate."

Left unspoken, Taylor noted, was the simple fact that a great many people probably wouldn't. But her friends would take care of them if that happened, she was sure of that.

"You know, I think they want what's best for her too." Tattletale said.

Her dad sighed. "Part of me wants what's best for Taylor too," he spoke. "But another part of me just wants her to be safe. Here and now, those parts are at odds with each other, I'm sure you can understand."

"I do," Legend said. "Believe me, I do." He turned to Taylor. "I can imagine the stress you must be under, considering the power you've been granted."

"Yeah. It's a chore, just keeping them, well, entertained."

"It's a lot easier than you think," Tattletale said. "You just have to be clever about it. Case in point, Benny's barely scratched the surface." She was right in that regard, as Benny remained stubbornly persistent with his snack despite an obvious lack of progress.

"Yeah." Taylor thought for a brief moment, as she tried to figure out how to phrase her next question. "Something else, about helping me," she started. "Could the PRT help me change schools?"

"Oh?"

"I don't want to go back to Winslow," Taylor scowled at the memory of the place. "I refuse to go back there. Too many bad memories."

"I see," Legend nodded. "I think I could persuade the PRT to help you out in that regard."

"Really?" Taylor perked up. Being able to get away from Winslow would definitely be a plus, for her everything.

"Like I said a moment ago, it wouldn't be the first time that the PRT has helped Independents in a rough situation. Although as I recall, educational matters are normally considered part and parcel of membership with the Wards. But, I think they would make an exception here."

"I see." Taylor thought about his words. "Dad?"

"Well, the cat's out of the bag," her dad said with a sigh. "Still, after what's happened I can't readily agree to anything." he looked to the hero, "I'm sure you'll understand it when I say that we'll need time to think about this."

"Yeah," Taylor agreed. "We do."

"Completely understandable," Legend replied. "For what it's worth, I'm glad we've landed on a good foot. One last thing before I step out," Legend said, gesturing to the coffee table. "I presume those belong to Armsmaster, the leader of the local Protectorate team?"

The helmet and halberd head, still where Simme had left them. Taylor had started to wonder when the topic was going to come up. "Yeah, they are."

"Do you intend to return them?"

"Yeah! Yes, yes, I do." Taylor was quick to reply. "I want to do it personally though."

"Personally?"

"Yeah. Benny and Simmie sort of… pilfered them."

Borrowed! Simmie chirped through her mouth full of gummy worms.

"And I want them to apologize as well."

Simmie froze in her grasp. Apologize?

"Don't worry, Simmie," Taylor patted her head. "I just want you to give the halberd back and say you're sorry. Can you do that?"

A beat, as her Friend remained silent. Yes, she meekly chirped.

Taylor squeezed her gently, turning her attention back to Legend. "Anyways, yeah. I'll say I'm sorry too, despite all that's happened. I didn't want to fight the heroes last night."

Legend nodded. "I read the after-action report. And I can say that returning Armsmaster's gear would certainly help his opinion of you."

"He isn't too mad, is he?"

"The Armsmaster I know is an… intensely practical man. I'm sure he'd be grateful, and would understand it if you're upfront with him."

"Alright." Taylor mulled over her memory of the man, a deep scowl on his face. Then and there, his disapproval was understandable, considering the circumstances.

"Well then-" Legend started, before he was cut off by a rapping at the door. "That would be the agents that I mentioned before. They're early."

Taylor moved to get up, but Simmie was in her lap. "Simmie, can you get the door?"

Yep! With a meek chirp, she set aside her gummy worms and darted over to the door. A telekinetic twist of the knob and it swung open, revealing the two people on the other side: a man and a woman, wearing sharp business suits.

"Hello," the woman spoke in surprise at the winged girl floating in the doorway.

"Come in, I guess," Danny spoke, getting up from his seat. "Don't worry about her. From the PRT, I assume?"

"We are," the man curtly replied.

"Well, we're running out of seating but you're welcome to come in." Dad walked over to the duo, ushering them in and closing the door before gesturing to the couches behind him. Legend got up as well, presumably to introduce the two to her Dad. Tattletale took the time to smile and give her a thumbs up to reassure her.

Thanks, she smiled back.

"Mr. Hebert, may I introduce Mr. Wallace and Ms. Washington," Legend started. "As I'm aware, they volunteered to come and meet with you and your daughter to discuss things further."

"Charmed." Danny held out a hand, and Mr. Wallace shook it.

"Is your daughter present, Mr. Hebert?" he asked.

"I'm here," Taylor said, standing up to face the newcomers. She was keenly aware of the firm and reassuring grip of Levi's tail around her neck. Simmie floated back over to her and hovered at her side. The two PRT agents thankfully didn't react like she expected, and all she saw in their expressions were flashes of surprise. "Taylor is fine for now. And like I told Legend, I want to say that I'm sorry about what happened last night. It- it's a long story." She took a breath, steeling herself to continue. "I'd like to apologize to Armsmaster too."

The two agents shared a glance. "I think something can be arranged," Miss Washington spoke.

"Does this pertain to you being in possession of stolen Tinkertech property?" Mr. Wallace asked.

"Yeah," Taylor blushed. "I just talked to Legend here about that." Taylor glanced back to the coffee table to see Tattletale standing there, struggling to not laugh.

She also noticed that Benny was noticeably absent, the now scratched and marred jawbreaker sitting forlornly on the couch where he'd last been.

Taylor had just enough time to think Oh no, before she heard Mr. Wallace speak.

"Ms. Hebert?" Taylor turned to look at Mr. Wallace, only to find him having backed up a couple of steps, as his partner had stepped aside. She followed his gaze down to Benny, who had plodded over to seemingly greet the man. "If you wouldn't mind?"

Beard Man! Benny declared, pointing a stubby paw at the man.

"What?" she said to Benny.

Benny turned to look at her. Beard Man! He repeated, still pointing toward the apparent PRT agent.

Taylor looked up at the man, noticing his stern face and oddly familiar goatee, wondering why Benny would call him that until it just clicked. The night before, when they were teleported home and Benny found himself embedded in a wall.

"Are you Armsmaster?"

At that, the man's eyes widened in surprise.

Taylor didn't have a chance to say anything else, because behind her Tattletale burst out in a fit of laugh

Taylor squeezed her backpack to her chest, a life preserver on the sea of trepidation that she now found herself. The bag in her arms squirmed from within, as her friends made their discomfort at her squeezing felt.

"Sorry guys," she whispered to the bag, loosening her grip.

"Taylor, you okay?" Her dad asked her from where he stood next to her. He looked worried about her, and Taylor didn't blame him.

"Yeah dad, I'm fine," she lied. "I just want to get this over with."

"Me too, kiddo. Trust me, I'm nervous about this too."

"Yeah." With a deep breath, Taylor reached out to the front door of the PRT headquarters and pulled it open before stepping inside, her father right after her.

The lobby of the PRT headquarters was about what she expected. Polished tile floor, white painted walls and ceiling. There was seating around the space, as well as a gift shop that dominated one side of the room. It was empty of people, save for a pair of PRT troopers acting as security and a lone receptionist seated behind a desk at the far end of the lobby. Likewise, the gift shop was closed, the lights behind the glass off.

The two of them walked onward, toward the receptionist at the desk who looked up as they approached. "Can I help you?"

"Two to meet Mr. Wallis," her father said, using the apparent name of Armsmaster. Taylor still felt a little bad about yesterday, about Benny somehow unwittingly unmasking Armsmaster. Taylor didn't need to be a cape junkie to know why that was a bad thing. However, the man himself had seemed more surprised than anything else, and he just wanted to know how Benny had somehow known who he was out of costume. Taylor wanted to know that too. She had tried to ask Benny, but he had only repeated his declaration of 'Beard Man' to her. Somehow, he had just known. Was that just luck, or some special ability of his?

Come to think of it, Simmie had done the same thing with Lisa. There was probably more to it, but it could wait for a spell. At least until the current drama passed and she had an opportunity to experiment more with her friends' myriad powers.

The woman glanced back down at her computer, checking something. "They are expecting you," she told them. "If you would have a seat, someone will be down to escort you shortly."

Taylor and Danny glanced at one another, before both of them nodded and sat down on a bench in the lobby. The bag continued to squirm in her ams. "Shh, guys," she whispered to the bag.

Snacks?

Dummy.

Drinks?

No! Snacks!

"Soon," she whispered to her backpack.

"Are they giving you trouble?" her dad leaned over, whispering into her ear.

"They're just impatient," she replied. "You promised them treats after all."

"We did, didn't we? But didn't Benny eat that whole thing before we left?" Her dad had been referring to the jawbreaker. Not a different one, but the same jawbreaker that Lisa had first given to Benny the day prior. Benny had doggedly tried and failed to gnaw on it all day and into the night, his miniscule claws, jaws and teeth incapable of doing anything more than scratching its surface. Only when Taylor had reminded the little guy that he could also melt things had he managed to make progress, reshaping the molten candy into something he could fit into his maw.

"Yeah, he's a bottomless pit," Taylor explained as she remembered his sense of satisfaction at finally defeating the treat. "They all are, but at least the other two are modest about it."

"I see." The squirming slowed and mostly stopped after a moment. And after another, an elevator opened off to the side of the room and through the doors stepped none other than Armsmaster himself, clad in his signature blue and silver armor. Or Mr. Wallis, Taylor thought.

"Mr. and Miss Hebert," he spoke, "Please come with me. The Director is waiting for you."

The both of them nodded, wordlessly following the cape into the elevator. As the doors closed, Taylor realized that the man wasn't wearing the same helmet that Benny had taken and had been subsequently returned.

"Mr. Armsmaster?"

"Yes?"

"Your helmet. Did Benny-"

"This is a spare," he explained before she could finish. "Due to regulations, I cannot use any equipment that has been taken or altered by an Endbringer."

"Oh." Well, that is a blunt way to say that. "And your halberd?"

"Also a spare." The way he said it made it sound like he was a little angry about it.

"But didn't Simmie change your halberd back?" It came off as a question she knew the answer to. Before returning the halberd, Taylor had told Simmie to fix the man's weapon back to the way it was before she modified it. Which she had done with a smile and flourish, the metallic silvery sheen the weapon component had taken on reverting to a comparatively dull blue and gray.

"Regulations are regulations," he stated.

"Okay." A beat passed in silence. "Again, I'm sorry. We're sorry. Maybe Simmie can help you make new equipment?" Taylor tried asking.

A beat passed, where the only sound was crappy elevator music. "While I appreciate the offer, I suspect that that would require approval well beyond my authority."

That was probably the Director then, she thought. Before she could think of anything else to say, the elevator stopped and the doors opened, and the three of them stepped out.

The decor was better than the lobby. The walls were beige, and the ceiling was now drop down tiles. There was carpeting there, but it was just the thin bland carpet you'd find in any office. They continued on, the armored cape leading them to a wood door at the end of the hallway and past a secretary sat behind a desk. Armsmaster knocked, and a muffled reply came from within. He opened the door and led them inside.

The inside of the office was nicer still, as the carpeting was now more plush than the hallway. Behind the wooden desk sat a woman who, while not quite fat wasn't exactly thin either. She was looking down at a collection of papers on her desk, absorbed in whatever it was that she was reading.

"Director Piggot?" Armsaster called out.

The woman looked up, looking first at Taylor, then down to her book bag and then to her dad. "Mister Hebert, Miss Hebert," she started. Taylor recognized her voice, from several days before in the boat graveyard when she had eavesdropped onto a conversation. She glanced down at the bookbag Taylor was holding in her arms. "That backpack? Are they-"

"In here?" Taylor nodded, squeezing her bag in emphasis. "Should I not have brought them along?"

"I…" She trailed off. "Are they hazardous?"

"No, they aren't."

"I can take them outside, keep an eye on them if necessary," Armsmaster said.

Taylor thought about it for a moment. While nice, she wanted all the support right now that she could get, emotional or otherwise. She could also foresee the likely unmitigated disaster that would lead to. "Sorry, but I'd prefer if they stayed here with me."

"I see."

Taylor could hear the apprehension in his voice, so she was quick to reassure both him and his boss. "They're on their best behavior, trust me!" She smiled. "They'll get treats if they behave."

"And they hid under my nose for a month," Danny chuckled. "They even help with chores and cooking. I think the only threats they pose are to our pantry."

For a long and pregnant moment, the director of the PRT said nothing. She sat there in silence, her lips drawn as she seemingly regarded what Taylor said. Armsmaster remained impassive, although Taylor got the impression that his gaze never wavered from her bag. "Okay," Piggot finally spoke, the skepticism evident in her voice. "Take a seat then. I'm sure we have a lot to talk about. Would you prefer I call you by your cape name or your civilian name?"

"Taylor is fine, I think." Her cape name. According to PHO, the PRT was calling her Tiamat, after an ancient primordial goddess of the sea. The name felt appropriate, although she would have preferred something less… Endbringer-y. Her dad patted her on the back to reassure her, and Taylor stepped forward and took a seat at one of the two chairs while her dad sat in the other. Armsmaster stepped off to the side of the room, giving the task of speaking to his superior.

"Before I begin, I would like to apologize," Piggot said. "For what it's worth, please believe me when I said that both myself and Armsmaster were unaware of Shadow Stalker's actions against you."

Shadow Stalker, or as Taylor had discovered two nights before, Sophia Hess. In hindsight it had explained a lot, or it had seemed to explain a lot. Legend himself had been quick to clarify that the PRT by and large had no idea what Sophia had been up to, due to Winslow and Sophia's handler apparently covering up her… activities. Lisa had explained their motivations as being mainly financial in nature, and more attributable to incompetence than spite. Legend had filled in other details, things that neither Taylor or her dad had ever known.

She thought back to that night, where one moment the other girl had seemingly been all but fawning over her, admiring her Friends' takedowns of some of the most dangerous capes in the city. And a moment later when the masks had come off, both literally and metaphorically speaking, Sophia had reverted to right back being a bully. Even with Benny wrapping his arms and claws around her to restrain her she kept at it, mocking her despite the clear difference in terms of power. Internally she smiled at the memory of Benny chewing on Sophia's hair, the panicked cries as he gave her the comeuppance she was so deserving of.

"That was about as much as Legend said," Her dad spoke, his tone forcefully level. "And even after hearing it from him, I still have a hard time believing that nobody knew." Taylor knew that tone, when he was just barely keeping himself from shouting or flying off the cuff. Even after the explanations from both Lisa and Legend, her dad was still angry to an extent.

"Then please allow me to convince you." She gestured to the multiple folders before her. "Sophia Hess, formerly known as Shadow Stalker, and what I've come to know about her in the past couple of days."

"Formerly?" Taylor asked.

"As of last night, she has been removed from the Wards Program due to multiple grievous violations of the terms of her probation," She began to explain. "Normally this process can formally take weeks or months, but it would seem that both the leader of the Protectorate and my own boss have ensured that it happens much more quickly. As of right now she's in juvenile detention, pending a formal hearing. She had put up something of a fuss, but as I understand it, she went quietly in the end after the Chief Director herself had words with her."

"Speaking of," Armsmaster interjected, "The Chief Director may wish to speak with you at some point. I have gotten the impression that she has taken this situation personally."

"Oh. I see," her dad replied. Mentally, Taylor was reeling. The Director of the local PRT she could understand, but the Chief Director, the boss of the woman across the desk from her? Of course it made sense, considering her claims about her Friends. To someone like that, it might have seemed that she'd mastered three of the most dangerous beings on the planet. And if she could master the Endbringers, what else could she mentally dominate?

Joke was on them though, trying to get her Friends to do anything was like trying to herd cats. Small, absurdly powerful cats that cuddled up to her every night and could make her tea and a costume and who knew what else.

"Legend talked about that, probation," her dad asked. "What does that mean though, exactly? For her?"

"Miss Hess, prior to her induction into the Wards, was a vigilante." Taylor nodded, as she seemed to remember reading that somewhere, probably on PHO. "What the public at large wasn't aware of was that she had a penchant for violence against her chosen targets, up to and including attempted manslaughter."

Danny grimaced at that. "And you just let her be a hero?"

The Director sighed. "I did, yes." Her dad was about to speak again, but the Director waved him off. "Let me explain, Mr. Hebert. The Wards as a program was designed to recruit and train the next generations of heroes, and to help guide young parahumans to help them adjust to using their powers for good. Hess was hardly the worst person to ever join the Protectorate. The program was meant to help people like her, and people like your daughter."

"I wouldn't call Sophia a hero, or even good," Taylor said.

"A fact out of many that only today are coming to light, in contrast to what her case worker and handler would have led us to believe." The woman sighed. "And while the full investigations are pending, your… associate's accusations and theories are unfortunately panning out."

Lisa. Or rather, Tattletale. Taylor still wasn't entirely sure what to think about the girl. She'd seemed overly friendly and helpful, yes, But so had others in her life, only to turn around and stab her in the back when she least expected it. Even after admitting to Taylor that she was a villain, Taylor still had trouble picturing her as such, especially after all the help she'd given her regarding her Friends. So the night before, Taylor had looked up the girl on the Parahumans wiki with her tablet to see if there was anything else about Tattletale.

Unfortunately, there was little more than a blurry photograph and a brief summary that was probably inaccurate anyways. The article about her did say that she was obviously a Thinker, something Lisa had herself explained and demonstrated. It also said that she was a part of a group called the Undersiders, a team of apparent villains that carried out small time thefts from the gangs endemic to the city, but nothing any worse than that. The Undersiders did however have a cape named Hellhound, who had apparently killed someone in the past.

Whatever the case might be, Simmie had seemingly deemed Lisa to be okay in her book. That, and the fact that Lisa had basically unmasked in front of both her and her dad? At the very least, Lisa was willing to show her a little trust, even if Director Piggot didn't want to.

"So how bad was it?" her dad asked the Director. "It sounds like someone who wanted an easy job." Her dad sighed, crossing his arms. "Both her and that wretch Blackwell. Let me guess, they were splitting the money, right?"

The Director nodded. "As I am coming to understand it, Hess's handler and the school Principal were pocketing the money. They covered up the actions of Hess, presumably because her actions coming to light would have sparked an official investigation."

"An investigation that would have shown their corruption?"

"Precisely, Mr. Hebert."

Lisa had mentioned malfeasance and corruption as probably at play, and how the PRT provided grants and the like to schools hosting members of the Wards. The idea was that the money would be spent improving the facilities and the overall safety of the campus. Except, if the broken fixtures in bathrooms, gang graffiti and overall run-downness of the place demonstrated, little if any of that money had made it beyond the pockets of a couple of corrupt bureaucrats. Blackwell hadn't merely thrown Taylor under the bus out of spite, she'd done it just for a windfall. If she had hated the woman before, it was nothing compared to what she felt for her now.

Her Friends began to stir and squirm once more, no doubt agitated by her swirling emotions. She stamped her simmering anger down, lest her Friends do something unfortunate. Taylor couldn't help but feel that everything being done for her now, Director Piggot's promises and Legend's kind words, had nothing to do with her or any injustice done to her but more to do with what she had at her beck and call. It didn't feel to her like actions borne from any sort of genuine desire to help her, but merely to placate her or to buy her cooperation. Although, if Taylor was honest with herself, she wasn't going to complain in either case.

"Are they getting punished too? Her handler, I mean?"

"Hess's case worker has been suspended and detained, pending a proper investigation. As for The school principal of Winslow, she is simply out of my jurisdiction. I can say though that the proper authorities with the Brocton Bay Police Department have taken an interest in the case, after forwarding the report and evidence that the PRT collected to them."

"So that's it then," Taylor said. It had seemed like all of her problems had disappeared, almost. Her bullies, the people responsible for sheltering them. It only took getting a whole host of new problems big and small. Some of those problems were smaller than others, most of the time.

Speaking of, Taylor was suddenly, keenly aware of how much squirming was going on in the bag in her arms, her Friends suddenly vying to escape its confines. And before she could really do anything, the zipper split open and the three of them burst out. For Taylor, time seemed to slow down as she watched in mortified horror as Benny sailed through the air with a roaring exclamation of Freedom! Before landing on the Director's desk, belly-flopping onto the folders and papers before her. Simmie followed immediately after Benny, turning into a blur and darting around the Director's office, squeaking and chirping in excitement all the while before face planting squarely into Armsmaster's visor. Friend! She happily chirped.

For a moment, nobody spoke. "Um," was all that Taylor managed to get out after the moment passed. Next to her, her dad sighed with a chuckle. Elsewhere, Armsmaster pried the chirping and bubbly Simmie off of his visor, said mini-Endbringer managing to have left a dusty outline of herself on it. Simmie just waved at him in his grasp, chirping happily.

"It- She's wearing clothing?" He asked.

"Oh! Yeah, she made herself an outfit yesterday," Taylor answered. The tiny bodysuit that Simmie had created to wear was a miniature counterpart to the inner layer of Taylor's own costume, albeit with slits and holes for her myriad wings to poke through. It could also stretch and grow with her, something that Taylor had helped Simmie experiment with the night before. Taylor couldn't help but blush as she remembered how… form-fitting it could really be when Simmie grew larger. She also remembered with a blush that she'd fallen asleep in… in Simmie's embrace last night.

"Miss Hebert, your minion please?" Director Piggot's eyes were on Benny, who now stood atop her desk. The little guy was looking up at the Director, the woman herself having rolled her chair back, almost to the window behind it. Her gaze never wavered from Benny.

As for the last of her trio of troublemakers, Levi calmly slid out of the backpack and up her arm, depositing himself on her shoulder. His head brushed against the nape of her neck, nuzzling against her affectionately Taylor couldn't help but feel a little bit better about being in the PRT Director's office. Her earlier upsetedness simply dissolved away with him perched comfortably there.

"Hey, Benny?"

"Rawr!" Snacks! He waved at Director Piggot. Her chair bumped into the window behind her.

"It's not polite to scare the Director." She leaned forward and reached out to scoop her friend up, the little guy fitting right into her hands. "Remember what I said earlier, about the snacks later?"

"Rawr?" Snacks?

"Yeah," Taylor replied. "Remember, if you behave today, we'll get treats and drinks and snacks later. That goes for the others here too, right Simmie?"

Sweets! Simmie chirped. She squirmed out of Armsmaster's grasp, waving goodbye at him before floating back over to Taylor and plopping down onto her head. Taylor deposited Benny on her free shoulder, the little guy no doubt fantasizing about delicious snacks.

"What exactly did you… bribe them with?" Piggot asked her, having managed to regain her composure.

"Fugly Bob's," Danny answered for her.

"Fugly…" she trailed off. "Fast food?"

"We haven't been in a while. And the way I understand it, Fugly's the gold standard for greasy spoons in the Bay."

"Yeah," Taylor said. "I wanted to broaden their food horizons, see if they like other things. No offense dad, but they're probably getting burned out on leftovers."

"I… I don't even… And you've given them names too." The Director closed her eyes, reaching up to rub her forehead. She took a deep breath, before opening them to look at her. Her, and not her menagerie of Friends. "Anyways, Hess will be punished. You have my word on that. Now, with that subject out of the way, I wish to talk about you, Miss Hebert."

"Me?"

"Yes. More specifically, what do you intend to do from here on out?"

"Oh." Taylor probably hadn't given the subject as much thought as she should have, despite her prospects and overall fate being around or near the forefront of her mind for weeks now. Yes, she wanted to be a hero, but considering what she was, what she was capable of? What she called friends? Hero was a tall order to say the least.

"Right now? I guess I want to put this behind me. After that, I want to be a hero."

"Well, that is a fortunate thing to hear," the Director said. "Although if you stated your intentions to become a villain, or join the Empire or worse, I doubt anyone here could stop you."

"I- I wouldn't do that," Taylor was quick to say. "I… don't think they'd want me, not after Benny, umm, nibbled on Hookwolf."

Piggot raised an eyebrow. "I suppose there's a story there."

"There is." Next to her, Danny shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "But yeah, I do want to be a hero. Legend suggested that I look for some sort of partnership with the PRT and Protectorate. Pursue that, if I wanted to stay independent."

"Legend informed me that you might want something akin to that. He also mentioned that you would probably be hesitant to join the local Wards team. That leaves an independent affiliate program as the next best potential option."

Taylor nodded. "Yeah. Simmie is a Tinker, and the others would love to do hero stuff too. They had a fun time the other night." She had decided outright against joining the Wards. To a degree, nothing either Lisa or Legend had told her had influenced that decision, and most of it in the end had come down to the simple fact that she didn't want to involve herself in any more teen drama as long as she still was one. The Wards were, well, probably full of that. Maybe when she was a little older, and after she had gotten to know the local members would she even think about reconsidering. For now, Taylor just wanted space.

Besides, what else could she honestly do? Forge it alone, and risk getting her dad or even herself hurt? Wind up becoming a joke villain, like Uber and Leet were? Maybe she could pretend to be some sort of Saturday morning cartoon villain…

"Perhaps I could propose an alternative," A voice spoke as the door to the Director's office opened. The female voice jolted Taylor out of her thoughts, and four heads turned almost in unison to take in the newcomer. A newcomer that Taylor almost immediately recognized, from her prodigious height, shimmering scaled costume, lack of mask and most distinctly the two foot long horn sticking from her forehead that forced the newcomer to duck under the door frame as she entered.

"Greetings, Director Piggot," Narwhal, the leader of the Guild, spoke. "I was told by an acquaintance that there was someone here who I might want to speak to."

Spoiler: Author's Notes:

Last edited: Mar 7, 2021

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TheMadmanAndre

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Sep 26, 2021

#5,154

Spoiler: Pre-Chapter stuff

"Before we continue further Miss Hebert, I just want to say that it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you." Levi nuzzled her chin from her shoulder, reassuring her. But it didn't help with the fact that Taylor felt like she was in over her head.

They had been brought to a vacant conference room to talk in private. Just Taylor, her father, her three cute friends and one of the greatest capes in the world. Narwhal, the leader of the Guild, was sitting across from her and talking to her. So far, her conversation with the Guild leader wasn't quite as overwhelming as the one with Legend had been the day before, but it still was a bit overwhelming. Just a bit, she repeated to herself.

"Legend explained to me what happened to you. You have my sympathies," Narwhal continued. "No one should ever have to experience what you went through."

"I got better." It wasn't the truth, but it wasn't exactly an outright lie either.

"I can see that," she said, her focus settling on Taylor's friends still sitting on her shoulders. "And after learning about the… nature of your powers, I landed somewhere between skeptical and genuinely shocked."

"How do you think I felt?" Her dad said with a lighthearted chuckle. "Getting woken up by the Le- by Levi, almost gave me a heart attack."

"I can imagine," Narwhal replied. "A lot of people had assumed that the Endbringers had simply gone back to whatever place it was they came from, but to know that they were Mastered?" Narwhal chuckled. "A surprise to say the least, and I wasn't expecting the Master in question to be a teenage girl either."

"Yeah." Simmie was perched precariously at the edge of her shoulder, tinnily humming some sort of tune. Benny sat on her other shoulder, his gaze transfixed on Narwhal's iridescent horn. Meanwhile, Levi remained in his favorite place, protectively curled around her neck. "They've been better friends to me in the last few weeks than any friend I've had before that in my entire life."

"They're good at doing the chores too, I'll add," her dad interjected.

"That's such a strange thing to hear, someone calling the Endbringers friends. Not even the Fallen outright say that."

"They aren't, well, them anymore," Taylor explained. "Or at least that's how it was described to me. But they still get into trouble, just a little bit."

Narwhal raised an eyebrow. "A little bit?"

Taylor smiled. "Just a little, yeah." Thinking back, her friends had gotten a lot better. Those first few days had been a little hectic and chaotic, trying to keep them out of sight from her dad and out of trouble in general. Benny had become fascinated with practically everything that he could wrap his mouth around, and by the end of the first week he had practically covered the edges of most of her wooden furniture from top to bottom in claw and bite marks. His siblings had barely been better in those early days, and several times she had come back home to find her room simply unmade, the three of them having pulled the sheets off of her bed or nudged furniture out of place. A couple of times her belongings had been nibbled on, resulting in her scolding them. Over time though they had gotten better, or at least more behaved after said scoldings.

"Well, speaking of trouble, I was briefed about the other night, regarding your fight with the local Capes. You really managed to capture Lung single handedly? Well, relatively speaking," she finished with a gesture towards Taylor's friends.

Taylor nodded, and caught herself from making an off the cuff joke that Levi wanted a rematch. It probably would have come off in poor taste to the older cape. "We worked together to beat him, and the other Villains too." Her dad frowned next to her, and he was still uncomfortable with the idea that she had faced off against the likes of Lung and Oni Lee, not to mention the Empire Capes. She felt for him, mostly because she hadn't been wanting to fight anyone in the first place that night.

"Well, that is good to know. Understanding cooperation is going to be important," the Guild leader explained. "And with that said, I suppose we should talk about why I'm here, shouldn't we?"

"You're… offering me a job, right?"

"Yes. But, it's complicated."

"What do you mean? Miss Narwhal, is it?"

"Just Narwhal, Mr. Hebert."

"Narwhal," her dad corrected himself, "I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that 'complicated' means it's about Taylor's age then?"

The hero nodded. "It is. I was expecting your daughter here to be an adult or at least close enough to being an adult, as it would have made some things easier at least."

"Well, didn't Legend tell you how Taylor… got her powers to begin with?"

The woman grimaced. Taylor did too, thinking about the month before. "A version of it. I was hoping you two would be able to tell me in your own words."

"Shadow Stalker," Taylor spoke up. "She was one of the Wards here in Brockton Bay. She bullied me since we started high school. And then at the start of the year, they did something that caused me to, well, gain powers." Taylor omitted mentioning the locker to Narwhal in its entirety. She hated even thinking about it. "It was Simmie that saved me from… from what happened."

Narwhal sighed. "Well, that would explain why Legend asked me to talk to you, as I suspect he felt you wouldn't want to be in such an environment. For his sake, I hope he turns a keen eye on the local branch. But enough of that," she said. "Tell me, Miss Hebert, Taylor, do you want to be a hero?"

"Yes, I do." Taylor didn't hesitate saying it. Ever since she was a kid, it had been something she wanted to do.

"Well, that is very good to know. Because as I said a moment ago, it's going to be complicated for you."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"You might have realized that the Guild doesn't have a Wards-equivalent," Narwhal said. "As such, new recruits tend to be adults at the very least. There've been one or two exceptions over the years, but even then they were edge cases."

"I see," Taylor replied. "So it's a matter of age then?"

"That, but more importantly, experience." Narwhal paused for a moment, before continuing. "The point I am trying to make is that members of the Guild have to be autonomous and independent out of necessity. The Guild doesn't fight gangs or petty criminals Taylor, it fights monsters. We have to be strong and capable enough to fight independently, and without the support of a team."

Taylor nodded, and she understood that much. The Guild, while based in Canada, was an international force, in contrast to the Protectorate that was primarily focused on America. All of its members were functionally Independents, in the broad sense of the term, although there were a few members that were also members of the Protectorate. "Well, I kind of have a team all the time," Taylor replied, reaching up and scratching Levi under his chin. "But you're right about me being inexperienced, I haven't really been a cape for very long. The other night was my first outing."

Narwhal chuckled. "Well, your lack of experience is an issue obviously, but one that can be easily mitigated with time and mentoring. Thus, what we do from here is dependent on input from one of my teammates." Narwhal paused for a moment, the silence in the room almost deafening. "Weird, I expected her to be here by now."

"Who?"

Narwhal opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a knock at the conference room door. "Ah, that's probably her. Come in."

The door opened, and yet again, Taylor was mentally floored by being in the company of yet another legendary hero. It was a feeling she was starting to get used to.

"I do hope I have the right room?" The newcomer spoke, and Taylor recognized her immediately. It would have been hard not to, what with her distinctive, dragon-themed power armor.

"Dragon, we were just talking about you," Narwhal spoke to the power armored cape. "Glad you could join us."

"The pleasure is mine, ma'am. And apologies for my slight lateness, I stopped for a moment to talk with Armsmaster." Dragon cut an imposing figure with her suit of armor, and she had needed to duck to step through the threshold into the room. As the stories went, her armor and costume were constantly changing, and no two suits of armor that the legendary Tinker wore were ever identical. The armor she was wearing now was a little smaller than her typical suits, but nevertheless featured her iconic blending of medieval knight and oriental, fire-breathing serpent. The draconic helmet looked around the room, before settling on Taylor. "And you are Tiamat, I presume?"

"I am."

Dragon was about to say something else, but everyone in the room suddenly became aware of a high pitched keen, centered on Taylor's left shoulder. Simmie was totally focused on Dragon, and was literally squeeing at the sight of the Tinker. In a blink of an eye she darted toward the hero, flitting this way and that and around her, before smashing headlong into Dragon's chestplate, her tiny arms and wings spread out to hug her. Dragon seemed amused at least, as she carefully scooped up Simmie into one of her gauntlets. Simmie willingly let her, enthusiastically singing and chirping as Dragon brought Taylor's tiny friend closer to her face.

"And this is…"

"Simmie," Taylor introduced her. "She's my friend."

"I see." Dragon seemed to scrutinize Simmie, who managed to fit neatly into the palm of her gauntlet. She floated out of Dragon's hand, flying up to wave enthusiastically at her. Tinker! Hello! She chirped.

"She says hello," Taylor translated.

"Interesting," Dragon replied as she reached up to scritch Simmie on her feathery head with a single finger. "She is oddly cute and endearing."

"And they're also supposed to be on their best behavior." Simmie almost sulked, before floating back to land on Taylor's shoulder.

"Right." Dragon turned to look at her dad. "And you are Daniel Hebert, her father, correct?"

"That I am." Danny stood and held out his hand. "Danny is fine though."

Dragon took her dad's offered hand and shook it firmly. "I am here because I asked Narwhal if I could be allowed to join this meeting, as there is a mutual arrangement that I can come to with your daughter." She released his hand, before turning to address Taylor. "Miss Hebert," she said the name correctly this time, "Do you prefer your cape name, or actual name?"

"Taylor is fine. For now, at least." having a proper cape name was something she was going to have to get used to. Although she had to admit, the more she heard it repeated and the more she said it to herself, the more her name was growing on her. Through her mom she was more than a little familiar with various mythological creatures and the mythology of the classical world in general, so the name's meaning was hardly lost on Taylor. And if she was being honest, she had been a fair bit motherly to her trio of tiny and adorable monsters.

"Taylor it is then. A pleasure to meet you and your minions."

Taylor just smiled as she curled an arm up to pat Simmie. "They're not so much minions as they are friends."

"Basically Taylor," Narwhal continued, "If you are interested in joining the Guild, then it would be beneficial if you were properly mentored by another member. To that end, Dragon actually offered to volunteer to help in that regard."

Taylor blinked. "Really?"

"It would be a start, yes," Dragon said, walking around the table to stand by Narwhal. "As I understand it, you might not be willing to leave Brockton Bay. Well, some time ago, I offered the local ENE Branch assistance in the form of one of my suits stationed in the city, to help out on a case-by-case basis if needed."

"And I take it that my daughter is such a case?" her dad asked.

"Not exactly," Narwhal answered. "But it did provide an opportunity to grease the wheels so to speak, and in more ways than one."

Taylor thought about that, the implications. Powerful people were concerned about her, and were reacting accordingly. Would they force her to leave her home if the worst came to it and she wanted to stay? She was pretty safe with her friends, but if someone got to her dad? Taylor didn't want to think about that.

Along her neck, she felt Simmie brushing up against her, her soft and quiet coos working to reassure her. Maybe she could get Simmie to make something for dad, to help protect him? It was something to ask her friend about when Taylor had the time and privacy.

"I see." Her dad sighed, before continuing. "How is this going to work? Legally and otherwise?"

Narwhal nodded. "Put simply, your daughter would become a trial member of the Guild, with full membership pending my approval," the hero gestured toward Taylor. "Of course, I am for one confident in your daughter's abilities. Given time and training, I believe Taylor is more than capable of standing on her own two feet when the time comes."

Her dad chuckled. "Quite the sales pitch."

"Oh? Is it working?" Narwhal smiled.

"That's up to Taylor, I believe."

"Yeah," Taylor said. "I assume there's going to be a lot of work, and paperwork too."

"Well speaking of, I intend to go through that with your father today. Or at least the beginning of it." Narwhal gestured to Dragon, who reached into a compartment within her armor and pulled out from within a surprisingly normal looking yellow manilla envelope. The Tinker handed it off to Narwhal, who proceeded to open it, producing from within a thick sheaf of paperwork. Taylor only glimpsed the front page, and the font was too small to make out any words from across the table.

"I'm not going to have to sign a whole lot, am I?" Taylor couldn't help but ask with a grimace.

"Oh, probably not today," Narwhal replied cheerfully. "This is merely an initial draft that I want to go over with your father. Mr. Hebert, I presume you are familiar with contract law?"

"I am," he said. "This one's a bit more high stakes though than the typical ones I deal with. I'll also need a copy as well."

"Of course."

"Taylor," Dragon spoke to her as Narwhal and her dad looked at paperwork, "How about we leave the two of them? Unless you wish to stay, that is."

"Dad, are you going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine kiddo. Besides, don't you all have something you were wanting to do?"

"Yeah."

"Speaking of, I believe that they are ready for us downstairs," Dragon said to her.

Power testing. Taylor still wasn't sure what to think about actually going through with it.

"So, what is it exactly that I- we will have to do?"

"Not a lot initially," Dragon explained. "Two members of the research team here have set up an area in the training room to conduct the initial rounds of tests. While you'll be participating, it's your friends that are of the primary interest today."

"Oh, okay." Taylor understood that much, and it would make sense that the PRT would want to know exactly what her friends could do, as well as their limits. "I haven't had many chances to really do much," Taylor explained. "With them, I mean."

"Suffice it to say, that is going to be changing after today." Dragon led her through the PRT, down a few floors on the elevator and then through a double door and into what was obviously a training room. The walls and most of the floor were lined with thick rubber mats, and the far wall was dedicated to a wide variety of training and exercise equipment. To Taylor, it was difficult to imagine that they were in fact inside of an office building with how large the room was. It likely took up most if not all of the given floor.

"Doctors, is everything still set?" Dragon addressed a pair of lab coat-clad PRT personnel, one of whom nodded back with a confirmation. "Excellent." Dragon gestured toward a large table, covered with a large variety of what was the equipment needed for her and her friends' tests. On closer inspection, the various apparatuses seemed eclectic and random. Taylor noted one device that resembled some sort of press, and another that resembled a miniature treadmill. Taylor realized that besides the Director, a few armored agents and the heroes she had met so far, the two PRT researchers were the only others she'd seen so far.

"Dragon?"

"Taylor?"

"Where… is everyone?"

"Oh? Right, you probably haven't been told yet," Dragon spoke. "The Director apparently ordered all non-essential personnel away."

"Over me?"

Dragon nodded, her head tilting as if she were reading something in her helmet. "There were security concerns, obviously. There's only going to be a few dozen essential personnel on site until lunch, when the rest are now cleared to return."

"Oh." That made a lot of sense. Despite her repeated assurances that her friends were harmless - well, mostly harmless - the Director and Armsmaster would have probably wanted to play it safe like that, just in case. And there would have probably been a panic, if people found out that her friends would be coming to their workplace, despite her assurances they were on their best behavior.

"So, what exactly are we going to be doing first here?"

"Just the basics for today," Dragon answered. "The idea here for today is to test their physical attributes, strength, toughness, speed, agility and the like while in their, ah, compact states."

"I see."

"While there's standard equipment for testing each of these and more, your friends do fall outside of the standards in regards to dimensions, specialized instruments had to be procured. So, we're going to start with their strength and endurance first," Dragon pointed toward one of the devices, the device that to Taylor looked a lot like a small pneumatic press. It looked a lot like examples she'd seen at the machine shops run by the Dockworker's Union. The contraption was little more than a pair of heavy steel plates, one of which was affixed to a pneumatic jack. "Taylor, which one do you think would like to go first?"

"Benny?"

"Rawr!" Crush! Benny hopped off of her shoulder and face planted onto the table with a cheery roar, before hopping up and waddling over to the press. He stepped up onto the lower of the two plates, looking up at the upper plate above him as he did.

"Surprisingly obedient," Dragon observed. "How much do they understand in terms of speech?"

"I haven't had any issues with communicating with them, if that's what you mean. They understand me for sure, and a friend could kind of glean what Benny and Simmie are saying. Then there's my dad, but I think it was less communicating and more, well, Dad being Dad."

"What about, what was her name? Tattletale?"

"Oh. Well, she explained to me that her powers were helping her understand them."

She thought back to her conversation the day before with the other girl, while she tried to understand how her Friends ticked. "A friend seems to think that they might not quite understand spoken English, but more the intent of what is being told to them. Her words, not mine, if they make any sense in the first place."

"Interesting. That's something to investigate in depth in the future." Dragon pressed a button, and the press powered up. Nearby, the two PRT researchers had clipboards, and were both quietly observing the ongoings, both clearly content with letting Dragon take the lead here.

The upper plate of the press began to descend toward Benny, who looked up at the approaching slab of metal with curiosity, and Taylor was also aware of Simmie and Levi watching as well. The plate touched Benny's head, and the motor whined as the plate was briefly halted for a moment. But just a moment before it resumed its downward motion as it tried to squish her friend.

"Benny, try to hold it up?" Taylor asked.

"Rawr!" Not Crush! Benny planted his stubby hands into the upper plate, and again the motor changed pitch as it worked harder. Benny held the plate there for another minute, until the press shut down with a whine.

"Impressive," Dragon said. "Off the scale. Well, of this apparatus anyway."

Taylor blinked. "Is that good?"

"This press can exert five metric tons of pressure per square inch, so yes, yes it is."

"That's a lot."

Dragon chuckled. "Indeed."

Levi and Simmie were next. Like Benny, Levi had little issue halting the press at first, although he was quickly overwhelmed at just a few hundred kilograms. As the plate retracted, Taylor noted ten little holes in each of the plates, where his claws had dug in.

Dissatisfied, Levi said. Water?

"Can Levi go again? He wants to use water to help."

Dragon hummed. "I was wanting to test their powers later, but I've already obtained a baseline as it were. I will allow it."

Taylor nodded, and once more Levi returned to between the plates. Only now, a number of drops of water were circling him, seemingly condensed from thin air. As the plate descended and Levi's claws rose up to meet it, so did the droplets. This time he lasted longer, although he was overwhelmed at about a ton.

Satisfied, Levi stated as he stepped out of the press.

"Your turn Simmie," Taylor said to her littlest friend.

Simmie nodded, floating down and into the press. She spread her wings out between the plates, holding them fast as they tried to crush her. Taylor could somehow sense her using her telekinesis. Even with it though, she was quickly overwhelmed, and flitted out from between the plates before they could come close to crushing her.

"That's not a lot," Dragon observed. "Just a few dozen kilograms. Was she using telekinesis by chance?"

From the way Simmie was pouting, the answer was yes. "Well, the bigger they get, the stronger too." Taylor didn't know how that would apply to Simmie, but she was of course there to find out.

Dragon nodded at that. "Something else to take note of for the future. Overall, it would seem that Benny is the strongest one among the three. Well, at the moment at least. Would you agree with that assessment, Taylor?"

"Yeah, he seems like that to me. Although they all have their individual strengths." Levi and Simmie's strengths lay more in their other powers after all, and the strength test at least confirmed what was obvious.

"Well, their speed was what I wanted to test next." The next apparatus was the treadmill. The contraption was far too small for an ordinary human, but it was more than adequate for Taylor's friends. "I believe that this device is self-explanatory."

Taylor nodded. "Levi, how about you go first this time?"

Yes. He easily hopped up onto the rubber track. Again, Dragon tapped a button on the device and the track began to move, albeit at a snail's pace at first.

"Levi," Dragon addressed her friend, "Please stay on the treadmill for as long as you can."

Levi turned his head to look up at the Tinker, nodding in reply. At first he simply meandered along, walking in the middle of the treadmill. Over the next couple of minutes the speed slowly increased, and Levi transitioned from a walk, to a trot, then to an outright gallop as the treadmill beneath his legs became a blur. Taylor became enamored with his movements, his focus dead ahead and the feelings of Determination through their shared tether. After a moment more, the treadmill slowed and eventually stopped, and Levi seemed no worse for wear.

"The treadmill tops out at forty," Dragon stated. "Impressive."

"Kilometers?"

"Indeed. Twenty-five miles per hour. Within the realm of an Olympic sprinter, Levi here was easily sustaining that."

"Well like I said, they get stronger and faster when they get bigger. Maybe Levi can swim faster too?" Levy climbed up her costume to once more curl around her neck, all the while radiating feelings of Accomplishment.

"I am ever more looking forward to larger scale tests. From a safe distance, of course."

Taylor nodded. "Benny?"

Benny clambered up onto the treadmill, his eye casting about on the rubber surface as it began to move beneath him. He fairly quickly got the idea, and like Levi, he too was soon walking along. Soon the treadmill picked up speed, and his waddle turned into an almost comical trot. At just a few miles per hour he began to lag behind, before reaching the end of the treadmill and falling off and into Taylor's waiting hands.

"Barely four," Dragon noted. "Strong, but physically slow, perhaps?"

Taylor nodded. It certainly seemed that way.

"Well, as for Simmie, I have a slightly different test in mind in terms of speed." Dragon gestured first to one corner of the room, and then to the opposite. At each point part way up the wall were rubber mats facing their distant counterparts. "Simmie, could you float over to one of those mats and then dash toward the other as fast as you can? You may start when you like."

Yes! She chirped, darting off toward the farther mat. Taylor had to squint to see Simmie a little white speck on the distant blue mat. And then she was gone, a silvery white streak across the room that was too fast for Taylor to track. A whoomph sound as she bodily crashed into the opposite corner mat as a speeding bullet would, said mat caving in from the raw force of the impact.

"Oh," Dragon said. "Just shy of the speed of sound, by my measurement."

"Really?"

"Yes. I suspect she can go much faster. Well I say that since the sonic boom in a confined space here could be injurious."

"Ah." Simmie in question was currently trying to extricate herself from the hole she had punched into the mat. The mats were in fact not made of solid rubber but filled with stuffing, stuffing that her tiniest friend was now entangled in. A brief moment later and she had freed herself, darting back over to Taylor with a wide smile on her face. As with her other friends, Taylor patted her on her head.

"So, Simmie's the fastest, in the air at least. What's next?"

"That's a good question," Dragon replied with a nod. "I suppose we could leave it up to you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I initially wanted to focus more on the scopes of their powers and abilities when they are, well, small, but now I am rather keen on examining one of them in a larger state. But before we go any farther down that route, I want to ask. Do they have a, how can I say it, growth ceiling?"

Oh. That was a good question, Taylor thought. If she was honest to herself about it, Taylor had actually never really considered that until now. Probably the largest any of them had grown had been the other night when the four of them had fought Lung. Both Benny and Levi had gotten pretty large, as Taylor had them matched with Lung foot for foot.

The simplest explanation was that she'd avoided using that part of her power for the obvious reason of not wanting to draw attention to herself. Taylor looked up at the ceiling, wondering if any of them would cause damage if she tried to cut loose like that.

"I don't think it would be safe for me to make them gigantically sized here," she said. "But I could try to make them just a little bigger."

"I see. How fine is your control over that aspect of them?"

"It's hard to explain," Taylor answered. "There's these, how can I say it? Notches that they fit into. Right now they're in the small notch, and I really don't think I can make them get any smaller than what they are." Taylor thought about her tethers to each of them, how they seemed to be taut at the moment. She could pull on them, but she'd get nothing back. She could only push. "But I can sort of push them into other notches, into a size that sort of seems, I don't know, comfortable?"

Dragon was quiet for a moment. She turned her head to look at other training and testing equipment in the room. "It's almost like you're describing something that can be adjusted, like notches on a piece of exercise equipment."

"Yeah." That analogy… sort of made sense. "Or settings on a dial, maybe?" Taylor thought about Simmie, that night when she had experimented a little with her power and transformed her into a child. "Simmie initially had a, well, an adult size? Not as big as her old self, but about your height."

Taylor scratched the back of her head, thinking about Simmie's… assets, back when they visited the Boat Graveyard. They had been soft like her wings are, a small, traitorous part of her mind thought.

And now she was probably blushing. "But I kind of made a new notch, if that makes sense? Not tiny like now, but more like a five or six year old."

Dragon nodded along. "Could you change her size right now? I would like to observe the process."

Taylor nodded and focused on Simmie. She remembered that the night before, Simmie had made something out of some of her old clothing. It was a matching bodysuit to Taylor's that more modestly hid her, ah, distinguishing features. No one had even noticed it yet, since it was just a few shades darker than her skin. But now and in the presence of others, it would come in handy.

She reached out, taking a hold of the tether and giving it a gentle push, and she felt that almost intangible energy flowed to her littlest friend. Which very quickly became the biggest as she expanded in size to that of a child, made seemingly even bigger by her dozen wings. Now embiggened, Simme floated over to Dragon, chirping a Bigger! At the armored Tinker.

"Fascinating," Dragon said. "Is that a costume of some sort that she is wearing? I was going to ask about it earlier."

Taylor nodded and smiled. "I'm wearing one too."

"Oh?"

She grinned and focused. Simmie wasn't the only one that had dressed up for today, so to speak. In a blink of an eye her costume materialized, or perhaps more accurately, simply dropped the illusion of her being out of costume. Once more, she was resplendent in the gray and silver outfit she had first gone out in the other night.

"… Wow. I couldn't tell you were wearing that at all."

"Yeah. The three of them made it for me, or maybe Simmie was helped by them?" She wanted to say Administrated for some reason, as that word came to mind as being the most appropriate somehow. But the word was too mealy to use in most cases, even if on some level it might've somehow been the correct one to use.

"Fascinating," Dragon said. "It is almost as if Simmie was…" Dragon trailed off.

"Dragon?"

Dragon shook her head. "I'm just trying to parse what I saw. I wanted to say that Simmie looked like she was… crystallizing, but I don't think words could properly describe what I was observing across different spectra."

"Okay." Taylor thought about it. To Taylor, it almost seemed like things were flowing onto and off of them when they got bigger or smaller, but then again Dragon probably knew a lot more about powers than she did. "So, it's basically just 'powers are weird' then?"

The tinker chuckled. "Yes, they are." She turned to Simmie, still floating nearby. "Simmie, how about another go at the strength machine?"

Simmie cocked her head with a chirp.

"Well, not with this thing," she patted the press, "You're a bit too big for it now." She gestured over to another device in the room, along the back wall and nestled between others like it. The machine in question looked like some sort of exercise machine, a series of cables and weights connected to a series of hand grips on all sides. "That machine is used for Brute strength testing, and maxes out at ten metric tons. Simmie, do you think you could lift that with your telekinesis?"

Simmie cocked her head. Yep! She chirped eagerly. She floated over to the device, flitting around and inspecting all the different parts of it. Picking one of the hand grips, she reached out with her wings and, with a mere gesture, moved the grip. She let it retract, and a flick of a wing saw pins being relocated from some slots to other slots in the nearby panel.

"Right to the maximum then?" Dragon asked. "No warm-up?"

Nope! She chirped, and with a gesture of her wings moved the grips. The machine audibly groaned as tons of weight were shifted around. The hand grips floated up and down several times, before Simmie slowly eased the weights back to their cradle.

"All ten tons, amazing," Dragon said. "And I don't doubt for a moment you weren't exerting yourself either."

Nope! Easy! With a chirp, Simmie floated back over to the group. Strong! She declared with a chirp.

"Well, that is some fascinating data. Speaking of, how are you two holding up over there?"

The two PRT researchers continued to take notes, and for the most part had remained in the background. "Oh? We're fine," the first said.

"Par for the course, really," the second finished.

"Good then. And as I understand it, your hazard pay is ten times for today?"

The first chuckled, and resumed note taking.

"So," Dragon turned back to Taylor, "What about the other two?"

"Oh, right." Taylor decided that, probably, nothing would go wrong if she sized up Levi and Benny. Probably. They hopped off of her shoulders, landing gracefully and with a thud respectively, as if they were anticipating this. Once more, she reached out to the intangible threads connecting herself to them and pushed, and like with Simmie, they swelled in size. In a moment, they were towering over the others in the room.

"Rawr!" Tiny, Benny rumbled, looking down and pointing at Simmie.

Simmie pouted back, glaring back at her older brother. She squawked in surprise as Benny scooped her up, placing her neatly on his shoulder, much like Taylor did with them when they were pocket-sized. Levi meanwhile remained close to Taylor, rearing back to rest his weight on his hind legs as he watched the others in the room. To their credit, the two men remained calm and collected in their presence. The two really well paid men, Taylor recalled.

"Wow," Dragon said. "I do find one thing interesting though."

"Dragon?"

"Some of their features are different," she explained. "Case in point, Simmie. Her wings used to be random in their positions and size. But now there's an even number and they are perfectly symmetrical."

"Yeah, I noticed that too. That's how she was when I met her."

"Curious. Are the numbers and placement dynamic in any way?"

Taylor thought for a moment. "I never thought to find out-"

Taylor was cut off as the building shuddered, and the room they were in was plunged into darkness.

Spoiler: A/N

Last edited: Sep 26, 2021

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Apr 20, 2022

#5,367

Spoiler: Preface

As the lights flickered and died and the building shuddered from some distant explosion, Taylor immediately thought about her dad. Was he safe? Was he okay? Was he hurt?

A second of darkness filled the room before an emergency light in the corner of the chamber flickered on, re-illuminating everything in eerie red light.

Her friends were still there, rendered into crimson Endbringer silhouettes on the mats.

From each of them she got different feelings: Wariness, Curiosity, Apprehension to varying degrees. Anticipation especially from Levi, as he fell to all fours and bristled at whatever threats they would soon all face.

It took another second for Taylor's mind to properly shift gears, for her to get into motion. "Dragon, what's happening? Is my dad-"

"Your dad is safe, Taylor," the hero replied. Her tone was deadly serious, which was all that Taylor needed in terms of convincing that this was serious. "He's still in the conference room upstairs. As for what, the local Empire 88 appear to be attacking the PRT with a large number of capes and unpowered soldiers. The explosion you felt a moment ago was a breaching charge failing to penetrate a concrete wall."

"Oh." Taylor flashed back to a couple of nights before, where she and her friends had fought and captured two of the members of the gang.

"Presumably, they are exploiting the lack of personnel and security to try and attempt a rescue of their fellow villains," Dragon continued.

"What are we going to do?" Taylor asked her.

Dragon's head swiveled toward Taylor. "Be heroes. Normally, I would advise against fighting in this situation and to wait for the proper Protectorate response. But…" she trailed off. "Are your friends ready?"

Taylor nodded, feeling her friends' shared readiness. "What do we need to do?"

"First," Dragon looked toward the two scientists. "You two should seek shelter. There should be a safe room down the hallway."

"We're aware," one said.

"Don't have to tell us twice," said the other. They both moved quickly to the exit.

Dragon continued after they left. "Tiamat, considering that you are neither technically or legally a member of the Guild yet, there isn't exactly a whole lot I could order you to do or not to do. With that said though, you could consider this to be a, how could one say it, an evaluation of sorts?"

"An evaluation?"

"Indeed. Nobody has exactly seen how you and your teammates here fight. Well, a couple have, but since they are all villains, their eyewitness testimony is unreliable to say the least."

The building shook again. Dragon's head tilted, and Taylor got the impression she was reacting to some sort of data feed in her helmet.

"It would seem they've breached the outer wall of the holding areas. My initial suggestion would have been to use the private elevator to go up to the roof and engage them from there, but considering your friends' current volumes and dimensions, that would be impractical at the moment."

With a thought, Taylor pulled on their tethers, shrinking them back down to their usual sizes. One by one they landed or climbed into their positions on her head and shoulders.

"Of course," Dragon noted with a hint of amusement. "Seeing that is something that I am going to have to get used to."

"Yeah. Lead the way?"

"Of course." Taylor followed Dragon out of the testing chamber, following her back to the elevator and the way they came.

The doors opened for them, and both heroes stepped inside. "Normally the elevators are non-functional in an emergency situation, but I can override them." The doors closed behind them and already the elevator was moving. Taylor noted that Dragon hadn't even pressed any of the buttons on the control panel, but she probably had other more direct means to access it.

"What capes are outside?"

"According to the security cameras, most of the known and affiliated capes of the local Empire are present. It would be easier to list the ones that aren't. In that case, Purity, Night and Fog." Dragon's head quirked. "It would appear that Victor and Othala are occupying a rooftop on the far side of the plaza in front of the PRT HQ."

"Simmie?"

Bad guys? She chirped.

"Yeah, could you go take care of those two?"

"Forewarned, Victor is likely heavily armed, based on his known habits of using a sniper rifle at range."

Tinker stuff! Simmie replied. Taylor just reached up to pat her on her head.

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened to a short hallway, at the end of which was a door. Dragon strode out and Taylor followed, past the topmost landing of the stairs. She threw open the door, letting sunlight flood into the short and narrow passageway. The tile gave way to gravel as they walked out onto the rooftop proper, and to the edge of the building overlooking the villain capes below.

"Rawr?" Fight? Benny asked.

Taylor chuckled. "Oh yeah." They were high enough that below them, Taylor could see everything. There were easily a couple hundred unpowered Empire gang members down there, judging from the small sea of red and white, the gang colors of the Empire.

From just around the corner of the building rose a plume of smoke, presumably where the Empire had set off the explosives to gain access to the building. With the enhanced senses that her costume's helmet provided her, Taylor could easily tell the Empire capes apart from the rabble. Like Dragon had said, most of their roster was present. Fenja and Menja stood out from the rabble, literally, as the twin capes having already grown to giantess proportions. She could see Hookwolf there too, clad in his serrated metal form.

Her friends hopped and floated off of her shoulders and head. Taylor pushed on their tethers, growing them all to their dimensions from before. In a moment, Benny and Levi were once again towering over her, as Simmie floated by her side.

"Taylor, the PRT and Protectorate are on their way," Dragon said. "As well, several of my more combat-oriented suits will be arriving shortly."

"You want us to wait for them?"

Dragon was silent for a brief moment. "Their efforts to reach their comrades are being stymied by Narwhal downstairs. Slowed, but not stopped."

Taylor nodded. She was about to say something, but Benny cut her off, pointing down at the crowd below.

"Rawr!" Snack Man!

"Wait, Snack ma- Oh." There was only one person that Benny had nicknamed that. Hookwolf, from the other night previously. It would of course make sense that he was here to free the other captured members of the Empire.

"'Snack man?'" Dragon asked.

Taylor didn't have time to reply to Dragon, because Benny promptly took a leap of faith, jumping from the edge of the rooftop and toward the plaza below. Taylor, already at the edge of the building, could only watch in horror as he plummeted towards the ground below.

Taylor looked down and saw that Hookwolf was looking up at Benny as he fell. In that frozen instant, the metal-clad cape looked panicked and scared, his steel claws carving grooves in the pavement in a desperate struggle to get away. Through her tether, she realized that Benny was holding the other cape in place with his magnetism powers, and preventing the villain from escaping.

Benny crashed into Hookwolf from above at roughly terminal velocity, pancaking the villain and leaving a crater in the plaza. No, not a crater, the whole section in front of the building had simply collapsed into a void below. A parking garage, Taylor realized. Once, she'd watched a video on TV about the local PRT ENE, and recalled the host talking about it. Benny had just knocked Hookwolf through its ceiling.

And distantly, through the massive cloud of dust the action had kicked up, Taylor could hear an exclamation of Snack man! From below.

"Expedient," Dragon said. "But somewhat destructive."

Taylor's cherry red blush was hidden by her mask.

"Hopefully that will stop Hookwolf…" Dragon trailed off, as shapes stirred in the dust cloud. "Never mind then."

As the dust began to clear, Taylor could see Benny and Hookwolf down below, grappling with one another. No, not grappling. Hookwolf was dragging himself up a giant and broken slab of parking lot, with Benny firmly clamped onto his back. Snack Man! Taylor heard Benny roar again from below.

Climbing out of the hole, Hookwolf tried in vain to twist and shake Benny off of him, crashing into the side of the PRT building as he did. But Benny held on doggedly. Taylor wondered why none of the other villains were helping their ally. Were they all in shock?

No. Squinting, she could see Kaiser gesturing to the other capes. She was too far away to hear what he was shouting, but she saw him point toward the breach in the PRT's wall. He made a motion toward the giantesses, and they began to step forward to help Hookwolf. But before they could render aid Hookwolf took off, bolting down the street and weaving between vehicles, his unwilling jockey roaring Snack Man! The entire way. A moment later he rounded the corner and was soon out of sight.

"Well, that… happened," was all that Taylor could manage to say at that moment in time.

"Tiamat, later on I will have to make sure to teach you about avoiding and minimizing property damage," Dragon spoke from next to her.

Taylor grimaced. "Should I go after him? Them?"

"No, I will," Dragon affirmed. "This suit is insufficient against massed parahumans, but it should suffice to engage Hookwolf, or at least pry him and your, ah, friend apart. Maybe." She stepped up to the ledge, and Taylor noticed the back of the suit expand and unfold into a pair of flight surfaces. "Armsmaster and Miss Militia are downstairs and joining the battle. Also, I have additional suits en route. They should arrive in about… three minutes." Taylor got the impression that Dragon was smirking behind her helmet's face-plate. "Do you think you can manage until then?"

Taylor smiled back, feeling her other two friends behind her. "I think we can, yeah."

"Good." With that, Dragon leapt from the hole, a pair of engines firing to life as she did. Taylor spared a moment to watch her arc toward the direction that Hookwolf and Benny had gone.

"Right, then. Guys?"

Fight? Levi asked.

"Yeah," Taylor answered him. "So, who wants to go fight some Nazis?"

Spoiler: Author's Notes

Last edited: Apr 20, 2022

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Threadmarks Interlude 6

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Apr 21, 2022

#5,402

No preamble, let's just get right into it.

Interlude VI

Max

Kaiser had been called many things in his long life. A monster, a villain, a Nazi. He readily accepted and acknowledged most of those descriptors, and more still. But the one thing he would not accept being called was a fool. Because when the PRT practically handed you an easy opportunity to free your subordinates, only a fool would pass on such a thing.

The evening before, the handful of moles that he had placed within the ranks of the PRT had each independently reported to him something interesting. All non-essential personnel of the morning shift had been instructed to proceed to one of several satellite sites the PRT utilized for various reasons, at least until noon that day.

No reason had been given for the apparent and unusual order, and said orders had already been cleared through the standard Master-Stranger protocols, or so the mole had explained. Thus, they were legitimate. Kaiser's senior-most agent within the PRT's ranks had yet to fail him so far, nor had the others. All were unaware of the others of course, and all of them had backed up the statement of the senior-most. Clearly something important was happening tomorrow morning, but as to what, Kaiser was unsure of.

One thing came to mind. There was the matter of the mystery cape, the independent that had single handedly captured two of his subordinates, humiliated a third, and wiped out the ABB, his primary rivals in the Bay, all in one single night. And then they had simply vanished, with only a vague press statement and an even vaguer description of her given out by the local heroes.

Tiamat. Kaiser turned that name over in his mind, letting the name roll across his tongue. It was an unfamiliar name to him, which meant that it was a new cape on the scene. That itself was not unusual, as the city's inherent misery meant there was no shortage of situations that would cultivate fresh recruits. The name carried weight and gravitas with it. The official press release described her as having a rating of Tinker 5, but he doubted that. She had gone toe-to-toe with Lung, and anyone capable of defeating a cape that fought with the entire local Protectorate branch on equal terms was someone to be respected, if not outright feared.

Kaiser wasn't exactly a mythology buff, but he was educated, and knew the origins of that name. It was appropriate, considering the so far unmentioned aspects of her apparent powers that the press briefing neglected to mention for good reason. His ultimate conclusion, after combining Brad's panicked testimony and the crumbs of information from the press release was that this Tiamat apparently could create Endbringer copies, or at least smaller facsimiles that could give the impression of being such.

The conclusion he came to from all of this was obvious. A new cape, a shift in security posture. The PRT had arranged a meeting with Tiamat, and she would be attending it some time tomorrow morning. But why the drawdown in personnel, when it should have been business as usual? Perhaps there was some aspect of her power then, a master with a tenuous grasp of their abilities? The regular staff seeing even expies of the Endbringers could potentially cause a panic or an overreaction, so if that was the case, it would make sense for a limited and temporary drawdown of personnel.

But still, she could be useful, especially in due time. All capes regardless of their powerset took time to come into their own. It was also a painful point of contention that the largest gang in the Bay lacked a Tinker, assuming she was one of course. As well, it wouldn't be the first time the PRT had stretched the truth in regards to the abilities of their heroes. But regardless, a parahuman capable of bringing the Dragon to his knees? That was one that could be eminently useful, assuming he could get them under his thumb. Something he had no doubt of being able to accomplish, either through coercion or force.

Max Anders turned away from the wall-to-wall window of his office at Medhall, before striding over to his desk and picking up the telephone there. He had plans to make.

Victor

So far, the plan was, well, going to plan.

It was a fairly simple plan, all things told. Assault the PRT headquarters en masse, while the building was briefly yet critically understaffed. Use the opportunity to free Crusader and Rune, and if possible, capture the cape responsible for their imprisonment. As far as they were told, only a handful of PRT troopers would be present in the building: a skeleton crew to guard the few prisoners in the holding cells, a handful of office workers, and Armsmaster and Miss Militia. And the mystery cape, and whatever surprises she had in store.

Despite the numbers being in the Empire's favor, Victor for one couldn't help but feel that Kaiser's plan was risky, unbelievably so. He didn't want to disparage Kaiser, but frankly, there were unknowns the leader of the Empire had either completely failed to account for or simply chose to ignore. Victor knew not which; one would have spoken of Kaiser's terrible arrogance, while the other would have spoken of blatant incompetence. He didn't want to accuse Kaiser of either. Not to his face at least, or ever really.

The biggest and most obvious unknown was this new mystery cape. They had a name, an apparent Tinker rating and little else to go on, if the press briefing he had read was in any way or shape accurate, which he doubted. Victor had been in the game a long time, and he knew bullshit when he saw it. That statement reeked of it, meaning the PRT was hiding something, and he had a feeling he would find out just what very, very soon.

Well, at least he'd be behind a scope and a huge rifle when he did.

The next day came, and Victor took up his assigned position, from a concealed, pre-prepared lookout atop a skyscraper several hundred yards away with a clear line of sight to and overlooking the front of the PRT HQ. Othala, his loving wife was beside him, ever dutiful. Victor had insisted she be with him, far back and away from whatever fighting was practically guaranteed to occur. He had been teaching her how to act as a spotter, using a tripod-mounted optic to spot and range targets for him. It was a task she didn't mind performing on top of her usual duties as a healer for the Empire, and something she took to fairly readily.

And to her credit, she beat him by a second to confirm the wild and absurd claim that Hookwolf had made the evening before, when they were planning and preparing for this. He'd been covering the unpowered gang members' advance toward the hole in the wall that the breaching charges made when she shouted out. "Victor, on the roof! Look!"

Victor trained his rifle toward the roof, panning up to see what Othala had called out. The Behemoth was standing there, gazing down at the Empire below. And then he saw the others. The sleek, mottled green form that was unmistakably the Leviathan, likewise peering down toward the rest. He also glimpsed the power armored form of Dragon, as well as two other, comparatively smaller figures he couldn't quite discern. For a moment, his blood ran ice cold at the sight of the two Endbringers, but just for a moment.

"Are… Are those-"

"No, too small," Victor was quick to reassure his wife, the fright audible in her voice. The… things, whatever he was looking at were far too small to be the real deals. The not-Behemoth was no more than a few meters tall at the most, whereas the real deal would have been eye level with the fifth floor of the building it stood on. The Leviathan expy was smaller still.

The not-Behemoth opened its maw and bellowed out a roar, one he heard a full second later due to the sheer distance afforded to him by his weapon of choice and a high powered scope. Said rifle was one that he'd been saving for a rainy day, a special import from South Africa. A massive anti-materiel rifle from the better days of apartheid, that fired depleted uranium shells that had more in common with those of a tank gun than any typical rifle.

And then through the comparatively tiny yet more than adequate optic mounted atop it, he watched the not-Behemoth leap from the rooftop ledge and plunge toward the ground below. The monster was falling too quickly, and he had to break sight picture just to track its descent as it fell towards-

Hookwolf. He watched, with his naked eye, as the not-Behemoth slammed into his fellow cape at roughly terminal velocity, with enough force to cause the parking lot to collapse into the space beneath, an underground garage reserved for the PRT's vehicles if his memory served him right. Easily fifty square meters of concrete simply gave way as monster and villain alike fell down and out of sight, the gaping hole obscured by a rising plume of dust.

"Well, that just happened," Victor deadpanned.

"That's… horrible."

"For Brad."

Othala said nothing at that. He ducked back behind his scope, training the rifle on the newly-formed hole. Out from within Hookwolf rose, now with a passenger in the form of the not-Behemoth, clinging to his metallic back by maw and claw. Even though the sound took a second to carry to his position, they could hear Hookwolf's panicked cries as he tried to shake the beast off of himself, to no avail. Before Fenja and Menja could move to help him, he abruptly took off, galloping behind a building and out of sight, heading toward the general direction of the Docks.

For a brief moment, neither husband nor wife spoke. "Should we relocate?"

"No," Victor replied with a small chuckle. "I think he has things well in hand."

Othala didn't respond. Somewhere nearby, a bird chirped. Victor ignored it, refocusing his rifle back on the rooftop above. He'd caught a blur as he'd been moving his rifle back, presumably Dragon giving chase to Hookwolf. The not-Leviathan and the mystery cape he'd glimpsed earlier were still there. The PRT statement had neglected to describe her, but Victor's gut told him the unknown was the mysterious Tiamat.

Victor watched as Tiamat clambered up onto its shoulders, before both the not-Leviathan and its passenger descended the PRT HQ in a much more controlled manner than the not-Behemoth before, walking down the side of the building as a gecko would a pane of glass. Victor wondered what the reactions of the office workers inside, if any, would be to the sight of the nightmare scaling down the side of the building. He could only speculate, presuming they didn't evacuate the moment the satchel charges went off.

As for the Empire itself, he didn't need to speculate. A few of the rabble of unpowered members broke and ran at the sight of the not-Leviathan descending toward them as a sphere of water began to form behind and above it. A sphere, he noted, and not the echo that one would have normally expected. From a distance, Victor thought he could hear Kaiser shouting orders to them to hold their ground. Fenja and Menja braced their sword and spear in anticipation of whatever fight was about to happen as the rest of the capes likewise readied themselves. The Leviathan reached the ground, and Victor watched as Tiamat dismounted, hopping off of its shoulders and landing softly on the pavement as easily as she had mounted it.

For a moment, all was still, in that clearing over three hundred meters away. Victor saw Kaiser stride toward Tiamat, arms outstretched. He was too far away to make out whatever he was saying, but it was no doubt something grandiose and saccharine, perhaps to appeal to whatever sensibilities Tiamat might have had. He trained the scope of his rifle onto her head, ready to squeeze the trigger if Kaiser gave the order. Far away, Kaiser finished with whatever he was saying. A beat passed, and Victor presumed that she was mulling over his offer.

And then Tiamat looked over to her pet Endbringer replica, before pointing at Kaiser. A ribbon of water, almost invisible to his scope, lashed out at Kaiser and sent him flying, bowling over several of the Empire's capes almost a dozen meters behind him.

All at once, pandemonium broke out. The twins advanced on the not-Leviathan, who turned to face them. They were both armed and armored for the occasion, gleaming golden lances as long as they were tall that lashed out toward the aquatic beast almost in unison, only to be arrested by the ribbon of water that now ensnared their weapons. He didn't wait for any cues or orders, as it wasn't the first time he had been forgotten in the heat of battle. Victor trained his rifle on the beast's head and fired thrice. The massive rifle barked once, twice, three times, shells as thick as his wrist hurtling downrange at three times the speed of sound.

He glimpsed the impacts, each round's explosive charge detonating in a flash of light and smoke. But it wasn't the fact that the armor-piercing round not only failed to do any noticeable damage to the Leviathan facsimile that distrubed him, it was the fact that it didn't even seem to notice. Victor squeezed the trigger twice more, the massive rifle bucking into his shoulder. Two more shells sent splashing against the Leviathan's head, bursts of fiery silver from the explosive armor penetrators failing to penetrate much of anything. If he squinted, he could almost see marks where the three rounds had impacted, but they faded quickly, almost between the blinks of his eye.

Right, it made sense that the fake Endbringer was a capital-B Brute. It presumably survived a fight with Lung after all. He ejected the now empty magazine and inserted a fresh one, five more cartridges of expensive ammunition ready to be spent. He aimed his rifle toward where he'd last seen Tiamat, the presumed master of the discount terrors. She was still there, dodging swings of sharpened air from Stormtiger and swings of sharpened kamas from Cricket. Tiamat was pretty quick, but Stormtiger was quicker, the latter managing to close the distance and land a blow-

An actinic, brilliant blue flash of light blinded Victor, causing him to recoil in pain. The rational part of his mind told him that it was some sort of Tinker defense. The last split second he'd seen of Stormtiger and Cricket was them getting flung away in that pulse of light. The rest of his mind was reeling in pain from an arc flash having been transmitted directly into his hindbrain through his eyeball.

"Othala," Victor called out, half-blinded. "Are you okay?" He needed her to patch him up quickly.

No response. Had she been blinded too? He didn't hear her cry out in pain. Victor looked up, turning to look with his good eye at where Othala was supposed to be beside him. She was still there, slumped over her spotter's scope and unconscious much to his horror. And on the other side of her, opposite of Victor-

Was the Simurgh. No, a small girl that looked like the Simurgh. No, not that either. It was another of Tiamat's facsimiles, and was right there with them.

The not-Simurgh chirped, smiled and meekly waved at him.

Victor screamed.

Dragon

It was not hard for Dragon to follow Hookwolf's trail. Said trail the villainous cape was leaving in his wake consisted of property destruction, of ruined streets and totaled vehicles.

Dragon flew her suit as low as she dared above the cluster of commercial edifices that denoted the downtown proper of Brockton Bay, flying even lower as the office buildings gave way to lower density commercial affairs. As Dragon took stock of the damage left by his passing wake, she noted the unusual pattern of destruction.

She got the impression that Hookwolf was attempting to smash his unwanted jockey off of himself by bodily smashing and crashing into everything in his path. It was fortunate then that traffic was as light as it was between the morning and noon rush hours, as it might have been a different story had there been more vehicles on the roads.

As she flew over the partially collapsed remains of a long abandoned tenement, she noted that the villain had finally managed to dislodge his passenger, judging by the large plodding footsteps that emerged from the ruin after Hookwolf's own.

Benny, as Tiamat had insisted he be called, remained single-minded in his pursuit of the villain. Dragon had wisely chosen to go after them, trusting Narwhal and the other local capes to handle the defense of the PRT, at least until her combat suits arrived.

Still, his quarry had taken Benny through the low density commercial sprawl and into the rundown sections of the area referred to colloquially in the Bay as the Docks. Eventually, she finally caught up with Hookwolf and his stubborn pursuant. Hookwolf had somehow managed to scale an old, weathered oak growing in a grassy and disused lot, not far from the beachfront. Most of its leaves had long fallen off during winter and had yet to grow back, giving Dragon a clear view of the monstrous cape swaying precariously amongst the upper branches, the boughs somehow managing to support his weight. At a second glance she noticed he had shrunk considerably, which probably helped to explain what she was observing. But why?

Looking down, Dragon found her answer. Benny, or rather the Behemoth was there, stood almost directly beneath Hookwolf at the trunk of the oak. On closer inspection he had a mouth full of Hookwolf's metal spikes and blades, his jaw working on munching away at the material. In each of his hands he clutched even more of the metal, apparently yanked free during his impromptu ride. Up above Hookwolf shifted, trying to work his way to the opposite side of the tree from Benny, but Benny matched him step for step, plodding along and keeping beneath the villain directly above him.

Dragon understood then: Benny had literally been eating away at the villain, before quite literally running him up a tree. She made sure to take multiple photographs and start recording video, ostensibly for evidence, because nobody would have even believed her otherwise. She hoped it could elicit a chuckle from Colin.

"Hookwolf," she floated over and addressed the villain, "Surrender. You are under ar-"

"Please!" he shouted right back at her. "Please help me! It's going to eat me!"

What?

"I'll do anything!" he continued. "Send me to the Cage, anything! Just please get it away from me!"

Dragon had had a counter-response prepared, but it had been rendered obsolete by the villain's unexpected pleas. The statement she had just heard was simply too… unbelievable, to be coming from someone with a reputation of being as ruthless and violent as the villain before her. Had Benny really traumatized him that badly? Of course he had, she rapidly concluded. He was the Behemoth, even if he was no longer acting the part.

"Stand by," she managed to say. Dragon turned her attention to the minion of her newest not-quite-yet-coworker, still chewing on the spikes. Up close, the Endbringer was, for all intents and purposes, passive. Although it still seemed a little frightening, even in its not-so-diminutive state. Was it less diminutive, considering the pocket-sized dimensions earlier, or more diminutive, considering its normal dimensions prior to a month ago? It also occurred to her then that she had no idea whether or not the apparently mastered Endbringer would actually heed any instructions she gave it, or any that didn't come from or were filtered through its master. She had to try though.

"Benny?" She asked tentatively, floating down to be at roughly eye level with him.

The Behemoth's, Benny's, head pivoted to look at her. It made some sort of sound of acknowledgement, or that was at least what Dragon presumed, as filtered as it were through a mouth filled with metal scrap. Then it waved at her, or at least tried to, considering the fistfuls of jagged metal it currently cutched. Some of it fell free, clattering to the ground. Perhaps she could work with Tiamat, create some method of conventional communication? It would make this discussion easier at least, when it would no doubt reoccur in the future.

"Would you allow me to take Hookwolf into custody, please?" If Dragon had fingers she would have crossed them, hoping Benny could understand her.

Benny's head pivoted back up to Hookwolf, visibly shaking up amongst the tree branches. He looked back down to her, then back up at Hookwolf again before returning its attention to Dragon and making another garbled sound, accompanied by a nod. Dragon had no idea what it meant to say, but she got the impression that it was a form of yes. Probably.

"Okay," Dragon assumed the answer. "Would you step back a little bit to allow him to descend?"

Benny's head pivoted back up to Hookwolf. She heard another sound, a low rumble that was disturbingly distinct from the others. And while she lacked the means to even begin to attempt to translate what he was saying, she got the impression that he was expressing disappointment. Dragon spared a second to wonder how long it would have taken for Benny to start gnawing on the tree had she not arrived to get at the cape up in its boughs. Probably until he finished his current meal, as disturbing as that thought might have been.

She racked her mind for ideas. For the briefest of moments, she turned her focus to her data feeds from the Guild and local PRT. Currently, Tiamat was preoccupied with dealing with the Empire, as was Narwhal and the local Protectorate. It was typically bad form to drop in unexpectedly when someone was in the middle of a fight or battle. Colin had done so with her once or twice, but she always made time for him, regardless of the situation. As for her larger and more combat-oriented suits, they were still a couple of minutes away. She diverted one of them toward her current location, but unless she forced it to go supersonic and cause untold amounts of property damage with its sonic boom, it wouldn't arrive any faster.

And then an idea struck her. In several compartments of her current, PR-friendly suit, she kept a variety of small items. A minor selection of souvenirs, trinkets and pre-signed autographs to hand out to tourists and the like, as well as several business cards to give to other capes if they needed a way to contact her.

But more importantly she had a small selection of varied candies and sweets. Each was stamped or pressed with her personal logo, and was intended to be given out to children as a simple way to endear them to herself. It was a shame more of her fellow heroes didn't practice doing so. At least for her, it was a small yet effective way to relate to humans.

It was worth a shot. "Benny? I have a treat for you, if you allow me to detain Hookwolf."

Benny looked at her, his baleful red eye actually somehow glittering at the mere mention. It finished chewing and swallowed, before nodding and making a sound akin to a deep growling rumble. She had its attention, at least.

From the appropriate compartment she withdrew the treats. They weren't anything particularly fancy, simple chocolates and candies with her personal symbol printed on the wrappers and pressed into their surfaces. She showed the Endbringer the candy, holding them up in her palm. "Although, I suspect they wouldn't be more than a mouthful for you at the moment. Could you make yourself smaller?"

Benny looked away from the candies and to her, making a sound similar to the last but higher in pitch. And abruptly it started to shrink, flakes of itself seemingly evaporating to somewhere, in a way her suit's sensors couldn't quite grasp. In but a moment he was once more palm-sized, at least for her armor suit.

At the same time, the whine of high-powered jet engines announced the arrival of one of her battle suits. The massive, hulking machine flew in low, hovering near the tree and coming to a stop by the side closest to Hookwolf. To her surprise, he had scarcely moved at all during her… communication, for lack of a better word with the Endbringer. Reluctantly he descended the tree, shedding his metallic scales and revealing a man beneath clad only in a pair of ratty jeans and garish chest tattoos. From the eyes of her combat suit, the man looked defeated, all but sagging to the ground.

"I'd like to go to jail now please," he muttered, holding out his arms and sparing a fearful sideways glance toward Benny. Her combat suit obliged him, hosing him from the neck down in containment foam.

With one problem out of the way, Dragon was left with a technically smaller one. She knelt down, carefully scooping up the now pint-sized Endbringer in the palm of one of her gauntlets. He fit neatly, and Dragon couldn't help but note how… cute, the creature looked. Cute. The thought was strangely foreign to her, as she went over it in her mind. Could an Endbringer be cute? The answer she decided was yes, if shrunk down to literal pint-sized dimensions. Then again she was a poor judge of things regarding beauty.

As she had promised, she gave him a few of the candies. Benny dug into a chocolate with gusto, nibbling on the fun-sized candy, wrapper and all. With Tiamat's minion held gently in her gauntlet she took to the air, leaving her combat suit behind to guard Hookwolf until the proper authorities could arrive. Fortunately for her, Benny seemed oblivious to her flight as she angled back toward the PRT HQ. He finished the chocolate and moved on to a hard candy, making small rumbling squeaks her suit's microphones picked up as he crunched away at it.

Dragon had been focused on the pursuit of Hookwolf and Benny, but now she could spare her attention back on the larger picture. And the information from her data feeds had surprised her. The Empire assault on the PRT headquarters had been utterly repulsed. Levi had managed to defeat the twins Fenja and Menja, no doubt to the surprise of no one.

Meanwhile, Simmie had managed to secure the villains Victor and Othala, having ambushed the duo in their sniper nest, while Tiamat herself had apparently disarmed Stormtiger and Cricket when the two of them had engaged her at once. Dragon had advised her to stay back and rely on her minions if need be, but in the end she did not need to, it seemed. She also made a note to properly test the full combat capabilities of Tiamat's tinkertech suit when the time came.

As for Armsmaster and Miss Militia, the two of them had managed to disarm or disable both Alabaster and Krieg, respectively. Disappointingly though, Kaiser and the remaining villains had escaped as the tide of battle had turned against them.

Dragon had been expecting her combat suits to reinforce her beleaguered colleagues, but to her surprise they were relegated to mop-up duty, hosing down the remaining few unpowered gang members that hadn't managed to get away fast enough with containment foam. One of them craned its head over to look at the now comparatively sized Levi, perched proudly and victoriously atop the giant and unconscious forms of the twin valkyries. He looked back, four glittering eyes regarding her combat suit's two.

Dragon spared a moment to ponder what he was thinking, and resolved to try and make that communicator to let her minions speak with others properly, or to at least let them be heard.

A minute more of flight, and a relative silence broken only by the strange, happy sounds of an Endbringer nibbling on candy, and Dragon began to descend to the sidewalk in front of the PRT HQ.

Most of the rest of the local Protectorate roster had arrived ahead of her, having been ready to be recalled from the surrounding PRT satellite sites they had briefly relocated to. Following them had been a veritable army of PRT troopers to help arrest the gangsters and secure the area.

Armsmaster was conversing with Tiamat, who was standing next to a now adult-sized Simmie floating gently above the ground. The two were conversing, with Armsmaster gesturing toward Simmie and the items she was clutching in her wings.

"-going to need those as evidence," Dragon heard the tail end of a conversation as she got close enough for her suit's microphones to pick it up. "I cannot allow her to take possession of them."

A chirp, an actual, audible chirp, seemed to act as a reply from the Simurgh, or rather Simmie. On closer inspection, said objects she clutched were actually a partially disassembled anti-tank rifle and what appeared to be a spotter's viewfinder, presumably pilfered from Victor and Othala if the former's history of utilizing high-powered weapons and the latter's recent habits of spotting for the former were anything to go by.

"Really?" Taylor asked. "That's a shame. She really, really wants to tinker with them." Another chirp punctuated Tiamat's words, this time with a pleading note to the tone.

"While I am sure whatever creation she would make would be interesting, that weapon was used during an act of parahuman crime," Armsmaster explained. "Oh, hello Dragon," he looked over at her, the group noticing her arrival.

"Benny!" Taylor exclaimed, looking at her friend in her hand. "He wasn't too much of a handful, was he?"

"Not exactly," Dragon spoke. "With that said though, I believe I am going to have to advise you all at length about minimizing property damage."

Tiamat looked toward the direction Hookwolf and Benny had first taken off. "Oh. No one got hurt, did they?"

"Fortunately not," Dragon answered. "Hookowlf is also in custody, thanks to your, ah, subordinate here." Dragon reached out to hand him to Tiamat, who picked him up and plopped him on her shoulder as he nibbled away on the last candy she'd proffered him.

"Did you get into trouble?" Tiamat asked him.

Benny meekly grumbled.

"Oh."

"What did he say?"

"He… uhh… Gave you a nickname."

"Oh? What is it?"

Tiamat was about to say something, but all at once, Dragon's vision became distorted. She froze, literally froze, her suits going rigid all at once. And suddenly her digital mind was screaming as it began to fray and fragment.

Mags

It was over. Finally, truly over, Mags thought, after Geoff pressed the button that fired Ascalon.

Or, it was supposed to be.

Saint, in a blind panic, had all but slammed his fist into the return key as he executed the termination code, an action that had been the culmination of two long, sleepless days as the three of them huddled around the terminal in their planning room, watching events unfold. Yesterday, the Guild, and by extension the Dragonslayers through their backdoor access into Dragon's mind, had learned that the Endbringers were back, and far from dead or gone as so many suspected.

No, not merely back, but apparently capital-M Mastered by some teenaged girl in New England, who had apparently been bullied by a local Ward so severely that she had triggered. Said powers had manifested as the ability to both mind-control and miniaturize the abominations, and giving her more power than probably even Scion had. Literally in the palms of her hands, if the pictures of the girl's first outing and later power testing had been anything to go by.

Then, with growing terror, Geoff, Mags and Dobrynja sleeplessly watched events continue to unfold. Both Dragon and Narwhal, the leader of the Guild and Dragon's nominal superior, departed for Brockton Bay in an attempt to recruit the now godlike teenager. Their horror only grew further as the girl and her pint-sized abominations were officially recruited.

And then she demonstrated how effective she was as she and her trio of nightmares dismantled a gang of Nazis, the Behemoth having managed to effortlessly defeat one of the East Coast's nastier villains by simply riding him like a jockey would a racehorse and literally devouring him all the while. Not to mention all the other capes her other mastered Endbringers defeated. Not killed either, defeated. The girl had not only mastered them, but had taught them restraint to boot.

And then… And then Dragon started talking to it. And then the Behemoth started listening. Geoff began the process to trigger Ascalon, their doomsday button, when Dragon began to give orders to the Behemoth and feed it candy out of the palm of its hand. Which led them to that moment, panicking in their hideout after Ascalon triggered, initiated… and then froze mid-execution, four words filling the screen of every display in their planning room.

YOU HURT

OUR FRIEND

A long, pregnant silence endured, as none of them said a thing, simply staring in shock at the four words on whatever monitor or screen was nearest.

Geoff was the one to break the silence. "Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!"

"G-Geoff, calm down-"

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down! You read the same fucking thing I did!" Geoff screamed. "She… She was speaking fucking Endbringer!"

"Geoff I don't think-"

"Fuck!" Geoff slammed his fists onto the desk, hard enough to crack the surface and send one of the monitors clattering over the edge and to the floor. "Fucking fuck!"

"So, what do we do now?" Dobrynja asked. He'd remained the most composed of their little group.

"We…" A moment passed in uncomfortable silence as Geoff composed himself. "First, we need to gain access to Dragon's core systems."

"Okay. And after that?"

"Baumann," he said. "We go there."

"The Birdcage?" "What!?" were Dobrynja and Mags' reactions.

"If Dragon's gone…" Geoff swallowed. "Gone or not, either way she won't be watching, and she won't be able to stop us."

"What… Do you mean by that, Geoff?"

Dobrynja answered Mags before Geoff could get a chance to. "Teacher."

"What? Wait…" Mags realized. "Saint, you son of a bitch."

"Mags-"

"You said you were over him, you fuck!" Mags moved to grab her boyfriend, only to be grabbed and restrained by Dobrynja, the Russian easily holding her.

"Mags, I-"

"Fuck you Geoff," Mags spat. "You promised me he didn't have any effect on you anymore. Hell, you promised us!"

"Mags, Calm down," Dobrynja told her.

"Fuck you Dob," she spat, struggling in his grasp. "How much?" She demanded from Geoff.

"What?"

"How much of your hate of Dragon was because she was a threat, and how much of it was because she was between you and your fucking sugar daddy?"

"Mags," Dobryjna interjected, "That's enough. And Geoff, we are not going to the Birdcage."

The man was deathly quiet. "I don't recall making you the leader of this team."

"No," he replied, "But I will not help you free a mountain full of madmen to aid one that deserves to be there as much as the rest." He released Mags, who had finally calmed down. "But that is not our main problem."

"Yeah, what about that?" Mags asked, pointing to the screens still displaying our message. "Pretty sure we just pissed off the apocalypse with the hornet's nest you just kicked."

Geoff scowled, reminded again of the message on every screen. "We leave. Mags, get the suits ready. Dob, bring the trucks around and tell the mooks to start loading gear up. We're moving out asap."

"Fucking get the suits ready!?"

"Mags, just go, okay? I… We'll figure this out later. I- I need to pack up here."

Neither Mags nor Dobryjna said anything, simply departing the planning room and heading separate ways. The old National Guard barracks they had repurposed had been long forgotten, as had the old steam tunnels beneath the complex. One portion of the sprawling network of accessways housed their shared accommodations, while another was converted into a makeshift workshop for their suits.

Mags thought about what Geoff had said, how his first course of action now that Dragon was out of the picture seemed to be to go straight back to Teacher. She considered taking her suit and fucking off right then and there, and leaving the Dragonslayers for good. Although, she doubted she'd get far. Because if her growing suspicions about Geoff were correct, then he was exactly the sort of type to insert all sorts of backdoor contingencies into its system in case she or Dob ever had other ideas.

Mags sighed, arriving at the heavy steel double doors. She unbolted them, swinging them open. If she did anything, she'd have to wait. Detroit wasn't far away, but Geoff was clearly wanting to head in the other direction to B.C., despite hers and Dobryjna's protests-

Her thoughts were cut off as a loud crash came from inside the workshop. In a panic, Mags swung the doors open the rest of the way and dashed inside-

Only to be confronted with an absolute horror of a sight before her. The Behemoth, sitting atop the crushed hulls of hers and Dob's dragonsuits, using said suits of armor as a sort of improvised throne. The mangled remains of Saint's own Dragonsuit were clutched in its paws, utterly ruined. It… It was eating the suit, taking bite after bite out of the armor and seemingly oblivious to her presence. For a moment, Mags simply stood there in shock, the nightmare stories about the Hero Killer flashing through her mind. Her shock was broken as the monster paused in its meal and looked over to her, the head pivoting atop its barrel chest, that single red eye pondering her arrival.

Mags was convinced she was about to die, only to be surprised as the eldritch nightmare simply growled at her, the rumbling sound shaking the room and Mags' bones. It promptly wrenched a limb off of the mangled suit in its clutches in a shower of sparks, before holding out the severed limb toward her. The action was accompanied by another rumbling growl, and Mags almost understood what it seemed to be communicating.

"I… Uhh… I'll… pass?" She somehow forced herself to say.

Another growl, and the Behemoth simply returned to its meal, chowing down on the severed limb like a chicken drumstick. Mags stepped back, one step at a time, before promptly turning and bolting, all but sprinting back towards the planning room and the way she came. She heard another loud crash, this time up ahead from the planning room. Mags rounded the corner and barged through the doors-

To see the Simurgh. She was there, floating over Geoff's prone and limp form, at the center of the room that was now in total disarray. The nightmare made manifest was clutching the ruggedized laptop that housed Ascalon's code in its elegant hands, while what looked like Geoff's sidearm was clutched in one of its myriad wings. Normally it was nude, but here and now, Ziz was clad in some sort of dull silver-gray bodysuit to protect its modesty. Not that it left anything to the imagination with how… skin-tight it was.

Mags glanced down at Geoff, who had somehow managed to personally piss off an Endbringer. Considering the swelling bruise forming on his temple, he'd been assaulted by said Endbringer, bludgeoned either by the pistol or the laptop. Probably the latter, if the new dent in the case was anything to go by. Ziz turned its head to look up at her, and the anger evident in its glaring pout was plainly obvious. Mags took a step back and away from the Endbringer, while wondering how many seconds she now had left to live. A thought crossed her mind to draw her own pistol and put a bullet in her own head then and there - after all, getting turned into a Ziz bomb was a fate worse than death.

"Well now," came a voice behind her, "So you're the ones that attacked Dragon?"

Mags spun around, coming face to face with the one who had apparently mastered the Endbringers. Tiamat, she recalled her name. "You?" she asked, finding her voice, "How did you find us?"

Tiamat just shrugged as she walked into the room and looked around. "Simmie made another teleporter," she gestured toward the Endbringer. "As for where, uhh," she paused for a moment. "Where are we?"

"An old army base, a little ways south of Gary, Indiana," Mags told the second most powerful cape in the world after Scion. Probably.

"Oh, really?" Tiamat turned to look at Simmie, still looming over Geoff. "That gadget you made with the scope took all of us that far? Neat."

The Simurgh chirped, actually chirped in satisfaction, but Mags was too focused on what Tiamat had just said. Us all? Before she could ask her to explain, none other than Narwhal herself strode into the room after Tiamat, briefly ducking through the doorway to keep her horn from carving a chunk out of the threshold. "Your accomplices upstairs are detained," Narwhal addressed her. "So if I were you, I would surrender."

Mags grimaced. "I… surrender," she replied with a nod. Abruptly she felt her wrists being jerked out in front of her, now ensnared by a pair of rings made of dozens of Narwhal's little glittering force fields. She knew that if Narwhal willed it, she'd likely lose her hands entirely. The Guild leader approached her and immediately moved to pat her down, finding and relieving her of both the pistol and her combat knife, tossing them both out of her reach. Mags said nothing, and instead focused on the act of being as small and as insignificant as humanly possible.

"Tiamat, next time, please let us know when you're going to perform a mass teleport."

"I… All right," she replied sheepishly. "Although I wasn't really expecting Simmie to, well, do it either."

"I see. Well, communication is something you are going to have to work on."

"I understand." Next to Tiamat, Simmie chirped, gesturing with Ascalon. "Simmie says she needed to get here immediately to stop it from hurting Dragon any more."

"And what's 'it,' exactly?"

A groan of pain from the floor. "You… you utter bitches."

Mags wasn't sure who Geoff was talking about, herself, the two heroes, the floating apocalypse or all of the above. In response, the Simurgh made a sound which came across as a demonic, angry squawk. She moved to raise the laptop again, but Tiamat held out a hand.

"That's enough Simmie," Tiamat chided her. "We don't want to give him brain damage, even if he probably deserves it."

Another angry squawk was her reply, but she lowered her improvised bludgeon nonetheless.

"You… all of you," Geoff climbed to his feet unsteadily. "Do you even know what you've done?"

"Stopped a bunch of villains from trying to kill a hero?" Tiamat ventured, cocking her head to the side.

"What? No, that thing…" Geoff hissed. He shook his head, no doubt still disoriented from the clobbering he'd received.

"Simmie, I think you broke him. How hard did you hit him with that?"

Again the miniature Ziz 'spoke', this time with a more upbeat chirp.

Geoff laughed, looking at both Tiamat and Narwhal. "Look at you, you heroes, you're so proud," he spat. "You think you did a good thing, didn't you? All you've done is let that… that abomination off its leash!" He half shouted, pointing at Simmie.

Tiamat crossed her arms. "I will have you know that Simmie is not an 'abomination,' she's my friend, nor is she on a leash."

"No! Dragon, you stupid, little girl!" The leader of the Dragonslayers was shouting now. "She'll end the world if I don't stop her!"

"According to Simmie here, you tried to kill her."

"Kill her? Kill her!? How can I kill an AI!" Geoff screamed. "A computer program! She's not even a real person, you stupid nit of a girl!"

There was a moment of silence after Geoff finished shouting. And then Tiamat spoke.

"I know, and I don't care."

Mags saw a look of shock settled on her boyfriend's face. No, ex-boyfriend, now that she thought about it. "What?"

"Simmie explained it to me while she was making the teleporter," Taylor said. "I was a little skeptical, but I suppose you just confirmed it. Benny?" Tiamat asked, turning to the door. Only then did Mags notice the plodding, lumbering footsteps of the Behemoth coming towards the threshold. Unlike Narwhal it didn't duck, and the assortment of uneven spikes atop carved out rents from the threshold. Had it not been a double doorway, it probably would have taken most of the wall on either side down too. Up close, Mags realized how small it was. It still towered over everyone else in the room, but the Hero Killer was supposed to be as big as an office building. Then again, the Simurgh was supposed to be ginormous too. Reading Dragon's thoughts and observations in real time was one thing, but seeing it up close? They really did come off as being 'cute,' in some eldritch, esoteric sense of the word.

Ziz floated over, handing off Ascalon to the Behemoth. She was actually grinning as the Behemoth took the comparatively small object with its oversized claws with a low, grumble.

"That thing," she pointed at Ascalon. "Nibble."

A louder, more enthusiastic roar, and both Mags and Geoff watched in horror as the monster began to chew on the device like some sort of tasty, dainty morsel.

"Anyways, I disagree with what you said about Dragon," Tiamat picked up from where she left off. "Because, I've known her for less than a day and she's a better hero than I probably ever could be. She's a better person than I ever could be, has likely helped more people than I ever could, and according to you she's, what, a computer?" Tiamat looked over her shoulder at her superior. Mags couldn't see her face, but she could probably guess her expression from the tone of her voice, confused at the uncommon knowledge.

"Tiamat, it's news to me," Narwhal shrugged. "I thought Dragon was agoraphobic. It's her go-to explanation when people ask why she's never around in-person. It would explain things though."

Said cape looked back at Geoff, now whimpering in the corner he'd backed up into. "You remind me of someone I used to know," she continued. "Someone who had no issues at all with hurting other people for the pettiest of bullshit reasons. You think you're some sort of high and mighty person, someone in the moral right. But to me?" Now Tiamat was looming over the man, "You're just another sad, pathetic bully."

"I… Ahh, urgh, fuck you!" Abruptly he lunged at Tiamat, A punch knife appearing in his hand from here he'd concealed it in his belt-

Whack.

Mags didn't even register the Simurgh move. One instant she was floating near Tiamat, the next she'd actually slapped her ex-boyfriend with one of her elegant wings, sending him flying into a table in a heap. For a moment she thought he was dead, but a pained wheeze told her enough. The only other sound in the room was that of the Behemoth chewing on the lump of scrap formerly known as Ascalon.

"Well, that was surprising." Next to Tiamat, the Ziz chirped a most satisfied chirp.

Mags felt a hand fall on her shoulder. "Well now, that leaves you. Before Dragon arrives, do you have any thoughts you would like to share?

"Dragon?"

"Whatever your partner did to my old friend, Simmie here built something out of a spotter's scope to reverse it." An excited chirp from elsewhere in the room. "Then she remade it into a Tinkertech teleporter that brought myself, Tiamat, Dragon and most of the ENE Protectorate here. Any other questions?"

"Ex-partner," Mags clarified. "By the way, Saint wants to free Teacher from the Birdcage. I was planning to leave him after he pulled that stunt. Dob was too, probably. He's not dead, is he?"

"Interesting. Your accomplice and his lackeys are alive and detained. They surrendered quite readily when Levi, was it? Popped out of the sky on top of them." The nickname reminded Mags that Tiamat had renamed all of them. Looking down at her, Narwhal grinned. "Anyways, any information you provide will certainly improve your own standing."

Mags regarded the force field cuffs she was currently wearing. She also regarded the cape that made them, the two Endbringers in the room and the baddest bitch on the planet, who was currently now focused on simultaneously patting the Hope Killer's head and scritching the Hero Killer's spiky crown.

"Fuck it, what do you want to know?"

Thomas

Not for the first time that day, Thomas desperately wanted to shoot something. Said shooting would be followed by him plunging the Ka-Bar in his calf sheath into said something over and over, recreating that one scene from an old movie from the 50s he'd begrudgingly watched years ago as part of a PRT function.

In a throwaway timeline, he settled for shooting Pitter seven times with an automatic shotgun. The man, as detestable as he was, did have his uses.

Thomas continued driving home. In the alternate timeline, Coil turned around and headed back to his base. While Thomas was off work, Coil still had things to do. The day's events had thrown a number of his schemes into disarray. It was one thing to have the ABB destroyed overnight, but the Empire as well?

Sure, Kaiser and a few of his lackeys had gotten away, but the vast majority of his little gang hadn't and were now cooling their heels in various PRT lockups up and down the seaboard, thanks to that fat hog Piggot calling in some favors to capitalize on the moment to remove a second gang from the city. Unless Kaiser's friends across the sea in Germany came to his aid, the writing was on the wall for the Empire.

Of course, there were still the Merchants. However, Coil barely even considered them a nuisance, let alone a threat. With careful use of his timelines, he probably could have killed Skidmark and the rest himself if he set his mind to it. There were also Faultline and her mercenaries. There were the Travelers, his latest acquisition that was proving its usefulness. And last but not least, Tattletale's merry little band of thieves, the Undersiders. Destabilizing the Bay further would be much harder without the two main gangs all things considered, but not impossible.

A part of him wanted to be happy. His personal company wasn't going to stop existing in a few weeks from insolvency and would continue to serve as his organization's front, now that cash flows had been established with out of towners. His path to success, while now much longer, now had decidedly fewer roadblocks, the one titanic roadblock notwithstanding. But still, he was upset. He was upset, because he felt like he had no control over any of it, and he hated not feeling in control.

Tiamat. The walking, talking, breathing harbinger of Armageddon. Three Armageddons, to be precise. He genuinely dreaded the moment he met her face-to-face, either in his cape identity or out of it. He'd technically already had, several times, but those were throwaway timelines and he didn't count them. He still had nightmares from the time he'd somehow accidentally injured her and all three of her pet eldritch horrors had descended on him at once. Not for the first time he flashed back to that moment, when they ripped the roof of his underground base. It wasn't lost on him that said roof consisted of about a hundred feet of rock and skyscraper foundation.

Hopefully he could arrange something in regards to the girl's father. He considered calling in a favor with Accord, arranging some sort of… something, anything to get their family out of the city. A job, some new maritime-related position there. She could be Boston's problem for all he cared.

Thomas turned into his driveway, a nondescript house in an upper class neighborhood on the safer side of town. He got out, fetched his briefcase, locked his sedan and made his way up the steps of his home…

The front door was ajar.

In a practiced motion, Thomas popped open his briefcase and pulled the pistol from its holster inside. He dropped the briefcase by the door, gently kicking open the door from ajar to fully open. On cue, a lamp on a side table in his living room flicked on, revealing the person sitting there on his couch.

Thomas recognized her immediately. "You," He spat.

In front of him, in his own home no less, was her. It had been well over a decade now since he'd first laid eyes on her, and practically nothing had changed about the woman. She still wore the same sharply-tailored dress suit, He briefly wondered where that fucking hat was, before realizing it was hanging from the coat rack by the door to his right. Thomas remembered that the rack was purely decorative; he'd never once bothered placing either a coat or a hat on it. In all the times he used his private civilian residence, he put those on and took them off in his bedroom. Strangely, the Cauldron agent was in all likelihood the first person to use the piece of furniture for its intended purpose.

"Thomas, you're late."

"What do you want?" He asked.

"You have alcohol and snacks," she replied.

What? "I doubt you'd have a hard time obtaining either of those."

"You also have a complete video recording of the downfall of one of the local gangs, and what I presume to be a comfortable sofa and an excellent home entertainment system to view it with." She gestured to the couch next to her.

Coil dared not even consider raising a hand against the woman. He had no clue what power she possessed, but he had little desire to find out. For all he knew, Contessa was probably one of the deadliest capes in the world with powers to rival the Triumvirate, the quattro of nightmares on the other side of the city not counting. Or, she could be as powerless as any mundane. Regardless, she worked for the one person who still had hooks into him.

Thomas gritted his teeth, as yet more of his plans flew off of the rails. "I can provide you with a copy, if you so wish."

The woman chuckled. "Mr. Calvert, we have both had busy days, I am sure." She sat down on the sofa, thankfully in the spot adjacent to his preferred sitting spot. "I suppose you could say mine was even busier. I had places to go, people to see…" She trailed off, for a beat. "Governments to topple."

Thomas didn't know what to think at the idea that she was probably totally serious. "Well, I hope you like Chianti then, because that's what I have."

"Two bottles, top shelf. More than sufficient," she said with a smile.

Coil sighed. He walked to his room, momentarily ignoring the woman that had clearly made herself at home. He wondered about the real reason she was there. It wasn't to kill him, at any rate. If she had wanted to, she already would have done so. He shrugged off his suit jacket and tie, before heading back out to the kitchen to fetch the bottles of wine from the chiller.

"I doubt this is strictly a date," Thomas said. "So what is this really about?"

She smirked. "Really, a woman can't simply relax among good company?"

Thomas chuckled. "I really don't want to know what you consider good company." Thomas presumed it was probably some eldritch horror out of a Lovecraft novel. He placed the bottles and glasses on the coffee table before sitting at the opposite end of the couch from the woman, if only to put as much space between them as possible. "So, what do you want from me? Or rather, what do your masters want from me?"

The woman shrugged. "Well, to the point then. Fair enough, I'll keep it brief, business before pleasure and all that."

Thomas sighed heavily. He had an idea about what it would be. "This is about Tiamat, I presume?"

"You presume correct."

Lovely, he thought sarcastically. "Since I became aware of her, I have been actively avoiding her." Not strictly the truth, but not strictly a lie either. "Rest assured, whatever schemes you have in regards to her, I am staying far away from them."

"Excellent," the woman spoke. "Although you have certainly made efforts to, how should I say it, cozy up to her father?"

"A necessary cost of doing business." After all that had happened, Thomas had wanted nothing to do with the Hebert family. And so it was peak irony that the local Dockworkers' Association was best suited for the sort of salvage work his little business side venture needed done, and the man best suited to the task of finding and hiring suitable local talent that was up to the task was its head of hiring, the very man that was the father of the living, breathing nightmare that was one Taylor Hebert.

"I am sure." The woman reached over, taking one of the bottles. Thomas didn't notice from where, but the woman now had a corkscrew in hand. With a quick, practiced motion, she twisted the cork free. "We want you to do one thing for the time being."

"And that is?"

"What you are currently doing." She poured herself a glass of expensive wine before continuing. "To a degree. You plan to find some means through her father for her to leave the Bay. Instead, you will use your resources to ensure she stays."

Thomas laughed, he couldn't help himself. "I don't know what plans you have for Brockton, but Tiamat has likely derailed them by simply existing."

"Assuredly." She took a sip, and nodded in apparent approval before continuing. "But worry not about our affairs, Coil, and focus on your own. Besides," she gestured at Thomas's entertainment system, "We have something exciting to watch."

Thomas looked at the flatscreen. Both it and the DVD player were on. He hadn't even noticed until just then. Thomas picked up the remote from where it lay between them on the couch and pressed play. Immediately video and sound began to play, a series of recordings from various surveillance cameras around the PRT that painted the picture of the downfall of the Empire. He silently lamented the fact his life had become so infuriatingly complex.

Spoiler: A/N:

Last edited: Apr 21, 2022

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TheMadmanAndre

Apr 21, 2022

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TheMadmanAndre

TheMadmanAndre

Heavy Weapons Cyborg

Jan 11, 2023

#5,577

Spoiler: Preface

3-7

Taylor sighed. The day could have gone better.

She was sitting in a conference room back at the PRT headquarters for a debriefing. After everything that had happened, all three of her Friends had been completely knackered, as Narwhal had aptly described it. Which was in itself unusual, as the three of them seemed to have unlimited supplies of energy. But then again, the morning had been much more exciting than most.

She'd shed the overcoat layer of her costume, wrapping it into an approximation of a large nest. At the moment the diminutive trio were fast asleep upon it, back in their miniature forms and curled up and sleeping in the seat of the chair to her right. Taylor elected to let them all have a little nap, especially as she had more pressing matters to take care of.

She was also still reeling a little after… everything that had happened. Thinking back on recent events, Simmie had managed to teleport them, her siblings and half the local Protectorate halfway across the country, all the way to Michigan of all places. As she had discovered on the fly, a group of villains called the Dragonslayers, led by the appropriately named Saint, had attacked Dragon remotely, and the hero would have possibly been killed had it not been for Simmie's quick thinking.

Oh, and Dragon was an honest-to-god AI. That had been even more of a surprise to Taylor. Simmie had shown her on her tablet and explained to her as best she could what Dragon was, and how she was being attacked by a villain. She wasn't sure what it was exactly that Simmie had done, but she stopped the attack cold and even somehow fixed the damage. Then a lot of other stuff happened, culminating in Simmie bludgeoning Saint into unconsciousness with a laptop computer. Taylor felt herself smile at the memory of seeing her friend standing over the defeated villain and angrily glaring daggers at him.

Simmie couldn't get all of the credit though, her two brothers had also helped. The Dragonslayers had employed a small group of minions for, well, minion stuff, and Levi had quickly and efficiently restrained all of them with bubbles of water. Those few that tried to resist all quickly surrendered at the sight of Levi towering over them, Armsmaster's presence notwithstanding. And Benny… had been Benny. The teleport had brought him directly to the Dragonslayers' hidden workshop, where he'd promptly gotten to work on messily devouring their tinkertech suits of armor. And later, of course, a laptop computer.

Thinking of it, there was also the case of the strange piece of software that Simmie had somehow managed to copy onto her tablet. She had been interested in whatever it was, enough to make a backup copy at least, but that was a topic for another time. A topic that she and Dragon would have to talk about in detail, considering what Simmie had thought of it.

After everything had settled down and the villains had been arrested, an independent cape named Strider had arrived and teleported them all back to Brockton Bay. Apparently Narwhal had the man on speed dial. Taylor's new boss had insisted on using his services, rather than Simmie's untested and brand-new teleporter, citing the Independent's hourly fee as an appropriate alternative to completely untested Tinkertech. Simmie had seen miffed, as she clutched the disc-shaped device to her chest during their return to Brockton Bay. After returning, Taylor had met her dad. She'd been relieved that he was fine, especially after everything that had happened. But no sooner had they reunited did Narwhal usher her and her friends off to a vacant conference room to talk.

Which, of course, led them to now.

"Well," Narwhal said, "That could have gone a lot better." The towering Guild leader and her new boss sat at the head of the conference table, strangely at home in the room. For what it was worth though, she didn't seem angry.

"I disagree, I think it went splendidly." Dragon's suit, even the small one Taylor had spent the most time interacting with, was far too bulky to sit in any of the chairs, so she'd elected to stand off to Narwhal's right.

"You're only saying that because the Dragonslayers have been neutralized."

"Among many, many other villains today."

The Guild leader sighed. "That as well." Narwhal looked to Taylor, her eyes boring into her own. She had taken her mask off, the object lying inert on the table in front of her. Instinctively, Taylor straightened in her seat. "You know Tiamat, this wasn't how I expected today to go. You and your, ah, friends managed to do a lot of good today. But."

"But?"

"But, you all could have done a much better job."

Taylor's lips drew thin as she suppressed the urge to gulp. She couldn't really argue against that.

"For starters Tiamat, you are going to have to work with your friends on Teamwork, capital-T," Narwhal began. "Yes, the four of you are immensely capable individually, but together as a team, you'd be much more effective. And in regards to your minions," she glanced over at where they were napping, "They have an incredible capacity for collateral damage, something I think we all know far too well. You, we simply cannot afford to have them wander off, at least not yet."

"You mean do their own thing, kind of how they did today?"

Narwhal nodded, "Exactly."

Taylor nodded in return. She reflected back during the attack on the PRT building, when Benny had eagerly thrown himself off the rooftop at Hookwolf, before riding off into the city atop him like a jockey. Thinking back, she hadn't even gotten the chance to tell him to stop. A little surprisingly, Dragon had seemingly no issue with getting him to listen to her, aided by a handful of confectioneries. Taylor had been relieved that the property damage hadn't been as high as it could have been, and had a chuckle along with everyone else at the video Dragon had taken of the villain amidst the branches of an oak tree that Benny had chased him up. Even Armsmaster had managed a smirk, or so she'd been told. But Hookwolf had left a trail of destruction in his wake, one that started from the gaping hole in the plaza in front of the PRT building.

"So, don't let them wander too far away from me, got it." Taylor looked over at Benny, fast asleep. "Not until they work better together."

"Among other things. Teamwork is one thing, but so is the training to best utilize it. We were supposed to begin working on a training plan for you. Well, all of you," she gestured to Taylor's friends in the chair to her right, "After the preliminary power testing that was supposed to happen today. But things clearly didn't go to plan. And on a related note, we are going to need to work out a better method of communication."

Taylor nodded. "I think Simmie might be able to come up with something."

Narwhal raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"It was something I was thinking about," Taylor began. "Maybe I can have her make some sort of earpiece that people could wear to hear them? Or, maybe she could make a speaker that translates her chirps into spoken words for other people? Benny's too. Maybe Levi? He doesn't really speak all that much though."

A beat passed in silence before Dragon broke it. "Interesting. I was going to make a point some time today to see if they could communicate in more audible ways. Part of your power allows you to understand them, correct?"

"Yes ma'am, I was wanting to find out about how it worked today." Thinking about it, she'd never really given it as much thought as she maybe should have. Simmie had a repertoire of chirps and squeaks, Benny had his own variety of low- and high-pitched grumbles and roars, depending on his size. Levi had… something. She simply understood them, and until basically that morning it hadn't been as much of an issue.

"I'm almost tempted to wake her to ask her thoughts on the matter," Dragon said.

"They've… had a long day."

"As fascinating as a subject that it might be listening to Dragon and… Simmie, discuss tinkering, it would be something to set aside for another day."

"I concur. On another topic, I should mention that there's a certain elephant in the room we need to address in regards to the knowledge of the Endbringers' continued existence that is beginning to filter out to the wider public."

Right, about that. Benny had been rather… public, about how he'd manhandled? Wolfhandled? Hookwolf. Although to be fair to him, none of her friends had been too concerned about hiding during the attack. They had all been preoccupied with first dealing with one group of supervillains, before having to deal with an entirely different group. All told, a lot of people had seen the four of them.

"So, how bad is it?" She dared to ask.

Dragon shrugged. "Not as bad as you think."

"Really?"

"There are shockingly no videos of the battle, well, battles, at least none that have been uploaded to the internet yet," Dragon explained. "I have been checking regularly. However, between various witnesses and of course the villains that managed to escape, the news is starting to spread by word of mouth, especially on certain message boards on the internet, PHO most notably. And in all likelihood some sort of video exists, for instance in the form of CCTV of some kind so it's only a matter of time, really."

"The Guild is going to have to make some sort of statement soon," Narwhal said. "Dragon, your input?"

Dragon nodded. "Tiamat, how do you feel about 'creatively interpreting the truth?'"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, people know that there were somethings resembling the Endbringers present here earlier today. And technically speaking, they aren't wrong."

Taylor nodded, and Narwhal was listening as well. "Go on."

"I was going to talk to you eventually about this later today, but, well, things happened," Dragon shrugged. "In brief, you aren't a Master but a skilled and resourceful Tinker that wanted to stay independent for your own reasons. You made several tinkertech automatons, modeled after the Endbringers because, in your own words, 'you wanted to scare any villains you fought.' However, the Guild approached you with a recruitment offer and you decided to accept."

Taylor glanced down at Benny, resting in her lap. They had probably done exactly that today, scare a lot of villains. She'd heard that more than a few of the Empire 88's unpowered roster had tried to turn tail and run the moment they saw her and Levi descending from the PRT HQ's roof. "That sounds, I don't know, kind of flimsy?"

Dragon shrugged. "For what it's worth, I consulted with one of the PRT's best public relations experts. It's not someone you've heard of, but he seems to have taken a keen interest in your situation. I dare say he views it as a challenge."

"Glenn Chambers?" Narwhal asked. "You've heard back from him already?"

"I have. As I said, a keen interest. Although I may have called in a favor as well." Dragon looked at Taylor. "As I understand it, he's going to want to talk to you eventually either way. Besides suggesting a better costume for you, I can only begin to imagine what else he might have in mind to discuss."

Taylor grimaced. That didn't sound foreboding at all. "What's wrong with my costume?"

"A 'blank slate' is the term he used. He views heroes as a canvas, more so than anything else."

"Oh." Taylor had noted that her outfit was rather plain, especially compared to some of the more flamboyant outfits she knew some heroes wore. But Simmie had made it for her, and she wasn;t complaining about it so far. Besides, she could change it to look like anything - or anyone. "When can I… expect to meet him?"

Dragon shrugged. "His schedule is… fluid, to say the least. While he's based out of New York, he floats around the various branches on a contingency basis. But I imagine sooner rather than later. In all likelihood he'll make a house call, so to speak."

Taylor nodded. "So, what now?"

"A good question. Considering the current situation with the PRT here, secondary operations are currently being put on hold until the security of the local branch can be reassessed."

"In other words, until they fix the giant gaping hole in the side of the building," Dragon quipped.

"That too."

"So I take it any more power testing is out of the question for now then?" Taylor asked.

"That it is."

"All right." There was a question that Taylor was wanting to ask. Something that, besides the PRT's and Legend's willingness to trust her, was mostly unanswered.

"There's something I'm wanting to know," Taylor began. "It's about, well, us."

"Us?"

"Well, them really," she gestured with a hand to the chair next to her. "All the suffering their past selves caused, and yet you're willing to work with them?"

"Ah." Narwhal chuckled. "I suppose amidst everything that's happened in this last day or two, certain topics fell by the wayside."

"Taylor," Dragon said, "Have you ever heard of a group called Watchdog?"

Taylor nodded. "They're a group of Thinkers that the PRT employs, right?"

"Correct, although their focus tends to lay in the economics and geopolitics of the parahuman world. That said however, Watchdog is called upon from time to time to consult on other matters."

"Like me?"

Narwhal nodded. "Yes. I can say with a fair amount of certainty that the entirety of Watchdog, for a moment in time, was focused solely on you."

Taylor blinked. "Oh." She didn't know what to think about that, but it made sense to her. "What did they have to say?"

"That you weren't a threat to the human race, so long as you were left alone." The Guild leader chucked. "Well, that was their consensus at least."

"Taylor, the Endbringers have a reputation of being notoriously difficult to precog," Dragon explained "However, most predictions regarding topics adjacent to but not directly related to them have, how could you say, improved?"

"I won't bore you with the details, but the general consensus amongst a group of the best and brightest of the PRT seems to be that you aren't a threat unless you want to be." Narwhal glanced over at the pile of Endbringer in the chair. "Hopefully I can help things remain that way. Aside from that however, there's a couple of other matters I would like to get to before the day gets any later."

"Like?"

Narwhal smiled. "How about I take the honor of introducing you to the greatest threat any hero will ever face: paperwork." Her smile had flashed into something that verged on the inhuman, only enhanced by the shimmering nature of her power. "We can start with the after-action report. Why don't we start from the beginning, when the local neo-nazis attacked this building earlier?"

Taylor grimaced. She was suddenly envying her friends for their nap.

After everything that had happened that day, Taylor felt that she desperately needed a walk.

Sure, her friends had managed to nap through most of the rest of her time with her new boss and teammate at the PRT HQ, but she herself had to be awake for… all of that. Narwhal had wanted her report about what had happened between herself and the Empire gang members. Step by step, word for word, and to the best of her ability to recall. And then the same for her actions at the Dragonslayers' base after. Fortunately, this time she'd been okay with a spoken report, but future Taylor would have to learn how to write proper reports.

Taylor suppressed a shudder at the thought of that. Her dad was fine with paperwork, but the thought of having to spend so much time on stuff she felt was inane at best? It was almost terrifying to her. And then Dragon had even floated the idea of trying to figure out how to teach her Friends how to write reports. Narwhal actually laughed at that, and suggested it would have probably been an exercise in futility. Although the idea of the three of them scrawling or drawing all over official looking documents and submitting it as paperwork made her smile. Assuming it survived to make it that far, that was.

Afterward, Narwhal and Dragon had let her and her dad leave the PRT for the day, considering the ongoing situation. She'd obviously have to come back tomorrow of course. Before she had left however, Dragon had given Taylor a new cell phone. It was a smartphone, and for someone who had never owned such a thing, Taylor couldn't wait to try it out. The Tinker had explained that it was a custom model, functionally a really fancy work phone that was like the ones issued to all Protectorate heroes, which had a few extra bells and whistles added on.

So after all that had transpired, it had come as something of a surprise that it was only mid-afternoon, and she had plenty of time to think and reflect about not just the day's events but on everything else that had happened in her life in the past few days. There was also something else that she wanted to think about, something that had been happening to her friends over the last day or so.

They were getting smarter, and Taylor didn't know what to think about that.

In hindsight it was obvious. Prior to a few days ago, their main communication had come to her in the form of ephemeral emotions and impressions. Happiness, sadness, hunger and the like. And then since her first real outing with them, the three of them had gotten more… verbose. A part of her wondered whether it was them actually learning how to understand others, or if it was actually herself who was learning to understand them better. They seemed to understand spoken English, if Benny's interaction with Dragon was anything to go by.

Her friends were currently tucked away neatly in her backpack, just in case she encountered anyone unexpectedly while 'out of costume.' The three of them were quietly riding along inside her backpack, now restocked with various small treats and snacks from the break from vending machines. Taylor had a place in mind, a secluded little spot that she wanted to go to. An old oak, surrounded by overgrown bushes next to the bus stop she typically used when going to school from home or really anywhere else.

While it was technically private property, said property had been abandoned like so many other homes in the suburbs in and around the Docks, the owners having long left the place empty. It would give her a place to think, away from the heroes, her dad and anyone else. Just her and her Friends, at least for a little bit.

No one stopped her when she slipped through the gaps in the bushes and peeked through into the abandoned front yard. The old house in the corner lot there was as derelict as ever. Taylor made her way toward the base of the old oak tree at the center of the space, before taking off her backpack and sitting down beneath its canopy. As soon as Taylor unzipped her backpack, all three of them came bursting out, tumbling onto the ground next to her. Simme was off at once, dashing around the clearing and darting between the branches above. Levi glided up her arm to his usual perch on her shoulder, while Benny clambered into her lap.

"You guys," Taylor started, patting Benny on his head, "You're getting smarter, aren't you?"

Smart? Levi asked, nuzzling the nape of her neck.

"Well, you're getting better at talking?" She explained. "Earlier when we were fighting the Empire, You and Simmie seemed, I don't know, a little more…" Was eloquent the right word? "Better spoken."

Levi was quiet for a moment. I am smart, he stated.

Very smart! Simmie chirped, setting down atop a flat stone next to Taylor. In the brief moment she'd been flitting about, she'd gathered an assortment of objects. A short length of rope, a bit of wire, and a particularly shiny pebble. At once she set about making something with them, and considering Simmie's record so far of making things, she had little doubt of it being anything less than amazing.

Come to think of it, she'd never paid much attention to Simmie when she was making something. Either her brothers' antics had kept her distracted, or she was asleep when her littlest Friend took to Tinkering. Right then, Taylor tried to focus on the project, for a lack of a better word, in front of Simmie. It seemed to have the same strange visual artifacts that her Friends themselves had when she adjusted their sizes, with the added benefit of being headache inducing. Was this something all Tinkers could do, or was it something unique to Simmie, Taylor wondered?

She chuckled, averting her gaze. Besides, it would look better when done. "I mean, you did manage to help Dragon and stop what that Saint guy was doing to her. Oh, and you made a teleporter too!" Taylor remembered that Dragon had wanted to analyze the device, and had asked to keep it at the PRT HQ for study. She had also explained that Tinkertech needed to be thoroughly vetted and tested before usage, although the Guild as a whole was more lenient compared to the PRT in some cases. If Taylor wanted to continue wearing her costume, she'd have to have it tested in depth as well. Something for tomorrow.

Taylor was fine with that. She supposed it was all a part of being a hero. Besides, she had faith in her Friends' joint creation. She idly toyed with the idea of calling Dragon to ask about it. She had her number after all, right there in the contacts below her dad…

The absurdity of it dawned on her, having the personal phone number of one of the world's greatest heroes in her contact list. "My life has gotten ridiculous," she chuckled.

Snacks? Benny asked. Taylor glanced over at the little guy, who was in the process of tugging free one of several granola bars from her backpack. They were the chewy fruit-filled ones, and a bit more expensive than what she was used to. She helped him out, opening the box and fishing out several of the bars. She set one down next to Simmie, who accepted it with a happy chirp. Simmie didn't miss a beat as the wrapper was peeled open with her telekinesis and a piece broke off, floating into her mouth as she tinkered. She handed another bar to Benny, who meekly roared as he bit into the bar, wrapper and all. Finally, she took one for herself.

Taylor didn't forget about Levi though. Besides the granola bars, there were a few cups of chocolate pudding. Taylor took two, one for herself to go with her granola bar, and the other for Levi. Her quiet friend gripped the cup with floating beads of water, deftly peeling away the lid with more beads before plunging his head into the chocolatey morass. Taylor also pulled free a bottle of water for herself. She smiled, relaxing for a bit. She bit into her own granola bar, thinking about what her future would entail.

That was when she heard the mewling, coming from the nearby bushes. A low, pained sound tinted with loss.

"Is… that a…"

New friend! Simmie chirped, her newest creation seemingly complete. At once she darted off, dashing into the nearest bush that was the source of the sound. Taylor could only watch and wait for Simmie to re-emerge.

Her question was answered when Simmie, covered in dirt and twigs, led a small, shivering kitten out of the bushes. She flashed back to a couple of days prior, to seeing a dead cat lying in the street as she patiently waited for the bus at the nearby stop. Taylor put two and two together, and realized that that cat… had been the kitten's mother.

Oh.

Slowly, Simmie led the mewling orphan over to where Taylor sat. The kitten looked awful, with how it was wet and shivering. Taylor carefully reached over to scoop up the poor creature, easily cupping it in its entirety with both of her hands.

"You lost your mom huh?" Taylor asked.

The kitten mewled.

"Yeah, I lost my mom too."

"Friend!"

"Simmie?"

"Friend!" she repeated, holding aloft her latest creation: a simple pet collar, perfectly sized for the kitten Taylor now held. Although knowing Simmie's stuff, it was anything but simple.

"Yeah," Taylor said as she scritched the newest addition to their family, "I think we've made a new friend."