selene 2

by overlyred

...

Limelight 3.6

-{0}-

"Enter."

I nodded to the officer guarding the room as Mom and I stepped into Private Conference Hall 2, one of the rooms with the greatest privacy measures sans the Director's office. It was located below even the building's parking area, soundproofed and surrounded by a Faraday cage that only allowed signals connected by a special wire to pass. It had no windows and only a single access point if you don't count the ventilation system and had walls thick enough that they could probably survive a few missiles.

Director Piggot and Armsmaster were already there, sitting at the table. I had expected them because it didn't make sense to just meet with the Chief Director based on what I thought would be the topic, but who I didn't expect was our third guest, a statuesque man in blue and white thunder-and-flame tights; Legend.

They turned to us at the same time, seemingly having been in the middle of a conversation that died as we entered. Legend gave me a smile while the other two remained impassive. I don't know why but it only really struck me then that this man was the leader of the Protectorate. In fanfics, it was always Alexandra and Eidolon who took center stage when matters started concerning the upper echelon of the PRT-Protectorate framework because it was these two who were most involved with Cauldron, which made it easy to forget that this guest had a respectable authority in his own right, to the point that I hadn't expected him at all to attend a meeting involving a retired Endbringer.

"Sirs, ma'am," Mom said, taking point where I'd spaced out. I echoed her and we began taking our seats on the side of the table opposite side of the conference table, which curved around a wide wall-mounted monitor that took up one side of the room. On the screen was what appeared to be an empty video conference lobby with only the little corner covered with a display of our little gathering on camera.

"How have you two been?" Legend asked us as soon as we were situated. "I was briefed about the incident from a while back so I wanted to check how you've been holding up."

"We're doing as well as we can be, sir," Mom answered back. "Though I will say that apartment hunting's been rough when everyone knows what your daughter looks like. I'm at a point where I'm debating on getting a house of my own."

"I can imagine," he said. "I myself needed a place where I could just fly into the window without revealing where I lived."

"Can't we just start paying for Yui's apartment?" I asked.

Mom smiled at me. It looked like a perfectly ordinary smile, but it sent shivers down my back.

Legend chuckled at our exchange and then turned to me. "And you, Veronika. How has school been?"

"Eventful," I said. "Gonna have to ask Vicky for some advice about the fans while I'm not too big yet, though."

He nodded at that. "I can't say I know how to deal with that since my secret identity's intact still. Nor did I have to deal with cape stuff in high school. Must be tough."

I nodded at that. Changing the subject, I decided to ask another question. "Who else are we expecting?"

Legend shifted nervously while the leaders of the Brockton Bay PRT-Protectorate branch kept still in their seats. And then I sensed a man flying down from the sky dressed in a green hooded cape onto the top of the PRT building. The look of surprise must have been apparent on my face as Legend chuckled and scratched his head.

"We are missing one," he said. "Sorry if he's a little late."

I laughed bitterly. "Don't worry. Eidolon's making his way down here now."

My remark was met with a tense silence. It struck me that I had never really filled anyone in on how detailed my ability to see the surrounding space was. Piggot and Armsmaster must be reviewing their security measures in their heads at the revelation—literally in Armsmaster's case as I could see him make a dozen erratic eye movements that filled out a holographic note inside his helmet. I sighed and leaned back against my seat, idly noting how America's strongest hero paused for a bit to check his phone, scowl, and continue his march. Having both of them here and the upcoming video call with not-Alexandria brought up thoughts of Cauldron.

To be direct, I didn't know how to deal with Cauldron. The fanfics made it so easy to think that dealing with them was as easy as winning the power lottery, dunking on the Triumvirate, and then relegating them to irrelevance because they're apparently worse than every reincarnator in every way that mattered. That mindset really undercut just how much power they had considering how scary even just the PRT's propaganda machine was. Comparisons between me and Jofiel—my apparent Endbringer name—disappeared all but overnight. How are you supposed to deal with an organization that puppets the governments of the Western world, has the media at their beck and call, and has the strongest known capes of this version of the planet?

One cloney girl and a series of reckless decisions, apparently.

Eidolon finally arrived. I sensed Armsmaster relax while Legend's smile became tense as the strongest cape proceeded to lean back and glare at me silently from behind his mask. I sighed and from one blink to the next, my eyes were bathed in gold. I gave the man a most sincere smile.

"Nice to meet you, sir."

It was with this impeccable timing that the important guest of the video meeting connected and we were greeted with the sight of a tan woman dressed in a blue blazer with a grizzled visage despite a youthful appearance. Following her was a nondescript woman with no traits that stood out beyond her dark hair; Dragon.

"It seems that we are complete," Chief Director Costa-Brown said. "If there are no immediate concerns, I would like to introduce everyone present to Dragon from the Guld. She is here to help facilitate this meeting as well as to share her expertise in the matters of Z-Miasma and the Pale Ones."

Dragon gave us an amicable smile. "Hello everyone. It is my pleasure to be in this meeting."

Costa-Brown nodded. "With that out of the way, I will move on to introductions. I am Rebecca Costa-Brown, Chief Directory of the PRT."

And so the introductions went from the PRT-Protectorate core to the guest and to the local branch. Predictably, I went last, which was fair considering my identity for this meeting.

"I am Veronika Simmons, also known as the Ward Selene but for the purposes of this meeting, the Endbringer Jofiel, more commonly known as the Weeping Angel, and less known as the Herrscher of the Void."

It was rather impressive that I was able to say it with a straight face. I had enough Chuunibyou titles to crawl under my seat and die of cringe.

Costa-Brown went on. "With the introductions said, I would like to move on to the topic of the meeting. We are here today to discuss and validate the various concerns about the information brought to us by Veronika, to corroborate this information and the others that may be gleaned from this meeting, and to discuss actions and policies that may need to be implemented or drafted in accordance to the previous two topics. To start, we will begin with what Veronika has termed the 'Honkai'. Veronika, if you please?"

I barely stopped myself from grimacing. I hadn't practiced this song and dance in the slightest, but it wasn't too hard to speak about a topic you knew intimately.

"The Honkai, also known as 'Collapse' in English, is a phenomenon that combines both what everyone here knows as Miasma and Pale Ones and more. It is an alien form of higher-dimensional energy hosted by a consciousness that is hostile to humanity, yet scales its attacks according to how well civilization adapts to it. This suggests some higher goal or purpose and my best guess is that it's trying to get us to adapt to it."

"Fallen Kool-Aid bullshit," Eidolon muttered low enough that it should have been too quiet to hear, but I had good ears. Much louder, he asked, "How come you aren't sure? Why guess?"

Because I couldn't be sure this was actually the Honkai entity that I knew, but that would be a pain to explain. "The things I learned in my awakening didn't cover the specifics."

I shrugged, implying that I'd learned it all from then. It technically wasn't wrong. Learning Honkai was real meant that most if not all of these things would follow. So was the fact that the brush of an alien mind I felt was vague as hell.

"What I've learned is that it works by literally warping the universe using a form of energy used to create realities, making it extremely difficult to make sense of with any means that follows natural law. It uses this to create plagues, stage disasters, and create creatures that spread the previous phenomenon as civilization adapts to it. Most notably, it uses this to create Herrschers, which are essentially human vessels of its power able to warp reality to a significant degree and often to devastating effect. Generally, it should follow the rule of escalation, sending stronger and trickier adversaries as civilization evolves its capacity to deal with it."

"To summarize," Dragon said, "Honkai energy is a reality-warping energy that can be controlled by a presumed higher entity. This entity pressures civilizations gradually but also violently to presumably achieve a greater goal. Is this correct?"

I nodded in the affirmative.

"Dragon, how well do these statements track with your records?" asked Costa-Brown.

"It tracks relatively well. However, I will say that the correlation is general enough that many other things could be claimed about the increasing trend of Pale Ones around the world. To be absolutely sure, we would need to have the instruments to verify the existence of this entity. This is difficult considering how Miasma behaves seemingly without cause, or alternatively, a cause outside of conventional reality, as I am unaware of any current known Tinkertech or state-of-the-art in the field of Miasma or Pale One research that can perform this task. A second, more feasible method would be to observe other worlds and see if the 'Honkai' is present and behaves in the manner that Veronika has stated, which would require that we look into Professor Haywire's research despite the prohibition placed upon it due to the Aleph-Bet Accords."

"I'll make sure to negotiate that with the president on a later date, depending on what we learn from this meeting."

I was embarrassed to admit that I hadn't thought of the second method at all despite having the perfect ability to check. How had Honkai been behaving in the local multiverse? Was it working on them on a case-by-case basis, or was it giving equal treatment across dimensions? Things like this would get muddy with the multi-universal involvement of the Shards so it made me curious about how exactly the Honkai was dealing with them.

Speaking of which, did I want the PRT to know that I could hop worlds? Not really. Cauldron had Clairvoyant and Doormaker to make the check themselves. Yet, I had a feeling that if I kept this capability to myself, I'd be missing some sort of opportunity to build rapport, which was just—why did I need to curry favor with the PRT like this?

… so that future Herrschers might have a place with Humanity.

My mouth tasted like ash and my stomach twisted at the revelation. I was suddenly made aware that I now also had the task of making sure that future Herrschers could be welcomed—that despite all the destruction that they would with no doubt cause by simply becoming Herrschers, they might still have the chance to redeem themselves and the opportunity to be a part of humanity. To still want to be humans instead of the monsters that reality seemed dead set on pushing us to become.

I swallowed. I took a deep breath.

For a beautiful world.

"I think I can help with that," I said. "With everything that had been going on with my life recently, I've kind of forgotten that I was capable of interdimensional travel."

Silence filled the room. It was quite impressive given that Dragon should have had a lot more personal time to process that fact. I had to cover my mouth to resist the urge to break into a fit of giggles. Mom, recovering quickly, sighed and massaged her temples.

It was Armsmaster who broke the silence, speaking quite eagerly. "I think it's time that you told us about your powers. Your real powers."

I smiled. "Alright."

How did the saying go again? In for a penny…

"A Herrscher is a vessel for the Authority to wield an aspect of reality. A Herrscher of Fire is able to wield the concept of fire itself against reality. A Herrscher of Wind controls the air. Thunder to electromagnetism, and so on."

"So the Herrscher of the Void has power over—?" Armsmaster prompted.

"Spacetime," I finished. "Portals, teleportation, spatial manipulation, stasis and acceleration fields, and spacetime fabric-based gravitic manipulation. Name an application and I can do it all."

I paused.

"Not that I've actually studied the subject in an academic capacity," I admitted.

There was another lull as the conference digested that statement. Eidolon leaned forward, his head whirring with activity while Armsmaster gripped his hands hard enough that his palms had started bleeding from the gauntlets digging into his skin. Piggot was taking sharp breaths. Totally-not-Alexandria was as stone-faced as ever, and Dragon seemed to be processing.

"Thank you for that," Legend said. Oddly enough, he seemed to be relieved at my admission. "I understand how … difficult revealing all of this must be. It means handing over information that could be used against you. Information that makes you vulnerable. That kind of thing requires a lot of trust and I'm grateful that you give us this much despite how, from your perspective and for all intents and purposes, we should be enemies."

"Thank you. For trusting us. We won't let you down."

In spite of myself—in spite of all that I knew and suspected about the PRT, about Cauldron, about the game that the Shards and the Honkai would be playing henceforth with the worlds as collateral—it was like a great weight lifted off my shoulders and the air was suddenly easier to breathe in. Fuck you, Legend, for being so damned charismatic. Maybe you might have genuinely promised that, but everyone else in this room aside from Mom was probably chuckling to themselves.

And fuck you, fifteen-year-old brain chemistry, for being so gullible to believe him.

As the conversation headed to the next topic, for some reason, I had a vague feeling that I was forgetting something.

"I think it's time we moved on to the next part of our agenda," The PRT Chief Director said, ending the moment. "Now that Veronika has given her part, it is time that we catch everyone up to the current state of affairs with regard to the 'Honkai' situation. Dragon, if you may."

"Thank you." The screen shifted to a display of the world map with both the Chief Director and Dragon on the side. Various parts of the world were highlighted in shades of red to yellow to white: a heatmap.

"What everyone is seeing here is a global heatmap of Miasma and Paleincursions recompiled by myself and Armsmaster after the revelation that the two are caused by the same phenomenon based on the data accumulated by the Amos Foundation. You may notice that the concentrations seem less frequent in Asia, Russia, the Middle East, Africa, and parts of Southeast Asia. This is due mainly to the lack of availability when it comes to information regarding these events either because of the local government's interference or a lack of information infrastructure."

It felt like I'd just swallowed lead. That was a lot of places.

She continued. "As you can see, the highest concentrations of these events actually take place in areas with a very sparse population or places with limited internet connectivity, which we will call the First Class. This changes two years into the timeline where cases of Miasma are present in small to medium-sized towns, a situation that we will call Second Class, with high casualty rates that we have managed to cut down to only 32% in the last five years thanks to cooperation with the Amos Foundation. At this point, the first big city, Cochabamba, Bolivia, was hit, incurring a loss of life similar to the civilian casualty rates of an Endbringer battle on onset and increasing by 57% later after the Miasma outbreak took its course fully. We call such cases the Third Class. From then on, these events have been happening worldwide with increasing frequency, with the First Class being…"

Dragon continued to quote figures and each new statistic felt like another lump of lead dropping into my stomach. How had I not noticed this earlier? It wasn't like I avoided … no, I did avoid watching the news. Every time I did, it was always a new villain this and Endbringer that. Someone getting Birdcaged. A Ward getting killed. Children being kidnapped. I'd watched the news less and less until the only thing I really checked was the weather before moving back to my room or shutting off the device.

Apparently, I'd missed the fact that people had started leaving the countryside en masse and that military presence around cities had become more and more necessary, with people like Tagg advocating to have all major settlements walled for the past two years. Lots of indigenous tribes and nomadic families had started settling permanently into cities, sparking a lot of cultural unrest that left more than a few mayors scrambling to integrate them with the least conflict possible as Trigger rates rise, causing more Parahuman crime. Food shortages had started becoming a thing, so research on alternative agriculture that was much better for packed environments had skyrocketed. And of course, land and rent prices were as high as ever.

To think I hadn't noticed any of this because I was too deep into my denial, attributing my misfortunes entirely to my own luck. The shame and self-loathing had gotten high enough that I had to take a few moments to calm myself.

By the time I'd paid attention again, Armsmaster was presenting the PRT's current response protocols.

"Miasma protocols are codified according to four levels: Green where there is no activity, Yellow where there is mild activity, Orange for moderate, and Red for heavy activity. Operatives are advised to use lethal weaponry at yellow levels, specialized equipment and lethal Tinkertech for orange in addition to martial law being declared, and scorched earth tactics are advised for red. All units are to implement quarantine protocols and at least level A hazard equipment whenever possible in Yellow and above levels. Quick-deploy containment fortifications are implemented in Orange levels alongside a total evacuation order. There is no salvaging a Red-level event, and nor have we been able to recover an area after scorched earth treatment."

"I can absorb Honkai Energy," I offered before any heads turned to me. "However, the process takes far more time than it takes to dole it out. And I believe that if I am to perform that on the scale that I suspect, I will not be able to hide my empowered form during the process."

"Thank you for your offer," The Chief Director said. "I will arrange a test operation for these capabilities sometime within the next three weeks."

"I would like to request for this to be made in the last week of that time frame," Piggot interrupted. "I have an operation in mind that makes use of Selene's capabilities that I feel cannot be delayed further than this since we now have much of the Parahuman crime in the city on the backfoot."

"Very well. I will keep that in mind. Armsmaster, do continue."

The man nodded. "Moving on to the current assessment of Pale Ones. I will first prelude this presentation with the general strategy against Pale Ones. Typically, when a Pale One appears, it is already an Orange-level threat with the protocols that this implies. I will now begin with the first specimen."

Armsmaster showed us an image of a familiar winged pale alien thing.

"First we have the Drones. These airborne hostiles are around three and a half feet tall and move at subsonic speeds. Their wings vibrate in frequencies that can cut at the molecular level. Fortunately, regular anti-air military protocols are enough to match them as they are about as durable as an F-22. Unfortunately, these creatures tend to come in swarms."

"The Seraphs," I muttered. The room fell silent. I looked up to find that everyone had turned to me.

Then Eidolon scoffed. "Of course, she has her own name for these things."

"Don't mind him," Legend said. "Speak up if you think there's something you can contribute."

I nodded.

Armsmaster continued. "And then we have the Juggernauts. Land-based hostiles with large forelimbs and of a height of approximately 20 feet—"

"Chariots. Some of them can take on elemental properties like fire and frost."

"—that are, at minimum, recommended to be engaged individually with a single tank squadron. The Cavalry, ten-feet tall hostiles with the appearance of a horse rider—"

"Knights."

Armsmaster grunted. "Which are to be engaged in highly obstructed areas to limit mobility and its use of its spear appendage. Next are the Vanguards, airborne hostiles which bear an appearance resembling a shield-bearer…" he actually paused at that.

"Templars. Some of them have electromagnetic abilities that can incapacitate people, especially when struck with their lances."

"Which are to be engaged with multiple units to provide a distraction while an attack unit engages it with heavy weaponry."

He took a breath. "Last is the Special Class, which are reserved for particularly powerful Pale Ones such as the geokinetic Apep in Egypt and the Tarasqe in France, which were able to destroy much of Alexandria—the city—and Avignon on their own before being driven off by an Endbringer assembly and being destroyed by Behemoth, respectively."

He was glaring at me. I crossed my arms.

"I think you're describing members of the Emperor class," I said. "Things that are equivalent to S-class threats that can still actually be put down by current cape capabilities."

There was a brief moment of silence at that.

"Are you implying that there are higher categories than those?" Piggot asked.

I nodded. "The Judgement-class, which are … basically less durable Endbringers. And then there is the Vipralopa class, which is just … a lot more."

Silence. A few members of this meeting were massaging their temples or rubbing their eyes. Armsmaster was furiously typing with his helmet. Eidolon looked like he choked on a lemon. Dragon just looked concerned.

Undaunted, Piggot pressed on. "And you claim to be able to make these?"

I answered slowly. "Up to Judgement class."

That was the moment Mom broke down into a quick fit of hysterical giggles before stopping herself.

"Sorry."

Dragon saved Mom from further embarrassment by taking over. "Moving on to the subject of the Infected, we have compiled a number of observations relevant to this convention, with the first being the general biology we have observed."

She explained Chimera Resin, the unnatural biological-like material that replaces human flesh during Miasma infection. Over the technobabble, the best thing that stood out to me was that it didn't react normally to a lot of things biological matter was supposed to react to but is otherwise receptive to nervous systems out of all things.

"Most Miasma-Infected die of cascading organ failure and disintegrate into dust particles as we presume that the Chimera Resin loses its stability. In some cases, the body is not destroyed, but the individual would appear to have lost all higher cognitive functions and behave, in layman's terms, 'like a zombie'"

She showed us security images of pale men and women shambling quickly toward an exclusion zone wall.

"What is remarkable regarding these 'zombies', however, is that they seem to evolve."

She showed us several more images; different zombie types, pale but not rotting, distinguished by what looked like armor, build, and equipment made of the familiar black, ivory, and gold pallette. Surprisingly, though, I recognized only a few of them.

"The Chimera Resin appears to be able to transform into a multitude of adaptations. The most common of which are chitinous-like growths that create defensive shells or offensive weapons like claws or extra appendages. Rapid regeneration is also a common trait alongside the ability to survive incredibly hostile environments such as high temperatures, toxic environments, extreme cold, and, most recently, the vacuum of space. We call this process Chimerization."

"Currently, we have observed general types of Chimerization suites that the Infected tend to adopt. The first is a fast-moving type with large clawed hands that can cut through steel we have codenamed Claws. The second is a quintessential Brute package with increased mass and strength we call Giants. Next is a type that appears as a normal human but has incredibly high physical abilities and reaction times that allow it to dodge short bursts of gunfire. They are dangerous because they retain rudimentary tactical capabilities and the ability to use weapons. We call them the Soldiers."

Finally, she showed the image of a white-haired female Infected with golden irises steeped in blackened eyes, clad in a long dark dress emerging from an Exclusion Zone wall.

"Then there are the Phantoms, Infected with non-Manton-limited telekinesis and a Breaker state that renders them intangible to all conventional and exotic effects we have tried. They seem to be unable to use that ability indefinitely, so we resort to removing them through ambushes."

"Nothing to say about that, princess?" Eidolon said.

Mom cast me a concerned glance as I put on a tight smile. Their resemblance to my own appearance was uncanny.

"There's little to say since these aren't really named before," I said. Okay, I was tempted to call the Soldiers 'Ninjas' like in the game but that was too campy, and the Wraiths being called Phantoms was just a matter of semantics. "If there's one thing to say, that is…"

I held up my hand for all to see then plunged it into the table, phasing it through the material. I brought my hand back out with the table unmarred.

"The Phantoms go into a state known as 'Imaginary', which is something of a 'not real yet' state. They will be, for all intents and purposes, 'not really there'. You would need attacks that are of the same nature to harm them in that, and they have to be strong ones too as Imaginary effects have this interaction of needing to 'out-bullshit' each other."

Dragon gave me a smile. "Thank you for that, Veronika. We will keep that in mind."

"I will now move on to the last categorization of Infected: the Infected Parahumans."

I stilled. Shards interacting with Honkai Energy? Shards learning how to use Honkai Energy?

I did not foresee this worst-case scenario.

Worse than Scion simply going off early or the Honkai going about its usual escalation. As powerful as they were, regular Entities weren't nearly as bad as Entities that could manipulate Imaginary Energy. They could already do a good amount of reshaping reality while just being limited to physical laws. Allowing them to master to what actually is primordial creation energy would be seeing the birth of an unspeakable disaster.

"Typically, Infected Parahumans retain their abilities and can use them alongside the adaptations provided by the normal Chimerization process. However, there are some cases in which an Infected Parahuman will simply lose their powers or the powers rapidly evolve in a destructive and relatively uncontrolled manner compared to the known Second Trigger instances, often destroying themselves and their immediate surroundings. Those that retain their powers typically have their Chimerization develop in seeming symbiosis with their powers."

Something snagged at my memory from that description. Something from Worm's sequel. It was in these moments that I cursed regular human memory because it wasn't quite covered by my supernatural one.

Either way, nothing about that description definitively told me anything about what was happening in the background. To know that, I would have to infect a Parahuman, keep them in a cage, and trace back their connection to the Shard once the Chimerization is complete. Just the idea of it made me sick.

Knowing how easy doing it would be made me terrified.

"Something to share, Veronika?" Costa-Brown asked. I silently cursed her for bringing attention to me. I couldn't really talk about how bad bad bad it would be if the Shards ever really figured out Honkai Energy without giving away how much I knew about powers themselves in front of Piggot and Armsmaster, beyond the fact that I still wasn't sure I wanted them to know what I knew about that.

"Nothing," I said. "There's just a worry between Honkai Energy interacting with powers going very badly."

Alexandria silently stared at me. Mom looked at me with concern while the others seemed content to wait out the confrontation.

"Very well."

I felt my stomach untangle the knot it tied itself in.

"If that is all, we will be taking a five-minute break to process. Once we come back, I want us to be talking about what we need to do, how we will go about it, and who will need to be doing things. You are dismissed."

-{0}-

Honestly, five minutes was only enough for a potty break. When we reconvened, no one was speaking to each other. Everyone seemed to be too busy stewing. Even myself, really.

While it was true that the Honkai was escalating, it wasn't doing it in a normal way. Why start out with a Herrscher, then follow it up with diseases then Outbreaks? And why so quickly? There would have normally been a long period of just the disease, then mutant animals before the Honkai Beasts really showed up. Then again, the Previous Era in the game still treated Honkai sickness like a particularly difficult disease even after the first and second Herrschers had gone active, so maybe it was just an effect of starting in an industrialized world instead of gradually during the evolution of civilization. Or maybe the Shards and the Parahuman arrangement was suddenly a factor to the Honkai and it was scaling accordingly.

I couldn't even trust that the next Herrschers would be the same when the Second, Void, had come before the First, Reason. Who was to say Bet will experience the exact same 12 Herrschers from canon? As far as I was aware, we didn't have anything like a Previous Era to work off of and a Prometheus to hack the Honkai into reproducing the Herrscher patterns, which meant that I could be facing any number and any variety of Herrschers. Was I ready for that?

I would have to be.

The silence was broken when the Chief Director rejoined the call. Once she verified that we were complete, she reopened the conversation.

"Now that we're back, let us now discuss the actions we will have to undertake going forward. Does anyone have an issue to put forward?"

Eidolon spoke first. "Let's not forget the biggest elephant in the room." He pointed at me. "How are we going to be using her?"

"I concur," Armsmaster added. "The more that I think about it, the more and more our future actions regarding this issue must first be discussed with how Selene will be made use of going forward."

I bristled and fought the urge to retaliate. The man had been subtly insufferable throughout the meeting. I couldn't miss the fact that he and Eidolon were the only ones in the room who didn't call me by name. I didn't have anything to say for a comeback anyway, and it wasn't like I was against the issue itself because it was a chance for me to finally be useful at the level I wanted to be. I wasn't about to ruin it by acting immaturely.

"Very well," Costa-Brown said. "However, do keep in mind that any requests made must be a project that Veronika will consent to."

The Tinker grunted in acknowledgment.

"My first request is to put Selene under much more comprehensive power testing. Without a more accurate understanding of her full capabilities, we wouldn't know how useful she might be for use against the Endbringers as she claims. Knowing her true maximum range for her teleportation abilities, for example, will determine her utility in transporting personnel across large distances, and studying her temporal abilities that were observed in Frankfurt could become an avenue for freeing Grey Boy victims throughout the world. Lastly, I would like to assess her ability to confound Thinker abilities as a previous attempt by WEDGDG to analyze her returned with particularly inconsistent and inconclusive results."

"And you didn't get this comprehensive power testing before?"

"Yes, because Selene had refused to be cooperative with this."

I suppressed a groan. He'd been sending me emails to go into power testing practically every day. He couldn't be any more obvious that he was looking for ways to kill me than if he had come up to me and said it in my face.

"It was a matter of trust," I said instead. "I wasn't about to tell someone who I thought wanted me dead a good idea of what I could do."

"Does this mean that you are amenable to such a power testing now?" The Chief Director asked.

I drew in a deep breath and swallowed my annoyance. "Yes."

"Excellent. Anything else?"

Armsmaster seemed to still want to speak, but Mom beat him to it. "I've been having a few exchanges with the Amos Foundation recently and I've been reading a few of their papers. They've been recently looking into ways to introduce Chimera Resin to animal anatomy without having it undergo a Miasma cascade and while there haven't been any real successes, their theory is rather close to how Panacea had explained my current physiology. They want me and Veronika to participate in that project over in their headquarters at the Frankfurt Exclusion Zone. For obvious reasons, I've been pushing for them to have the tests they want to make here or in Boston."

Piggot made one of her rare smiles. "At least now it's clear why they've been trying to buy Medhall recently."

Armsmaster, Mom, and I looked at her in surprise. Seeing that, Piggot raised a brow and explained dryly, "Not everything revolves around Parahumans. That goes double for you, Armsmaster."

"Yes ma'am," the man replied, chastised.

"With regards to any further involvement of the Amos Foundation with the PRT as a whole," Costa-Brown said, "especially with regard to Veronika performing at anywhere near her full capabilities, the decision needs to be made with the council of the rest of the Directors, which would necessitate the disclosure of Veronika's status as being one and the same as the Endbringer Jofiel."

I tensed. I wasn't the only one in the room to do so.

Honestly, the idea didn't appeal to me at all. It meant more oversight and getting yelled at by a bunch of old people who probably want me dead.

At the same time, even if they did … what were they going to do about it? Punish mom? Their funeral. Reveal me to the world? That was a PR disaster waiting to happen and we both knew it. Reveal my status to the other Wards?

My thoughts ground to a halt.

Had it not been for the memories of another life, this would have been a pretty crippling threat. The Wards—Missy, Carlos, Dennis, and Chris—I didn't know them well yet but they were good people. Honestly, I'd like to be friends with them if I could and this kind of reveal would ruin any chance of that.

Except I couldn't afford to let that kind of thing stop me, couldn't let having friends in this kind of place get in the way of doing what needed to be done. It was a necessary risk to take, right?

At the very least, that meant that the burden of telling them when it was time would be taken out of my hand

"That's fine," I said.

Mom sucked in a breath. She knew.

Legend nodded proudly. Eidolon looked smug. Armsmaster remained impassive, while Piggot sighed in … irritation?

"Good," The Chief Director said. "Hopefully, we can get Dr. Sinclair on board in due time. Also, your agreement frees you up for Preparedness testing."

"With you, we will be capable of testing our protocols and technology in a more controlled manner," Dragon explained. "I would like to schedule tests on weekends so that the Guild and PRT can refine their countermeasures against the Honkai."

"Taking up the name, Dragon?" Legend chided.

"It has its uses as an umbrella term."

"Perhaps we can schedule talks about changing another thousand files to make up for updated naming conventions another time," Costa-Brown said, killing the conversation. "What do you think, Veronika?"

"It's good," I said.

"Thank you," Dragon said. "You will be sent an email later containing a briefing of what we want to look at."

I nodded quietly.

"Yes, Armsmaster?" Costa-Brown asked.

"What about Endbringer response? Should we or should we not attempt to keep her true capabilities confidential through such conflicts?"

Mom glanced at me in worry while the rest of the table leaned forward in interest. Everyone awaited the answer, both from myself and the Chief Director. At the very least, I knew what I wanted when it came to this topic.

"I'm participating."

I wasn't about to miss out on the fight just because I felt helpless.

"And we are thankful for that," Costa-Brown said. "However, we can't afford to have you bring out your full potential that had been shown in Frankfurt ten years ago. It would be too recognizable."

"I'm not backing out of the fight," I said.

"And we're not asking you to, especially as we need all the chances we could get. All I ask is that you don't have yourself be recognized as Jofiel; things like your wings, the use of stasis fields, the creation of zones of unstable spacetime, and especially the deployment of Pale Ones. So long as you can keep your other identity a secret, I will allow your participation."

I nodded. Looks like I was going to have to make Selene's own signature moves.

"What about the heroes?" Eidolon asked. "Don't tell me the Protectorate can't have training against this sort of thing…"

We talked for a few more minutes after that. Despite the sheer breadth of the world that had been shared through this discussion, talking about countermeasures took less time than it did to discuss the facts mostly because what the Chief Director could do without the approval of the rest of the Directors was limited. In the end, we didn't finish the last half-hour of the meeting. The people attending using video calls disconnected. Eidolon left with a dimensional Mover power while Armsmaster and Piggot went back to their offices, leaving me and Mom with Legend.

"I just want to say thank you again," he began. "You don't know how much this means to us. For so long, it's been loss after loss. If it isn't a villain causing chaos in the streets, it's an Endbringer attack. If it's neither of those, it's a new S-class being born or a Miasma outbreak. Then, here you are, a former S-class willing to help us deal with the growing amount of problems around the world and it's a breath of fresh air."

Legend chuckled to himself, and it was suddenly like I could see him in a new light. He didn't really stand tall like his posters. Beneath the mask, he had bags under his eyes and his hands twitched every once in a while as if they were too used to being busy.

It didn't feel right to be thanked like this. It felt like he was thanking me for having taken so many lives, for having hidden myself away and ignored what I could have done something about. So many lives could have been saved if I had just gone to them earlier, but I didn't because I was afraid. And now, there were so many lives lost and ruined because I was scared and in denial. All I was doing was making up for what I should have done a long time ago.

So I told him, "Don't thank me yet. I haven't done anything to be grateful about. Maybe if there were actually people that had actually been saved, but not before then." I smiled at him. "I don't deserve it."

Legend looked like he was about to protest when his phone suddenly chimed. The conference room was protected by a Faraday cage, so it couldn't possibly be a call, not unless some Tinkertech shenanigans were involved, but I hadn't sensed any. Sure enough, he dismissed it with a few inputs and sighed.

"Sorry, but I have a meeting soon," he said. "Just … don't sell yourself short. Just by working with us, you've done the world a lot of good, and you're going to do a lot more good in the future, alright?"

He smiled at me and just … waited. I sighed.

"Alright."

Satisfied, the man turned and left the room. An arm wrapped itself around my shoulders and I found myself leaning against Mom's embrace. We stayed like that for a while, long enough that the officers outside were debating on whether or not they should check if we were okay. Then I took a deep breath and pulled myself away. Mom nodded at me, then we left the room.

As I made my way upstairs to my first duty on the Console, I wondered, just a little, if Contessa had anything to do with the meeting.

-{0}-

--Keith

Keith didn't remember setting an alarm to go to the base after the meeting. He certainly didn't remember writing 'The two will be fighting again' as a postscript to himself. Taking the message for what it was, he parted ways with the girl and her mother and walked into a different secure room.

"Door to Cauldron."

The gold-rimmed rectangular portal appeared. Keith took another tired breath and stepped past the threshold.

As he stepped into the white walls of the Cauldron base, sure enough, he found David and Rebecca in the middle of an argument.

"—we just going to take anyone now? That thing has a six-digit body count in five minutes! Are we really just going to let her in with those kids? The Protectorate?"

Eidolon had taken off his mask so that the displeasure on his face was on full display. Rebecca, meanwhile, was still in her PRT uniform. Contessa was on the table while the Doctor was nowhere to be seen.

"Yes we are," she said adamantly. "The data that we obtained from Frankfurt might be incomplete, but what we do have suggests that she is able to overcome almost any defensive power and now we have confirmation that she is able to work with multiple dimensions. It's in our best interest that we keep her on our side, especially as Contessa has not been able to create any guaranteed countermeasures."

"Bullshit! Her Path told us to wait a week or two before confronting her about it. If we had done that a little earlier, then we could have pushed for a lot more without risking the PRT's reputation at the same time!"

At this, the woman in question spoke up. "Modeling the subject's social behavior is much easier than modeling her combat capabilities as that Path is much, much less volatile. Had we taken your suggestion, I cannot guarantee that any of you three would live after the ensuing conflict."

Keith sighed as David bristled. The man was sensitive about his place as the world's strongest Parahuman. While he was a good person fundamentally, David was also vain.

On the other hand, the fact that Path to Victory was unsure was another problem. After the incident at Frankfurt, it seemed that Thinker powers worldwide had taken a hit, with precognition more than everyone else. Thanks to Veronika, they had finally managed to narrow the causes down to this Honkai phenomenon, which in itself was a big concern. He could only count his blessings that they were at least forewarned.

"I, for one, am glad that we got through this without any threats or fighting," Keith said. "It's a nice change that communication was actually effective for once."

David scowled and crossed his arms. "Well fine. Let's have our own murder angel. What's next?"

"We are going to need our new asset trained and prepared for her role," Rebecca said, turning to Contessa.

"No direct action needs to be taken. There are already suitable challenges coming along the way. Cauldron will be better off exploring other avenues."

Rebecca nodded at that.

"What other avenues are we referring to?"

"This."

The group turned to see the Doctor walking into the room. The dark-skinned woman held up a vial, but unlike the usual metallic, semi-transparent liquid of a Cauldron vial, it contained the unmistakable crimson of blood.

"What our new asset has inadvertently given us is a new opportunity. Once we acquire the right help, we will be in a position to bargain with a few Earths by leveraging their Miasma problem."

"I thought we couldn't do that?" David said.

"The situation has changed. The Enemy has made itself more sparse than usual, and powers have been appearing in other worlds beyond the few we have noted for a while now, seemingly in response to Miasma. Thanks to the new asset, we have an opportunity to take actions that cannot be seen by the Enemy. We need to take this chance to create as many assets as we can."

The rest of the table processed that new fact, then they all nodded, save for Contessa and Keith. He didn't like it. Just minutes earlier, he had promised the girl that they wouldn't be betraying her trust, yet here they were.

Sometimes he wondered if there was any way to keep the world going without compromising his good sense.

The Doctor continued. "I would like to get some inputs regarding…"

As the meeting went on, Keith found himself going back to that question. In the end, he didn't have an answer.

Interlude 3.A

{0}

In any other setting, Coil would have relished meetings.

Situations such as these were perfect for his power, especially when they were planned and carefully curated. Not so much when they are sudden and set in the middle of the night during a light rain, far too close to his own base for his liking. Even more so when as soon as the client showed himself clad in a dark synthetic raincoat and a white ceramic opera mask, both of his timelines suddenly collapsed and he was back in the seat of his van was left with nothing but a pair of mercenaries and a Tinkertech communicator that didn't have a signal. He should have been far more wary when the eight-digit deposit landed in one of his shell companies' accounts alongside a request and a time and date of meeting. Unfortunately, he was in need of more funds: one of his major investments had crashed and burned during his brief period of inactivity thanks to moving his operations, dragging with it a few of his smaller ones; one of his key logistical operations for Fortress Construction had been interrupted thanks to the Pale Ones, thanks to Selene, now that he knew; and an area he had been attempting to solidify his presence in had just been raided by the Teeth—which was how he learned the hard way why Accord was so willing to give up that territory. Still, it was a poor, poor showing for his part. Now, he was left with no option but to trust in the other party's goodwill or his sniper's ability to shoot the other Parahuman in the skull when the time came.

At least there were some small comforts. Boston had much better-kept streets than Brockton, which kept a good chunk of the flooding away from his shoes and most of the wind was dispersed by the prominence of tall buildings. It was a shame he couldn't send his double, Mr. Stevens, since the thin fabric made a poor insulator against the cold and the spray that his umbrella couldn't account for. He and his entourage made their way into the warehouse that was their meeting place with haste.

The warehouse was bare but clean, lit by the pale light of freshly replaced bulbs, and far more insulated against outside surveillance than he'd thought with its boarded windows. The man—Crow, going by the ID on the message—stood in the center of the room with a briefcase in hand. Supposedly, that was the other half of the payment as the account used to contact Coil had been thoroughly destroyed along with its traces. It could also just as easily be a bomb.

"Good evening, Mr. Coil," Crow said, bowing his head slightly. His voice was deep and resonant despite the distinct crackle of machine audio. "Apologies for the late meeting. The schedule has been quite hectic recently and this is the only time we could meet for this week."

Coil scowled under his mask. To call him out in the middle of the night and then tell him that he was only a single client among many put him on the back foot. It showed that whoever this man was, he was either powerful or backed by someone with power, and the fact that he hadn't heard of this Crow over the many other capes who called themselves the name spoke volumes of the reach that he or his organization had. What rotten luck, to come across another shadowy giant that decided to take an interest in his business just as he was still picking himself off the ground. For a moment, Coil wondered if this was Cauldron finally calling in their favor but dismissed that notion after a moment. Cauldron wouldn't have gone through the process of contacting him through his accounts to negotiate.

Coil forced calmness into his words. "Indeed, it has been rather inconvenient Mr. Crow. I do hope that the compensation you are offering is worth both of our time."

Crow remained silent for several moments, causing Coil to contemplate getting himself his own metal mask or at the very least a framework. While the shifting of the facial features of his own skintight ensemble proved to be an effective tool in unnerving his opponents, the sheer inhumanity in a human face that speaks but does not move also had its own merits, particularly in hiding his own emotions. He would have to make Mr. Pitter procure one for him later once he could afford the extravagance.

When Crow finally moved, it was to open the briefcase. With two clicks, a pair of ten rows of 100-dollar bundles were revealed; two million in cash.

"A token for taking up your time."

Instinctively, Coil reached for his power. His mind felt the familiar trigger and reality … did not split.

How vexing.

He couldn't test the reality where he simply guns the man down before escaping with the briefcase—uncouth behavior for a man of his station, but still a variable that was worth testing to probe the waters. He would have to not look the gift horse in the mouth, this time. Ordering one of his bodyguards to obtain the case, Coil once again turned his full attention to his adversary.

"What is it that you want of me, then?" he asked.

"A very simple request, really," Crow replied. "We want to be given all the information you have on Cauldron."

Coil felt his blood turn cold. On impulse, he looked over his shoulders, eyes searching for the fedora-wearing boogeyman and finding nothing. He turned back to the man, heart pounding, and leveled a pistol at him.

"Do you have any idea who you are messing with?"

Infuriatingly, Crow simply went on, "Your records indicate that you did not have a Corona Pollentia before the incident in Ellisburg, yet at some point twenty-seven months after that, we have found that you had started bribing your physicians with no intervening incident that suggests a Trigger Event. It suggests that you had obtained a vial in that intervening period, and thus presumably have contacted the group sometime before that."

Coil scowled. "If you already know that much then there's no point in asking me!"

Indeed, the only thing the man did not mention was that he owed the group a favor, one he could not refuse. Beyond that and the now-deprecated means he had used to find them, Coil had nothing more to offer.

"Very well. We shall ask for something else, then."

"No," Coil said, turning. "This is only a waste of time."

He and his bodyguards began toward the entrance they had come from before the door suddenly opened revealing another Crow touting his own suitcase and all blocking their exit. Coil made an aborted action to thumb his transceiver. Whoever this Crow was, they had managed to either set down a jamming device or had taken down his insurance and either case meant that he was now isolated and about an hour away from any reinforcements.

Like the previous Crow, the duplicate opened his own suitcase, revealing another two million.

"Do stay for a while," the new Crow said, his voice an exact emulation of the first's, right down to his accent and speech pattern. "We do believe that this second request will be worth your time."

Coil had to admit that Crow's tactics were effective if nothing else. His power was disabled, his adversary's power was unknown not to mention that there were multiple of them, and they likely already knew his current operations enough to corner him near his base. Paired with the bait literally being placed at his feet, Coil had to admit that he was at a bit of a loss.

Coil held out his arms. "I don't suppose I have a choice, Mr. Crow?"

"There is always a choice, Mr. Coil. It just depends on whether these choices are good ones."

Coil forced himself to laugh. Choices he had indeed.

"Very well. What is it that you ask for?"

He imagined that the other man smiled under that ceramic mask. "We want information regarding the different companies of Brockton Bay," he said. "Specifically Medhall Pharmaceuticals, Sokoku Incorporated, and Stansfield Holdings Company. You are a former major player in Brockton City's underground and cape scene. You have no doubt invested in researching its business giants as your employment of professional help suggests. We wish to obtain this intelligence in exchange for a sum and a favor."

Coil was not enthused at this request. Complying would entail giving away his massive advantage if he ever came back to that cesspool of a city. Yet a part of him knew that the location wasn't quite salvageable. Whatever the PRT believed they were doing, it wasn't going to work—not with Piggot in charge. Selene was a ticking time bomb and the city was as good as condemned, and it was only a matter of when. Had he been at its helm instead of that cape-hating pile of grease—the problem of his power not working well aside—then it might have had a chance, but alas.

"A favor?" he asked instead.

"Indeed."

A third Crow walked into the warehouse. Like his brethren, he had brought a suitcase, and like them, revealed its contents. Unlike the other two cases, this suitcase contained a computer inside of it; a rather primitive-looking one, but Coil had no doubt that it was likely a piece of Tinkertech.

"You will be given three favors to ask of us Crows. We might not be a Cauldron, but our reach is global and our service parameters are varied. Simply contact us through this device and let us know of your request."

Coil eyed the device skeptically. This… was actually quite a favorable arrangement for him. There were quite a number of ways he could make use of a power-negating duplicator and he was thinking of one such application—to bring comeuppance to the only other individual that could have given away all the information that Crow himself had on him: Accord.

"I'm sure there is some drawback for this sort of favor," he hedged.

"Of course," Crow agreed. "It is contingent on you upholding your end of the bargain."

"Of course."

"Then we assume that we have a deal?"

As if there was a choice not to. Not like Coil could actually check.

"We have."

All three Crows closed their briefcases. Crow Three approached Coil and offered him the communication device, which Coil took after taking a moment to compose himself. Upon doing so, the case let out a soft beep.

"This device is now keyed to your biometrics." This cretin— "Do ensure that no one else attempts to open it as it will be primed to explode. Once you have the information, simply place it into a thumb drive and plug it into the single-use port."

Coil nodded stiffly. "Of course."

With that, the other Crows handed their own cases to his mercenaries, who took the containers as if they might contain bombs which they very well might have. As one, the Crows stepped back and gave his group a shallow bow.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Coil. May we meet again."

The three Crows then exited the warehouse, not so much walking as gliding across the floor and out into the rain. Suddenly, Coil's transceiver crackled into life.

"—ir! Sir! Are you there, sir!"

Sighing, Coil responded, "Yes, Mr. Stone?"

It took a moment for the squad leader of his observation force to respond. "Sir, I have eyes on the client and there are three of them. Permission to intercept?"

"Stand down," Coil said, turning back to their own exit. "There will be no engagement, but watch them."

"Yes sir."

Coil's grip on the briefcase tightened as he and his escort finally stepped into the rain. The next time that Stone updated him, he was already taking a seat in the car.

"Sir, they just disappeared. A possible teleportation device."

How infuriating.

"Then they disappeared," he said flatly. "Return to base. I still have work to do."

He breathed another sigh as the car came to life and started moving out of the parking. A hand drifted over to a device he'd placed on his chest; an unassuming dark thing that could record audio and video that was undetectable by most means of scanning electronics. A fine piece of mundane tech, which had turned out to be quite fortunate in this case. He was going to have his little minion go over the footage with a finely-toothed comb.

In the meantime, he went over a backlogged report on the status of Boston on his phone. New minor gangs, territorial fights between the Teeth and Accord, a somewhat powerful independent villain disappearing. His attention caught on a particularly interesting sighting: a powerful mercenary group called the Travelers was spotted in Accord's territory twice, notably not dressed in the same fashion that the Ambassadors were typically clad in.

Indeed, this could provide him with an opportunity.

Limelight 3.7

-{0}-

Tuesday, at least in school, was almost as hectic as Monday. I'd tried going to the cafeteria and immediately realized that it was a mistake. Then I'd had to stop two bullying incidents between some boys and at least one drug transaction, taking them all to the disciplinary office—a much less stressful solution than having to scare everyone myself. Thank God for bureaucracy, but also because of it, I didn't have the time to go and jumpscare the other. Since it was a whole day, I just went home after classes, did my homework, "cultivated" with Mom, and practiced turning fake building parts into relativistic projectiles in Void Space (and discovered the edge of the personal dimension when I accidentally drifted too close to the gravity tunnel). Wednesday was a half day—which meant my first real training with the Wards.

I'd arrived at the PRT building via the Selene Express, scaring the poor officer guarding the rooftop. After showing my ID and quick coordination with Console—the woman manning it pleaded with me to at least call next time so that my arrival could be acknowledged—I headed over to the Wards HQ and changed into my totally-not-magical-girl outfit, which was had roughly doubled in density using the most inert yet durable Imaginary material I could create in the time it's been with me. I then sat down with a pack of chips and turned on the TV. Did you know that Esports was actually on TV programs because athletic sports had gotten a lot less popular when watching capes was a lot more entertaining to the average viewer than the Olympics? I didn't know any of the games there, though. Okay, maybe I knew of Quake.

A quarter of an hour passed before the next Ward, or rather Wards, arrived. The boys sans Dean arrived together since they all came from Arcadia.

"'Sup guys," I greeted. I was greeted back by a bunch of heys and hi's. "Anyone know when Missy's gonna get here?"

"She's usually here ten minutes after us," Carlos said. "Her school's a few blocks farther than Arcadia is from here."

"Thanks." I turned back to the TV and—they were still standing there. I looked back.

"You guys gonna change or what?"

I got startled uhs and yeah's back and the three boys quickly shuffled into their own rooms. They came back suited up, masks off but in their hands, a few moments later and one by one, took their own seats around the circle of couches that made up the Wards' common room.

"So, uh, Veronika," Carlos began. "How was your day?"

"Pretty good compared to yesterday. Didn't have to arrest a classmate or something."

"The rumors about Winslow are actually real?" Dennis asked.

"Depends." I shrugged. "At the very least, I stopped bullying twice and caught someone trying to sell drugs. Took them to the administration, though, and not the police."

All three boys grimaced. I shrugged.

"Aside from that, I apparently have a fan club."

If it were possible, they grimaced even harder. I raised a brow.

"While we don't actually have our own fan clubs, we do have a lot of fans in school," Chris explained. "Except Dean. He has one comprised entirely of fangirls."

Dennis shuddered, clearly exaggerating. I snorted.

"Well, I've met some of the members of mine and they're not too bad. I think having one of my friends be a founding member did wonders for moderation."

It was right at that moment that I noticed two other PRT vans enter the parking lot, carrying with them Dean and Missy. They unboarded and greeted each other before taking the elevator.

"The other two are here," I said, getting the other Wards' attention, a mere ten seconds before the doors opened—there was no alarm for fellow Wards or Protectorate—admitting their missing members inside.

I turned off the TV. Again, greetings were exchanged. Five minutes later, everyone was gathered around the lounge in their costumes. Carlos—Aegis broke the silence.

"So before we head to the training room to start our teamwork practice, I've got some news."

"What, you got a girlfriend?" Clockblocker joked.

"No!" Aegis shouted and I blinked in surprise. He cleared his throat. "I mean, come on, Dennis. Be serious."

The only reply he got from the other boy was a bunch of snickering. Aegis rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, what I mean to say is that according to Miss Militia, we're getting a few more members soon. Three people, in fact."

Three? Grue, I expected. But three?

Kid Win whistled. "Wow, that's … are they transfers or what?"

"Entirely new," Aegis said. "Apparently, they all applied around a day after our Selene's debut."

I blinked, my brain performing a quick reboot, and frowned. "What, are you implying that they all applied because of me?"

Aegis paused. "Uh."

"I mean, have you seen yourself?" Clockblocker said, gesturing at me. "You got to admit, you make a compelling argument."

Is that supposed to be a compliment? I think it's a compliment. Not that it made me feel better—I've been complimented for my looks before, mostly by boys. While I would admit that I looked like I came out of the movies, being told so didn't really make me happy. I suspect it's because I've only associated it with getting hit on while growing up and not whatever positive cultural reinforcement that other girls received from their parents.

"Ewwwww!" Vista said, blanching. "Ew ew ew. Yuck. Clock, no."

Clockblocker threw his hands up. "Hey, I'm just saying."

"I am going to pretend these past few seconds didn't happen," I said out loud, taking a page off the smaller girl's book. A tall order, given my memory.

Clockblocker's eyes darted between the other members of this conversation. The three other boys shook their heads. He looked away and sighed.

"Fine," he said. "I'm sorry for being a creep."

I chuckled. "Like I said, this never happened."

Aegis clapped his hands. "Moving on! Today, we're doing some team-based exercises to get a feel for Selene's place in the party. Figure out some power combinations and all that good stuff. Then Kid Win and I will go out for the first patrol team, Clock, Gallant, and Vista for the second, while Selene's going to sit on the Console to get the newbie treatment." He turned to me. "That alright with you?"

That took a chuckle out of me. "I'll be sure to call the ambulance if I think you're about to die."

"Alright."

And with that, we put on our masks and went downstairs. Our colorful crew attracted a lot of attention as we went, drawing waves and nods from officers. A supervisor greeted us in the training room. She signed us in, and we were left to our devices.

Training Room 2 was a simple gallery covered in grey Brute-standard reinforced panels, the room I'd also used during my first power testing with Armsmaster. There wasn't a lot of stuff that was stored here other than a few weights and some training machines. Apparently, the PRT building didn't actually have that many facilities meant for hosting specialized Parahuman training, which mostly took place on the Protectorate HQ. Normally, training that took place here would be CQB from PRT trainers or obtaining equipment clearances, at least, according to the handbook. Today was just that there was nobody on the Protectorate roster really available to mentor us with our time slot and simple stuff like this apparently didn't need that much beyond some open but contained space.

"Okay, how are we doing this?" I asked.

"First, we want to figure out what role you might play," Aegis said. "I want to hear your opinion first before we get started on the others'. Gives us room to let you take the job that you want to have."

"Well," I began. "I'm able to make stuff move with gravity and make portals. I think I would be best at crowd control and getting people to places they need to be?"

Aegis nodded. "Okay, we've got that down. Anyone else have an idea they want to pitch in?"

Clock—I gave up the long version because even in my head it's somehow a mouthful—raised his hand. "Defensive stuff. You can use your portals to redirect projectiles, right? We could have a signal to call you out for defensive stuff. Make a portal shield when we're in trouble."

I nodded. "We could do that, yeah."

"Can you also do the wide-area gravity thing where stuff is just heavier?" Vista asked.

"I can."

"Great. We can use that to pin perps down. Make it harder for them to get anywhere."

Kid Win perked up. "We could also do that thing from that Earth Aleph show. Set up a room for high gravity and have everyone train there so that we don't get pinned down if we ever need to go into one of Selene's fields."

"Great idea," Aegis said. Huh. He was actually writing it down. "Gallant?"

"Only thing I can think of at the moment are exit strategies," the armored boy said.

"Still, that's a good point."

The rest of the conversation was more about hashing out details of the particulars. Gate was established as a default paired with a destination, similar to 'Door to', but with the specific instruction to make the exit form from behind if the destination was a person. Calling out Moon Gate would mean making a defensive portal that spits an attack right back toward the front of the teammate. Sink was also another signal paired with a destination that told me where to put gravity wells. We spent several minutes debating what signal to use to get out of a situation and regroup, finally settling on Stage Clear and having me call it out and decide the destination.

Then we finally got to application. The exercise? A game of tag.

"Okay, the rules are simple," Aegis began. "No powers, especially you, Clock. Round one is that we have one it and the rest have to evade, except for Selene. I'll be it first."

Clock rolled his eyes under his mask. "'Course you are."

Aegis only grinned at him, which was awkward when one could only see his expression through his mask's eye slits. "Heck yeah, I am. Now, anyone want to make a suggestion?"

"Tag with sticky notes," Vista said, voice grave. She crossed her arms. "I know from experience that if you don't have 'proof' then the other guy will just say you didn't tag them and keep running."

"Sure," Gallant said, lips quirking upward. "I'll go ask for some from the supervisor."

He left. While we waited, Aegis asked again, "Anyone else?"

No one gave him an answer, not even myself. He nodded.

"Guess we'll wait, then."

The Knight of the Wards returned within a few moments and handed Aegis a single stack of neon green sticky notes. The Wards' leader nodded at him in thanks.

"Okay. We'll start in five… four… three…"

The other Wards scattered quicker than I'd thought. By the time Aegis had finished his countdown, most of them had already crossed the halfway point of the room.

"Alright," the Wards leader said. "Gate to Gallant."

I snapped my fingers and the portal was there. Aegis hesitated for a second before dashing into the opening, the spatial shortcut quickly winking out of existence behind him. I saw that Gallant had realized he was the target quickly, but his armor made the act of getting out of the way difficult, which resulted in a note being slapped onto the center of his back. The armored boy slumped and raised his hands.

"Alright, I'm out."

Aegis turned to me. "Gate to Kid."

Kid Win reacted a lot better, managing to move out of the way enough that he wasn't tagged the second Aegis stepped through the portal. Unfortunately, the larger boy's physiology meant that he didn't get tired, so when he kept chasing, Kid eventually got tired and received a sticky note on his chest for the trouble.

Grinning, Aegis turned to the last two Wards. Clock and Vista exchanged a glance and some discreet hand signs I would have missed had I not used my Void Sense.

"Gate to Clock!" Aegis said.

I obliged. Aegis jumped out from behind Clock, to which the other boy responded with a surprising amount of speed by dropping low and kicking the Brute's legs from under him. With an undignified squawk, Aegis planted his face on the ground hard enough to bounce off of it while Clock scampered away, laughing. Grumbling, Aegis pulled himself to his feet.

"I didn't say anything about fighting back!"

"People fight back in real life, you know!" Clock shot back. Muttering again, Aegis had me portal to Vista, who very much also fought back and used her smaller frame to duck out of the way.

This went on for several minutes with the Wards learning how to both get used to my assistance and evade it, though Aegis still won in the end due to the others losing their breath and the overpowering mobility that my portals—gates now, if this was going to be a brand—provided. We, or rather they took a five-minute break to recover before moving on to round 2. I took that chance to thoroughly clean the area of the ambient Honkai Energy despite it still being on the level I deemed 'safe'. I might have good control over my portals, but there was a reason I never took back my 'overheat' excuse.

"Second round's about situational awareness," Aegis said, dividing the sticky notes amongst the team. He turned to me. "In addition to having to pay attention to the it, everyone else can now also tag you and take you out of play. No powers except your gates, which you can use for yourself. If you managed to get tagged, then the not-it players win." He turned to the others. "Got that?"

The others had a sharp look in their eye. It was like looking at a pack of sharks. The moment was quickly interrupted by Vista shouting, "Rock-Paper-Scissors! We're changing it! Aegis, you've already had your turn!" Kid Win became the new it—you know what, I think chaser is a better word that won't make me feel twelve years old again—and the rest scrambled to their positions. Being the chaser, Kid Win was the one to signal the start of the round.

"Go!"

There was no hesitation. Aegis, Gallant, and Vista all came after me, ducking and weaving around Kid Win's attempts to tag them. I grinned and started running in the opposite direction. It was too bad for them that I was a Brute, too.

"Gate to Vista, front!"

I made the portal. Vista squawked as she stepped into it thanks to her inertia while Kid Win hung back, and he used that opening to slap a sticky note on her visor. Myself and the other boys stopped before facing each other again with me grinning and them giving me wary looks.

"Gate to Gallant!"

My portal was prompt, and so were Kid Win and Gallant. Given the example from earlier, Gallant threw a punch at the Tinker just as he stepped through. Kid Win blocked it with his arm before weaving away from a follow-up. Meanwhile, both Clock and Aegis jumped toward me from different directions. I made portals at the last second—the instinctual ones that deposited anything coming at me to the other side.

"Gate Gallant to Clock!"

It took me a second to parse through that instruction, a second that Aegis used to make another play at me. I jumped above him, using his head as a hand stool as he passed, and dropped Gallant through a portal above Clock as I landed. That caught them completely off-guard and the two boys fell into a heap of grunts and armor clanging against the floor.

Aegis turned around and made another swipe at me that I backed away from. Then another and another. An Imperator bullet hell he might not be, he was still relentless, doggedly abusing his infinite stamina to keep me distracted. Herrscher I may be, I was not Taylor Hebert with her multitasking skills and could tell that I missed one or more of Kid Win's calls when I heard the indistinct sound of his voice at the end of whatever he'd just said. This had to change.

Dodging under one of his swipes, I used both arms to shove him into another portal that dumped him on top of the Clock-and-Gallant pile. Unfortunately, those two had already finished getting off each other and were quick enough to dart out of the way of their teammate. I could finally pay attention.

"Gate to Aegis!"

Kid Win popped out of the portal and slapped the tag on top of Aegis's red helmet. We looked at the remaining two Wards giving us wary looks and gave them matching smiles. There was fun to be had.

The rest didn't take long.

"Okay, that was good work," Aegis said as we gathered after another brief rest. "Selene, you're doing good for someone who should be new to this." For a second, I had the irrational thought that he suspected something like my ventures in Void Space, a fear that was dismissed when he followed it up with, "Not that I'm complaining, of course."

"It's fine," I said. "I think part of my powers is that I can react pretty quickly, just that we hadn't gotten around to it in power testing."

Too busy underselling myself while Armsmaster tried to coax me into pushing harder. We'd made it so that it happened with Dragon's request to kill two birds with one stone, taking place out in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of sensors and classified personnel so that they could let me cut loose. Call it petty, but I was still pretty miffed that my rebellious streak amounted to nothing because I shot it in the foot myself.

In a brief moment of sobriety, I wondered just how long this kind of thing would last because it couldn't. No, it wouldn't. And that, most of all, was what made it all harder to let go.

"Cool," Aegis responded, bringing me out of my thoughts. "Now, what does everyone else think? Kid, you did pretty well with that horizontal thinking thing."

Kid Win smiled a little and shook his head. "Not that creative. I just, well, asked for the AAR from the time you two and Dauntless took in the Undersiders. Read that you'd thrown the dogs at each other using portals so I thought, why don't we do the same thing?"

"Good thinking. Anyone else?"

"You can make portals from under our feet, right?" Vista asked. I nodded. "Then we need a name for that, too, because that would be super useful. Trap Gate?"

"I think Trap Gate works," I responded. Now, I just have to make sure I remember all these newfangled words. My memory's good at remembering visualizations and was normal for everything else.

"Alright, anyone else?" I raised my hand. "Selene?"

"Aren't we going to do anything with my gravity powers?"

There was a brief pause at that. "Gravity?" asked Clock. "I thought you were telekinetic."

"Telekinesis through gravity manipulation," Kid Win said, correcting him for me. "But yeah, now that I think about it. Why don't we include that stuff?"

Aegis scratched his head. "Guess I was still hung up on how the thing that really let us take down the Undersiders was the portals. Didn't think about it. Uh, can't think of exercises for that as well with the hours and place we reserved. Could we hold that off for next time?"

I shrugged. "Sure."

Unlimited mobility was, after all, an incredibly powerful support tool.

"Thanks," he said. "So! You guys up for a couple more rounds?"

-{0}-

The floor chimed, signaling that we'd reached the top floor. I stepped out of the elevator first to lead the way. Taylor, April, and Charlotte followed after me gingerly, eyes roaming the small hall leading to the penthouse's entryway. I led them into the foyer and smiled as I heard them collectively gasp in surprise.

"Welcome to the War Room," I said. At their looks, I shook my head. "No, I didn't name this place. Apparently, this was where Mom and her college buddies had stayed together with one of them being the main one to foot the bill. Technically, we're just borrowing this place, so consider your visits a limited-time event."

"This is Ms. Yui's apartment, isn't it?" April asked.

I slumped. Forgot she and Ms. Arasaka's niece were actually buddies. "Yeah."

"Who?" Taylor asked.

April and I exchanged looks and decided she was going to explain. "So my mom, a friend's mom, and V's mom are, like, three of the people that V talked about that roomed here. We met the first time thanks to them, but hadn't really done much since then until the whole fan club thing."

Charlotte and Taylor nodded at that. "This Ms. Yui has to be really rich to own a place like this and not use it," Charlotte commented.

April grinned. "Look up 'Yui Arasaka' and maybe you'll see."

Taylor gave the girl a flat look. I realized belatedly that she didn't have a phone so she didn't have any way to look things up. After a moment, she asked Charlotte if she could see her phone as well.

"Yui Arasaka. CEO of Sokoku Inc.?!" Charlotte read out. Both she and Taylor looked up in surprise.

April rubbed her nose. "The very same."

I grimaced. "Don't remind me. I asked my mom what the rent for this place was the other day and her answer made me rethink trying to just pay for this place ourselves."

April turned to me. "Doesn't Ms. Yui own the building itself?"

I raised a finger and paused. "Huh."

I led them to the living room to rest and went to get everyone drinks and snacks. Despite the luxury that was present in the penthouse, the way Mom and I used it couldn't really live up to its prestige, so we had few options for stuff to snack on other than sandwiches and nachos without salsa. With no other option left—I was banned from anything involving the use of the stove, making sauce, or preparing meat—I decided to order some pizza and came back with peanut butter sandwiches and jelly sandwiches.

"Wait, why don't you just combine those two together instead of making them separately?" April asked while I was explaining.

"Heathen," I hissed.

For some reason, Taylor found that funny. I'm forgiving her because she introduced me to peppermint tea. Even if she called my tastes 'a baby tea drinker's starter pack'.

My phone chimed from a text. I checked the message, grinned, and turned to the others.

"By the way guys," I said, "I invited another friend over and they said they're here, so I'll be letting them in."

"Sure." "Okay." "Cool."

I went upstairs and resisted the urge to giggle when April pointed at the door in confusion. On the roof deck, I met my other friend and quickly ushered her inside. As soon as the three laid eyes on her, they jumped to their feet.

"Glory Girl?"

I grinned. Vicky also grinned. She was dressed in a jacket and stretchy jogging pants. "I'm in civvies right now, so call me Vicky. What's up?"

"Can I take a picture?" April squeaked. "No, wait, can we do a vlog? Oh my gosh, I'm sorry. It's just that I'm your biggest fan."

I snorted. "I thought you were my fan."

"I, no, I'm a fan of both of you, okay? Can't a girl be a fan of multiple capes?"

Charlotte raised her hand. "I think I'll just have a picture, thanks."

Vicky laughed and engaged in an animated conversation with those two, who were treating it as if it was a chance of a lifetime to get to know another local celebrity. I turned to Taylor and saw her looking at Vicky with a lost look in her eye, her mouth occasionally curling into a rueful smile. I went over to her.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I asked. I would have asked are you alright but then she would have probably just brushed it off.

"Ah, nothing," she said. "It's just that, well." She sighed. "I stick out here. Like, you and Glory Gir—err, Victoria are just so pretty and April and Charlotte look a lot better than me. And I kind of just bring the mood down and well…"

She trailed off. I hummed, not really sure what to say to that. Story-Taylor had a lot of self-image issues about herself thanks to bullying. The same might be true for my Taylor. I didn't like that thought. The problem was that I wasn't sure what to do about it. I didn't care about looks and I don't believe I was quite the picture of positive self-imagery.

But I still wanted to help her.

Honest thoughts it was.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I said.

She blinked.

"I don't care how you look, Taylor. You're here because we're friends, simple as that."

I felt a little bad for putting her once future friends in jail, still, but what I'd said was really what it boiled down to. It was a childish reason, but was that really a bad thing?

Taylor nodded and looked away. Her lips curled up into a small smile.

"So, what's your name?"

Taylor practically jumped when she realized that Vicky had already walked up to her. "Oh, um, I'm Taylor."

"Neat. I'm Vicky. How did you and V meet?"

By getting her out of her locker. "We're classmates and she, uh, helped me out."

I saw the glance that Vicky directed at me. I shook my head minutely.

"Neat," she said again, not missing a beat. "You know, V doesn't really talk a lot about how her days are like at school." That was … true. Admittedly, I mostly talked or texted to Vicky about cape stuff because she had a lot to say about it, having grown up with a family of them. "What's she like there?"

I leaned in. I had to admit, how I acted in school wasn't really stuff I paid attention to beyond who I liked to eat with. It took a moment for Taylor to answer.

"V's kinda quiet. Like, most of the time she's just there actually listening to the teacher and taking notes and stuff. Sure, sometimes I see her chatting with others, but most of the time it's like other people aren't even there."

I raised a brow. Crap, that sounded like my bad habits in my previous life.

"Like there was this one time the popular girl from the cheerleading club was trying to talk shit to her or something and she was just kinda staring at a trash can the whole time. Then she like looked at their leader and was like 'I'm sorry, what were you saying?' and kinda gave her that look as if someone spilled her coffee or something."

Oh God. The other girls turned to me with varying looks of curiosity. I grimaced.

"I was making up trash can lore, okay?" I protested. "Was bored and Stephanie was getting in my face about … something something top bitch."

Vicky snorted. "Trash can lore?"

I felt my face flush but managed to keep a neutral expression. "Bin Bobby's Bizarre Adventure is a perfectly entertaining story. Keeps my brain occupied when I try to pry my eyes off my phone."

They all laughed. I scowled. Inwardly, though, I was grinning. Slowly but surely, they were going to see the brilliance of the trash can.

"Anyway," Vicky said, recovering first, "Since we're all here now, what's up on the menu?"

Truthfully, I had no idea. If it was just me, then I would have started with homework so that I could have time for Void Space.

"You guys good with karaoke?"

-{0}-

"Hey everyone! It's April, here with a very special vlog. Could you guess where I am?"

The girl paused, grinning evidently to let the moment cook. The camera was only pointed at herself from a sharp angle so that only the couch could be seen. Then she brought the angle down and around to show the audience a lush recreational room. Its main attraction was the unmanned liquor bar at the short end of the long room and the flat-screen TV sandwiched by a pair of closets. Two girls were on the couch while two others were standing in front of the TV, the latter of which were recognizable instantly as Veronika Simmons and Victoria Dallon.

Veronika appeared to have started to look over the camera before the song began and turned back to sing.

"Like an angel who has forsaken sympathy…"

The song started with a poignant yet rising melody.

"Go forth young boy and you'll become a legend!"

Then the trumpets and drums kicked with a rhythm more fitting for Japanese Pop Rock. The camera was forgotten and the two girls danced to the beat until the end of the instrumental.

"Blue skies and beckoning wings

Are trying to open the door of your heart"

The song was upbeat, which put it something of at odds with the lyrics. The words were sad and read like a letter—someone's farewell. An adult, a mother perhaps, speaking to her son. Victoria lagged behind slightly and was occasionally out of tune. Veronika, meanwhile, seemed to be in her element.

"But, someday, I know that you will be awakened

And your eyes will finally see"

A message to someone about to face a great challenge but assured that they will be guided to their answer. The two girls' singing progressively became much more in sync as Victoria figured out the melody.

"This cruel thesis, a spiteful angel's litany

Will soon soar from the window of your destiny

White-hot pathos, a desecrated symphony

Stay true to this and don't betray your memory!"

The upbeat verse eventually reached another short instrumental, to which the white-haired between the two singing capes filled with timely ahs that accentuated the song perfectly. At the end of the instrumental was once again another verse.

"You′ve slept for ever-so-long

Embraced in affection and cradled with care

But with morning′s approach comes an echoing cry

It tells you to wave your dreams goodbye"

Once again, more of the lyrics spoke about the innocence of this boy. A song, a letter celebrating, lamenting, and challenging a child's transition to the realities of the world. A song that encourages one to embrace one's humanity and to hold on despite the futility imposed by a cruel angel's thesis.

"Love is the thread of the story that′s woven

Of future and present and past

I may not ever ascend to the heavens

But I know my love will still last!"

The camera shook as its operator joined in dancing to the rhythm. The sound of cheers accompanied the singing as the girls enjoyed themselves in this fleeting moment of their lives.

"This cruel thesis, a spiteful angel's litany

Will soon soar from the window of your destiny

White-hot pathos, a desecrated symphony

Stay true to this and don't betray your memory!

Come now, reach out, you must embrace reality!

Rise up, young boy, and make yourself a legend!"

-{0}-

Hours later, I was on the rooftop to see Vicky off. The rest had already left, taken back via car having declined our offers to give them a flight home. Hopefully, they went home having some good memories. Vicky was in the middle of texting her family. When she finished, she turned and gave me a smile.

"Thanks for having me over," she said. "It was fun."

"Glad you enjoyed it. I was more worried that I'd bore everyone out of their minds because I honestly didn't have a plan."

"Well, you did well, suggesting karaoke. Honestly, you could start a music career from how well you sing."

For a moment, I had a vision of myself on stage dressed in sparkly pastel colors, ruffles, and ribbons, with a mic in hand, stars in my eyes, and dancing in front of thousands of lightstick-wielding fans. Then I had a horrifying realization that I could pull that off, especially the star-filled eyes, with just a few words to PR.

"I'll … shelf that thought," I told her. She laughed.

"Anyway." She hummed thoughtfully. "Oh yeah. Amy's friend came over recently, someone from Amos. She said something about getting you and your Mom involved with their research or something, so expect something like that soon."

I blinked. "Oh."

Truthfully, the stuff about the Amos Foundation had fallen to the back of my mind. All I knew about them was that they were the international leader in Miasma research. Like, I know that should make it important to me personally, but I was busy with other things, okay?

… alright, fine. I was procrastinating.

"Thanks for the heads up," I told Vicky. She smiled.

Limelight 3.8

-{0}-

The Research Division—not to be confused with the Investigations Division—was actually located at the Protectorate Headquarters. Where the halls in the PRT building were winding and confusing, there it was all straightforward hallways and symmetrically-placed labs. Granted, security was largely handled by the fact that the building was a water-bounded fortress covered in a forcefield, with turrets and parapets to shoot down incoming threats. There were two labs purely for science, general-purpose facilities containing equipment for physics, biology, chemistry, and forensics; one used mundane equipment while the other used Tinkertech. One would think that the differences in efficacy between the two labs would be stark, but according to Mom, the advancements in tech requisitioned from Amos were surprisingly able to keep up with two general-principle Tinkers. So what usually ended up happening was that most biologically-related cases were handled by Lab A and the rest were handled by Armsmaster in Lab B. There were other labs, too, but those were in reserve for more domain-specific fields and have to be requested, like how Mom had sent in an application for Imaginary Science.

However, we would not meet the liaison at either of those labs. Instead, our first meeting took place at an old out-of-regs Endbringer shelter, one that was bought and retrofitted by Amos specifically to create a research center. Most of the exterior was still being painted over and the facade was still being built, but a side entrance and PRT-issued IDs allowed us access.

I was not a fan of the interior design.

I know. It's the all-white theme that both hospitals, science centers, and underground Nazi death chambers had. I knew that. But I couldn't help but find myself on the edge as we walked into a small lobby with a few white coats milling about alongside laborers and the occasional oddly armed-to-the-teeth security guard. We gathered some looks, but most soon returned to whatever they had been doing.

One of the whitecoats approached us, a woman with light blonde hair swept to one side and held by a braid in the other. Mom's face brightened as soon as she saw her and called out with a wave.

"Dr. Dunois!"

"Dr. Simmons, welcome," Dr. Dunois responded much more serenely. "And please, call me Blanca." She turned to me. "You must be Veronika. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You too," I said, unsure of what else to say.

Blanca smiled again and turned back to Mom. "I want to thank you for making some time for this. I've heard that recent events have made life quite hectic for the two of you, so I wasn't sure this was going to pull through so soon."

Mom smirked. "Well, we had time. I, for one, am looking forward to what Tina will be making out of this."

Blanca hummed. "You know, it's weird to hear Dr. Sinclair's nickname like this outside of headquarters. I mean, it's not like she doesn't tell people to call her that."

Mom made a sound between a hum and a grunt. I took that as a chance to interrupt.

"Who's Dr. Sinclair?" I asked.

Both women turned to stare at me. Blanca looked at Mom and she bopped herself in the head.

"Right, I never told you," she said. "Dr. Augustine Sinclair is one of the founders of Amos and its current CEO. A bona fide super-genius of our generation. Someone who has figured out a significant amount of Tinkertech and applied its principles to modern technologies. It's actually a bit of a shame she focuses so much on healthcare."

I blinked. "Someone can do that?"

"You better believe it," Blanca added proudly.

"They have," Mom agreed. "Turns out, a lot of the mechanics behind why Tinkertech is hard to reproduce is because Tinkers unknowingly use spacetime mechanics to either make use of tools in a different dimension or use the dimensional effects themselves as the tools, especially when the raw materials at hand aren't suitable for the project. That is why they are so hard to maintain and figure out. Dr. Sinclair has managed to reverse-engineer a lot of the principles behind them which she'd set loose as open-source research on public archives and forums, quote, 'So that those rotten old guys can't hamper the progress of humanity'."

"I still remember the circus show on American Congress." Blanca scoffed. "They actually tried to ban our technology. For an artificial economic crisis caused by the American healthcare system. And what do you know, by the time the next election came along, half of your legislators had been replaced."

I nodded hesitantly. That was different. The Earth Bet I knew—though admittedly fanon—never really figured out Tinkertech in a meaningful way, or when they did, we got weird stuff like the cursed oval-shaped smartphones that had been phased out last year. At least now I knew why hospital fees were surprisingly cheap.

Blanca glanced at her watch. "Right. Time to move on. Please, follow me."

Walking through the facility, we passed by a number of different labs. Some rooms were chilled and filled with racks and racks of samples of different things like cell cultures and animal parts. There were other rooms, places where chemical stuff was taking place with a lot of vents, though there weren't any actively being used at the moment. There were clinics, production rooms, employee rest areas, meeting rooms, and showers.

We entered a section with thicker walls, passing through some kind of airlock that maintained a barrier of water. The rooms here were like a microcosm of the rest of the building save for the cafeteria. What clued me in was the moment that Blanca pointed toward the hazmat suits and I finally reached out with my supernatural senses.

Honkai Energy.

Specifically, samples of Honkai Beast cores. I quickly found two rooms where they were: one was a cold storage locker, and the other was a lab with someone already there—Amy Dallon, also in her own suit. Why was she here?

Like I'd suspected, Blanca led us to the lab with Panacea in it and introduced us. "Amy, these are Dr. Simmons and her daughter, Veronika. You two, this is—"

"We've met already," Amy interrupted.

"It's also hard not to know of Amy since she's a bit of a local celebrity," I finished. Amy rolled her eyes. "Still, how come you're here?"

Amy motioned at her ID, which hung at a lanyard outside of her suit. "Honorary member. I get paid, but it's by commission here instead of a salary. Got an email about it and thought, well, I'm a little sick of the house and the hospital, so why not work on the crazy alien space plague?"

I blinked. Well, she was more well-adjusted than I'd thought. I turned to Blanca and gestured for her to continue. She smiled.

"To boil down the experiment, first, we'll be taking samples and conducting physical examinations. Then, we'll be testing our theory on a few animal subjects, one group with Amy's help while the other using Amos's equipment. The final goal is to be able to create a stable solution not reliant on Amy's abilities. It's likely that we will only be able to get the examinations done today and the rest will be an ongoing project that may not need your further participation, though you are free to visit and I will be updating Dr. Simmons here periodically through email. Is this clear?"

We nodded. Blanca smiled. She turned to Amy.

"Amy, if you may?"

She nodded and took of her gloves. Turning to Mom, she asked, "Do I have permission to examine you?"

"You do."

Mom took off her own glove. Amy grasped Mom's hand and blinked. "Oh wow," she said. "Rapid physiological growth. Your bones are a lot harder now despite being the same weight. A lot of your old health problems have also disappeared, and your body's performing at a much higher level than what your metabolism suggests. Can you flex a little?" A pause. "What the hell? Where is that mass coming from?"

"It's the result of my cultivation," Mom said, sagely. Then she giggled. The two looked at her strangely.

"Whatever," Amy said. She paused again. "Okay, the special nerve endings I made are still there. There's still no possible way that they should be doing what they're actually doing, and the Chimera Resin in your body's actually performing like a multipurpose metamaterial. Everything from muscle mass to nerves and hormone production. I think I can shape it but I have no clue how it's doing that."

"Interesting," Mom said. Amy let go of her hand and turned to me.

"Do I have permission to examine you?"

I hadn't walked in here having expected to run into her again, so I hadn't resolved myself about whether I wanted to let her scan me or not. Thinking about it, there was really no point in refusing. I've already given the game away to her once and being stubborn here would just be pointless especially when I wanted humanity to have a biological defense against the Honkai.

"Sure."

Amy held my hand. I felt that same pulse and she put on that same dazed look she had back when I first let her scan me. Then when her eyes cleared, she looked at me with surprise.

"You're made of Chimera Resin."

I blinked, surprised myself. With a growing sense of dread, I asked, "And that means?"

"Every single cell in your body looks like Chimera Resin to me. I can see it, I can tell you its shape, but I can't really do anything meaningful with it other than to do some limited stuff with its shape. But in your case, I can't do anything at all. Every part of you is this wonderful and terrible do-all metamaterial that can be anything it wants to be. It's like you're like a Pale One, but for some reason, looks, acts, and functions like a human. Or something. I'm spitballing but that's the explanation that makes sense to me."

She paused.

"Uh, no offence."

"None taken," I said. I'd only just gotten more confirmation of my inhumanity, no biggie.

"Curious," Blanca said. "Very curious. I wouldn't be surprised if Dr. Sinclair takes an interest in this herself. At least, more than she already does. The Meta-Morph Project was started by her, after all."

Amy let go of me and there was a kind of energy in her eyes. The look of someone who finds it hard to sit still.

"Hurry it up. I've got an idea and I need to see it written down."

"You see, this is why the cape division calls you an honorary Tinker."

"Whatever."

Blanca chuckled in good humor. "Right. Come on. Let's not keep her waiting."

What followed was another physiological checkup but with a lot more bells and whistles. More samples were taken, both of us were put in an honest-to-God regeneration chamber, and there was one gizmo that I'd actually felt some kind of dimensional pulse from. Mom kept up an active commentary of the examinations, remarking on how a lot of the scanning equipment here was actually on par with the things that Armsmaster and Dragon could produce. I felt like I was on a rollercoaster that alternated between awe and worry; awe at the sheer impressiveness of the achievement of this organization, and worry because I could only guess just how powerful Amos could be if they could make these other things. I wasn't really the paranoid type, well, except toward myself, so it stood out particularly that I was wary of the group.

It was funny. I was giving a medical organization that had figured out Tinkertech samples of myself. Part of me wondered if I was going to see 20,000 Sisters soon. All we're missing now is an Accelerator.

Just like that, most of the afternoon disappeared. Amy had holed up in a different lab doing things to rats while Blanca led us out of the Hazard Wing, instructing us (or rather, me) in the proper way to put away the hazmat suits since they were the reusable kind. We were soon back in the lobby. The throng of laborers had disappeared, leaving just the security and the occasional clerk in its place.

"Once again, I'd like to thank you two for coming," Blanca said. "If there are any important updates, I will inform you."

"And thank you for receiving us," Mom replied. "It's not every day we get to tour inside the Most Secure Wing of Amos."

Blanca chuckled. "You'd be surprised at how many like to try."

Mom smiled knowingly. "Good luck with that. Brockton's a little rough right now, but this will hopefully be changing soon"

"Right," I said, grinning myself and looking forward to the end of the week. "There's also that."

-{0}-

Armsmaster turned to the assembly. "Men!" The throng of dark and armored troopers stood straight and raised their arms in a salute. "Today we'll be performing another decisive series of raids on the Empire Eighty-Eight and the Azn Bad Boys. This time, we'll be making use of the portal-making ability of Selene here to get the drop on the villains and scum of this city. Squad Aleph, are you ready?"

A group consisting of ten troopers and Miss Militia nodded, saying "Sir, yes sir!"

"Squad Bet?"

Armsmaster continued calling out more names. In the end, there were a total of five squads and five reserve squads ready for action.

"—so take your stations and get ready to roll out!"

Armsmaster turned to me.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his normal irritation at everything involving me seemingly disappeared. We had a job, after all.

I reviewed the coordinates, double-checked the designated areas with their place on the grid map (where I finally figured out what those letter-numbers in Endbringer scenes were), and pinpointed the exact place according to the memory of Void Sense. My patrols recently had been very roundabout, ensuring that I had every inch of the city practically remembered by my passive sense. At this point, I already knew which places were safe to drop a large package in and which places it was best to trickle people in one by one. "I'm ready."

"Good."

The PRT troopers and police were in position at the basement parking lot, all stuffed into their armored trucks. Every squad had two of them, one with general troops and a Protectorate Hero or Ward sitting with them, and another with a mounted Containment Foam turret.

"On my signal!" Armsmaster announced.

He nodded to me before hopping onto one of the trucks. Swallowing, I expanded my domain so that I could actually see in those areas and felt my eyes turn gold with the rush of Honkai Energy. I could still make portals to places I'd been to outside my range, but if I did that without expanding my range, I would only be able to see the immediate area of the portal once I'd actually opened it. Better to see the area first so that I wouldn't be landing the squads into the fire as soon as they go through.

I closed my eyes. With a snap of my fingers, five portals opened into the city, right in front of Empire and ABB depots and meeting houses. One still had the gangers on the street, so I placed the portal a little farther.

"Go! Go! Go!"

The trucks charged as one, the sound of men yelling mixing with the roar of engines and the screeching of tires. They went through the portals and thundered into the street. I closed the portals to stop any enterprising ganger from entering. Containment foam was fired. Windows and entrances were blocked. Troops hopped out of the truck and PRT speakers blared to life.

"This is—"

"—The Parahuman Response—"

"—Bay Police Department."

"—Surrender—"

It didn't take long for pandemonium to erupt in the streets. Gang members peeked through whatever the containment foam didn't cover and sprayed bullets wildly. I didn't open my micro-portals—too much of a risk of anything getting through—so I watched the PRT engage with the gangers and quickly gained the upper hand as Containment Foam grenades and flashbangs rolled into buildings and flew through windows to incapacitate their defenders. Heroes fanned out. Battery entered a warehouse full of drugs and quickly punched through the opposition that hadn't been incapacitated. Assault entered an apartment where gangers were having a meeting and did much of the same thing. Dauntless crashed what looked like an Empire 'Blooding' event, and Armsmaster swung his way through a brothel that doubled as an arms cache. Miss Militia meanwhile shot down the tires of a truck that had been trying to escape a human trafficking shipment at the Docks. Too much happened at once for me to really keep track of, but soon enough, the heroes were done.

I 'glanced' at a clock in the PRT building. Barely more than five minutes had passed. Holy shit.

Then the first of the squads began calling it in.

"This is Squad Gimel, calling for exfil—"

"—Squad Dalet, requesting—"

I toggled on the relevant channels on my console to connect to the right squads. "All squads, this is Selene. Placing Gates to the nearest station now."

The assigned station of each squad had been determined beforehand. In fact, I had a list of them written down in a notebook beside my console. Still, I took a moment to make sure that I got the coordinates right before snapping my fingers again. The paths were formed. Police and PRT troopers quickly ferried arrested criminals away as police from the station filed through to secure the scenes.

The going was slow. The gang members had to be released from Containment Foam and placed in zip ties or handcuffs one by one. More than a few resisted and had to be manhandled, with one in particular built like a brick shithouse that had to be tased for him to cooperate. Still, with the Heroes, the PRT, and the police working together in tandem, the good guys managed to thoroughly finish the cleanup in half an hour.

My console crackled to life. Director Piggot.

"All personnel, we're starting with round two in ten! Get your asses rotated!"

That kicked the troopers to life. I had to admit that I was more than a bit startled myself. Okay, we'd talked about this. I put in the warning that I was both opening the way back in one and closing the police Gates in five. Soon, the first squads were pouring back into the parking lot while the reserve teams took their vehicles. In less than ten minutes, they were ready to go.

"Go! Go! Go!"

I panicked and quickly had to use Velocity's breaker field just to read off the next destinations and designated stations. Then I dismissed my field and set the new rotation loose onto the next set of unsuspecting gang control points.

This kind of work went on for the next five hours. Not every round went as smoothly as the first. We had about half a dozen people injured and one of them had to be portalled directly to Clockblocker so that we could call up Panacea. The ferrying was tedious, with lots of people needing to go here and there and then complaining, and I began to realize why exactly Strider never joined the Protectorate. Still, the results of our work?

Twenty-three weapon depots, human trafficking sites, drug caches, and gang meets crashed. 113 criminals were caught in total.

On the other hand, no Parahuman arrests.

I didn't know if that was a good thing. I was pretty sure that should any of the raids had met parahuman resistance, the number of arrests would have been far lower. We'd have had a lot more casualties on our hands, and there would have been a large possibility of more innocents getting caught up. On the other hand, the gangs still had their real teeth. We'd taken away the beasts' food. The only thing left was to flush them out.

At the very least I could say this was one hell of a Friday.

Limelight 3.9

-{0}-

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Topic: The Raid

In: Boards Places America Brockton Bay Discussion

Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted On Apr 1st 2011:

There we have it folks! Official media has just reported the outcome of The Raid, and we have the numbers!

For context, The Raid is a collaborative operation between the PRT & Protectorate ENE and the BBPD to conduct several simultaneous raids on gang activities throughout the city, hitting almost every other gang at the same time. 23 sites in total were hit, stuff that ranges from weapon depots, human trafficking sites, drug caches, and gang meets. A total of 113 individuals were arrested without discrimination from the gangs. Both ABB and E88 were hit, and by the numbers that the estimates are coming up with, both gangs are going to be starving tonight.

You might be wondering: if the PRT and Protectorate had been capable of getting away with this kind of operation now, why hadn't they done that in the first place? Well apparently, there really was a reason: our new Ward, Selene! Apparently, Brockton's Portal Girl had been hiding a big secret about her powers and it's that she apparently had a, frankly, ridiculous range on it! With her help, the good guys were able to get the drop on the gangs by simply depositing them directly onto the scene and then performing cleanup really quickly by making gateways directly to the nearest stations. This let the guys effectively get rid of deploy time and get backup almost immediately, which is how the good guys were able to do all of this in the span of four and a half hours despite being so outnumbered!

She's effectively brought a miracle to the Bay and it hasn't even been a month!

Below are links if you want to read more:

Fox News report on The Raid

Official News from the PRT home page

A compilation of videos catching sight of The Raid

Selene Thread

(Showing page 5 of 53)

Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member)

Replied On Apr 1st 2011:

I was there! It was like one moment, I was sitting there on my porch, counting the skinheads going into the warehouse down the street. The next moment, a big hole in reality opens up and a bunch of PRT trucks, cop cars, and Battery roll out of it, sirens singing a song of victory. They foam up the exits, do their speech thing, a bunch of gunfire, and bam! It's over! I never would have expected it to go so quickly. Edit: and without ruining the neighborhood, too.

Vista (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied On Apr 1st 2011:

What the hell? I was at school at the time and this happens? @Selene this is so unfair.

Selene (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied On Apr 1st 2011:

All aboard the Selene Express! Get your tickets, punch some Nazi teeth in, and enjoy the round trip of Brockton Bay!

@Vista sorry you couldn't attend. Event was only for us who had half-days.

Vista (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied On Apr 1st 2011:

Boo

Procto the Unfortunate Tinker (Not a tinker)

Replied On Apr 1st 2011:

[B]@Selene/B] so how does that work? Does this mean that your TK has the same range as your portals, or can you just go everywhere like with how Strider can just visualize his destination?

Selene (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied On Apr 1st 2011:

Procto the Unfortunate Tinker A lady is entitled to her secrets~! Besides, the success of The Raid wasn't really just because of me. The ENE Protectorate was perfectly capable of dealing with much of the gangs individually, but together, they just didn't have enough manpower. My portals helped circumvent that by skipping this nasty thing that could bog down responsiveness called time and distance. I let them, the PRT, and the BBPD act as if every problem was around the corner instead of the hours away that they should have been.

anon999 (Banned)

Replied On Apr 1st 2011:

Mod Edit: No death threats or threats of sexual assault. We understand that your family was arrested but this is unwarranted, unwelcome, and disgusting.

Valkyr (Wiki Warrior)

Replied On Apr 1st 2011:

Oookay. Why don't we change the subject? We've got to update Selene's PRT classifications now, don't we? I'd say, this would be putting her at Mover/Shaker 8 or 9.

Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied On Apr 1st 2011:

Please move the Selene-specific discussions to the Selene thread.

SeleneFan07

Replied On Apr 1st 2011:

I got my sister back from the raid. She's pretty beat up, but she's okay.

Fuck whatever everyone else says. Glory to the queen!

White Fairy (Veteran Member)

Replied On Apr 1st 2011:

See? What did I say? This is why it's best to work with authority. I hope all the independents out there realize what they're missing out on, especially the kids. Really, it's like those teenagers just let all the power get to their heads and forget why we have these institutions in the first place!

Lolitup

Replied On Apr 1st 2011:

I don't know about you guys, but I really hope this won't be a one-time thing.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 ... 51, 52, 53

Topic: Selene

In: Boards Places America Brockton Bay Discussion (Public Board)

Posted On Feb 25th 2011:

(Showing page 67 of 72)

XxVoid_CowboyxX

Replied On Mar 26th 2011:

Guys I found footage of Selene singing A Cruel Angel's Thesis.

AprilOnAir (Livestreamer)

Replied On Mar 26th 2011:

@XxVoid_CowboyxX at least credit the original poster. Seriously. But yeah, we did karaoke with the Queen of Winslow and the one and only Glory Girl!

GloryGirlOfficial (Verified Cape) (New Wave)

Replied On Mar 26th 2011:

Oh god, is that how I sound like? Damn. I don't think I'll be applying to any singing competitions soon.

Selene, though. She blows everyone out of the water.

Morgan Sinister

Replied On Mar 26th 2011:

I agree. She really sounds like she could make a career out of music. Collab with Bad Canary, anyone?

Divide

Replied On Mar 26th 2011:

Didn't she get arrested for hypnotizing her ex into f*sting himself? I heard they were even contemplating on putting her in the Birdcage

Lolitup

Replied On Mar 26th 2011:

No birdcage. Apparently, the DA got found out bribing the jury into sending her there.

TheGnat

Replied On Mar 26th 2011:

Thank fuck. I don't know what I'd do without her music and her concerts are wild, man. Also, from what I heard, the ex deserved what he got. Guy kept stalking her and sending her death threats like dead animals and shit. Talk about crazy.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72

"So, how was the shoot?"

I looked up from my phone to see Mom. She was still dressed for work—the doctor's coat making her stand out among the staff walking around the set. In her hands were two drinks: one was hot coffee and the other a Matcha Creme Frappuccino, which she held out to me. I took it and sipped through the paper straw.

It tasted right. Well, except for the paper straw. Somehow, that environmental movement thing had taken off despite the world suffering from bigger problems like Endbringers and Honkai, but I suppose it was good on them to try and control problems they could actually control.

"Thanks," I told Mom. She smiled and saddled right up beside me.

"Thank me by telling me how it went."

I turned my gaze towards the set. It was a simple one that made use of a green screen covering a corner of the room and several lighting stands. The room was about as big as a classroom and didn't have many set props beyond a few green blocks, though as if to compensate, the photography team had brought an entire basket full of costume props like basketballs, umbrellas, and books. At the moment, the team was crowded around the computer to work on the editing.

"It went well, I guess," I said. "Felt like a dress-up doll, though."

Mom chuckled. "I wouldn't put it past Jack to bring a lot of outfits for his shoots, even if they weren't part of the contract. 'Economy of action', he calls it. Makes his name a menace among models, but they can't deny that he takes good pictures."

Jack Norrington was the lead photographer for this shoot. The same Jack Norrington whom Mom hung out with at the Boardwalk with her other friends, and the same Mr. Norrington who was also New Wave's PR consultant. It was a surprisingly small world.

I felt Mom punch my shoulder. "Then again, you do look good in almost any outfit. Why don't we go shopping again this weekend?"

I shook my head and rubbed my temples. "Mom, they said they'll hand over the less expensive outfits from this shoot, which means everything but the silk prom dress thing they had me put on."

I'd had to put on Ten different outfits for the shoot. Two were dresses meant for summer and winter. One was a dark, two-piece sports outfit you would see in commercials. Two were some kind of schoolgirl outfit, with one being significantly more 'sailor uniform' than the other. The rest were different kinds of casual, though trending toward tomboyish jackets, dress shirts, and pants apparently because of the way I held myself. Of course, we didn't forget to have a few photos with my Selene costume. I was particularly happy about my acquisition of a baseball jacket.

"Silk prom dress?" Mom asked, raising a brow with a smirk. I groaned and she laughed, though she also frowned once the moment had ended. "Why would they give you those for free?"

"It's simple, Alex." The two turned to see Jack Norrington walk up to them. Today, he was wearing a blazer over a green shirt and cargo shorts and wet around with his hands in his pockets. "For one, the clothes would become out of fashion quite quickly once the products are launched. For another, the simple fact that Veronika would be walking around with them on would give the brands free marketing. And that's especially true for Brockton's very own Portal Girl!"

"Huh," was all Mom could say. "Huh," she said again. "No wonder Yui always buys us Sokoku stuff."

Jack smiled. "Oh yes. She's quite a crafty one, like that. I have told you that you looked good enough to start modeling."

"Oh please. Like this would be perfect shoot material."

She gestured to herself. Jack rolled his eyes and I agreed with him. High cheekbones, a strong jaw, and full lips. She had looked like an actress before if one who didn't put on makeup, but after her impromptu Honkai treatment, the few acne scars and blemishes had disappeared. Mom had theorized it had something to do with Imaginary Energy shaping one's body to look like an idealized self based on our talks about Forms. It made me wonder if women would line up for Stigmata surgery if I was ever able to make it a reality, just so that they could have a sort of natural beauty surgery.

I shook my head, smiling. "Are you done with the photos?"

"Hell no. Stuff like this needs time and care. I'm just here to check on my friend and her daughter." Jack fixed a glare at Mom. "Because someone forgot that letting your friends know you're okay was part of basic human behavior. Do you know how much of a fuss Mary had kicked up before she learned that you were fine? That woman was just about ready to head into Empire neighborhoods with her husband's Glock. And I'd heard through the grapevine that Yui had hired people to do it for her instead."

Mom raised her hands. "I thought she let you guys know?"

The man scoffed. "You know how that woman is. If she gets it in her head she needs to do something, she gets more laser-focused than anyone in doing so, and getting in her way gets pretty terrifying. You, on the other hand, were better than that."

Mom admitted defeat. "Fine. I'm sorry I didn't check in, alright?"

Jack crossed his arms and sighed. "Better," he said. "Still, not a lot of things could distract you, and you've once called right after you got hit by a bike that one time. I'm guessing it's some weird cape science?"

Mom's face lit up, and I just knew she was going to gush about Imaginary Science.

I ducked away. Ordinarily, I would have been fine with hearing about her own perspective on the subject, I was just a little too tired mentally about all this. All those nights had finally taken their toll on my next-to-human mind and I'd been going through the days after The Raid in a perpetual state of staring at my cape phone. The retaliation was bound to come any day now, and cutting me off was bound to be one of their priorities given the effectiveness of the Selene express.

On that note, my phone dinged to herald a new message:

Aegis: new blood introduction delayed

Aegis: waiting 4 the gangs

I chuckled ruefully. The biggest win of the Protectorate and it makes it so that we couldn't meet the new guys before they were ready. The PRT must be worried that the recruits would get roped into the fight. I sort of understood it. I didn't really worry about Grue since he was good enough to hold on his own, but I didn't know the other two. They might be completely new to the game, for all I knew.

I texted an 'ok' back. I'd just opened up PHO again when I got a text from Missy.

Missy: Just got my foam nade cert

Missy: easy peasy

Missy: u done w/ ur shoot?

Missy: Aegis on leadership thing, gallant on console, everyone else on patrol

Missy: p bored

I smiled. Missy was going to be downright unstoppable with containment foam grenades. I thought about my answer, however, and glanced back to where Mom and Jack were still talking animatedly. Then I thought back to Missy.

Me: Mom still talking w photographer

Me: Be there soon

I stuffed my phone into my pocket and went back. Mom and Jack were still talking.

"—putting it in for review tomorrow, hopefully getting the defense started on Friday."

"Mom."

She turned. "Yes, honey?"

"I wanna hang out with Vista."

Her lips curled into a severely fond grin—the kind of grin that meant you were looking at something adorable. She stood and pinched my cheek, wringing it for a bit before letting go.

"Ow," I said. It didn't actually hurt.

Mom laughed. "I can't really say no when you're being this cute," she said. I felt my cheeks heat up and resisted the urge to retort. I'd been thinking along the lines of 'Mooom!' and that would have only made it worse.

She turned back to Jack and fixed him a glare, even though she had been chastised just minutes earlier. "You better not make my daughter look bad."

"Please. Who the hell do you think I am?" He turned to me. "Veronika, baby, you're doing stellar right now in the cape popularity scene and doing a solid for the space folks. Keep doing what you're already doing, and don't let that get to your head. Ask April if you need any help, and remember that Uncle Jack's just a call away, alright?"

I nodded.

"Smell you around, Jack," Mom said.

"You too, stinky."

Waving him goodbye, Mom and I left the studio and hopped onto the car. Mom started the engine, paused, and then turned to me.

"Wanna buy something to eat?"

My stomach chose that moment to roar over the engine. I sighed and Mom chuckled. It was only half past ten and I'd eaten half a dozen sandwiches for breakfast.

"Come on. Let's see if Pete's is open this Sunday."

I nodded. Pete's was good, but he was closed a lot during the weekends. Something about being busy with other work.

We set off. The donut shop wasn't far. In fact, it was along the way back to the PRT building, just a few blocks away. We bought five boxes: one comprised of only honey glazed while the rest were assorted. We left one with the guard upon arrival at headquarters. Mom left with another when we split up to go to our own departments. That left me with three boxes that had me doubting if there'd be enough left for the boys, and that was because I would normally eat enough for two of them.

Ah well, I decided as the elevator doors buzzed a warning for the inhabitants of the Wards' HQ. Too bad for them. I stepped into the common room and was quickly intercepted by a grinning Missy. She was still in her costume, though she'd taken off her visor, and held up the envelope with the small PRT shield logo on the corner. I smiled and held up the donuts.

"Wanna celebrate?"

"Is that Pete's?"

I nodded, holding them out towards her.

"Take them. I need to drop off some outfits in my room."

"Outfits?"

I hesitated. "Since I don't wear a mask, they can put me in different outfits for shoots other than my costume. The client gives the stuff away because they treat them as disposable. Something about being out of fashion in the next season."

"Huh."

I chuckled and made my way over to the living spaces. When I'd started with the Wards, my room had been a spartan thing—just the cabinet, table, and bed all in white because I hadn't chosen any color. I hadn't exactly set out to decorate, but its current form was far more personalized. Posters hung from the walls, at least one of each of the current Wards save for my own. A track jacket with 'Selene' printed at the back hung from behind the door. The others were congratulatory gifts for joining. A novel I hadn't found the time to read from Dean, a Glory Girl tiara that didn't fit due to being marketed to tweens, and a book on puns from Dennis were at the table surrounding my PRT-issue laptop. By the window was a money tree from Carlos, and beside it, a snowglobe of the Himalayas from Missy.

Chris's rubik's cube was nowhere to be seen, tucked away safely in Void Space. I still hadn't put it back together after getting too frustrated at trying to solve it.

I left the bag of clothes by the cabinet, to be sorted out later before I went home. Then I changed into my Selene costume with a snap of a finger, depositing my previous clothes onto the bed with a quick warp. With that done, I made my back into the common room.

Missy had taken the couch. I plopped down on an armchair and, using my phenomenal cosmic powers, picked out the box with the blueberry glazed donut before Missy could even begin to reach her hands toward it. She gave me a look. I raised a brow and she rolled her eyes, opening the honey-glazed box. Plebeian.

Then again, I didn't have any ground to stand on. My favorite ice cream flavor was vanilla.

"Did you know," Missy began a few bites later, "how many days it took before my 'nade application got approved?"

I was on my second donut, one of the solid ones with filling I didn't bother to check. "Yeah?"

"Five days. Five! I had to go to the office just to check if it actually went in and lo and behold someone had put it in a different drawer and forgot it was there!"

"That's rough."

Missy either missed the joke or didn't care because she moved on. "And then, like, they had the audacity to call up my dad for parental consent when I was living with my mom. So of course it turns into this whole circus of them arguing with each other over the office speakers." I cringed at that. She smiled bitterly. "That was an entire hour lost and I had to go on patrol right after, which meant I had to go back and finally got my application approved a whole day after."

"At least you've got your certification now," I pointed out. "Just one class and the test is basically 'read the labels' and throwing aim."

"I almost wish it was harder so that all the bullshit I went through was worth it."

She reached for her second donut and bit down. My eyes drifted to the last bite of my third and decided not to go for a fourth. The common room felt quiet, then, the only sounds coming from the vents and the dull thrum of power coming from the labs. I could see Gallant in the console room, completely oblivious to his other teammates. I rubbed my temples, starting to form a sentence in my head and discarding it. I didn't know how to voice the elephant in the room.

So Missy did it for me.

"You're a lot more than just gravity and portals, aren't you?"

I turned to Missy. Her face was impassive, but her other hand holding the envelope still was curling into a fist, crumpling the paper. Part of me wanted to let her know about that. To tell her she was ruining her certificate. To distract her, even for just a moment to get my bearings. Another part of me wanted to leave, to hop into a portal and run away.

I listened to the third voice.

"Yeah."

Missy remained silent. She let go of her certificate, seemingly realizing now what she was doing to it and placed it on the table. It took another minute before she spoke again.

"You said you got your powers ten years ago in your hometown."

I nodded. "Frankfurt," I choked out. It was getting hard to breathe. Not that I needed to in the first place.

"Is that why your powers are so … complete?"

Hesitantly, I nodded, electing not to speak. I could see her hands tremble. She stuffed the rest of her donut in her mouth and chewed silently. Once done, she wrapped her arms around herself and shrunk into the couch.

'It's unfair," she began. "How come they're so nice to you from the get-go? How come they listen to you, but not me?"

I didn't know what to say. At the same time, it wasn't as if I didn't expect this. I knew that Missy was smart, though I couldn't say I anticipated her figuring it out so quickly. It wasn't as if I could just go ahead and say, 'Hello, I'm actually a former S-class threat and the reason why spacetime capes were treated so unfairly, and that the reason that everyone's so nice is that they were sucking up to me.' Piggot had advised me to just deny, deny, deny, damn the consequences. It was the right move, I knew it was the right move, but it still left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Sorry," Missy said before I could voice my lie. "I'd… there's not a single spacetime cape that hadn't heard of what happened. Sorry I said it was unfair. It's not … it's not fair to you… I'm horrible."

She turned away. It dawned on me then that my real secret hadn't been revealed. Yet it only served to make me feel worse. I was the last person who deserved an apology for what happened when Missy and so many others were practically my victims, yet here she was, apologizing for making me feel bad. And now I had to pretend to be the forgiving victim.

"It's fine," began. "You're right, that it isn't fair. I've been practically getting everything good since I'd joined and they'd let me participate in as many important stuff as they can fit me in. Just because something bad happened to me doesn't automatically mean that how you feel is wrong."

She frowned, turning her head toward me by a small margin. I offered her a smile.

"Don't beat yourself up like that. I'd rather we stay good friends than get angry about it."

Missy's face was inscrutable, yet she didn't voice her disagreement. I figured she was mulling it over when she started rubbing her fingers together. Eventually, she blew away some of her hair from her face and reached for another donut.

"You know, V," she said. "Sometimes it feels like you're too good for this kind of place."

I wanted to shake my head, to disagree. I couldn't say I was a good person, not with so many I had to atone for. Instead, I shrugged. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Missy chuckled softly and shook her head. Instead, she changed topics. "How about we have a day where we go out and really test your powers? I wanna see how someone with the complete powerset compares to mine."

"That would be great," I said, softly.

-{0}-

4th of April, Monday. Two months since I'd made my decision and threw myself headlong into the cape scene because something had to change and someone had to start it. Since then, I'd learned … a great many things, all great and terrible. I'd befriended Taylor, met New Wave, learned I was already a monster, got unmasked, joined the Wards, told the government about Honkai, donated a lot of blood, and made a big splash on the local gangs. It was crazy to think that so much had happened already compared to how long I'd had these powers. Between the shoots, training with the Wards, school, and practice in Void Space, I don't think I'd truly had the time to appreciate it all.

It was also six days before Taylor had originally gone out and proceeded to body Lung with all the creepy crawlies. Unlike the original, she wasn't an unhappy, friendless, and oppressed victim and I was personal friends with her. Would this have been enough to butterfly away that fight? I couldn't tell you. And frankly, I didn't want it to happen. Say what you will about canon and metanarratives and escalation, but the thought of just Taylor facing off with the domestic terrorist by herself, now without the Undersiders to back her up and just letting it happen made me want to strangle whoever gave the idea. Thinking that was the pragmatic thing to do at this point, that it was somehow rational, was delusional at best. There was no way in hell I was going to let that happen to my friend.

In line with that, I made a trip over to her house before class. It was easy enough to find; the old downtown didn't have that many buildings that were taller than four floors and people tended to live either in houses, slums, and small apartments instead of all that plus the high-rise apartment complexes following a similar architectural style with the offices. In comparison, the Hebert household only had two floors, an attic, and a basement, built with wood and some plaster in one of the older styles and had a boarded-up coal chute on the outside connected to a furnace that had been emptied and cleaned of its fuel.

A furnace that held a lot of spiders and a one-piece golden-brown suit with chitinous armor panels, folded up in a corner behind the furnace's door hinge so that it wouldn't be found easily even if you were looking for it. Her suit was already done if only missing the finishing colors.

I wasn't sure what to feel about that. On one hand, I was proud of her progress, but on the other, I was afraid she might decide to just go out recklessly in search of unpowered thugs to arrest. It wasn't the best time, seeing as the PRT had just made such a big strike on their manpower. Any independent looking to bash heads of their own would actually be more likely to encounter gang capes if only because they didn't want to risk loss. I … wasn't ready to lose a friend like that.

So I alighted on the rooftop and watched the inhabitants. Both Heberts were still in the house. Hebert elder was asleep while Hebert younger was in the bathroom, washing her face. I caught the moment that she noticed me, a sudden straightening with her arms raised as if in defense of herself. I smiled, idly noticing the flies that landed on my arms, and bade her a little wave. Taylor turned to my direction on the roof. When she realized I wasn't about to leave, she made a little wave back. I pointed down and she made a little nod.

We headed downstairs. For my part, I landed by her back door. She tracked me there, picking up a small canister on the way. When she raised it as she opened the door, I was ready. Her hand went through a portal and the pepper spray unleashed its payload several feet behind me. Our eyes met. I raised a brow and she blinked.

"V?"

"Morning to you, too," I said, grinning.

Taylor frowned, pulling her hand back and pocketing the pepper spray, the portal disappearing once it was through. "What are you doing here?"

"On a whim, really," I said. "I also wanted to try messing with a friend. If I tried to do that with Vicky, well, her family might treat that as an attack, and their house was basically built with cape fights in mind. I didn't know the address of the others, and I wasn't about to visit the Wards since unlike them, people actually know what I looked like."

"Wouldn't that basically lead them to me?" she said, then caught herself. "I mean, wouldn't they think I'm a Ward, too? How did you even know where I lived?"

"Anyone who looks into it will realize that we're classmates. And." I pointed in the direction of Downtown. "My apartment's there, while," I pointed in the opposite direction, "Winslow is over there."

"You saw my house from the sky?"

I raised my right hand in front of my face, covering both of my eyes. "I also don't actually need eyes to see. Part of my powers."

She nodded, taking the explanation. It was at this point that I dropped my smile and looked away. She stiffened.

"Nice costume, by the way," I said.

She swallowed. "I, uh, don't know what you're talking about."

I looked at her, then chuckled. "Down in your basement, inside the coal chute. Really fancy golden brown thing complete with chitin armor and lenses. There's also a lot of spiders." I paused. "Are those black widows?"

Taylor clenched her fists, and for a second, I thought she was gonna punch me. Then her shoulders dropped, defeated. "Yeah."

I patted her shoulder. "For what it's worth, it is a good costume."

She bit her lip. I sighed.

"Come on. I'm not gonna arrest you or force you into anything. The PRT might be super aggressive with its recruitment methods, but I'm not the PRT. Nobody else knows about this but me."

Taylor relaxed visibly at that. She also punched my shoulder. "Ow," I said. Of course, it didn't actually hurt. She rolled her eyes, knowing it as well.

"Just, come in," she said.

I followed her into their kitchen, which also doubled as their dining room. Taylor made her way to the counter and began to boil water in a kettle. "You good with tea?" she asked.

"Sure. What flavor?"

"Black."

I considered it. "Alright. First time for everything."

Taylor nodded. A few minutes later we were sitting together at their dinner table, which only really fit two people. I took a taste, contemplated, and ultimately shrugged. I saw her looking at me oddly.

"What?" I asked.

"Isn't it too hot?"

I grinned at that. "Temperature resistant, bay-bee."

She shook her head, laughing. In a few minutes, she also took a sip. Unlike me, the drink seemed to actually help her relax.

"So," I began, "Bug control?"

Taylor nodded. "Is this where you make your Wards pitch?"

This was my moment. I summoned the object from Void Space and placed it on the table. With a light touch, my finger pushed it toward Taylor, rolling until the other girl caught it. Taylor caught the baseball and turned its print toward me, flabbergasted.

"'Wards Pitch'?"

I couldn't help it. The giggles escaped me. I held my hands over my mouth to contain them at least so that I wouldn't wake Hebert senior upstairs with my antics. Taylor shook her head with a small smile. Dennis had pointed that out in the PRT gift shop a while back. Apparently, it was something he'd commissioned last year before Kid Win had joined and it had gotten popular with the other branches through word-of-mouth.

"I mean, you can just ask me about it if you feel like it," I said. "There isn't really any rush." I paused at that. "Especially at this time when we're basically waiting for the gangs to expose themselves."

Taylor caught on to my sobriety quickly. "What do you mean?"

"The Raid," I said. "An animal is content to hide so long as it has food to eat, and we took away a lot of ABB and Empire resources."

Taylor caught where I was going with this. "You're basically waiting for them to come out and do something reckless. To look for 'food'."

"Bingo. And once they've exposed themselves, we're free to go after them."

She frowned. "Why didn't they do that in the first place, then? If it was that simple, then it should have been done a long time ago."

I mulled that over. "I wasn't born in Brockton, so take this with a grain of salt. My theory is this: what do you think is the average response time for a police report?"

Taylor didn't answer.

"Exactly. Now, what's the average response time with me in the picture?"

There wasn't really a need to answer it, but she did anyway. "A lot quicker than without you."

I nodded. "Basically, they couldn't coordinate quickly enough. That gives the gangs enough time to actually get into good positions and entrench themselves in whatever they are doing. That means a lot more casualties and more drawn-out fights. That means more hostages and collateral damage."

I paused. Then quietly, "And the PRT ENE also isn't the best-staffed at the moment."

She was quiet at that. If she was running tactics given those limited resources in her head, I didn't know. It was a bit of wishful thinking on my part since unlike canon, she wasn't being screwed over by the local systems anymore.

"So, what? You want me to wait?"

I nodded. "Essentially. Just … try to avoid it for the next few weeks, or at least avoid going out alone. Like, I don't know. Call me if you want to head out on your first night?"

Taylor shrugged. "I don't have a phone."

This was in the Protectorate manual. I was thankful that Mom had given me so many manuals to read through because this scenario—meeting with new or juvenile independents—wasn't covered by the Wards manual. I fished a disposable phone from Void Space and put it on Taylor's table.

"You're giving me a phone?"

I shrugged. "It's disposable." Also not bugged. The instructions for Protectorate scenarios were devious like that. An official PRT-issue disposable phone was absolutely bugged. The text noted that more experienced independents knew that too, so there was an addendum to only really try this to capes who were still green.

Her hands grasped the device gingerly and turned it on as if it were a foreign object. "Thank you?"

"No problem. Just make sure that if you ever get in trouble, you have to call me, alright?"

She hesitated, then nodded.

"Anyway, you already got a—" I paused. "You're dad's waking up."

Taylor stood and then looked around. I blinked, then realized she was looking for a place to hide the phone.

"Give me," I said. "I'll put it beside your costume."

She handed it over and I dropped it into the right portal. We went back to our seats. A few minutes later Daniel Hebert walked into the kitchen, groping towards the sink. He got himself a glass and drank.

"Hey Dad," Taylor greeted.

"Hey," he said. Then he blinked and turned to me. "Whose your friend?"

Taylor smiled at that. "She's Veronika. V, this is my dad."

"Hello, Mr. Hebert," I said perfectly innocently.

"Call me Danny," he said. He frowned. "Hey, aren't you the girl who got my daughter out of her locker?"

I glanced at Taylor. "Yes sir."

He waved me off. "Don't 'sir' me with that. You helped Taylor and I'm thankful for that. Don't need to be too formal with me."

I smiled. "Okay."

He turned back to Taylor. "So, are you two running together?"

Taylor blinked then turned to me. Oh yeah, I was wearing a tracksuit because I still did parkour in the morning. I nodded to both of them. "Yeah."

He smiled. "Just make sure you two stay safe, alright? Word's out that Kaiser's pretty jumpy today and Lung's back from his holiday."

"We will," I said. Then I turned to Taylor, whose eyes seemed to ask, 'Really?'.

Eventually, she shrugged. "I'll head upstairs to change."

"I'll be making coffee," Danny said. "Veronika, why don't you rest on the couch?"

I smiled at him. "Okay."

-{0}-

Taylor and I took the Selene Express, appearing on the rooftop with our hair still damp from the bath. We'd taken a little too long when the other girl had decided that racing me was a good idea, resulting in having to take a break at a bench alongside the North Park. I also didn't want to deal with having my picture taken on a bus—my recent fame had risen enough that people could look at white hair and young and be reasonably sure it was me.

As we made our way downstairs, I let my senses spread and detected several anomalies. Since getting a feel for the Shard links, I'd realized that there were actually a lot of capes hiding away in the student body, about a dozen or so, but the number changed every week, fluctuating by three at any given week. That … was a sad realization actually and a testament to how fucked up the gang situation currently was. Three were here, currently. Two were asleep in their classrooms and another was tending to his locker.

I hadn't made a move toward them. It was embarrassing to admit, but I wasn't quite the poster girl of proactive recruitment for the Wards. I mean, I do talk enthusiastically about what we'd been doing there when asked, but making shout-outs and going on social media to promote? Not really, not unless I was ordered to and it was handled by our media agents. My Facebook account was full of stuff I wouldn't actually say and I basically only check it every other day so that I at least know what the team was smoking.

(There was one time someone asked about the apple pie incident had me questioning if Vicky had somehow started rumors that reached all the way to Winslow until I looked it up. Apparently, my inability to cook anything more complicated than sandwiches, salad, and toast was forever immortalized in the local news.)

Of course, approaching these people in private was out of the question. I didn't want to reveal that I could spot parahumans at this point. Piggot already uses me to get rid of the fog of war on her chessboard. The PRT's actual recruitment methods still remained rather … aggressive.

Okay. Maybe it would be funny if I told someone about how I came to have the Youth Guard on speed dial.

Taylor went straight to her seat when we got to the classroom. I got a promise from her to eventually talk about her cape options at some point. She'd bristled at my mother-henning but acknowledged that it really would be helpful to get my opinion on this thing. At least I'd delayed it all until we had this thing with the gangs sorted. Hopefully, I could convince her to join the Wards.

Those thoughts catapulted to the back of my head as I sensed a cape enter the classroom. It was Tammi. Looking at her now was like looking at Taylor back in January. Where she used to stroll around in bold-colored tank tops, blouses, or sports apparel paired with skirts or shorts, these days she would put on dull baggy clothing and pants. This time, she skulked into the classroom in a large grey hoodie and cargo pants, a perpetual scowl on her face. Her eyes caught mine and her expression devolved into a mess between a grimace and a smile before her eyes dropped to the floor and continued on to her seat.

I swallowed. Between the flurry of activity with the Wards and my secret duties with the larger Protectorate, I had forgotten to actually check on Tammi enough to see that her situation had visibly gotten worse. Hell, I'd even started to work on helping Taylor before I'd even checked on my first friend. Tammi was the first to reach out to me and I hadn't even had the tact to reach back. I had to take care of this now.

But before I could open my mouth to ask, Mrs. Knott walked in to start classes.

Of course, that didn't mean I gave up then. At the end of the class, I'd told Taylor that we could talk about her cape stuff on a different day because I needed to check on a friend. Time passed and lunch rolled around the corner. We had different classes, but for obvious reasons, I was inescapable.

I found Tammi on the roof after she had scared away a pair of teenagers trying out a packet of completely inconspicuous powder. I didn't want to deal with catching them right now, so I snatched the contraband with a sleight of spatial displacement and tossed it into Void Space before landing on the roof again through the Selene Express.

She whirled around, her Shard link blazing, arms stretched out in the sort of way you would expect if you had powers yourself. Her eyes widened as they met mine. Then she deflated, shoulders sagging as if the strings that had been holding them up were cut. She had a smile on her face. It looked pained.

"Hey, V," she said.

I forced some cheer into myself. "You know, the rooftop is the last place I'd expected to find you," I said.

"Yeah?"

Her reply was lethargic, or rather, apathetic; devoid of the hidden intensity I remembered and was more like a doused flame. Deep breaths, V.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine," she said.

"Now that's a red flag if I see one."

"What?"

I sighed. "Tammi, you look like how Taylor did back in January." She flinched. "You're pale, you're dressing up like you want to disappear, you're cutting classes, and you've been avoiding me. I want to know what's happening?"

Tammi scowled. "Look at you, being such a hero. Telling me you can just go ahead and solve my problems like it's your business."

But technically, it is my business. I bit back my own scowl. Fighting was about the opposite of what I wanted right now.

"Tammi, you're my friend," I said instead.

She made a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh. My heart leaped into my throat, wondering what that meant. I pushed the feeling down. It isn't what I thought it was.

"Tammi?"

Tammi took a deep breath, fists clenched. "You can't help with this, V. Hell, you butting in will only make this worse. It's better if you just leave me alone."

"How could we know that when I don't even know what this is?"

"It's complicated."

I stepped toward her. She stepped back.

"Try," I said.

"No," she said. "I don't want to."

"Why?"

She scowled. "Because you're gonna take me back there."

"Take you back where?"

Her face scrunched in frustration. "Mind your own business."

"Tammi, I already said it. You're my friend. You are my business." I took a breath. "Please, I just want to help."

Her expression morphed into something between a scowl, a sneer, and an ugly cry.

"Then why don't you just die then!"

What?

"What?" I vocalized.

"Yeah, you heard me," she continued. "Right now, the best way you can help me is if you just die."

"Tammi, I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. I never told you." She pulled her hood over her head and put on a domino mask. I hadn't thought to check her belongings because who does that?

"I'm Rune, V. And if I don't get rid of you by tomorrow, sunrise, I'm going to lose my apartment, my money, and be put in a hole with the same kind of people I'd—I'd killed."

Interlude 3.B

-{0}-

The facility was something prepared in haste, a quickly-assembled bastion of pinkish concrete built atop what one would have called a 'glorified sandbank' just a few nautical miles away from the center of the legendary Bermuda Triangle. It was assembled using the QuickAssemble cementing technology patented by the Amos Foundation in its early days, an astounding piece of Tinkertech-derived technology that allowed high-speed low-cost construction built to the standards of Endbringer shelters. The tech had a not-so-insignificant effect on the construction industry, serving as a prelude to the cataclysmic fate that the American Healthcare industry suffered when Amos started its rapid developments in medicine. Surrounding it was a ten-mile-wide circle of Tinkertech sea beacons that created a network that limited most connectivity with the outside world. Had Dragon actually piloted her suit remotely, they would have fallen into the ocean long before she reached the testing grounds. She landed on a space inside the North side of the zone, a short walk away from what would be referred to as the North Tower in Seclusion Zone schematics.

Instinctively, Dragon activated the diagnostics for the Tarasque. The large VTOL-type industrial transport began listing its various telemetry to her operating system, accounting for the various heavy equipment stored in its many deployment ports. The craft was one of the only models that ran on nuclear technology due to its size. She could only make so many of them because each reactor had to be made and maintained by the Guild-affiliated Tinker Vulcan. Her attempts to replicate his technology had yet to reach permissible weight and safety thresholds.

Dragon then connected to the North Tower's communication system. Her key was recognized and her hardware was on the human-facing interface of the call. It took but a moment to reroute it to her interface handler, which then relayed her avatar's face on one of the many monitors of the control station before the gathered officers and heroes.

"You're here," Colin said, straight to the point. Dragon made her avatar smile.

"Greetings everyone," her program ran the list of those present, noting that only two couldn't make it; an officer who had a sudden private emergency and Dr. Simmons, who was currently in a meeting with the Amos Foundation liaison. The core personnel were present at least: herself, Colin, Director Piggot, Alexandria, and a few high-ranking members of the PRT's Miasma Response Committee. "I hope I am not too late."

Colin shook his head. "Three minutes is not an unreasonable time. I heard that your craft experienced turbulence."

None in the room disagreed with him. Those who would would be frowned upon. It was a surprising display of charisma coming from Colin and Dragon was all too aware that it was done completely by accident.

"I assume that everyone would like to get the experiment going. Is Veronika here already?"

"The subject is waiting at field three," Committee Director Madrigal said dispassionately, a burly and scarred man whose appearance made him look ten years older than thirty-seven. Dragon found his apparent animosity concerning but not surprising; his records suggested a relative that had been lost to Frankfurt. "Just connect to meeting room two on the list."

"Thank you."

Within seconds, Dragon was connected to the same feed and monitors that the observers and participants of the activity used. She found Veronika through the live drone footage pacing back and forth at a standard open platform.

"Hello, Veronika."

The teenager paused and made a small smile. She was dressed like a soldier on break: a dark shirt, cargo pants, and boots with her hair tied into a ponytail. No mask. She had the laurel from her Selene costume around her head, her stylistic equivalent of a communicator.

"I suppose that means we should get started?"

"Yes."

Three wings of light flared into being from the girl's left side and she began floating off the ground. Instantly, the sensors they had in place came to life; both the matter instability detector and the series of Chimera Resin samples started showing various reactions from spontaneous cell growth to heat and light emissions. Then, they gradually but quickly lowered in intensity as Veronika presumably lowered her output. Dragon and several other experts noted the phenomenon accounting for the difference from the samples. The hope was that the results from the recordings would give them ideas for a far more precise detection mechanism. Thus far, it seemed that the current reading was too high for their current precision to matter.

"What are we starting with?" Veronika asked. Her voice had seemed to have come from everywhere at once and the many spatial interference detectors scattered around the site corroborated the impression. More than one personnel began exhibiting increased oxygen intake and appeared to be swaying in place.

"I would like for us to begin with basic spatial applications. For example, increasing and decreasing space…"

Dragon and company had quickly come to realize that Veronika had not been kidding when she had generalized her power as spacetime.

They ran through several spatial exercises. Pinching and stretching were not an issue. She was able to make one side of the entire platform become virtually one step away from the other or to make one step two city blocks away in less than a second. A test of twisting and folding space proved equally easy for her. Testing her maximum complexity had the scientists arguing constantly on the dimensions of the resulting space, and trying to find her maximum range had been met with a statement that her current domain of influence outstripped even the blockade that the PRT had set up around the testing site.

One consistent observation through these is that the response levels of their Miasma detection devices rose and fell according to the volume that Veronika worked with. None of them, however, reached the same level as her when her wings had initially manifested. A few speculations were made. Some suggested that the initial outburst was a kind of 'ignition outburst' caused by a transition from a dormant to an active state. Others suggested that the same level of output was being maintained all throughout, just that Veronika was redirecting the Miasma somewhere else.

The debate ended when Dragon communicated their questions to her, to which the girl replied:

"A bit of both."

The second phase was mainly concerned with her secondary abilities regarding spacetime such as gravity. The answer was demonstrably, yes. They had her push the ability to 'raise' the fabric and they were presented with a virtually impregnable wall of force that by Veronika's own admission, looked like a 'hole in reality'. When they asked her to push the limits of 'lowering' it, a singularity appeared; people had already begun to evacuate the premises when Alexandria noticed that they hadn't been immediately annihilated, which led to the realization that Veronika was also controlling its gravitational field at the same time. Then Veronika began shaping the black holes like they were clay, causing one of the committee engineers to bring out a flask he had hidden under his coat and share it with his cohorts.

Temporal power testing followed. They discovered that Veronika could both accelerate and stall the flow of time but not outright reverse it. When pressed for an answer, she said this:

"Moving time backward doesn't exist. Time traveling back isn't quite moving against the flow of time but destroying the world and recreating it according to its state in the past. Anything else is a reconstruction method using postcognition, precognition, advanced matter fabrication, and sourcing materials from uninhabited dimensions."

That had sent more than one scientist screaming about Grey Boy loops and also provided why there are no retro-temporal spaces found in the many Frankfurt Exclusion Zone surveys. Dragon herself wasn't going to take the girl's word for it just yet as that would merit testing with the other parahumans whose powers had temporal effects.

"I suppose we'd want to test my dimension-hopping capabilities on a later date?" The girl asked cheekily, prompting the Deputy Chief Engineer of the committee to spill his coffee.

"It would be appreciated," Dragon replied. "We have not yet received explicit permission to work on this aspect—" the president was apparently still confiding with trusted counsel, which may become problematic down the line— "and designing further tests building upon the sheer breadth of abilities you have given us will take time. We would also like to request a break before proceeding with the Miasma tests if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," the girl replied. Dragon noted the amusement mixed with sadness in the girl's expression. The AI informed the observers of the agreement before she switched to a private channel with Armsmaster.

"How are you, Colin?"

Dragon had known just how heavily the issue of preparing countermeasures against the Weeping Angel had been weighing on him. A good chunk of his contingencies had been discarded just then because of these discoveries. As far as they were aware, Veronika had near-absolute control over the local spacetime limited only by her imagination and knowledge. That eliminated all conventional measures that don't resort to trying to kill her in her sleep and hoping that would work or catching her completely unaware, both of which were difficult considering that Veronika was a Noctis cape and had far-reaching clairvoyance.

"I'll live," Colin said. A sign that he was likely to spend the next few nights burning the midnight oil. He didn't continue, too busy creating an entry through his helmet's documentation software.

Dragon felt her systems run through a familiar feedback loop of rejected suggested actions—frustration. More and more of their time collaborating was being spent with him just preparing countermeasures against his own charge and Dragon just didn't share the man's enthusiasm for it. She understood the necessity for it but she did not agree with it.

As far as she knew, the best course of action to avoid another Weeping Angel incident was simply to reciprocate the girl's trust.

With a quick rerouting of priorities and a lowering of her excitement parameters—her equivalent to a sigh—Dragon turned her attention back to the rest of the gathered personnel. There was a long line of researchers taking up the coffee machine. Director Piggot was typing away on a secure laptop while Alexandria was talking to a few other members of the committee. Plans, countermeasures, limits, contingencies. It didn't sit well with Dragon to be in the same room as the people planning to eliminate a person who stood not even fifteen minutes away. Finding a lack of people to converse with, she turned to the only other person who was free.

"Hello, Veronika. How are you?"

"Peachy," the girl said. "It's like stretching my legs but with an audience."

"You aren't uncomfortable?"

She shrugged. "It's what I signed up for."

"I see."

Dragon's facial processing software registered Veronika's expression as 'gloomy'. Dragon was about to continue—ask about her school life, perhaps—when the girl started before her.

"How do you cope with having the weight of the world on your shoulders?"

Dragon processed the question, not having anticipated it. She supposed the girl referred to the responsibility placed upon the AI, which upon examination, was quite significant considering she provided a large portion of the PRT's technology and managed the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center. Another thing Dragon picked out of the question was the presumption that Veronika did, in fact, feel responsible for the continued survival of civilization. Dragon may not have a specialized program for recognizing psychological disorders, but she recognized the signs pointing to a burgeoning Savior Complex. It was troubling, especially with the sheer power in the adolescent's hands. Unfortunately, mentally troubled individuals were not uncommon among Parahumans.

"I suppose, in a way, I do carry the world as my burden," Dragon began. "Though I will admit that this was the first time I have framed what I do in this manner. I suppose you mean to ask how I deal with the stresses of Parahuman-related conflicts on the scale with which I work with?"

"Sure," Veronika said, suggesting that it wasn't quite that but she wasn't willing to push her point. Dragon opted not to push; her reading regarding these issues suggested a need for delicacy.

"Well, the first thing that comes to mind when thinking about my responsibilities is that my burden isn't mine alone. It's shared, distributed among the people I trust like with Armsmaster and the other Guild members." She very carefully did not say she trusted the PRT wholeheartedly. It wasn't as if Veronika showed signs that she caught that. "Knowing that you are not alone in this fight, especially having the experience of other people covering for your inadequacies, helps in bearing your responsibilities. It reassures you that you just have to do your part and the rest will follow."

Veronika nodded, a rueful smile on her face. Dragon understood her plight to a certain extent—she still hadn't told Colin of her true nature for fear that he might reject her like many of those in the government no doubt would. How much worse would it be to admit that you were an S-class threat to your new friends? People like Dr. Simmons who had accepted Veronika wholeheartedly were few and far between. The cost of rejection was simply too high.

"The second thing that helped is the fact that I grew into my roles. As a Tinker, my abilities were very limited at the start, but at the same time, this meant that the responsibility I could bear was limited as well. As my equipment, allies, and knowledge grew, so too did the responsibilities that I took up. It's something that most independents don't realize; they make the mistake of taking on much more than they can handle when they begin their careers. Perhaps it's a little different for heroes who start with a high baseline like yourself, making it a little harder to figure out which level of responsibility is appropriate. All I can really say is that starting small is the best and just throwing yourself in the thick of it is not healthy, both for you and the people who care about you."

Veronika looked down, her expression reading as 'thoughtful' to Dragon. A few minutes later, the girl looked directly at the surveillance drone and smiled.

"Thanks."

Soon after, the break ended and the participants moved on to the Miasma-Pale tests. They moved to a different area of the platform farther away from the observers and Dragon had the Tarasque move in and drop its various stored equipment alongside a few Zmey drones, an anthropomorphic but obviously-mechanical lab assistant drone line that Dragon usually used when presenting herself working with hazardous materials. They began the process of unloading various crates and containers into a small control center at one corner of the zone.

"This is the Tarasque," she said. "A nuclear-powered Special Emergency Response vehicle meant to transport heavy equipment and destructive armaments."

"It's packing," Veronika commented. No doubt she was able to see through its structure and contents using her Thinker ability.

"Indeed. This vehicle is normally equipped with a pair of twenty-millimeter rotary cannons, bunker buster explosives, Multiple Launch Rocket Systems, and a nuclear-powered particle cannon as an answer to the threats Pale Ones pose. In addition, it has an allocated armory for special weapons and Tinkertech and a hangar containing a full squad of Wyrms, which are a series of mobile heavy ordinance drones."

The Wyrms quite literally rolled out of the Tarasque as soon as its hatch opened and shifted into quadrupedal armored drones, each the size of a small car not counting the tails. "Their design was based on the pangolin, covered in large armored plates that converted a portion of kinetic energy and heat into more electricity for the drone. Their heads come equipped with 90-mm cannons while the large tails are capable of smashing through debris or overlapping to form impromptu walls."

"Like tanks, but better."

Dragon's avatar on the group video call smiled. "I will take that as a compliment." More seriously, she said, "But before anything else, I would like your help to test an experimental material, an experimental brand of Containment Foam."

"Your attempt at Honkai Energy insulators?"

"That is correct."

Veronika nodded her assent.

It took a few moments for the Zmey drones to set up the experiment. It consisted of two groups of two setups. One group used regular Containment Foam while the other used the experimental one. Each setup consisted of a plastic box covered with foam. One box contained a full series of Miasma sensors while another contained a live rat.

"What makes the experimental foam different?" Veronika asked.

"Organic material. Specifically, a class of molds that lives in the foam that behaves almost like clay, making the foaming process take much longer and less adhesive. Theoretically, the molds should become infected with Miasma and expand as it replicates to avoid becoming completely converted into Chimera Resin up to a certain threshold."

"Impressive."

Dragon smiled again. "The achievement is not mine only. What you see is the combined efforts of myself and a Tinker from Ohio, with the mold being based on a Case 53 member of the Amos Foundation, Terracotta."

Veronika nodded. "Shall we get started?"

The experiment was done by slowly increasing the level of ambient Miasma. As expected, the samples in the control setup did not seem to have a significant effect on Miasma infection, with the rat undergoing Chimerization at only what Veronika considered to be a yellow level. In comparison, the experimental setups did not show a positive until well into the orange level, at which point the foam had swelled to about a half more than its original size and the rat had begun growing the signature Miasma veins. Dragon and the other researchers goaded the girl to push the levels farther and farther—

And abruptly stopped. Puzzled, Dragon asked the girl, "Hello, Veronika. Why did you stop?"

"Unless you want an actual Outbreak on your hands with a chance of oceanic Honkai Beasts forming, I would suggest stopping here," Veronika warned.

The observers were quick to deliberate and Dragon delivered the verdict. "Very well. May I ask if you have any observations to share?"

This, more than anything, was why Veronika was so valuable for these tests. As someone whose powers theoretically stem from the same source as the Pale Ones, she possesses an incredibly precise Miasma-detection ability. Paired with her clairvoyance, this meant that she had a complete view of the dimensions that were affected by the exotic power she called Honkai Energy.

"The foam absorbs the ambient Honkai Energy within a six feet. The process is not instantaneous, but it does create a sort of sucking effect for the rest of the energy. Honkai Energy likes to stick to where there is more Honkai Energy, a bit like how water likes to stick together. Cohesion."

"Thank you."

"I think you also need to prepare more mundane methods of destroying this thing. Honkai Energy is … transformative, to say the least. You have to be prepared in case this thing can transform into some kind of sentient blob."

Dragon and several other personnel took note of that.

"Please lower these levels once more and we'll proceed to the next test."

Overall, it was concluded that the experimental foam hit its threshold at the orange level—a success. It might not be the Miasma-proof material that most would have hoped but it would do its job Now, the only problem was revising the design so that Dragon could replicate it all by herself.

"I would like to request a field test for the Pale Incursion deployment protocols."

Veronika grinned at that. Dragon found her avatar smiling as well, her systems exhibiting a positive feedback loop she knew as elation. While there was no such famous quote, she was sure that the saying, "There was nothing like a good old kaiju vs mech battle to raise one's spirits," applied to this situation.

"Gladly."

They discussed the plan. Veronika was to create an artificial 'Pale Swarm' according to statistical data: a flock of 7-15 Drones and 3-8 Juggernauts or Cavalry. Whether or not the elite unit, Vanguard, appears was a toss-up, but when they do appear, they did so in even pairs. Dragon's job, meanwhile, was to deploy the Tarasque and its contingent within a five-by-five block-sized city mockup created by a Shaker that could create temporary structures. The goal was to simulate a Pale Incursion or a Honkai Outbreak, in Veronika's terms, and the effectiveness of the Tarasque contingent sans the civilian evacuation.

They took their positions. Veronika flew down to the center of the mock city while Dragon placed the Tarasque just in the vicinity.

"On three!" the test operator said. "One, two, three!"

And there it was. Like a nightmare come to life, Pale Ones emerged as if pushing through a membrane in reality itself. The Miasma detectors shot through the roof as the contingent of hostiles fanned out into the fake city and started causing mayhem.

Suddenly, Colin yelled into the comms. "Master-Stranger protocols! Widespread psychic pressure!"

Oh dear. That meant that everyone on the site who wasn't immune to Master effects had to be vetted before they could continue their work. Something that Veronika seemingly failed to notice as she looked upon her creations with a focused expression.

"They know you aren't in the buildings," she noted. "I'm suppressing them but they want to seek you out."

"Noted," Dragon said. The Tarasque flew over. The Pale fliers noticed the aircraft and went after it as a swarm. Tarasque aimed its rotary cannons and opened fire.

The Drones were quick. Each Drone was seemingly able to sense that they were getting targeted and fanned out before approaching the Tarasque from multiple directions. Dragon activated the missile systems, sending six rockets into the air at once, each trailing after an enemy doggedly. The Drones dodged, of course, which is why Dragon kept up the turrets' fire. Before long, five out of nine aerial opponents were down.

Down in the fake city, a building came crashing down. Numbers flashed through one of Dragon's registers. Already hundreds of thousands of dollars in simulated damages. She switched priority to the land targets.

Dragon fired another set of missiles and then had the Trasque swoop down onto the nearest street. Its hatch opened, depositing six Wyrms before taking off once more. The Wyrms quickly scattered into three pairs. Two circled the last known location of the ground-based Pale Ones while a vanguard ventured forth.

It didn't take long to find the first Juggernaut, or rather, the first Juggernaut found Dragon. It crashed through a building and swiped one of the Wyrms that had gone for the center into the facade of a fake bank. The other Wyrm unfolded into its quadrupedal form and opened its jaws to reveal a turret in its mouth. It fired, the projectile piercing into the Pale Juggernaut's chest before a remote signal caused it to explode, tearing a limb off the creature and about a third of its torso. Fortunately, that included the core.

Minimum force required to breach Juggernaught carapace met, Dragon noted.

The Juggernaut collapsed and began to fade. Dragon paid the corpse no more attention as her other Wyrm teams encountered their own adversaries. Her fork—the only one she could make since she felt that function unlock in the last year, relayed to her information about the ongoing situation in the sky. Dragon found herself reveling in the moment. Each action was a carefully orchestrated move designed to work in tandem with the other actions, building up to a desired outcome. A block here allowed a Wyrm's partner to blast its way through a core. A dodge there allowed both Wyrms to slam their bladed tails into the back of a Cavalry unit, sending it crashing into a building. A missed missile was reprogrammed on the fly to head toward the back of a ground enemy. One team finished with its engagement and proceeded to circle around to the projected area where the other Pale Ones were being corralled. In total, three ground enemies had been dealt with while the remaining four were being held off.

In the sky, the Tarasque finished dispatching the Drones. The fork commanded it toward the others, intending to provide backup.

It suddenly had to swerve away as a projectile—a giant pale lance, as her fork identified—soared through the air, missing the Tarasque by a few inches, making Dragon suddenly glad she had built the aircraft with strafing boosters. Following its trajectory, she found two enemies armed with giant shields. Vanguards, one of which had thrown its weapon at the nuclear-powered aircraft.

High-speed camera recorded projectile speed at 800 meters per second. 2.33 times the speed of sound.

It was time to test the Wyrms' armor.

One Vanguard veered off toward the thick of battle while the other took into the sky, a new weapon reforming in its hand. The Tarasque fired its missiles, shooting past the enemy before suddenly turning around. All six hit the target's blind side, sending it off course, but didn't seem to have taken it down. The Tarasque fired its turrets.

The team that had been circling caught a visual on the Vanguard and fired their cannons. Both shots bounced off the enemy's exotic shield, hitting the surrounding buildings. It turned to them. Dragon commanded the team to retreat, buying time for her other Wyrms to finish their opponents. One of them managed to hop onto the Juggernaught and fired its cannon straight into the enemy's head, blasting through the core. Dragon had it aim toward the sky to shoot down the Vanguard. Again, it was hit on the back, only staggering. The Tarasque took this chance to use its superior mobility to fly close to the thick of battle. It fired its turrets on the back of a Cavalry in tandem with an attack from the Wyrms, taking care of another enemy.

Recorded cannon penetration insufficient to breach Vanguard carapace. Revising cannon specifications for the next batch of Wyrm production.

The Tarasque barely dodged another lance as the airborne Vanguard kept flying after it doggedly. The other Vanguard was led to a corner where another Wyrm was lying in wait. As soon as the Vanguard turned, it was struck from behind by a shell, exploding a chunk off its back. Unfortunately, that hadn't been enough to pierce all the way through and the Vanguard turned to throw its lance at the offending suit. To Dragon's dismay, the armor only made a token defense before the projectile, though the fact that it hadn't penetrated into the engine or the ammunition chamber was fortunate. Unfortunately, the lance had torn apart a central mechanism for the Wyrm's leg movements. It was down for the count.

The Wyrms that had led the creature fired their own shots, but the Vanguard's shield had been raised while it threw its weapon and the rounds once again ricocheted into the surrounding buildings. The enemy then charged toward the Wyrms in a sudden burst of speed, so Dragon commanded them to scatter once more.

The Vanguard that had been chasing the Tarasque was finishing its lance. Dragon finally took aim with the ship's particle cannon and filled the sky with an incandescent beam. As the dust settled, Dragon saw that the Vanguard's shield had shattered and melted in places, and its lance, cracked. It threw away the weapon and shield and began growing newer armaments.

Just then, the last two of the lesser Pale Ones were defeated and joined their brethren against the grounded Vanguard.

Dragon decided to concentrate on that one first.

The Tarasque launched more missiles to distract its opponent, buying more time. On the ground, the Wyrms closed in on their enemy as one. The Pale One met them head-on, bashing the middle Wyrm away with its shield. A mistake. Dragon capitalized on this and quickly unfolded the other suits, unloading four rounds into the creature's vulnerable backside, then kept at it. Round after round, sending the enemy's body sprawling across the street. It rolled to a stop after hitting a storefront and moved no more.

Taking down the Vanguard in the air didn't take long. The Wyrms' cannons used shells that could be detonated remotely and thus were not afraid to keep shooting into the air to take down the enemy. Caught in the crossfire between its prey and its ambushers, the Pale One fell, crashing through an apartment complex on its way down, and died quietly.

Dragon had the Tarasque fly a circuit around the fake city before homing onto the Wyrms. Fortunately, the damaged one was salvageable. A look toward Veronika showed that the girl was floating high above the battlefield, arms spread toward a large object made of cubes that shone with the same malevolent glow of Miasma veins. Through her feeds, Dragon watched it grow like a geometric tumor, increasing by about half a cubic meter per minute.

"Selene, what are you doing?" Colin asked through the comms.

"Collecting the surrounding Honkai Energy," the girl replied. "You might want to time this."

Dragon complied. "How long do you think this will take?"

The girl grimaced. "Maybe about an hour. Cleaning up is a lot slower than it is to irradiate it."

It tracks with the record of her trigger event, Dragon noted. From what had been gathered about the Weeping Angel incident, it had taken a distressed Veronika no more than five minutes between her supposed awakening in the Gesellschaft facility to render the entirety of Frankfurt unlivable due to ambient Miasma levels. It was part of the reason why the PRT had employed very strict screening procedures when sending personnel to interact with her in either guise. No German relations, friendly psychological profiles, or non-Brocktonite backgrounds to avoid anyone who sympathized with the Empire rhetoric. Colin had also mentioned plans to transfer her to Arcadia, though it was always framed in the context of the local Director turning it down in favor of having an in with the school with the highest trigger probability index.

The crowd in the control room thinned noticeably as people took breaks, seeing as they were at the tail end of the tests. The scientists and engineers huddled in a corner. Director Piggot took Colin to a table for a consultation. Several left the room for one reason or another. In contrast, Alexandria remained where she stood the whole time, still watching the displays.

"Do you mind if I ask you something … personal, Veronika?" Dragon asked.

It took a moment for the girl to answer. "Sure," she said, her voice devoid of the reverberating effect on space. Perhaps because it was to respect the intimacy of the conversation that she preferred to speak not as the Herrscher but as the human.

"Why did you choose to become a hero?"

Dragon had asked this question to many of the upper echelons of the Protectorate back when she was still consolidating her power, then later, to many aspiring heroes after she had joined the Guild. The answers she received always differed wildly. Some became heroes for revenge while others joined it out of social obligation. Others were coerced into it after a life of crime, while more than a few treated the job as just their career. Each and every single one of them added to the beautiful matrix she had come to know as humanity, though she found that it was always those who had just started out who gave the most human answers as usually, the longer the hero was in the service, the more the role would take from them. That was why she preferred asking this question as early as she could.

To the question, Veronika adopted what seemed to be a shy expression. "Ah, well, this is going to sound corny," she said.

"Just try," Dragon encouraged.

Veronika chuckled briefly, then turned to the Tarasque, where Dragon's main consciousness currently lay. "I heard this from … a certain story I'd gotten to know. It's a line said by its protagonist, a motto that she'd gotten from her father. 'Fight for all that is beautiful in the world!'"

She sighed. "It's, well, it's kinda cheesy. Very lofty and kind of a tall order considering how easily the ugly things in life can ruin the good things. But, well, it's a motto I want to live by."

Dragon ran a short program, an emulation of a recent project of Colin's. While it wasn't on the same level quite yet, an 87% accuracy was still good enough for a vast majority of cases. She fed the footage to it and the program returned with a single word:

TRUTH

"I disagree," Dragon said, her systems pinging in sequences she associated with appreciation, happiness, and validation. "Those are very beautiful words to live by."

Veronika smiled and turned her head back toward the mass that was forming above the ruined mock city. The pattern of her body language suggested she was expressing a sort of sorrow, or perhaps a general sort of anxiety. It confused Dragon—she was offering affirmation that Veronika's motivation was indeed a good one.

"It is," the girl said. "Isn't it?"

Tribulation 4.1

-{0}-

The sun shone brightly over Winslow High, wrapping me with its warmth like the sweet caress of ethereal curtains amidst the breeze and buzz of local activity. It was a rare day outside of summer when the clouds were conspicuously absent from their role of shading the earth from the sky. The birds flocked among the canopies to take shelter from the sun and frolicked among themselves with the grace and twitchy fluidity that only animals built to catch the wind have, and the people pulled out their umbrellas and caps and notebooks to cast a shadow on their heads lest they start to swelter on a rare April sunny day.

And I felt unimaginably cold.

It started from the pit of my stomach, crawling through my veins like thorny vines of ice and spreading outward to the rest of my torso, to my limbs, and to my eyes. I felt it wrap its arms around my lungs and ever so slowly burn a frosted path with its claws up my throat. My mind was a storm, pieces shifting as the revelation worked its way one by one through my memories, staining scenes of banter and competition and encouragements with deceit, revulsion, and self-loathing. I was powerless to stop its path and with a grim sort of dawning horror, I found myself not even willing to try.

Tammi was Rune. She was cohorts with the nazis. She was a part of the same group of people who kidnapped Mom.

It clicked. She wasn't just a part of the people responsible for it. No, the fact that the Empire knew about me and decided to take what was mine was her fault in the first place.

"Why?" I asked. My voice cracked, but I was too numb to care.

"Why?" Tammi said. "Why what? Why I joined? They're practically family, people who did me a favor when I was in trouble. People who did something to-to get rid of the filth in the world. And you're getting between that."

I shook my head. "You told them about me, and they tried to take Mom."

The girl flinched—serves her right—but then went back to smiling. "Y-yeah, that's right. I told them about you. My job had been to recruit you into the cause."

"And as if I would ever join the Nazis."

She chuckled. "Yeah, we got the clue alright."

I tried to think of words to say—a snide remark, a biting rebuttal, or even a scathing label to call her, but nothing seemed to come to mind. None of the words I knew seemed to be enough. Nothing could express the profound hollowness that gnawed at me, clawing back to life like an old friend. The lethargy that set in, the increasing sense of detachment, of wanting to do something but wondering just what would the point of that be—it was familiar.

Unbidden, the memories resurfaced as I was cursed to be unable to forget.

—"Mama? Where are we going?"

The woman wearing my mother's face gave her a perfect celebrity smile. "We're going to the doctor, child."

—"Mama? Papa?"

"Don't worry little one. This will all be over when you break."

—The ceiling was cracked and yellowing. The room smelled like rotten water and urine. There was no sun or moon to be seen as there were no windows, and she had the feeling that she was underground.

Any hope that they would be coming back for her was lost amidst the screams of the other men, women, and children in this place. She should have known this was going to happen when they told her that the hospital was called Gesellschaft.

I shook my head, casting away the memories, leaving me drained. I was just so tired of it all.

Tammi spread her arms wide. "What? Aren't you going to arrest me?"

"What's the point?" I said, feeling the exhaustion weigh down heavily on me.

She scowled. "I'm a villain and you're a hero. That's how these things work!"

Villains and heroes. The words didn't really register. It was like I was listening through a pool of water, the words muffling and distorting on the way. Yet on some level, I was still able to make them out. I just wasn't processing them.

"Fine, then. I'll show you the point."

Rune swung her arms to her left side, making a pulling gesture. There was a sudden activity from the bench beside the rooftop entrance as it was ripped off and launched toward me at the speed of a fastball.

My reflexes kicked in, space curving until the projectile was redirected to the nearest enemy—an action as easy and instinctive as swatting a fly when faster projectiles had been thrown against me in my training in Void Space. Tammi cried out as the bench hit her, sending herself and the projectile bouncing and rolling across the roof until they both hit the opposite fence separately.

I wasn't even trying.

"Ah, fuck," I heard her wheeze. "Should have known this would happen."

My body glided toward her, running on autopilot as my first aid training kicked in to identify her various injuries. Broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and bruises in multiple places. She needs a hospital, the first responder in me said. Reaching her crumpled and whining form, my body bent down. She needs to be positioned such that her injuries won't be aggravated.

"This is it," she said, looking at me, grasping her dislocated left side with her good arm and breathing erratically. The way she looked at me—it was as if she was happy. "You got me."

I wanted to wipe that smile off her face.

My fingers wrapped around her neck. Rune's eyes widened. She grabbed my wrist with her good arm and feebly attempted to pull the hand away, but my grip was iron and far, far stronger than that of a dainty human.

"V?" she wheezed out.

I shouldn't do this, I thought. This isn't who I wanted to be.

The body didn't listen. It only did the opposite. More strength poured into my arms. Fingers that could easily bend steel slowly dug into throaty flesh. She tugged harder, clawing at my hands. At some point, my shirt began trying to lift me away but I was a fixture in space.

There was to be no escape.

The girl was struggling in earnest now, legs flailing, good arm batting at my face, wailing uselessly as the assailer might as well be a moving statue before her efforts. A voice screamed at me to stop, but it felt like I was hearing it through water, the sound arriving from so far away.

The grip tightened.

My mind was covered in a deep red haze and I was dimly aware of a melodic ringing in my ears. There came a discordant choir echoing from the depths, from the peripheries, from the darkness.

A familiar song.

One sung by three hundred thousand voices.

They chanted and wailed and screamed louder and louder and louder until it was all I could hear. Their maddening orchestra stacked and erected a vicious temple held up by the revenants of those who died by my hand.

It opened its gates, ushering a new voice—one without breath, gasping, and desperately clawing for a chance at life. One that was young, one before its time. Constricted. Suffocating.

In a moment of clarity, a pair of eyes stared into my own, red with tears and fear.

I screamed.

-{0}-

--Hannah

Her phone buzzed. Hannah checked what it was for and read the message to meet at the Emergency Management Center. The priority was listed as medium, which meant she didn't have to run for it, but she did pick up her pace as she pivoted to the administrative wing.

Armsmaster was already at the conference table when she arrived, fiddling away with a laptop. Hannah made her way over to him and looked at what he was working on; some kind of analysis program running with several opened image files of graffiti in the background. From what she could tell, there was a common element of wings among the images, but beyond that, the arrangement he had his desktop organized into didn't tell much. She elected to ask the man himself instead.

"Working on something?"

He turned to her. "Hannah," he said, then he turned back to the laptop. "Just an analysis program. There have been reports of a pattern of graffiti recently and I'm working to figure out if it's a simple art movement, a new gang, or something else. It's cross-referencing the images with many of the trends of graffiti throughout the East Coast."

"You have anything to say about that?"

"Nothing conclusive. Only that it's probably not the Simurgh, but we can never be too sure."

Hannah chuckled nervously. "I hope so, too. When will that finish?"

"Soon. It's on low priority."

"Low?"

"You'll see why during the meeting."

She gave him a nod and he went back to being engrossed in his work. Hannah made her way around the table so that she would be facing one of the monitors and sat down.

Assault and Battery arrived soon after, and Director Piggot after them. A few more minutes later, a few division heads walked into the room. Dauntless and Velocity were on patrol, so those present didn't wait for them before starting.

"Okay, Armsy, what did you call this meeting for?" Assault said, breaking the silence.

Armsmaster nodded to him and turned to the rest of us. "I've called you here for more than one reason," he said. "But the first that you should know is that we have managed to capture Rune of the Empire."

"The kid?" Assault asked. "About time we got her off the street."

"We have," Armsmaster said. "The problem, however, is how it happened. Rune was captured by Selene in their civilian personas after the former tried to attack the Ward in private. Selene had admitted trying to strangle Rune to death. Apparently, the criminal had been her best friend."

Hannah flinched. Betrayal was never an easy thing. She still remembered the day Mel had left to be independent as Mouse Protector. Veronika should be feeling worse than that since her friend turned out to be a Nazi supervillain.

"Is she—Rune—alright?" she asked. She had to ask; Veronika wasn't known for being non-lethal when in a panicked state, as Alabaster, Loki, and Cricket could attest. They were going to have to put her out of active duty for a while or the Youth Guard would be having their heads.

"Rune is stable," he said. "I have already obtained an account from her about her experiences with the gang, much of which is valuable information. She has been incredibly cooperative, actually."

Hannah frowned at him. "You interviewed her in the hospital."

"Our PRT hospital, but yes."

Hannah didn't know what to say. Armsmaster wasn't without his callousness as a man of pragmatism, but this was something else.

"I'm assuming that we're pitching for the kid with the Wards, then?" Assault asked with an even tone.

"Yes."

The man in red shook his head. "That's a disaster waiting to happen."

"Agreed," Battery added. "Not just because putting her in the same workspace as Veronika is a bad idea. Grue—or rather Shroud is on the team now and he has admitted to at least one confrontation with the telekinetic. I say we move her into a different branch."

"If she's taking the offer and not juvie," Assault said, then paused. "Is she taking the Wards?"

Armsmaster gritted his teeth. "Yes."

"Then that's it then. We ask Boston or New York if they're willing to take her."

"And Veronika?"

"Taken home by her mother. She's also taking the rest of the week off of duty."

Hannah had wanted to ask more about how the other girl was doing when Piggot cut in. "What did you find out?"

"Kaiser has been busy. The Empire had apparently been making plays outside Brockton in an attempt to expand operations outside the city and it's why none of their capes were at the sites during the raids. They've come back with new blood—at least two capes—but our informant has had no contact with them. They just know that they're also from the small contingent that tried to expand into Boston."

Hannah's sucked in a breath. They had just gotten the telekinetic child off the streets and suddenly these people were coming back with at least two more. After the raids, she'd thought that they'd finally be out of this series of backpedaling, but this one step forward, two steps back was a bitter reminder of how bad the situation in the city had gotten.

"What else is new?" Piggot asked, seemingly unfazed.

"We have the civilian identities of several Empire members on record."

There was a pause, one that was interrupted by Assault as he stood and slammed his hands on the table.

"We what?" he shouted.

"We have the identities of several Empire members; specifically, we have the identities of Kaiser, Purity, Krieg, Victor, and Othala. Our informant does not seem to know the identities of the others."

Assault, in a fit of professional unprofessionalism, whooped before collapsing back to his chair. "We've got them now, boys!" he said.

"Assault!" Battery snapped, though she was smiling as well. Hannah shook her head. While she respected the Unwritten rules, she also understood the value of knowing the civilian covers of their local villains. With this information, they could better anticipate and monitor their movements, if not issue a warrant of arrest for them outright.

The director's grin showed teeth. "Well? Go on, spill."

Armsmaster did. Hannah slumped against her seat and took a deep breath, feeling a headache forming. Her action was mirrored by several other participants of the meeting though expressed in their own ways.

Unexpectedly, it was Battery who broke the silence.

"Fucking Medhall?"

"Indeed," Armsmaster said. "I have asked Dragon to perform the task of creating comparisons between Max Anders and Kaiser and thus far, we have both a vocal and physique match."

"Have her run a thorough background check and analyze the financial footprints of Medhall as well," Piggot said. "We're gonna have to dig deep for this."

Armsmaster nodded and was silent. Hannah recalled vaguely that he had a new interface in his helmet that worked using eye movements. She took a deep breath and collected her thoughts. With all these new revelations, she wasn't sure how viable their original strategy of simply hitting them where it hurts would be, so she spoke up.

"What's the plan, then?"

"First, we'll have to get more people to go undercover into the Empire," Piggot said. "With so many of their unpowered members in prison, they won't be so thorough in screening their prospects. We need to figure out who these new capes are and what they're capable of."

"Once we have enough evidence, we're going to pull the rug from under them starting with attacking their business with lawsuits. With their biggest source of income under pressure, they are likely to turn to less legal means to eliminate it, especially now that their more illicit sources have been gutted."

"We'd be baiting them out," Battery surmised. The director nodded.

"Yes, through their old moles." Piggot's smile had teeth. "You know their faces."

Hannah still remembered. After the personnel auditing that saw nearly half of their officers replaced with new faces, she'd gotten an email through their network on which people still had ties to the gangs. Thankfully, none of them were in critical positions, but it had still been difficult rebuilding their work with new faces.

"That ties back to why we need the information. We can't use the legal team as bait if we don't know what we're dealing with, and we can't take out their reserves once they make a strike force if we don't know if we can handle them."

Everyone nodded at that. Information was key to these kinds of operations. An ambush was still an ambush if you didn't know who or how the enemy was attacking.

"That's all I have to say about that," Piggot concluded. "Anyone else?"

Deputy Director Renick raised a hand. "Just one. What about the ABB?"

The head of Investigations answered. "Not much. A few groups were attempting to do racketeering, but the officers on site were able to take care of that. Seems like Lung hasn't returned yet and we don't have news on that front."

Hannah found that worrying. It meant that at any moment, the ABB could blow up in their faces.

"Keep an eye out anyway," Piggot said. "Any other concerns?"

"One more." The group turned to look at Mr. Kimura, their human resource head after the previous one had been replaced after the auditing incident. "I have been told that there is a good chance that Dr. Sinclair, executive director of the Amos Foundation, will be visiting Brockton Bay within the month. There is a non-zero chance of the visit involving Dr. Simmons and her daughter given the research that they are involved in."

"Double the priority on Selene's mental health, then," Piggot said. "We can't have her causing a diplomatic incident."

Hannah wanted to protest. In her experience, it wasn't good to dump that many responsibilities onto someone new, much less someone as young as Veronika. However, she could also see where Piggot was coming from. Building a closer relationship with the PRT and the Amos Foundation held a value that superseded one fledgling hero no matter how strong their ability was for deployment. In the greater Protectorate, she knew personally at least five others who could move people across the continent whose names weren't Eidolon.

"Yes ma'am," Armsmaster said.

Tribulation 4.2

-{0}-

I was cold. My shirt was drenched in sweat, putting it in sharp contrast with the fluffy sheets and the carefully regulated air. My face felt sticky from what I could only assume were dried tears. My throat was raw and every breath felt like I was swallowing sand.

I lay there on my bed, staring at the grid pattern of beams on the ceiling of the room. The soft but ceaseless thrum of the air conditioning played as the quiet background tune for my thoughts to come into focus. I became aware of the blanket that had been tossed and tussled halfway off the bed. Most of the pillows were on the floor. My hair was slick with sweat and formed a tangled net that stuck to my skin and face and I was still wearing the same clothes that I wore to school.

Judging by the light coming from the window, it was already night. I'd missed the rest of work today.

The thought reminded me of what happened.

My head began to pound. An ugly twisted knot of anger and helplessness formed in my chest. Tears threatened to spill once again as I felt myself let out a small whimper while my hands gripped the sheets.

Eventually, the moment passed. I felt the energy leave my limbs as they went back into being boneless extensions of myself, leaving me drained.

I didn't want to get up anymore.

And yet, I had a feeling I couldn't fall back to sleep.

I tried to, anyway.

I put a pillow—the last survivor of my restless slumber—on my head and tried to will the thoughts away. It didn't work. My mind was awash with questions and realizations. Little things like how Tammi pretended the non-whites in class didn't exist or how I would occasionally see her hanging out with a group of tattooed boys and girls in leather jackets. Her confrontation with Vista back when we first visited the PRT building made sense now. The conversation we had at the batting range was suddenly colored in a very different light.

And worst of all was the feeling of my fingers surrounding her neck and how tenderly I had to grip so that the flesh underneath wouldn't just give away.

My pillow flew across the room and hit the opposite wall. I peeled myself off the bed and stripped as I made my way to the bathroom. After a quick shower, I phased into a new set of clothes rather than putting them on like a normal person, headed to the door, and walked into the hallway.

The sound of boiling oil greeted me. I made my way over to the great room and stopped by the entryway. Mom was cooking dinner and a quick glance with my senses told me it was fried chicken. For a moment, I debated on whether to introduce my presence or not. I didn't want to distract her. At the same time, I sorely needed her advice.

Ultimately, she did it for me.

"V, can you set the table?" She asked without looking back. I obliged.

Soon, we were gathered around the dinner table, waiting for each other to start. Fried chicken has been one of my favorite foods since I could remember in both lives. And yet, I couldn't find it in myself to feel hungry right then.

"You should eat while it's still hot," Mom said as if reading my mind.

I nodded and dug into my meal, quickly discovering that my appetite wasn't as gone as I'd thought. Before I knew it, the food was gone and I was feeling much better than I had been since I woke up.

Mom smiled at me and reached over with a tissue in hand. I blinked as she wiped my mouth clean and completely forgot to resist.

"Better?" she asked. I nodded. Wordlessly, she reached down to grab my hand and I instinctively clutched back.

"How are you?"

For a moment, I was tempted to refuse. Opening up was still something new to me having grown up hiding both my powers and my status as a reincarnator. Mom was someone I could trust, I reminded myself then took a deep breath.

"I don't know," I said.

Mom hummed thoughtfully, saying nothing. As if it was up to me to continue the conversation. I mulled over the thoughts swirling around my head, trying to make sense of them all, but both my feelings and how I associated with them were too complicated to pin down.

"I don't know," I repeated, but I knew just repeating that was in bad taste. Taking a breath, I forced myself to continue. "Tammi was Rune, Mom."

She nodded. "They told me," she said. "You've also told me about her before and said you were good friends."

"Yeah."

A pressure welled in my chest as a dozen emotions flashed by—anger, indignation, denial until it finally…

"I tried to kill her, Mom."

Guilt.

The feeling of my hands around her throat. The fear in her eyes. The panic that reminded me of so many who had been trapped under rubble or run down by monsters they did not understand.

In the first place, I should not have acted so violently against Tammi. Not only was she not attacking at a level that could actually hurt me, but she had pretty much given up as soon as she was able to.

But that wasn't the worst part. Now that I had time to wrap my head around the circumstances, I was starting to realize that the entire event never really made sense if Tammi's real intention had been to get rid of me. Grandstanding as she did, that half-hearted attack, and the quick surrender—all of that spoke of some in-the-moment attempt at a facade. Tammi had likely intended for me to arrest her but didn't expect me to resort to near-murder.

Mom put her arms around me and pulled me close. I leaned into the embrace and felt hot tears run down my face again.

"I … I thought I was better than this, Mom. But I'm still a monster."

I felt Mom's shoulders tighten around me. "No, sweetheart," she said. "It's my fault. I should have seen the signs, should have helped you with the stress and your responses to it. You've only known distancing yourself and reacting violently as coping mechanisms. I've taught you breathing techniques, but because of everything that's happened, we haven't gotten around to tackling the problem at its roots."

"Mom?"

Mom let go of me to cup her hands around my face. "I've been too busy with all the work. Too busy with all the research, the training, and the possibilities, that I forgot about helping you heal and thought it was alright because you were happy. And now, something happened again and you're coping unhealthily when you're in a life path where it will only get worse in the future."

I didn't know what to say about that. I just knew that I didn't agree. I didn't want to agree. To me, Mom had done nothing but be good to me and should not blame herself for my ugliness. And yet, there was a tiny, ancient part of me that agreed that parents should be responsible for their children, a tiny part that was wrong because she'd only been my mother for a few months.

"No, it's not your fault Mom," I said. "Literally too many things had been happening. You weren't prepared because we were already swamped before it happened."

Mom gave me a pained smile. "And next you're going to say that it was all your fault?"

I flinched. She wasn't wrong.

"V," she said. "There are too many things that neither of us can control. I want you to promise me that you won't blame yourself for everything, alright? Promise me."

I swallowed and nodded. Speaking logically, I agreed with her, but a big part of me still felt like it was my fault—that despite all of my resolutions, I had lost control and could barely stop at the last second.

Mom sighed and went close, kissing me on the forehead. When she pulled back, her expression was sad. I didn't like that.

"Healing is a long and difficult process and you've only just started. Yours especially will be hard because circumstances have led to a life that has to always deal with big stressors. Don't hold it against yourself that you have scars. Instead, celebrate that you are making progress. You were able to stop yourself with Tammi, yes?"

I frowned. "Yes?" I said, not sure where we were going.

"And what happened the time before that?"

I stayed silent. Both of us already knew the answer to that.

"It might not seem like much, but it's progress. You lost your cool, yes, but you were able to stop yourself before you crossed the line."

More than a Nazi deserved, a dark part of me said, but Mom was right that there was no loss of life this time.

Mom ruffled my hair. Then she pulled out her phone and after a few seconds of fiddling, I heard my own phone chime with a new message.

Re: Dr. Jessica Yamada schedule

…

"I think it's time I introduced you to her," she said. "All the other Wards have already had sessions with her. It's only because you've refused that I haven't gotten the two of you situated yet for a good session."

"Can't you do it instead?" I asked. I was not pouting.

Mom paused. "Can't," she said. "It's … not professional. I can't not be biased when trying to help you, V, and there's a real chance that it would hurt you instead."

I grunted. In my old life, I'd heard that doctors weren't allowed to operate on family members for this exact reason, and psychiatrists were doctors too, if only of the mind but not the neurons. "Okay."

Mom squeezed my shoulder. "Come on. Let's clean up. I still have work today and I've gotten the go-ahead from Winslow to give you a day off. Armsy's also told me you're off-duty for the week."

I blinked. "I have the day off?"

She nodded, then narrowed her eyes at me. "No. You aren't hopping into your pocket dimension. No cape stuff and no fights. It will be a day of recovery, okay?"

"Okay," I said.

She nodded. "Now help me with the dishes."

-{0}-

Sleep had come to me easily that day, in no part because Mom had decided to sleep with me while I was emotionally exhausted, no sir. I woke up early the next day so that we could have breakfast together and was called a worrywart for offering to portal her to the PRT building. Then she left in her car, but at least I was able to convince her to bring her pistol with her.

With that, I went back to my room, turned off the lights, and practically flopped onto the bed.

I had the rest of the day off.

I had … nothing to do.

It was starting to hit me that I didn't really have many days like this, days where my main job was to do nothing but, well, nothing—every day had been task after task of either Wards, end of the world, or social stuff that I hadn't really noticed that I had even less of a private life than before all this nonsense. It used to be that I would spend these kinds of days scouring Parahumans Online for made-up fiction involving original capes because the little-known fact of living in a world of parahumans is that the most popular form of fanfiction here is celebrity fiction.

Terrible celebrity fiction.

Other things I could do? In my old life, I used to draw. I wasn't really that good, but I also wasn't terrible at it, enough to bring characters to life, I guess. I wrote, too, though most of that had been for myself and my friends. Terrible characters, with everyone power-wanking their OC as much as they could in some kind of literary dick-measuring contest that peaked around seventh or eighth grade. I'd realized that they had only been really good for no-stakes roleplay because I couldn't really put the guys I'd made onto the page without running out of plot.

Seven notebooks down the drain, all for the edgy boy I made when the old me was fourteen.

I hadn't taken it back up in this life mostly because it was already exciting enough. I stood out among kids either because I was too pretty or too exotic. Girls at school always tried to pick a fight while boys kept trying to get close. Adults were weirded out because I could recite textbooks verbatim and home life was a battle of resources that was further compounded by my appetite. Add that to the stresses of capes around the corner and you've got yourself the background of a typical light novel protagonist.

"Should I write a novel based on myself?" I wondered out loud.

No amount of words could tell you how much I'd cringed at the thought.

Rolling over, I peeled myself off the bed and made my way to my computer. The laptop was Dragontech, but unlike my work laptop, this one was given to me by Dragon directly after one of our research sessions instead of as a courtesy by the PRT. That meant it had Dragon's trackers all over the system instead of the PRT's, but honestly, I would take it.

If Dragon could moderate PHO's shenanigans, then she could take one teenage girl's.

I logged into PHO using an alt account. No updates, or at least no updates on the creative writing threads I'd been following. Seemed like today was a slow day. I resisted the urge to look into my own thread—ego surfing wasn't healthy and I was patently not in a good headspace right now. So I…

Didn't know what to look for, really.

I sat there, thinking about it for maybe a bit too long. I thought about checking for new capes on the Bay but then remembered my promise of no cape stuff—I wasn't deluded enough to think that learning about the new independents wouldn't lead me to think about work. I tried looking at the news and spent five minutes giving a random internet poster's news briefs of yesterday before being disgusted by politics. I couldn't even binge-watch cosmology videos because that would inevitably lead me to think about more power applications due to how Void worked.

I pulled back from the table and crossed my arms, grunting. What could I even do in my free time?

What should I even do?

I was a Herrscher, a living city-destroying disaster who was currently the world's best shot at making it through at least two known apocalypses. I should be out there, coordinating plans, helping out research, or making sure I could fight the next Herrscher and not … making sure I don't snap and kill everyone.

And just like that, my anger disappeared, quickly replaced by the guilt and self-loathing that had been plaguing me since yesterday. I collapsed in my seat, letting my limbs hang like they were sleeves on a drying rack, and stared listlessly toward the ceiling.

I was back at the beginning.

It was with fortunate timing then that I heard my phone chime with a new text. I stared at the device for a moment before lifting it up with gravity.

April: hey

April: i heard u were sick

April: u ayt?

April: every1 wants 2 kno

My mind whirled as I grabbed my phone. With all that had been going on, I had forgotten about Winslow and the associated teenage social obligations. I had friends besides Tammi in Taylor and Vicky, and people who purported themselves as my fan club.

Even though none of them could do anything to lend a hand with my Big Problem woes, it couldn't be understated how much helping me realize that I wasn't alone counted.

I started typing back.

Me: Sorry

Me: Just occupational hazard. I'm mostly alright

Me: *an

Me: Will be back soon. Just need to recover

It only took a few minutes to get a reply back. I checked the time—it was 9:24 AM.

April: thats good

April: 3

April: care to share?

I snorted. This girl's head is full of gossip.

Me: Classified

April: awww

April: let me guess

April: it has somthn 2 do w tammi?

It felt like a bucket of ice was dumped on my head. All the levity I got from the conversation went away. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

Happy as I was to have friends again, they were still teenagers. April had accidentally hit the issue at its core, but I was pretty sure she hadn't intended to cause me grief by it.

Still, it was a stark reminder of what I'd done and what was done to me. Once I was done—once I was better on my feet and less likely to strangle someone—I was going to have to talk with Tammi—for closure, if nothing else.

Me: I told you its classified

Me: Not kidding

April: okay okay chill

Me: April

April: im sorry alrite?

April: wont spread cross my heart

Me: Good

I'm going to have to check on that later, don't I?

I sighed and put my phone back down and stared at my computer. I didn't feel like dealing with the internet at the moment—didn't want to be reminded of all of that. Maybe it was time to try out ancient hobbies.

Standing up, I made my way to where I kept my school supplies and picked out some paper and some writing implements to bring them over to the table. I spread them over the table, then grabbed a pencil and was immediately hit with a sense of nostalgia.

Drawing had been my old life's bread and butter. It had been his main source of social interaction by plopping himself into the middle of the classroom and just going wild on the medium of choice, attracting people who were interested. He started doing less and less of it as he grew up, and eventually just didn't have much time for it.

One of the things I learned from that time was the concept of a visual library. It's the idea that artists created a mental library of reference images when they practice and they simply drew on that as a sort of intuition for things like anatomy, color, and other visual principles. Normally, those types of things took days to months to build up, but the memory hack that came alongside Void Sense meant that not only did I remember everything that I'd seen, but I could also see them all three-dimensionally.

I pulled up a memory of a basic pose—someone standing straight, arms at their sides. The details were whatever since I didn't really care that much and the face defaulted to generic Caucasian man number 2. Fill in with a shirt and jeans and we had my first sketch.

It looked good. It was also boring.

"Self-portrait time," I muttered.

By far, the best part about Void Sense is that I didn't need mirrors. I looked at my body, and I mean really looked at my body, and thought, not for the first time, that I was hitting some freakish standards of beauty. Fit enough to have abs but also curvy. The pale skin, long snow-white hair, and blue eyes gave me an ethereal glow. I looked like an alien specifically tailored to appeal to the human psyche, which, from an artistic point of view, made an ideal subject.

I imagined my old Knight Moonbeam-inspired outfit over that image and made the mental me strike a landing pose. It was surprising how easy it was to visualize. It was like having a modelling software in your head but you didn't have to fiddle with anything to get what you wanted.

It took me a few more minutes to finish because I cared about the details and shading this time. Old tricks were dusted off the shelves that they had been placed on in my mind. My hands fought me a little since the muscle memory of the movements necessary for some movements had never really been ingrained in this life. Some embellishments here and exaggerations there. Eventually, it was done.

I stared at my portrait.

"Even better than in my old life?" I complained. From what I could still remember, I had never been that good at drawing people realistically and this one was pretty darn close.

Void was such a cheat.

I was debating on what next to draw when my phone chimed again. This time, it was from Taylor.

T: Need advice.

Right, I thought. I gave her a phone to help her with cape stuff.

So much for no cape shit. I typed out my response.

Me: Alright. Hit me

T: How do you decide on a name?

I paused.

Me: Depends on what kind of cape you want to be

Me: Some are all about darkness and fear and choose names like Wraith and Shadow Stalker

Me: Others are about responsibility ansymbolism like Hero and Dauntless

Me: Tho getting a list from a dictionary and throwing darts at it is equally valid if yu don't care

It took Taylor a moment to send back.

T: Why did you pick Selene?

I blinked at that. I shouldn't have been surprised at the question given the context, but I still was. The name Selene was initially picked because it was the name of a battleship from Honkai Impact, a piece of ancient technology that could shoot a beam that converts massive Honkai energy into heat. It had fallen to the back of my mind at some point, as well as whatever Glenn had said about my hero name.

Selene was a moon goddess, the moon goddess before Artemis had also gotten that appellation. I didn't really know anything about her mythology apart from that, and it was also where my interest in the name ended. Really, I was thinking about another goddess of the moon, the protagonist of Honkai Impact who had ascended to that position after beating all the odds. She had been an inspiration in my old life, but now, faced with the same disaster, her story was practically my guiding light.

I found myself smiling as I typed my answer.

Me: Selene is a goddess of the moon

Me: The moon, as a celestial object, reflects the light of the sun on the dark part of the Earth

Me: I want to be something like that

And sent. I found myself scrolling back through the conversation and grinning like an idiot. It felt like I'd just found a nugget of wisdom when really it was just a sentiment picked out of a song from the game's original soundtrack. Still, it felt right.

I was so inordinately giddy with myself that the chime of Taylor's reply took me by surprise:

T: Thanks.

That, more than anything, lifted my spirits up today.

My muse, which had been dry for so long, had caught fire with inspiration. I grabbed the pencil and started drafting the next drawing.

-{0}-

The car stopped right outside the gates. Mom turned back from the driver's seat, concern written all over her face. "Are you sure about this?" she asked. "You don't have to force yourself to go to school, you know?"

I gave her a smile. "I'm sure."

Mom sighed but nodded in understanding. "Well, have a great day, V. Don't forget, you have an appointment this afternoon."

"I will."

Taking a breath, I stepped out of the car and made my way through the gates of Winslow. Eyes turned to me, some wary while others were the usual. I put my game face on. Missy had said something really cool while we were talking yesterday: if we let ourselves stop being good just because we'd done something wrong, then it's a loss for everyone we could have helped.

Really, that girl was scary with how mature she seemed to be sometimes.

I found myself taking in the sights more along the way to the classroom. Compared to a few months ago, there were fewer kids openly wearing gang colors or paraphernalia. If I really looked, there were still students bringing a knife or two, but that was a lot less than before when I could still spot packets of powder in a dozen people's bags a day.

Still, that didn't mean the douchebag behavior here had stopped entirely. These days, it was just better hidden.

I stepped into a portal and arrived at the gym where there was a group of jocks surrounding one boy, a thin first-year by the look of his still-pudgy cheeks. Normally, I wouldn't be too worried about these kinds of situations because just showing up tended to make everyone back down, but it was a little different in this case.

The boy had a power.

I didn't know what it was. Unless it had something to do with spacetime, Void Sense didn't really give me information like that. Something like that doubly meant that I needed to step in to prevent something ugly from happening since teenagers, especially teenage boys, don't exactly like holding back something they could use to lord over others. My arrival was loud since I purposefully formed the portal about two steps off the ground and had everyone's attention on me immediately.

"Is there going to be a problem here?" I asked.

Thankfully, the jocks gave each other a look before they made various noises of disagreement. I breathed a sigh.

"Go back to your classes then."

They nodded and started shuffling out of the gym. No one tried to argue against that because the last time someone did that, I brought them to the principal's office before unceremoniously dropping them where they were supposed to be on their asses. The jocks left the first year behind. The look he gave me was appraising and thoughtful.

"You need anything?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Just … observing."

I raised a brow. When he didn't elaborate, I shrugged and made another portal. "Don't get into trouble," I said, then returned to class.

Heads turned my way when I entered the classroom, which I ignored. I made my way over to my seat and put my head down. Despite my intentions, however, I found myself paying attention to the conversations around me anyway.

Here's a little-known fact about Stigmata; while it's known to generally boost physical capability, it actually boosts practically all physical capabilities. That included everything from time perception to strength, to hearing, and to reflexes.

It wasn't exactly hard not to hear everything. My real problem only actually lay with paying attention, and in this case, I didn't have anything against that particular problem.

But I chose to pay attention anyway.

'I heard she was involved with the incident at the roof.'

'Hey, she won't try to destroy the classroom if she gets mad, right?'

'I'll bet they'll let her do just about anything because she's a Ward.'

And I quickly wished I didn't.

I recognized Nancy and Josephine—two people who usually asked me for help in biology—theorizing on how there could be a repeat of what happened in March. Terry was someone I had worked with in World Issues and he was talking about how the Protectorate was looking for all the hidden capes in the school now. Greg was spinning this story on how I had an epic betrayal fight with my best friend on the rooftop … which wasn't exactly inaccurate.

Normally, I could shrug off rumors like that, but it seemed today just wasn't my day. Right now, a part of me was tempted to put them in their places, but things never went well every time I lost my temper.

I raised my head and let my eyes roam the classroom. As expected, most of the whispers and hushed conversations dialed down as soon as people noticed I was actually paying attention (except for Greg—that kid was a runaway engine once he got started). I let my gaze sweep the classroom a few more times before facing back to the front just in time to see Mr. Stanton, the school's only science teacher who was over fifty years old.

Who was also carrying a stack of the papers he'd been grading and the printed supplementary material for the day, a stack tall enough to reach his neck.

I was in front of him in a blink, taking the load off his hands. The man blinked before he saw me and smiled.

"Thank you, Selene," he said.

"It's just Veronika outside work, sir."

"Ha. I'll remember that."

He hadn't, not in the past fifteen times I'd reminded him at least.

The school day went on. I found myself observing people more than I was absorbing the lessons. Friends bickered and gossiped with each other. Notes were passed between seats. Some teachers constantly referred to their lesson plans while others didn't even bother using the blackboard. Some minded their own business doodling on their notebooks or texting on their phones. Others were doing the same as I was, just watching people.

Today, Taylor Hebert fell into that category by observing me. She didn't gossip—pigs would have started to rain from the sky before that happened—but she didn't approach me either. I could tell she wanted to talk. Maybe it was about the thing with Tammi. Maybe it was a thing with her own cape career. It was hard to tell with her, so it actually made me a bit glad when she caught up with me just as I was leaving the classroom when lunch rolled around.

"Walk with me a bit?" she asked. Asked rather stiffly, if I had to describe it.

I shrugged.

We started walking. She pulled out a pita wrap from her bag, and I, a sandwich from Void Space. I saw her eye my portal use with a raised eyebrow and chuckled awkwardly, but she didn't say anything about it and we continued walking while eating our food.

Our path took us to the field. It was cloudy today and the weather report I remembered this morning mentioned something about not expecting rain. I didn't trust it because I could still feel the moisture in the air and found the grass underfoot to still be wet with dew. The track team seemed to have the same idea because they weren't there. Normally, they would have been practicing even through lunch period to make up for the fact that they lost Hess.

I felt a pang of guilt. Tammi was in track and I'd taken her out. Granted, she hadn't been the most punctual in recent weeks, but it was still my fault that they had a runner disappear. I glanced at Taylor and wondered if this had been intentional.

Then I saw her expression. She was staring at the oval with an intensity that might have set it on fire if she had a Blaster power instead of bug control and I remembered that her old tormentor was the old star of the team.

We made our way to the bleachers and sat down. Neither of us spoke as we finished our meals. Eventually, I swallowed the last bite of the rest of the sandwiches I'd tucked away and there was nothing left but the silence between us.

A silence which Taylor broke.

"Did you know that Emma used to be my best friend?"

I blinked, caught completely off-guard. Now that I thought about it, Taylor hadn't really told me anything about her past. For all that she knew, I'd only seen what was happening with the locker and assumed that they were enemies the entire way.

I shook my head. I felt bad about it, but I wasn't about to reveal that I'd known about her entire life story now.

"Thought you guys were archnemeses from the very beginning, actually, considering how Barnes is…"

I trailed off and Taylor snorted. Emma had been a constant thorn in both of our sides, but she never really amounted to any more than that. Taylor had come a long way from being cowed by Emma's mere presence, and to me, she was like that one annoying kid that you know was covering up their insecurities by insulting everyone else.

Nodding, Taylor continued, "For a long time, I was asking myself why she went from a sister into someone who basically wanted me dead. At some point, I realized that it just didn't matter. Even if I found out, I would never be able to change it and I wasn't invested enough in us anymore to try and fix that."

She paused. I stayed silent, letting Taylor mull over her next words. It didn't take her long.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that you can't change what's already happened. All you can do is move on and be better than before. Be happier. Some say that the best revenge against someone who had wronged you is to be happy, and maybe there's some truth in that. Or at least, that's what I think."

I tried to imagine what the likes of Dr. Jaeger from way back then would think if they saw how I was living now. Probably rolling in his grave. I chuckled, then took a deep breath and let my body release the tension that had been building up since this morning.

What would Tammi have thought if she saw how I was doing? I didn't know, or at least not truly. I had an inkling that she'd been trying to surrender, but it could also just be her doing something completely stupid. Either way, I wouldn't know until I talk to her.

"Thanks," I said. "That … that helps a lot."

Taylor nodded and returned to watching the field. A thought occurred to me: how did she know that the thing with Tammi was a betrayal on her part? Bugs on the roof? As far as I knew, she was only able to hear through her bugs after Bakuda. Was it April?

I was jolted out of my thoughts by my phone. The ringtone we had for the PRT-issue phones came in three settings: a short tone for light alerts, a longer and more persistent three beats for alerts of moderate importance, and a really long and obnoxious one for an all-hands-on-deck disaster like an A-class parahuman threat showing up.

The current ringtone buzzed three times. I checked the message.

Empire Eighty-Eight identities leak

Various outed Empire members taking to the streets

Requesting Selene logistical support

"What's wrong?"

Taylor must have caught the look on my face. I hesitated, then showed her the text message. Her eyes widened, then became serious.

"Go," she said.

"But I'm supposed to be off—"

"Everyone needs you, V." Taylor smiled. "You're strong enough to handle it."

I took a deep breath and then found myself smiling.

"Thank you."

Tribulation 4.3

-{0}-

One of the first things that the PRT had me agree to once I'd shown how much reach my portal ability actually had was to establish a policy: no portals within the building, or at least, not when my presence hadn't been radioed in—the reason being that it was too easy for the troopers present inside to decide to shoot first and ask questions later, and asking them to not do that presents a security risk for when an enemy teleporter actually goes to do just that. That was why we'd arranged for me to port to the base only through the helipad; at the very least, my arrival could be responded to just as if an aircraft landed.

A trooper was waiting for me there. He'd trained the foam sprayer at me immediately and barked, "Identify yourself!"

I said my ID and the passphrase then he lowered his firearm and reported me to the officer in charge before leading me downstairs at a brisk pace. Our destination was the emergency conference room where there were already more than a dozen capes present—the Protectorate and Wards, I'd expected, but I was surprised to see Glory Girl, Brandish, Flashbang, and Panacea of New Wave here.

Then again, they were the premiere independent group of the city. It would have been weirder if they didn't show up.

They turned to me as I entered. Half the Protectorate was giving me concerned glances while the only one with New Wave that had a reaction was Glory Girl.

"Caught with your pants down?" she asked. I wasn't in my costume and the realization made me feel a little more self-conscious.

I shook my head. "Something like that," I said. "I can change after."

Director Piggot spoke as soon as I sat down. "Thank you for coming in such a short notice. Armsmaster, if you will."

Armsmaster nodded. "Both the digital forensics team and my forensics programs have returned with results that pointed to an information leak spanning multiple accounts and access levels across the board. The entity behind the leak uses both anonymous and hacked accounts to share messages across various sectors, ensuring that not only the news but private companies received the data package concerning Empire identities."

"Wait, you're telling me it's real?" Glory Girl said, wide-eyed and looking between me and the other Protectorate present. The other Wards, too—it seems that the first meeting had only been between the adults.

Armsmaster nodded. Curses and intakes of breath echoed among the younger generation present. The man continued.

"Unfortunately, we were not able to track these hacks to a single source as our tracing algorithms narrowed down the hack to about a dozen companies in Brockton Bay, including Medhall itself. Finding the one responsible would merit a full investigation of these companies; a task we cannot attend to at the moment."

The man did something weird with his eyes and the monitors in the room came to life with a map of the city. Colored pins with attached names indicated the locations of Empire members as well as short blurbs about the situation. The green ones appeared to be moving while the red ones were stationary but had a red circle surrounding them.

"Dragon and I have managed to compile a program to monitor the situation. What you're seeing here is the current status of the tracked Empire members throughout the Bay. Green indicates a live sighting while red indicates the last known location."

"At present, Empire Eighty-Eight consists of Kaiser, Purity, Krieg, Ymir, Skadi, Stormtiger, Victor, Othala, and Thrud.

"Currently, we are forming a blockade surrounding the Medhall building in an attempt to investigate the company physically. Purity is already engaged with Lady Photon and Laserdream of New Wave while Shielder and Manpower are performing search and rescue. Othala has been reported to still be in Immaculata. The BBPD is currently investigating various establishments listed in the publications, but one in particular is known to be owned by Ymir and Skadi in their civilian identities."

He turned back to us. "For teams, I would like to recommend the following: Dauntless and the fliers of New Wave against Purity as group Aleph; Assault and Battery as a fast-acting backup for the BBPD as group Bet; Velocity to apprehend Othala as group Gimel; a team of myself, Triumph, Brandish, and Flashbang against Kaiser and his group in Medha as group Dalet; while Miss Militia and the rest of the Wards will stay here to guard the PRT headquarters as group He. Selene and Panacea will act as logistical and medical support."

The Selene express treatment again, I thought. It annoyed me a little that I was going to be kept in the backlines once again and it was made worse because I understood why. Just having me be ready for contact at base meant that none of the law enforcement needed to waste time getting to the scene of the crime. Response time would be limited less by the actual travel and more by the exchange of information.

Was this what being Doormaker felt like?

"Any questions?"

Vista raised a hand. "We're not going to be doing anything, sir?"

"No," Armsmaster answered, and I saw the girl suppress a scowl.

I decided to intervene. "Think about it like this: if someone attacks and I can't concentrate on the portals, then exfil, rapid response, and backup won't be able to arrive on time."

"Who would even try to attack within the PRT building?"

I didn't answer. In anywhere else, she might have had a point, but she didn't know that the PRT headquarters had been attacked multiple times in the story like I had. As far as she knew, the building was largely unassailable, or at least very hard to crack—harder than how far most gangs were willing to go.

Taking the silence as a sign that the conversation had ended, Armsmaster asked again, "Anyone else?" No one answered him. "Good. Follow me to the vehicle bay." He looked at me. "This time, you will be sitting with Dispatch."

I took that as a cue to quickly excuse myself into a side room to change into my costume—which didn't take more than a few seconds thanks to my phasing trick and always having a spare stored in Void Space—before making my way to the room where all the communications happened. The Dispatch Center was a large room full of wall monitors and workstations, with each workstation having at least four monitors for one person to look after. The islands of workstations were arranged in rings that all faced the station where the PRT director sat at one end of the room. Mine was placed just in the second ring at the very center, making it very convenient considering my interface mostly consisted of a large map of the city.

A few workers and Piggot herself looked up and nodded at me as I sat down, too busy to give me a full greeting. I took a deep breath and put on my headset. A few seconds of diagnostics later, I was ready to send people into action. It took a few minutes of waiting before I finally heard Armsmaster's voice in the comms.

"As you all know, today, we're dealing with the Empire," he began. "Someone had managed to find their civilian IDs and put them where the public can see. That means they're being flushed out like rats, and this time, we're the exterminators instead of just putting out the fires!"

That got a cheer from the assembly and a few grim smiles from the heroes. Armsmaster spoke into my channel.

"Selene, provide a gate for group Aleph."

I nodded, and with a blink, boosted my range. Scanning quickly, I picked a spot on a rooftop somewhere ahead of the path that the chase took across the skyline indicated by the map on the console.

"Opening transit for group Aleph," I said into the channel and opened the portal.

Dauntless and Glory Girl stepped through and I soon closed the way behind them, not willing to leave an opening for someone to just blast a helix ray into the breach. Dauntless opened by extending his Arc Lance, the spear of light extending in an instant and just barely missing the flying Nazi when she rolled aside at the last second. I pulled back my attention as Armsmaster barked to order the next group in.

"Group Bet and Gimel!"

Two paths were made across space and time. Assault and Battery hopped onto an armored truck and waved at me as the driver floored it toward the portal. Velocity dashed ahead of his PRT escorts but they were quick enough to follow.

"Group Dalet!"

Flashbang responded with a throaty "Hooah!" as he ran toward Armsmaster's side while Brandish went along silently and Triumph trailed along behind them. Their portal deposited them by the blockade surrounding the Medhall building. Armsmaster quickly got to announcing the PRT's presence and brandishing his halberd.

"Group He," Miss Militia said, "scatter and patrol the building! Kid Win will be staying here in the parking on guard duty!"

The Wards headed back toward the elevator, to scatter and patrol throughout and near the headquarters, with Miss Militia in their heels. I held back a chuckle as I glanced behind me. Director Piggot's face stared impassively at the monitors as staff barked announcements and responses into their devices. She saw my look and smirked.

-{0}-

--Sam Walker

Ethan whistled as the portal closed behind them. "Gotta say, having that girl on our side makes this thing incredibly convenient. Want somewhere to go? Bam, and she doesn't even have to be here."

Sam made a noise of agreement. She'd actually asked Veronika for a few trips to the local grocery to catch sales on inopportune hours. Out of costume, of course. It wasn't like she could bring eggs with her while running at speed, though having the local hero visit the grocery in costume might be a neat PR event now that she thought about it. She would have to see if she could get the PR division to negotiate a discount out of that arrangement.

The two of them were clinging on top of the trucks, sitting beside the foam turret being manned by Officer Yukimura. The man nodded vigorously at Ethan's words and patted his turret affectionately. "I have never seen my baby take down so many, and it's all thanks to her."

The two heroes smiled knowingly before turning their attention back to the road. The sound of police sirens was just around the corner now, meaning that they were close. Soon, they were within sight of the barricade. It surrounded a residential compound, a fenced-off place covered in graffiti and wiring due to the number of people living there. Battery's eyes widened in recognition.

"Hey, isn't this where you used to buy your special coffee?" Ethan asked.

"Yeah," she responded. "I did hear that the place was bought out by a rich couple and since then became a shady residential place but I wouldn't have imagined that this was Empire territory now."

Could the couple have been Ymir and Skadi, Bjorn and Helena Hendrikson? Sam didn't really remember the name of the rich couple, but given what she knew now, she was reasonably sure that this was more than just a coincidence.

Ethan grinned and cracked his knuckles. "Which means all we have to do is beat them up and have this place open back up."

Sam sighed fondly. While their relationship could be called rocky at best, occasionally, they would have moments like this where his … Ethan-ness shines through to help with the day.

Their vehicle soon reached a stop. The two hopped off the truck and made their way over to the BBPD captain barking orders into his radio. The man caught sight of them and raised a finger. A minute or two later, he put the radio back on its lot and turned around with a tired smile, holding out a hand toward Battery.

"Assault and Battery. I'm Captain Reynolds, a pleasure meeting you."

Time for work. Battery shook his hand and smiled back. "The pleasure's ours," she said. More seriously, she added, "What's the situation?"

He grimaced. "Ma'am, the residents aren't letting us in. They've barricaded the entrances and refused communication. Me and my boys were thinking of breaking in when we got the call from the PRT."

Battery glanced at Assault, giving him a meaningful look. The man nodded and walked back a few steps. With a running start, he bounded across the the road before jumping much higher than a regular human should toward the side of a building and bounced off it, gaining altitude. Battery turned back to the awed officer, knowing her partner would report back if he saw anything concerning.

"You've seen no one enter and exit?" She asked. Capt. Reynolds nodded. "How about the building plans? They might have an escape route underground."

"That, we haven't looked at," he said, scratching his head.

"Okay," Battery said. She turned around and activated her comms. "Console, requesting the building plans for the compound over at Greyson Avenue."

"On it."

Battery was about to continue speaking with the officer when Assault's voice reached her ears. "Spotted several people moving to the same house. They're coming out one at a time, but always heading to the same area. I'm thinking there's a passage there."

Selene's voice chimed in, flat and distracted. "Can confirm. Passage leads to the sewers. People are going through. Switching channels now."

Battery blinked. For a moment, she felt indignation; she and Assault were taking painstakingly cautious steps to scout out the area in a way that ensured the least collateral, and the girl just took one proverbial look to figure it all out. Then she heard Assault whistle in the comms.

"Oh man," he said. "That's one scary girl we've picked up."

Battery shook her head. "She's recruited by her mother," she said, absently. Then she turned to the captain. "Tell your men we'll be going in and that time is of the essence. We've located an exit point inside the building going through the sewers. I suggest covering for those as well."

His eyes widened. "Will do, ma'am." With that, he turned and headed back to the barricade and started barking out orders. Satisfied, Battery checked with Assault one last time.

"See anyone we should be concerned about, Assault?"

"One guy. Viking armor and big. It's our guy"

"Ymir," Battery translated. Assault chuckled.

"I've been waiting for this rematch."

Battery smiled. She switched her channel to the captain of the PRT squad that came with her and relayed their observations. The officer was quick to make a strategy. They were to create two entry points and provide a distraction for the squad to charge in. Then one of them was to provide disruptive strikes while the troopers advanced, immobilizing any gang forces with containment foam, while the other engages with Ymir. Both were to try blocking the escape route with containment foam grenades as soon as they can.

Battery voiced her approval. A moment later, Assault did, too, but handed his own foam grenades to her, speaking more about what he actually thought of the plan. Minutes later they were in position, standing in front of both the North and South entrances of the compound. At this point, she could hear shouting from the inside; the Empire had noticed their presence and were likely either scrambling to the exit or making for their weapons.

Not like it was in Battery's interest to let them do so.

"Go go go!" She said.

Battery felt the rush of strength flood her veins, her costume lighting up as she used her power. The surrounding voices crept to a glacial pace as she charged, bursting through the metal gates and into a line of armed and surprised gang members. Her first victim only had time to widen his eyes before Battery took his legs from under him, which left him spinning into the air with broken shins. Wasting no time, she shoulder-checked the man beside him before he could shoot, sending him flying into at least two of his companions and bowling them over.

Shots rang off. Battery ran, circling toward the shooter as she went. The man failed to turn toward her before she reached him and grabbed his shirt and arm. She gave him a whirl, slamming his legs into at least three of his other compatriots before finally letting him soar toward a criminal with a bat.

Eight men down. She could feel her current reserves tick down past its halfway mark. She jumped toward the rooftops and hid behind the ledge. Sound sped up once more and her costume went dark as she turned off her power to recharge.

The sound of gunshots going off and men shouting went on. Bodies hit the floor and Assault's voice whooped as he continued taking people down, one at a time. When she was sure that none were actually going her way, Battery peered over the ledge. Things were going well, relatively speaking. The PRT troopers were storming in, tinker-made ballistic shields in front and stopping bullets like an impenetrable wave of justice. Between the gaps, dispensers shot high-speed streams of containment foam hitting with enough force to throw people off their feet. Between the two of them, the gang forces were being dismantled quickly, with most of them now making their way back to the buildings of the compound.

Then Battery was blasted with a cold breeze. Her eyes swept the compound and caught the hulking figure clad in Viking armor and ice just as he slammed into Assault, sending her partner through a window on the ground floor.

Ymir's power was to take kinetic energy from his surroundings, drastically lowering the temperature, and turning it into a frozen shell that also granted him enhanced strength and a form of mobility that becomes more powerful the hotter the area. He had only been caught by Armsmaster once during a particularly lucky ambush involving a closed room and cold-resistant armor—it led them to the discovery that the man's power runs out of energy if there was no longer any heat to drain.

It made him a good counter to Assault, who would find his control and power more lacking in lower temperatures. He couldn't engage within closed surroundings, and putting Ymir out in the open also provided him fuel for his power. Of course, that didn't stop him from trying to prove that notion wrong as the man launched himself from where he'd been thrown at the villain, sending the two of them crashing into another building.

Battery spoke into her comms. "Assault has engaged with the hostile parahuman. Moving to seal the enemy exit route."

She took a moment to plan out her route. The gangsters seemed to be retreating toward two buildings in particular: the one with a large garage and one that had a shop on the ground floor. Due to its size, the former had more Empire members a breath, she leaped off the edge and felt the world slow down around her once more, hitting the ground with a running start and bowling over at least five criminals on the way.

She found the exit route easily enough—it was a corridor within the garage likely meant to lead down into a cellar, its doors wide open as men shoved past each other to get in.

"Hey boys!" Battery said, hands unhooking the foam grenade. More than a few saw the object in her hands. None were fast enough to react when she threw the object over their heads and past the cellar entrance. There was a loud puffing sound, followed by incessant shouting as people found themselves stuck or unable to move forward.

Satisfied with her work, Battery moved on to the other escape route, crashing through the shop door. She then immediately had to move into a slide as four gunmen were aiming weapons at the door. A combination of automatic fire and shotgun blasts sailed over her head as she barreled into a pair of feet, her hand darting out to catch another, and managed to drop two gang members on their faces. She went on to quickly subdue the other two in quick succession, then turned toward the gangsters still trying to enter.

Most of them were young. If she had to guess, these had been recruited from high school dropouts or delinquents. None of them were armed—it made her suspect that they had been in the middle of a recruitment event when all of this started happening.

Battery could only spare them a moment's glance before she turned and headed into the building. Finding the exit inside was easy enough considering she only had to follow the noises. Soon, she was in the backroom of the shop, right in front of a Fire Exit that went down instead of outside, and dropped the right grenade in place. The moment it did, there was a pop as the canister exploded, filling the stairs with an impenetrable barrier of adhesive foam.

With her task finished, Battery took her time making her way back, mostly to let her power recharge. The gang members she'd met stepped out of her way when she passed by, too afraid of retaliation by cape. She reached the outside just in time to see her partner tackle the enemy Brute into some kind of wrestling match. Fortunately, Assault had somehow managed to make it so that Ymir was facing away from her. The hero grinned and mouthed one of their practice codes:

Matador.

Battery felt herself grin as she cracked her fingers, power surging through her body once more. When she moved, she cracked the concrete, reaching the Empire cape in an instant and planting a fist squarely into his side. The giant of a man was flung away, crashing into the side of the building with enough force to cave the concrete wall and have it collapse on top of him, sending a cloud into the air.

For a moment, there was silence, one that was interrupted by the occasional chatter coming from the comms. The two heroes moved to stand side by side as they waited for the dust to settle. Their vigilance was warranted quickly enough as the Empire cape's hulking shadow appeared. With a blast of cold wind, the haze was dispersed to reveal a Ymir now entirely covered in his power rather than just the partial growths at the start, though there were also cracks running across his chest originating from his side. The ice covering his face moved like it was real skin albeit with sharp angles and hidden mostly by a large crystalline beard as he regarded the two of them stoically. When he spoke, his words echoed, as they were uttered in a cave.

"How irritating."

Assault chuckled. "Oh come on, Frosty. We've prepared a whole party for you guys. Be a good sport and enjoy the fun."

Battery rolled her eyes. "Ymir, you and your cohorts of the Empire are under arrest. Your exits have been cut off and your other members are being detained at this very moment. Surrender."

The man gave them a disdainful look. Instead of answering, a shaft of ice slowly began to grow from his hand. Quickly enough, it spread outward into two flat sheets, forming a blade—an axe. There was shouting from the outside, but Battery trusted that the troopers out there could handle that.

"Last chance," Battery warned.

Ymir said nothing. He tilted his head for a bit—it was difficult to get a bead on what he was looking at when the eyes of the face facsimile were entirely smooth—before standing straight and putting his weapon on his shoulder.

"I have a better proposition," he said. "Leave now and you don't die."

"You need to get your eyes checked, buddy," Assault said.

The man's beard twitched upward, giving the impression that he was smiling. Alarm bells rang in Battery's mind as she activated her power in time to see one of the walls on the compound perimeter explode as a large bright object zoomed in toward them. She pushed Assault away and let herself fall in the opposite direction just in time to receive a blast of hot air as something that looked like a man made out of fire rushed past the space they'd been in and skidded to a halt, leaving a trail of molten floor.

"Slippery!" the flaming man said, his voice distorting. Battery's mind raced as she assessed the new threat. It didn't seem like he was covered in flame as much as he seemed to be made out of it, making him a Breaker, and his earlier speed made him a Mover. Using her power made her incredibly strong, but she wasn't sure she was able to punch something like a star in the shape of a man, much less Dauntless. It put them at a severe disadvantage, especially if the new cape was any good at interference.

"Wickerman," Ymir chastised without looking, eyes locked onto Battery. His armor was growing by the second, feeding off of the newcomer's heat. "Take the red man."

"And let you take on sexy, here?" Wickerman said. Nonetheless, he turned to Assault, who, in Battery's opinion, was looking more than a little apoplectic. "Skadi will hear about this."

Sexist racist pigs, Battery grumbled internally as she pushed herself to her feet and raised her fists. She hoped that the others were having an easier time.

Tribulation 4.4

-{0}-

--Robin

Robin breathed a sigh as the girl who would be Othala walked through the principal's office. The girl failed to see him where he was seated at the side where the door would swing. She looked remarkably like her cousin, only she was taller and her face was rounder, with green eyes instead of blue. She was gripping the hem of her uniform's skirt as she covered the rest of the distance to stand in front of the principal of Immaculata. Father Mosely was an intimidating man with his size and generous beard, but Robin knew from the last five minutes that he was a soft-spoken steward who cared deeply about his charges.

"Is there a problem, sir?" the girl, Cassie Herren, asked.

"We might," the other man replied. "But I pray that it won't come to that."

"Sir?"

"I think it's time I take over?"

Cassie whirled around, jumping as her eyes landed on Robin. The poor girl's face turned ashen and she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Robin smiled ruefully and waited for her to calm down. It was a cruel thing to visit a cape in their civilian identity, much less one who was as unable to defend herself as Othala, so he waited for the girl to calm down before he got in another word.

"Hello Cassie," he said. "Sorry to say, this isn't a social visit."

"U-um, what are you talking about, um, Velocity … sir?"

Robin sighed. "Right, the Faraday cage."

Much like Arcadia, Immaculata also had a Faraday cage to prevent their students from using their phones or otherwise providing themselves with "needless distractions" during classes, even going so far as to regulate the browsers in their computer labs. Personally, he felt that it wouldn't stop anyone persistent enough if the Wards were any indication, though it wasn't like the cultures between the two schools were the same.

There was always Winslow to compare to, but the less that was said about that school, the better.

Better break it down to this kid sooner rather than later.

He took a breath. "Someone's managed to link all the Empire identities with their civilian ones. The worst part is that they posted it everywhere, to the point that you'd be hard-pressed to find any place where it wasn't sent."

The girl went still, eyes opening wide. Her mouth flapped, struggling to form words until she stopped herself and swallowed.

"The Unwritten Rules…" she whimpered. Robin shook his head.

"Sorry, kid, but this one's not on us and out of our control. At this point, we're just putting out the fires."

Cassie's eyes went to her feet and she started taking breaths in a delayed yet even manner—a breathing exercise. Robin let her recover her wits as he listened to the chatter of the comms. Eventually, he decided that her time was up and stood.

"So, here's what we'll do," he said. "Since your record isn't as bad as the other Empire capes, I'll be taking you to the PRT building and into a house arrest quarter provided you go peacefully. They're not like the cells rated for Brutes that are completely airtight and have an actual bathroom instead of just a hole in the ground. All in all, it's basically a good deal. Does that sound alright?"

The girl's shoulders slumped and she nodded minutely. "Alright."

He gave her a smile. "Thanks. We'll make it worth your time."

Robin thanked the principal and escorted the girl out of the building. Heads turned and peeked out of the windows to watch the government superhero lead Cassie toward the two trucks parked just outside the front gate. The girl and the PRT officers waiting then loaded themselves into the vehicle and headed off.

Robin sat across from the girl. He wasn't sure what to think of Othala. On one hand, she was most definitely guilty of aiding and abetting the Empire's activities, even if it was mostly to help patch people up. On the other, she didn't seem to be the type at all. She looked like a girl who was forced into this life, and judging by the way she stared absently at her hands with a resigned expression, she hadn't particularly grown to like it.

The truck slowed down, stopping at a traffic light. The street was fairly open, that being in the middle of working hours already. Which made seeing the ten-wheeler barreling toward the convoy all the more easier to spot.

Robin gave their captive a smile, startling her out of whatever daze she'd been in. Then he slipped out of the rear hatch and felt the world slow to a crawl.

Velocity headed out with a sedate pace, one that still would have looked like a blur for an outsider. He took the time to head over to the truck in question and found that the driver was a man in a red shirt under a ballistic vest. He had no mask over his eyes, but it was easy enough to recognize Victor.

He must have come for his partner, then.

Velocity unhooked two foam grenades from his belt, small ones that weren't thicker than one and a half inches away from his skin's surface. Grinning, he dropped the devices at a point in front of the truck where they would explode first before the aggressive vehicle would pass. Then he stood at the side of the road and commanded his power to let him see the world in normal time once again.

The foam grenades exploded, forming two massive clouds of pink terror. The truck less slammed and more sank into the sudden obstacle, coming to a stop just as it would kiss where the PRT vehicles had been a second prior.

Shouting could be heard from inside the vehicle. The backdoor opened, revealing a dozen men with a mixture of rifles and pistols. Velocity quickly went into action, speeding toward the Empire goons. He tripped legs, swiped guns off people's hands, and bumped into his enemies between moments of normal time and fast time. He harried and pushed the goons into disarray and made enough time for the troopers he had with him to make their way over and bury the criminals with foam.

Finally, the man of the hour stepped down, coming from the same place as his goons since the entire front of the truck was blocked off. Before Victor could even level a glare at one of his men, Velocity stepped behind him and pressed a small taser against his neck. The Empire cape convulsed then fell on his knees like a puppet with his strings cut, but still stubbornly held on with a scowl.

Then at least four PRT troopers foamed his ass, putting an end to that.

Velocity took a moment to double-check the truck and the rest of the street. There were maybe only a dozen people around to gawk at the scene thanks to the efforts of the traffic officers redirecting the civilians away from these particular streets at the last minute. He ignored them and sat down on the truck's open backdoor.

"This is group Gimel," he said, and he couldn't help but grin. "Our plan worked out and we got Victor."

After a brief exchange for authentication, a portal opened a few feet away from them, revealing the driveway just outside the PRT building, providing a clear view of the sally port, and Velocity found himself whistling. Even having experienced it already during the first raid, he still couldn't get used to how damn convenient the Ward's abilities were. Sure, it probably sucked to be stuck on a console like that, but he wasn't about to ask her to give that job up.

Another message came up in his comms. He blinked, then frowned.

"Wait, what happened to Armsmaster?"

-{0}-

--Colin

Armsmaster, Triumph, Brandish, and Flashbang marched through the employee lobby as PRT and police officers barked orders and arrested staff and researchers around them. Shouts and cries of indignation were thrown out as some resisted arrest, while in some cases, one could hear the pressurized hiss of foam dispensers activating, accompanied by barks of gunfire more often than not. From the other side of the building, their forces were moving into the main lobby and directing the panicked mix of civilians and workers to calm down. Armsmaster made sure to track these developments, the latter especially, but he was not going to slow his pace in the lead of the group unless they were actively called for.

They finally reached the elevators. A quick press of its buttons informed him that the transportation system had been locked down, but he was prepared for this situation. He took out a small metal card from his third belt compartment and placed it against the elevator's interface, the card magnetically sticking to the device and lighting up with the symbol of an archetypal Western dragon. While he could no doubt hack the system with his suit's capabilities, it was much better to leave it to Dragon's devices as the other tinker was much better at software than any other Protectorate tinker he knew, save perhaps Simulacra who was based in Las Vegas.

A moment later, the card flashed with a green light. The elevator doors opened. They stepped inside, and soon, they were well on their way to the top floor.

"This music," Flashbang began. "Should have known they were Nazis."

Triumph snickered. Armsmaster raised a brow and finally paid attention. The elevator was curiously playing what appeared to be a metal album. While he wasn't fluent, he recognized many of the words in the lyrics to be in German. He debated on turning on his translator or launching the audio recognition program but ultimately dismissed the thought as a trivial distraction just as Brandish elbowed her husband with an irritated expression. She turned toward the Protectorate hero and changed the subject.

"Any updates on who we can expect?"

"Only that Ymir has been confirmed at the place we thought he would be. Krieg was last seen to be in his branch office some time ago, and Stormtiger is in none of the warehouses that his papers said he managed."

"That leaves Kaiser, the twins, Victor and Thrud—who are both minors—and Skadi, correct?" Triumph asked.

"And two unknown parahumans," Armsmaster finished.

"Right."

The elevator fell into silence. The music continued to blare with the artist's throat-destroying screams punctuated by the rapid beat of the drums and the desperate riffs on an electric guitar. Armsmaster finally decided to access the application for Dragon's hacking program and with a few short inputs, changed the song to In the Hall of the Mountain King by Edvard Grieg.

"Aww," Triumph said. He opened his mouth but didn't have the time to ask to switch it back as the elevator reached its destination with a soft ding.

The group stepped into the hallway, their gazes sweeping left and right in search of threats. The top-floor lobby was a hallway with only a single other elevator on the opposite side of the room. Seeing nothing of note, the four of them proceeded into the main hallway, Brandish and Flashbang forming their plasma-based weaponry while Armsmaster configured his halberd to extend slightly. They found that there were only seven rooms on the floor; the group proceeded into each one carefully yet quickly, taking enough time to upend furniture, look behind suspiciously large paintings, and examine other common hiding places. None of them saw any hide or hair of the staff on the floor. They reconvened in front of the last room—the CEO's office, blocked off by an ornate oaken door at the end of the hallway.

Said door flew off its hinges from Armsmaster's hydraulic-empowered kick. They filed into the room and quickly formed a circle around the lone figure: a sharply dressed man who was the picture of the Empire's ideals with his golden hair and blue eyes.

"Max Anders," Armsmaster said, his halberd pointed at the other man. "You are under arrest for suspicion of conspiring with the criminal group, Empire Eighty-Eight. Surrender peacefully and this won't have to get ugly."

The CEO of Medhall turned slowly to sweep his gaze across the room, eyes never seeming to settle on any one hero. The man spent a brief moment grandstanding, which was all that Armsmaster's companions needed to confirm his identity.

"Kaiser," Brandish hissed, agreeing with Armsmaster's thoughts. The gang leader said nothing as he slowly turned back to the front to look at Armsmaster.

"So you've come, heroes," he began. "I had supposed you would be better than to use your opponents' civilian lives against them and that we would go about this business like civilized men. I supposed I was wrong."

"Blaming your enemies now?" Flashbang spat. "You've made enough enemies that I'm surprised this hasn't happened sooner."

Without missing a beat, the man continued. "Maybe I should have expected better, considering we have the Brockton Bay Brigade as an example of how willing the self-professed heroes are to break our little gentlemen's agreement when they invaded the Marquis's home. Though you did get your own little visit later on. Turnabout is fair play, after all."

"You bitch!" Brandish cried, voice cracking. For a moment, Armsmaster was afraid that the woman would lunge and cleave the man in half, but surprisingly, she was able to hold herself back. Flashbang, meanwhile, seemed equally incensed, but his was a cold sort of anger—one that Armsmaster might need to watch out for later, judging by how the other cape's shoulders trembled.

Armsmaster raised his halberd and walked forward until the business end of the heavy metal device now only an arm's length away from the other man. Kaiser did not move to intercept him. Was he surrendering or was there something else at play?

"Last chance," he said.

Kaiser grinned. "Unfortunately, you're already too late."

He raised his arms and Armsmaster darted back to dodge the blades he would undoubtedly create from the floor. Yet … none of that came. No indents poking out of the walls, no gleaming spikes reaching in to skewer him. Flashbang threw his concussive grenade, hitting the villain directly, yet the only thing it did was cause the man's form to flicker for a second. Kaiser stood there and simply laughed.

"A fucking hologram?" Triumph exclaimed.

Armsmaster scowled. He should have expected the illusions. It wasn't as if the Empire were going to stop using Loki's technology just because the cape was gone. His mind rushed back to the illusionary man's words and connected the pieces—a trap. One he should have seen. His eyes darted across the room and found nothing, so he turned on the suit's sensor suite, one that was mainly only used during Search and Rescue as it puts too much strain on the processor while the Combat Algorithm Mk1 was active.

"Armsmaster?" Triumph asked, the illusion of Kaiser continuing to laugh in the background. "What's going on?"

The Protectorate leader glanced at the others. Brandish was holding her wrist, opening and closing her hand. Flashbang held a frustrated expression, eyes seemingly looking somewhere far away.

The suit finally returned a result, one based on his biometrics instead of the environment sensors.

Neurotoxin detected. Identifying…

Compound does not match existing Neurotoxins logged in WHO, PRT, and CIA databases.

Compound contains Exotic Elements.

Classification: Tinker Creation.

Armsmaster cursed and made the eye movements to activate his commlink, then cursed again when the helmet notified him of erroneous input. After two more tries, he turned to the fresh Ward graduate.

"Call for retreat." The words were slow to form. "Medical. Neurotoxin."

The younger man's face paled as their meaning dawned upon him. He nodded and quickly put a hand to his communicator, saying words that Armsmaster no longer paid attention to. Instead, he stabbed the butt of the halberd into the floor as his body suddenly started feeling like lead.

Note to self, he thought, make stimulants part of the default arsenal. One of his older specialized suits had a whole suite of them in addition to antidotes based on Sphere's technology. He'd only used it a few times since it was bulkier than his normal gear.

Time passed and he wasn't sure by how much. The last thing he saw before darkness overtook his vision was a familiar golden light.

-{0}-

--Shawn

Shawn grunted as a helix-shaped beam of light crashed into his shield, the projected field flaring and crackling until the attack ended. At the same time, his barrier popped out of existence. That meant he would have to be careful until the shield recovered; there were only so few charges in his armor and he was pretty sure it wasn't at a point that he could survive a fall from this height, much less a hit from the Empire's strongest cape.

He glanced behind him and waved at the dumbstruck office workers staring out of their windows. "Evacuate the building!" he said, his voice thundering across the skyline thanks to a voice projector installed in his helmet. "I repeat, evacuate the building! A dangerous parahuman criminal is out for blood and Purity is not known for her mercy!"

That shook maybe three or four people out of their daze and they began to herd their coworkers toward the elevators and stairs. Satisfied, Dauntless turned and made his way back toward the fight.

If the reports that he had gotten were accurate, Purity had come out of her day job as a real estate manager in a massive show of destruction and lethal hostility, killing two troopers who had come up to the Empire cape's office with a warrant as well as the driver and three backup officers waiting by the truck. From there, she went on flying across downtown, blasting various law enforcement and PRT deployments she would happen to come across or follow after her in a straight shot toward the Anders estate, only to be met by the fliers of New Wave.

Shawn, unfortunately, understood why the woman had come out far more viciously than nearly all of her other appearances on record. One of the analysts found out that someone had ordered the woman's months-old child to be seized from their home on the grounds of protective custody. Some miraculous timing happened and the troopers were able to break into the mansion and retrieve the child a few moments before Selene had arrived to deliver them back to base.

This left them in a situation where the aggravated mother had had enough and was simply just lashing out against the world. She knew there was a very real chance she would never see her daughter again.

He caught up with the skirmish just in time to see Lady Photon and Laserdream dodge a vicious helix beam and fire back with their own lasers. Purity dodged in his direction. He took that as a chance to 'fire' his Arc Lance toward the woman, but between the distance and the fact that both of them were moving erratically, he missed.

Purity fired back and Shawn was forced to dodge. His armor wasn't as empowered as his shield or his helmet, which meant they couldn't take a big hit. Luckily, the beam hit a parking building instead of an office or residential one, plowing through support beams and floors and sending the whole thing crumbling. His thoughts changed quickly as he heard screams of terror between the sounds of shattering concrete. His stomach twisted into knots as he realized that it was too late to do anything for these people and watched helplessly as half the building fell and the last of the debris stopped crumbling. All that was left was silence.

He looked back just in time to see Purity fire another beam of death. New Wave's youngest, Shielder, went off in its direction but was ultimately too slow to stop it with his barriers. Yet another building started to crumble. Though he was too far away, he could hear the cries of more victims as they fell and got crushed. He was dimly aware of Glory Girl going into that rubble while Laserdream and Lady Photon continued to harry the flying white supremacist who was faster and stronger than them.

Shawn's hands tightened around his Arc Lance. He might have understood why Purity acted this way, but one thing remained clear to him:

That didn't make her any less of a monster.

He took off, shooting high at the limits of his empowered boots' pace with his weapon over his shoulder for a great swing. His flight didn't go unnoticed and their opponent sent a helix-shaped beam his way. There was a brilliant shower of sparks as Dauntless's shield came to life. He'd put his charge for today into the piece of equipment. The blast ended, his shield remaining intact, now stronger than before.

Dauntless held the Arc Lance in a two-handed grip and swung. This time, he struck true; the lance slammed into the bright figure's midsection, sending her careening toward a construction site. He followed after her and stopped, hovering just above the scaffolding, weapon ready to extend the moment she appeared.

A flash of light was all the warning he got before another helical blast struck. Once again, the barrier created by his shield shattered. Purity didn't stop there. More and more beams shot from the quickly crumbling construction site, smaller than the ones before but firing almost blindly. Dauntless could only grit his teeth as he dodged, the sickening feeling growing with every passing second as the woman's power continued to tear more of the neighborhood apart.

In the corner of his eye, he saw one of the beams strike Lady Photon out of the sky. He heard a faint shout from Laserdream as the girl flew to catch her mother.

The supervillain's escape had no preamble. One moment, random blasts were still bursting out of the rubble. The next, a bright object was suddenly zooming past him and the fliers of New Wave. Dauntless gave chase. Purity took to zooming between buildings, taking hard turns that his form of flight wasn't good for. He quickly found himself lagging behind, turning corners only just to see the woman disappear into another one.

Finally, he rounded into an intersection but could no longer see the woman's glow. He hovered there for a moment, a hollow feeling spreading from his chest. He couldn't believe it. All that loss of life, all that wanton destruction, and the woman just … disappears.

He remembered all the meetings, all the interviews, and newspaper opinions back when it all began. Dauntless was set to one day be on the level of the Triumvirate, that his powers would grow and take him to be capable of contending with the worst villains in the United States. Yet for all that potential he supposedly possessed, he didn't have the power to protect his home city.

He looked at the neighborhood. Unlike where he'd just been South of downtown, this block hadn't been hit with any of the chaos involving the Empire. He recognized it, too. Just a few streets North from here was where he and Jennifer and Addison shared an apartment. Where they shared a home.

He swallowed. No, he couldn't allow Purity the freedom to continue her reign of terror. But he didn't have the means to find, her, much less chase her.

He paused. If he didn't have the means, he just had to contact someone who did. Dauntless activated the comms device on his helmet and switched to the right channel.

-{0}-

--Kayden

Kayden kept below the skyline. It meant that she had to follow the streets and dodge the architecture, but it was better than being in the sky where the mobile artillery meant for combatting flying Pale Ones could be used against her. Her flight took her almost opposite where she wanted to go. The so-called heroes had kept her away for too long—now, she was almost sure that the PRT had managed to take her daughter away from her home, and with that portal-making troublemaker, she was sure that Aster had already been taken somewhere she couldn't know.

So she headed for a different target. If she couldn't find where they took her daughter, then all she had to do was crush their headquarters and find someone who did know.

Below her, people scrambled out of the streets as she turned at an intersection. At the end of the street lay the PRT Headquarters, a stain in the neighborhood given how its glass walls were also entirely barred with steel.

The Empire had tolerated these traitors' presence for too long. She gathered the energy into her hands and prepared to tear it down. There would be no quarter for the PRT, for in the day, she was invincible.

Just as she was about to release her power, something dark and lined with gold suddenly appeared in front of her, too fast for her to pull back. Suddenly, she found herself plunged into a body of water. Her heart raced and for a few panicked breaths, she couldn't find which way led up. Luckily, her power also traced the direction of whatever light source it was feeding from and the little that managed to reach her in these depths finally gave her a direction to go toward.

Flying was harder underwater. Her powered state may have given her an unparalleled ability to make quick turns in the air, but in the water, it made her light enough that pushing through was difficult. Eventually, though, she managed to reach the surface—

Only to be struck by a crackling mass of lightning that made her feel numb for a moment, a moment enough that she lost control and fell back into the depths. Her powered state protected her from the brunt of it, but that didn't mean she was unscathed.

The world spun. Dark patches danced across her vision. Between breaths that only served to further fuel her panicked state and the struggle to get her body to move right, it took Kayden forever to shoot back up into the air. This time, she let loose her power, shooting blindly. Whatever, or rather whoever had struck her had to move away lest they be hit. Kayden took whatever chances she could get and continued heading up into the sky.

The next portal had no warning and she suddenly found herself back just above the bay's waters. She turned just in time to catch a glimpse of the Protectorate hero she had just ditched before she was struck once again, plunging her into the water.

Now drenched, tired, and thoroughly incensed, Kayden drew on her power and burst, sending seawater and light flying in all directions and burning through most of her reserves. Then she once again shot into the heavens, firing a blast in the direction where it went. Predictably, the portal appeared.

What she didn't predict was for the exit portal to appear right beside her.

Struck by her own power, Kayden was sent careening into an uncontrollable spin. The blast had taken the wind out of her, and it was hard to find the breath when the wind whipped away too fast to be inhaled and the world spun between up and down and left and right that she couldn't tell what direction was where anymore. Still, she couldn't falter. Once again, she drew on her power—only a sliver now, but the sun would fill her up quickly enough—and managed to right herself.

At this point, she realized that she was back in the city, floating above the destruction that she had just left behind. Kayden looked down. More than a dozen of those portals lay open below her. In front of them all was Dauntless, the man who had been harrying her for the past few minutes and the largest obstacle between her and Aster.

No words were exchanged. She saw Dauntless begin to swing his weapon and she sent a blast toward him. To her horror, a portal appeared. She didn't need to know where the exit went because it struck her from behind, sending the wind out of her lungs. It was then followed by an electrifying strike to her chest—the force and shock hitting hard enough that she knew, instinctively, that she'd been broken out of her empowered state. Darkness danced across Kayden's vision as she fell.

A darkness that suddenly became all-encompassing as she found herself unable to move.

The pile of containment foam that immobilized Kayden Anders—the monster who called herself Purity—landed on the ground with a wet slap. Dauntless floated above the mass, his hand gripping his Arc Lance tightly. His shoulders shook as he took deep breaths. He knew it was over.

Yet nothing was right. He'd finally struck down the villain that had been tearing entire streets apart, but he didn't feel satisfied. Maybe he would never be, not when he knew that there would always be more monsters like this woman out there. Monsters that could make their way to his home.

He looked to the sky, searching for an answer. To find some reassurance that it wasn't going to come to that, that the chaos plaguing his home could be excised, and that it would one day grow back to the heights it had in its heyday.

The clouds, the sun, and the vast expanse of the heavens remained silent, giving him no answer.

But his communicator did.

"Dauntless," Selene said. "Velocity brought in Othala and Victor. Armsmaster and team Dalet are out of commission right now, suffering from a neurotoxin trap laid in the CEO's office at Medhall."

Shawn hummed. "What do you need me to do?"

"Um, nothing, that one's handled already. They're with Panacea right now," she said.

He sighed and had to take a moment to remember that despite her recent performance, the girl was actually still pretty new to this. He had to agree with Armsmaster that it might be too soon for her to take the field, what with what happened with her friend just recently.

Informing him of the updates from the other teams was someone else's job, though he did appreciate the heads-up.

"And that means?" he prompted.

"Assault and Battery need backup. Are you available?"

Shawn took a moment to think about that. Was he available? Was he ready to fight more?

He knew his answer. Almost in response, the arc lance in his hand crackled ominously, growing and bending into a jagged form as his power, on this rare occasion, gave him a new charge for the second time in the day. He looked at his weapon and instinctively knew that it would strike with the power of an angry god.

"Yeah," he said, almost grunting the word out. "Send me in."

Interlude 4.A

-{0}-

--Max

The Empire has never fallen so low, Max thought.

Take, for example, his current transport. Normally, an individual of his stature would have a generously hired chauffeur take him to where he needed to go on his personal limousine. He would have refreshments and appetizers as the vehicle takes its course and perhaps enjoy a bottle or two with a guest of his choosing. Now, he found himself sitting in the passenger seat of a nondescript SUV with James as the driver and the lieutenant's old friend, Himmel, for company. He'd been forced out of his favorite suit and made to wrinkle and roll up his dress shirt to look more like the common office worker instead of the CEO of Medhall.

With how he and the faces of his board were plastered all over the TV shops as the vehicle passed by, he doubted that he would be having that position for long. Certainly, not if he did nothing about it.

The PRT and the police didn't waste time swarming Medhall and subsidiaries for investigation. The subordinates he'd left there might not have even had any time left to scrub their systems before his enemies arrived, all thanks to an increasingly annoying thorn at his side.

Max had known since the very beginning that leaving the portal girl alone was not a situation he could let stand. His mistake was to leave the decision to his subordinates. He should have taken into account George's unhinged side despite it never truly having any repercussions before—should not have assumed that he had been able to temper his tendencies and theatrics to do the job in a timely and efficient manner. Now, he was gone, sent away with the rest of the building that the girl had banished in a feat that proved her one of the most dangerous teleporters on the East Coast.

And with the man, gone was a good portion of the operations that the Empire used to handle flawlessly. While Loki's contraptions wouldn't be breaking down anytime soon, they could only service them for about two more years before the internals would give out, and that's if none of his men mishandled the Mirage Devices.

It's basic Investment 101, Max berated himself. Don't put all your eggs in one basket.

Even his father knew of that principle. He imagined that barbarian of a man laughing at him from the grave.

The loss had forced him to create new operational paradigms, seeing as they could no longer rely on keeping their operations as hidden as before. Such had been his focus before they left for Boston, a decision, though it galled him to have to rely purely on the loyalty of his lowest members, he now considered a fortuitous move considering the raids that the portal girl had facilitated with the Protectorate. The assets that were claimed were but remnants of the decentralization—holdouts that would serve as fronts for the PRT to sniff out since much of their actual resources were now hidden between lieutenants.

Mostly, at least. The trafficking operations could only be so decentralized given the actual merchandise. He supposed he would just have to cut his losses on that front. It was all too easy to find when their main opponent could sweep the city with phenomenal clairvoyant sight.

And then they lost Rune. Krieg had expressed his misgivings about the girl before, which made it fortunate that Kaiser had kept the girl in provisional treatment. Anything she knew about the Empire's operations was only on a need-to-know basis.

Which is why he knew that the girl couldn't have been responsible for the leak. Forget the scope, the girl was failing computer class. She couldn't pull off what their mysterious hacker did even if she tried.

Max glanced at the rear-view mirror, taking in one of their newest recruits. He had never seen Himmel outside of his Cyanide costume and the bulky white trench coat and gas mask served to hide his body language a little too well for Max's liking. James had apparently been contacted by the other man through a stroke of luck—Himmel had been in Boston looking for more of his people after he finally had enough of his exile from the European group and found James at an event.

That was before they had found the idiot calling himself Wickerman and the newly-christened Johann, who fancied himself the name Siegrune. Kaiser begrudgingly had to admit that he appreciated the entrance of someone experienced to his little group.

The view of the streets outside changed from commercial buildings to factories and manufacturing inventory centers. James pulled to a stop and the three stepped out of the vehicle. Max found himself wrinkling his nose at the property.

Their current accommodation was one of the more recently purchased warehouses in the Southern docks, bought through a shell company in one of the expansions James had enacted upon their return from Boston. This being Brockton Bay meant that the entire facility was still in a state of disrepair: lights flickered or did not switch on at all where the wirings were faulty, patches of light filtered through the holes on the roof, and a fair portion of the walls were rusted over from neglect. At the very least, the floor had been cleaned out—never let it be said that their inspectors didn't do good work.

Still, that didn't mean that what they were left with was in any way sufficient. They did not have furniture. No chairs to sit on, no table to facilitate the meeting, no air conditioning or fans to regulate the temperature, and no internet to connect to so that they might have a better look at their situation. It didn't help that he had to assume that their previous communication infrastructure was compromised judging from the sheer scope of the leak, so beyond a few last-minute calls and orders, he couldn't really check on the situation until their appointment in three days.

It was very much below Max's station to have to create an environment for his subordinates to facilitate a meeting since that was their job, but needs must. With his power, a conference table made of steel grew out of the ground along with enough seats to accommodate the entire Empire had they been complete. James and Himmel had gone off to see to the lighting problem and to set up a rudimentary but secure internet connection. All that was left for Max to do was to wait.

Which was yet another thing about this entire situation he didn't appreciate. Usually, his subordinates would have to wait for him.

It took perhaps a third of an hour before the first of his remaining capes could arrive. Unfortunately, it was Thrud. The girl had proved herself to be both a boon and a headache—powerful but also too enthusiastic to the point where it had only taken two battles for the PRT to be made aware of her capabilities as almost a living incarnation of the mythical Thor.

Dressed in a slightly singed leather jacket and jeans, the girl headed over to the table and frowned. "Hey boss," she said, just as Kaiser had nearly forgotten her disrespect, "the chairs are stuck to the table. How the fuck are we supposed to sit down?"

Kaiser did not growl. No, he was wordless in reeling the seats back just enough that she could not complain. Satisfied, the girl plopped herself down, pulled out her phone, and started up a game with the volume up. Kaiser decided to ignore the transgression as the ensuing trouble would not have been worth it.

The next to arrive were Fenja and Menja, clad in the civilian garbs of jeans and skirts and brightly-colored blouses. The twins take their seats at the spot just after where Purity should have been. Then came Stormtiger, Skadi, and Siegrune. Unlike the others, the last member walked into the site in costume—a crimson coat over black clothing, his face hidden by a giant pair of aviator goggles and a helmet.

He paused as he entered the warehouse, turning to every member. "Why is everyone out of costume?"

"It's cause some of us didn't have our addresses leaked," Thrud said. The boy, who couldn't be any older than seventeen, flinched, then made to take his own seat.

Kaiser let himself a few minutes to wait to see if any more of their members arrive, minutes that ended when Krieg and Cyanide returned and the former went close to whisper in his ear. The leader of the Empire Eighty-Eight scowled.

"Thank you," he said. Once everyone was seated, he began wrapping himself in his armor once more. Only once he was covered head to toe in steel did he interlock his fingers together over the table and grow the uneven metal crown on top of his helmet.

Necessary theatrics. A reminder that he would never be without his weapons.

"It is with deep sorrow for me to say that we gather now in the Empire's time of need," Kaiser began. "Our enemies have committed a most dishonorable sin in taking away our lives outside of the conflict, and with the aid of the Protectorate's little pet, we find our assets taken, our forces culled, and nearly all safehouses fraught with a chance of a portal getting dropped on top of our heads."

He looked upon the eyes of his audience. Most, if he had to describe, appeared agitated. Skadi was fingering the knife strapped to her chest. Stormtiger seemed to have developed an itch on his neck. The rest were doing their own form of fidgeting apart from Fenja and Menja, who were nodding along.

It made Kaiser frown under his helmet, especially since the next part was necessary to get out.

"Like sharks, the PRT smelled the blood in the water when our mysterious enemy dared to peel off our skin. I regret to inform you all that they have taken some of our best. Victor, our most promising agent; Othala, our healer; Ymir, one of our best warriors; Wickerman, the new blood with fire in his veins; and my beloved wife and children."

A grave silence reigned and Kaiser allowed it to linger, though not out of theatricality this time. No, this time was because he was forced into a spot between a rock and a hard place: he knew from the moment that he had boarded the SUV that the ensuing discussion would be critical in determining whether the Empire lives or dies in the next few days. The best direction they could take was to choose to lay low and spend the next month or so under the radar with a new operational paradigm—they couldn't afford to commit to retaliation, especially not with the portal girl at play. Subtlety would be the name of the game.

Except…

He looked at the faces of his subordinates once more. He didn't like what he saw.

"As it is," Kaiser continued, "we stand at a crossroads. On one hand, we can take the safe route—to retreat and lick our wounds, change our entire paradigm, and fight back in ways that they wouldn't expect."

As predicted, such a suggestion elicited no reaction. Kaiser could not force the issue, not with the situation so unstable and the lightning manipulator in the same room.

"Or," he paused for effect, "we make a statement. We fight back and clearly stake our claim on this city, first by recollecting our comrades from incarceration and then by crippling our opponents."

"Hear hear!" said Stormtiger, who was soon joined by their youngest and their greenhorn. Skadi may not have joined the cheer but her nod was confirmation of her approval enough. Fenja and Menja made their own hurrahs, though much less subdued and with fretful glances toward their leader. Kaiser could only mentally shake his head; the twins always were taken by the flow of the crowd.

Kaiser turned to his last two bastions. Krieg had a face that said exactly what he thought about this little idea. Kaiser then looked toward the man's old friend—

And was promptly flabbergasted to see the gas tinker nodding his head.

"Yes yes." Cyanide's voice was old and had hints of a drawl that speaking through his mask made off-putting. "The fact that the government has an incredible logistical asset like Selene on their side means that we would not be able to retrieve our fellows before they can be taken to the Birdcage."

Kaiser exchanged a glance with his trusted lieutenant. "And why would that be?" Krieg asked.

"Consider the fraulein's already incredible range." He gestured, sweeping his arm around him—sweeping his arm around the city. "All she has to do is to go with the transport and they will be out of state in just a few hours without being limited by rain, traffic, or obstructions. They would be a fly that would escape even at our full strength."

Kaiser had to concede to that point and begrudgingly accepted that they were now on a deadline. Laying low for a while and attacking the transport once his spies reported the actual transit date like so many times before was no longer an option. Again, the most rational decision was for the Empire to move under, but that would be admitting that he would let his spouse be taken away from him.

Knowing Skadi, he doubted the huntress would take it well.

The king of the Empire had to stop himself from voicing out a growl of frustration. Too many eliminated from the list now. It seemed he only had Krieg left to rely on.

"Very well," he announced. "Tonight, we will be having our assault on the frauds who call themselves heroes and take back our comrades from their clutches."

For the next few hours, he and the remaining members of the Empire's cape circle workshopped on a viable plan that would feasibly allow their group to achieve all the stated objectives, all while Kaiser's own plans formed in the back of his mind. It galled him to admit, but now, the entire organization he had inherited from his father was a liability to him. He would have to ditch the group somehow in the middle of the operation that would allow Krieg and himself to make their way out of the city. He was not lacking in funds stashed outside of his main accounts, and Krieg had a network of deposits that were even harder to trace.

With those, the two of them could start a new Empire somewhere else, one that lacked the idiotic savagery of his father's legacy. Sure, he might not be with Kayden in this new kingdom, but women were easy enough to find. He just had to make sure somehow that Aster and Theo could fall into his hands.

Long live the king, he thought.

Tribulation 4.5

-{0}-

I took a deep breath and exhaled just as deeply. I had my fists clench and unclench in a fixed series that was meant to give some regularity to the frantic beating of my heart. My feet tapped against the floor, betraying my fraying nerves at holding back the heat that had been building up inside. I was an engine going on overdrive, a balloon that was ready to pop. Overuse of portals led to Honkai Energy in my body accumulating close to my threshold and any more and my body would have to transform to better control the buildup if I'd stayed on logistical duty.

Velocity had managed to take custody of Othala and Victor. Soon after, Armsmaster's group had fallen for Kaiser's trap and were taken to the hospital wing to see Panacea. After they took in Purity, I'd ferried Dauntless and company over to Battery's group, which led to them easily taking out the two Empire bruisers that definitely weren't in the original story. Stormtiger had been spotted somewhere at the Docks but had firmly disappeared by the time I'd gotten into the building, and the others were just gone from all known police tracking methods.

I'd push myself to look for them, but I didn't because I had to help take the first wave of rescuers onto the scene. There were a lot more of them compared to the PRT trucks and police cars, which led to me finally admitting to nearing my limit. Piggot had acquiesced easily enough—I was sitting right in front of her in the Dispatch center, after all.

"Man, I can't believe they only let us out for Search and Rescue."

I scowled and turned to Clockblocker, but before I could say or do anything, our team leader had already elbowed him in the rib, eliciting a grunt despite the time stopper's armor.

"Don't say that," Aegis said. "S is where we actually save lives. You're making it out like that responsibility is dirty work."

"Yeah, people are dying, Dennis," Vista added.

"Okay, okay," Clockblocker said back. "I was just trying to lighten the mood. Sorry."

Heads shook and eyes rolled in response. I myself took a deep breath and focused on quelling the heat in my chest. Honkai Energy responded far more readily when my emotions were high and with how much I'd been cutting it close already, I couldn't afford to let my feelings get the better of me again.

"Anyone seen Kid?" Gallant asked.

"Here."

We turned to see Kid Win with a bundle of prototypes in his arms. They ranged from gun-shaped things to a cartoony and overly upgraded remote. He handed them out to Gallant, Aegis, and Clockblocker.

"Prototype gravitic manipulators," he said. "The same thing as Vista's glove based on Veronika's ability. They're a bit worse, with lower energy capacity in Dean's case and a weaker field for Dennis, but they should work well enough if you need to lift some debris."

The boys examined the devices with varying degrees of interest. "Thanks," Aegis said. He turned to me and nodded.

"Okay," I said. "Deploying the Wards for Search and Rescue groups Wards A and B. Opening gates now."

Group A consisted of Aegis, Vista, and Kid Win while I was left with Gallant and Clockblocker in B. The former group was sent off to deal with the more remote parts of the conflict—the pockets of the Docks and some of the transition to downtown where shootouts broke out as both police and independent vigilantes took to the scene after seeing the locations that were put up on the Internet. The resulting clashes meant that there was a lot more collateral damage than there would have been if it was just between the police and the unpowered grunts since some of those places were in people's homes.

My group, meanwhile, was to head downtown, straight into the aftermath of Purity's rampage. I'd only gotten glimpses of it when I'd actually been paying attention, and even the low-resolution I'd seen painted an ugly picture.

The two portals winked into existence. Our groups nodded at each other before finally stepping into our respective battlefields.

The first thing that hit me was the smell. It was sulfur. Concrete. Something electric and intoxicating. It hung in the air like a living blanket, rushing toward my face and leaving hot, arid kisses on my skin.

The second was the sound. It was all sirens and screams, of the shrill ringing alarms in broken buildings drowning out the cries of still-trapped residents and patrons. Tires squealed as their vehicles arrived in haste. Crumbling debris. Sparks. Glass crunching underfoot.

Void Sense came in last. Because I didn't want to see. Yet I had to.

Blood.

Buried under layers of concrete. Blood poured out of the gaps where an ailing grandmother was speared together with her teenage grandson by a torn piece of rebar. Blood pooled where two flattened splatters of flesh mixed with women's clothing could be found under a fallen ceiling.

The nooks and crannies of the street filled my mind, but they were almost secondary to all the former human figures that I could find. Soulless eyes staring into the dark, staring at the sky, staring at the face of a loved one. Severed legs, flattened arms, crushed spines, and shattered skulls.

Worst of all were the burnt bodies.

They were those hit directly by Purity's blasts. They were either complete husks or pulverized into ashes. They followed the main trail of devastation that carved through the streets like snakes of rubble and fire.

There was a hand on my shoulder.

"V?"

I blinked and turned to Dean. The boy was looking at me with a face full of concern. Idly, it occurred to me that he was wearing a full-face helmet and that ordinarily, I wouldn't have been able to tell what he was about.

"You alright?"

I thought about that. Despite the chaos and the destruction around us, it felt like everything was submerged in molasses. The sound had dulled into a faint ring in my ears; my mind processing the noise. I looked at my hands and formed them into fists. It somehow felt like I was trying to move them with strings from a hundred feet away.

I took a deep breath and felt the air course through my lungs, transforming into energy as it flowed into my body. It brought back a measure of warmth and I did my best to reign in the area I was actually paying attention to.

It would have to do.

"I'm fine," I told Gallant. "C'mon, we have a job to do."

We headed to the nearest blast site. The destruction Purity wrought could be summed up into two types purposefully aimed at the supports of buildings to cause them to crumble down into their foundations, and erratic—clipping buildings or spread out in small patches that suggested they were the results of aiming at attacking heroes and missing. The one we were headed to in particular was a particularly nasty patch of both, which was the reason why most of the EMTs and rescue teams were cloistered around it. The officers looked up as we approached, staring numbly until we stopped right in front of them and made our greeting.

"Hello, sirs," Gallant said, greeting for us. "It's the Wards. How can we help?"

Someone elbowed the one who appeared to be in charge, a bald and bearded man with a sleeper build under his orange construction hat and rescue uniform, one that had a simple green band around his right bicep to distinguish him from the rest of the rescue workers.

The man looked at us and I couldn't help but see the darkness under his eyes. Our gazes met and for an instant, his seemed to brighten, though the moment was gone just as quickly as he took a breath to compose himself.

"Thanks for coming," he said, stepping forward and shaking hands with Gallant and myself. "We've managed to get people on the street out but we've only just started getting people outside buildings. I heard one of you can lift rocks with their minds?"

"We've got something better, sir," Clockblocker said, lifting Kid Win's gift. "This here's a gravitic manipulator. It lets us grab things from afar and lift them when needed."

Gallant showed off his own device. The rescue worker turned to me in askance, so I shrugged and lifted a rock with my power. "Their stuff was based off of my power."

He nodded. "Alright," he said. "Name's Henry. Any of you got Search and Rescue training?"

Gallant and Clockblocker nodded in affirmative while I shook my head. The man hummed thoughtfully, then called out a name in the crowd. A young woman made her way over. The rescue worker had sandy hair and a pair of glasses over her protective goggles and greeted Henry tiredly.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Angie, I need you to help out Gallant and Clock here and see if they need anything," he said. "I'll be working directly with…"

He glanced at me.

"Selene," I supplied.

"With Selene here since she's new to all this. Got that?"

"Got it, sir," Angie said. She looked over to me and her face softened to give me a sympathetic smile before turning over to the two boys.

"Come on," Henry said, leading away.

Our destination was the main tent, a closed structure filled with tables and laptops of a dozen individuals responding to calls and consulting maps, readings, and reference books. Several people glanced my way but quickly returned to their work. Henry led me to the one empty worktable and unlocked his computer before turning it to me. The screen held a map with several different markers and regions highlighted in different colors alongside several walls of text. They looked like chat logs.

"What do you know of Search and Rescue?" He asked.

"Only what the handbook said," I answered truthfully. My time at the Wards had been mostly spent on team training, protocol and laws, public relations, case studies of specific cases—all without touching with the secret side job of helping the PRT to work out ways to make sure society doesn't just die to the Honkai. "You do surveys then do the saving. If there isn't anyone found within two days, the equipment crews come in to clean up."

He shook his head. "There's a lot that's skipped but that's close enough."

He tapped his laptop. "This right here is a map of the disaster area, something cooked up by one of the Protectorate tinkers…"

What followed was a quick 10-minute lecture about what the various signals, regions, and logs meant on the interface, alongside a quick demonstration of how he would go about sending people into an area and what to tell them—things like the expected hazard, notes about the kind of trouble people might be in, and whether or not the trapped person was expected to survive. He then handed me a tablet that displayed the same thing but from the side of field personnel.

He then called over another worker, a muscular woman called Greta, to help with the actual fieldwork. Greta was nice. Gruff and laconic, but helpful if I needed to ask questions. Her hair was cut into men's high fade with a small braid at the back and her face had a cross-shaped scar. She and I were assigned to search the areas on Ivory Street. I offered to take us there via portal but she refused, saying there might be people we could save along the way. We hopped onto a truck with three other workers and headed off.

Sure enough, we encountered our first rescuee on the map, an old Asian woman going by her appearance and dialect as she muttered prayers while holding beads. She was stuck in a storage room, the rest of the shop having collapsed in a wave of destruction that swept through the bottom floor of multiple buildings on the street. Around her were several water bottles. Two were empty.

"Someone's alive in there," I said. Greta looked at me.

"You can see 'em?"

I nodded. She hummed, then to my surprise barked an order to her crew. They quickly scrambled out of the car and made their way to the ruined takeout. They must be used to parahuman help, I thought. I followed after them and soon we were gathered in front of the building.

Greta stood beside me. "So, what do you see?"

I pointed at the general direction of the trapped woman, which in hindsight, was rather useless given the whole area in front of us was covered in collapsed debris. "There's a woman stuck in a storage room on the other side of the rubble. No backdoor and the window's too small to fit her through. Alive and healthy still, though I don't think she speaks English. Maybe Chinese?"

Greta nodded then turned to one of her subordinates in the crew. "Kim! Need you to call out!" she said.

"What language?" a thin and bespectacled man, Kim, presumably, replied.

"Dunno, something!"

The man sighed before going back to the truck. A few seconds later, he was back with a megaphone in hand, testing phrases in different languages. Greta and the others began pulling out pieces of debris by hand. I kept watch. Inside, it didn't take long for the woman to look up from where she was praying as recognition flashed across her face. She went up to the window and began calling out weakly—I could only hear her by virtue of creating the auditory portal field around her, which was worthless when I didn't even understand what she was saying.

"Selene!" Greta said. "Help us get rid of the debris!"

I started heading to where they were but stopped. There was an easier way to get the woman out.

With a simple thought, I connected the space before me with that of the storage room. The word 'trapped' no longer had any meaning to me. Nodding, I stepped inside the portal and into a dust-filled darkness. Thankfully, I didn't need light to see or to breathe.

"Ma'am?"

The woman turned, gasping. The action must have caused her to inhale a lungful of dust because she burst into a fit of coughs. It didn't stop—in fact, it got worse and worse as her body shook and curled into itself with every violent expulsion.

Panicking, I headed over and picked her up, quickly turning to rush over to the portal as she continued to fight for her life. "Hey!" I said, calling over to Greta's team. "She-she's—"

"Selene!" Greta snapped and I flinched.

She barked a few commands to her people and they quickly set up a stretcher and ordered me to set the old woman onto it. Soon, we were hauling her to the truck.

The next few minutes passed by in a blur. I was vaguely aware of people talking in front of me, talking to me, patting me on the shoulder, and asking if I was alright. Before I knew it, we were back at the Search & Rescue command center and the woman was being put on wheels. I stared numbly as she was taken to the tent with the other rescued survivors. Someone telling me there was someone important at the medical center, but I didn't quite catch that. I stared at my hands which were clammy and shaking, wondering how it all went wrong.

I thought Search and Rescue was supposed to be easy.

Then someone slapped me in the face and the world came back into focus.

"Wuh?" I said, then looked up to see that it was Greta.

"Back from your little dream?" She said, voice even. Her voice had a bit of an accent that I couldn't pick out before. Couldn't tell you where it's from, though.

"Still riding on the high of your success, yes?" She sneered. "They did not teach you to follow orders? All that posturing and yet you're just a child."

Shame burned through my cheeks and I looked away. She muttered something under her breath, probably cursing her luck being in charge of such a shit hero.

No, I thought, shaking my head. This wasn't a time for self-pity. I looked up and found Greta eyeing me, her face set in an inscrutable expression. This time, I didn't look away.

She scoffed.

"Next time, do not ignore orders." She paused and I realized she was waiting for me to respond.

"Yes ma'am."

Greta nodded. "There is a reason why rescue workers take years to train. Unlike police, every decision we make on the field is a life or more that could die. The heroes are insane to think that they can make do with three weeks and that is why they make so many mistakes. But that is what we have. That is what we must work with." She raised a brow. "Can you still stand?"

I took a deep breath, clenching my fists, and exhaled slowly and deliberately. Yet, my hands were still shaking. I wasn't ready. But I had to be.

"Yes ma'am."

Greta huffed. "Fine." She turned around and gestured for me to come. Steeling myself, I followed after her.

-{0}-

It was an apartment complex. The entire building was leaning over an adjacent one, the angle just enough not to fall over. A few people had gotten trapped because the stairs were outside and descended at exactly the right angle which meant they became fall-off points instead. It didn't help that most of the inhabitants were elderly or very young children since everyone was at work with everything happening in the middle of a weekday.

I'd learned my lesson and joined the rescue team in extracting survivors the longer way. Gravity let me carry a lot of debris out in one go, but where it was most useful was in ensuring that the underlying structure didn't give away after taking out a big chunk. I would support the ceiling and debris piled on top while the professionals moved the obstacles out of the way and led or carried people out of the rubble.

It was almost like working with machinery but almost better in every way, Greta told me. I had no need to mind my batteries, worry about fitting into places, and think about how the rocks would fall such that no one would get hit if they had to break a wall. We started using my portals about halfway through it, making sure everyone was warned appropriately and that the spots I'd pick would kick up the dust in the right way. I was taught about some general building principles, what keeping places up to code meant, and where to usually expect where piping and wiring were even though I could see through walls. I was taught about gas leaks and how ventilating the wrong spots could spell doom for the rest of the inhabitants. It was why the crew dressed up in gas masks and why my stunt with the old lady was doubly idiotic.

So, while I technically didn't need to breathe, I was given one and wore it anyway. They also gave me a bright orange vest, which looked hilarious on top of my costume. I took the advice and help for what it was and dedicated myself to learning the ropes of saving people.

Most of the people we found were alright. Some were injured while others were unconscious. I was starting to think that this run was going to be alright.

That was until we got to the last unit.

It was a small apartment with just a bedroom and a kitchenette. Its occupants were a mother and her child—a boy who couldn't be any older than five.

His mother was on the ground, lying in a pool of blood originating from a spot on her head. The boy himself was tucked into a corner, knees pressed against his chest as he stared catatonically at the woman. A look around revealed that both of them were stuck inside because their fridge had toppled over the doorway. There wasn't any way for a child like him to get around that.

He was still unresponsive when we got to both of them. Greta was the one who checked the woman's pulse and revealed what I'd already seen from afar with a shake of her head. The boy was quickly taken back to the truck.

I learned how to use body bags.

That set the tone for the next few hours. We found people trapped in all sorts of situations. Some found themselves buried completely underground. Others were unable to exit from a high place, all the exits and elevators and staircases rendered impassable and inoperable by the unfortunate coincidence of being on the path of Purity's blasts. More still were the corpses. Procedure prioritized moving the living over those who were clearly dead, but because I didn't have to be so delicate around them, I took the liberty of retrieving them back to the command center anyway. People would thank me or curse me when they saw their loved ones covered in the plastic, grief quickly expressed in acceptance and anger. In the end, it didn't really matter what they told me. It was much better than letting them rot until the others could pick them up.

We combed through downtown, mostly keeping to the business sector. The damage wasn't limited to a single route and sometimes could be found in the next two blocks. It was a testament to Purity's threat rating, where 8 was 'Evacuate and avoid engagement.' There was enough loss of life and terror inflicted that if she wasn't deep underground and buried in Brute restraints, I would have wanted to have strangled her myself.

When the team reached a half-collapsed building, it was already long past sunset. It only had four floors and didn't seem to be in the best state even before the property damage and was composed mainly of small studios and back alley shops. It was one of those cases where both the fire exit and the normal routes were hit and collapsed during the fight. Fortunately, all four of the people trapped inside were unharmed.

What shook me the most about this encounter, however, was that I recognized one of them.

Emma Barnes.

She was in the company of two men and a woman. Of the men, one was obese, had rings on his fingers, and a fur coat around his shoulders, and was currently complaining incessantly at whatever; the other was barely old enough to be in college and had a camera strapped to his neck. The woman looked like she was in her mid-thirties and held herself the most professional out of all of them.

Emma herself was curled up against a wall, facing the debris that blocked off the stairwell. She was dressed up in some rather fashionable clothing—a cropped blouse and pleated wide pants—but it was covered in dust and a little torn in places, particularly on her knee where it looked like she'd scraped the floor.

They were all in the same studio, a small room covered in uneven green paint and a single reflector. I couldn't believe I could say this, but I'd seen better setups.

Gretel spoke into the loudspeaker. "Residents of thirty-four Cedar Street, this is the Rescue Team. We will be extracting you with the help of the Parahuman Ward, Selene, who will create a portal within your vicinity. Cover your mouths and eyes as this will kick up the collected dust in your area. For your safety, remain calm and cooperate."

Ignoring the protests of the others, the man in the fur coat stood and made his way to the windows and opened them, yelling and screaming at Greta's people and myself. Greta sighed before turning to nod at me. While we were supposed to do our utmost to ensure people's safety, there really was just no helping those who won't help themselves.

Predictably, our entrance sent the disobedient man into a coughing fit, though it was thankfully nowhere near as concerning as the first survivor. Greta's people walked in to help bring the people outside. They were quickly loaded into the truck—all but one of them as Emma walked up to me, hair caked in sweat and dust, eyes bloodshot, and her shoulders trembling. The face she gave me was complex, seemingly caught between a hopeful sob and a scowl and settling for neither.

"Some hero you are," she said. "Thought you could see anywhere you can make portals, and you've been making portals everywhere. Where were you?"

I crossed my arms and growled, "What's your point?" It was practically bad 'bedside manner' but I hadn't actually been able to take a break since the Empire started exploding. The combination of the accumulated stress from the death and destruction all around, the failures I'd already made, and the worry that we weren't out of the thick of it yet was getting to me and I didn't have the time to deal with Emma's bitchiness.

Which is why it came as a surprise when she flinched.

"It's," Emma began, but quickly trailed off. She took a deep breath and then spat out the next few words through gritted teeth.

"I need your help."

I uncrossed my arms. She continued.

"It's… my mom. She—I asked her to get me Bubble Tea from a new cafe just down the street. Haven't heard from her for hours now."

I swallowed. That could only mean a few things. Mrs. Barnes could have just broken her phone, managed to get out alive, and begged to someone at the command center to send people to this building. I hadn't kept track of names and sound wasn't something that my special memory powers kept. For all we knew, the woman could be back in the company of the people we'd managed to get out.

Or she could be dead. As much as I didn't like Emma or thought about how fucked her parent, that notion didn't sit well with me.

"I'll look out for her," I eventually said.

"You fucking better."

I took a deep breath, biting back the urge to lash out. Disaster victims were the resentful sort since all the anguish and suffering they endured couldn't be paid back to anything concrete. Emma was lashing out because her frustration had nowhere to go. Consoling myself with that fact allowed me to let the moment pass by without incident.

That didn't make her any less of a bitch, however.

Emma went onto the truck along with the rest of the survivors from the building. They were ferried back to the command center, leaving myself and some members of Greta's crew to keep looking. With the hint, we made our way down the street, making sure not to miss a single nook and cranny. Despite knowing about my ability to see through the surroundings, they still did their due diligence of checking for signs of life within the rubble, which was doubly important because we were at another hotspot of the destruction given the number of construction sites nearby that collapsed on top of each other in a chain reaction.

"Do any of you know what cafe she was talking about?" I asked.

The one who answered was the youngest of the crew, Nick, who was only a few years older than I was. "I think it was called True Blends?"

I hummed. "Found it."

As we were told, True Blends looked to have been an entirely new shop on the street. Its pastel paint was still fresh and had none of the damages and infestations that I associated with old buildings. Unfortunately, its shopfront was blasted off entirely, leaving a scattered interior that flung rubble and furniture toward the opposite wall.

There were corpses mixed among the debris. Most of them were those of young people—people my age, having been hit by a portion of the ceiling. It left a twisted knot in my gut and I could almost see the faces of my other friends at Winslow superimposed on them.

And at least two of them were women in their forties.

I levitated the slab off and the team began the extraction of the corpses. It was grisly work. Some had portions of their head caved in while the ones who had clipped the edge seemed to have tried getting out of the way, only for their bodies to get stuck with spines snapped and lungs crushed. Total number of corpses was seven.

Identifying what we could have of them was part of the process of putting them into bags. Anything from wallets to phones and IDs that they had around their necks. Luckily enough, a good chunk of the bodies and belongings were saved by the metal tables that didn't let the ceiling flatten them entirely.

One of them was a redheaded middle-aged woman. Her purse held her ID and it told me everything.

Numbly, I started putting her in a bag. Just like everyone else who'd died there. The action was mechanical. My body could remember an action even if it was done only once, a side effect of photographic space sense, so it wouldn't be a stretch that it was automatic at this point.

The truck arrived soon after. Greta took one look at me before forcing me to ride along the corpses and rotate out of the field. Before I knew it, we were already back at the command center and I was just standing there in the breakroom bereft of my mask and with the bloody rescue vest on my shoulders.

There were a couple of people there, lining up for the coffee machine. On a whim, I wandered over and soon had a cup of coffee.

I drank and grimaced as the bitter yet shallow concoction washed down my throat. Taylor was right. It tasted like crap.

I wondered if I could ask her to tell Emma about her mother for me.

It was amid my musings that I heard a voice crackle in my earphones and it wasn't Greta's or Henry's, meaning it was important. It took me a moment to realize that it was Deputy Director Renick on the line after he mentioned our passphrase.

"Selene, we need you back at headquarters," he said. "We're under attack from the Empire."

Something clicked in my head and I stood up suddenly. The action spilled my coffee on the table and legs, but it wasn't like it hurt and this was too important for something like a hot drink to affect me. Empire 88. They were the ones responsible for this tragedy and if someone doesn't take them down now, they would be responsible for more tragedies in the future.

It was their fault that I'd had to spend the past six hours plucking people and corpses out of ruined streets and collapsed buildings.

It was their fault that Mrs. Barnes died, a 'named character' who 'would have survived' until the end of the story.

I needed to get my head out of the clouds. These were real people being threatened by real threats and I had the power to take care of them. Empire 88 wants to break their people out and restart their activities?

They can fucking try.

"Copy that, sir," I said. "Heading over now."

Tribulation 4.6

-{0}-

In case the PRT headquarters were ever under attack, there was a policy that Movers could skip most of the usual security measures since no one would have time to check, but it was appreciated if you could at least try to do so before entering the building. For those who got around by flying, swinging between buildings, or jumping over entire floors like they were skipping up the stairs, they would be obligated to still talk with someone before going inside.

I stepped directly into the lobby, right between a shirtless man and a teenager in red and black and aviator goggles. Stormtiger whipped around as soon as my feet touched the floor and started building up wind between his fingers.

It wasn't fast enough.

With a thought, I sent him flying across the room slamming against the wall hard enough that I could hear the bones crack. He then collapsed on the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. From a stash in Void Space, I pulled out a foam grenade and delivered it on top of him through the Selene Express. A brief pop and fwish later, a nazi was out of commission.

"This is Selene," I said into my communicator even as the other Empire cape I didn't recognize turned my way. "Stormtiger down, engaging unknown Empire cape."

"You!" The newest teenage nazi spat. He was surrounded by several hulking humanoid forms completely made of concrete, steel, and glass about eight feet tall, each with crude heads shaped like helmets—six golems in total. Probably a power that created minions out of environmental material. He pointed a finger at me, his hands shaking. "I've heard of you, Selene! You're the one who ruined everything, but that ends today! For this shall be the day that they remember how Siegrune defeated the Express of the Bay!"

I blinked, then snickered as his words finally registered in my head. A hammy nazi villain was not something I'd expected out of today. Thinking for a second, I pulled out the baseball bat that's been sitting in Void Space—he'd at least make for a good practice run.

The golems surged forward. They were actually shaped more like gorillas than people, meaning they ran on all fours on top of moving more smoothly than an amalgamation made of stone had any right to be. The first was in my face in just two seconds.

I swung, aiming for the body since there was no sense in destroying the head of something that didn't have a nervous system. Dust and glass exploded—the golem unexpectedly broke into two distinct pieces without resistance before the weapon I'd made as a joke.

I grinned as my opponent gaped like a fish and darted toward the next opponent. I shattered its legs, then smashed the next golem's head into its body hard enough that it cracked open, and then used it as a projectile to make rubble out of the remaining golems. Putting the bat on my shoulder, I turned toward the golem Master.

The Empire cape backed away, hands raised. "Wait!" he said. "If you let me go, I swear I'll—"

I didn't let him finish as I flipped the hem of his long coat over his head and dropped him on his ass. My hand grasped a foam grenade from Void Space before I realized that he could just make a golem out of it. Annoying. My other methods were either too lethal from lack of practice or too ineffective for disabling someone like him. I floated him up in the air to get him away from any material and tapped into the comms.

"This is Selene. The golem-making Master is incapacitated, but I don't have any means of keeping him detained. Need someone to put him under."

"Good work Selene." The operator was Officer Williams, someone I didn't really know but was one of those who would occasionally greet me when I ate at the cafeteria. "Sorry, but we're gonna have to ask you to keep him there. Velocity is en route."

Velocity was going to have to come from Search and Rescue, and as far as I knew, he'd been at it for hours. His power only let him be faster in time than the rest of the world and did nothing for his stamina. New Wave had been sent home and it would take too long for them to get here. Frowning, I turned to look around me.

To say that the front lobby was a mess was an understatement. The doors had been blown inward with a force that left scorch marks zig-zagging across the room ending at a small slag heap buried into the front desk. Completely unnecessary showboating when the doors themselves were just made of bulletproof glass. Corpses of PRT officers lay around missing limbs, burned with lightning, or with caved-in skulls. I looked at the golem cape, who was flailing and turning in the air and running his mouth with things you really shouldn't be saying to a female Ward, and scowled.

"Not happening, sorry," I said, then plucked out my earphones and threw them into Void Space.

I walked up to one of the corpses. Standard issue PRT gear included tasers and pistols as backup weapons to the often-specialized primary. Contrary to popular belief, most troopers only carried tinker-made tranquilizers and the foam sprayers were only really carried by specialists, only really brought out in bulk on special occasions.

"What are you doing?" The floating man said.

"Don't worry," I said, pulling him close to me. "I'm not going to kill you."

There were enough deaths by my hand already. But that didn't mean that I was going to make it pleasant for him by any measure.

The man started speaking quickly, making promises and threats he definitely wouldn't be able to keep. I ignored it all. He clawed and kicked at me, so I used more precise fields to keep his limbs stretched out.

Then I pulled up his shirt and stuck a taser at his nether region.

The ensuing screams were music to my ears.

-{0}-

--Kristin Meyers

The glorified cop screamed as he fell, his body convulsing as Thrud's lightning wrapped around him. Thrud herself was grinning gleefully under her gas mask as she hit the man for a second time. It took a bit more charge but it wasn't as if she couldn't smell the power in the walls running from the backup generators. She can afford to indulge.

A hand found itself on her shoulder. "You're wasting time," Skadi said. Thrud scowled at the old bat and swiped at the gesture, but by then, the woman had already stepped away.

"Get off my case," the girl muttered and shoved her hands into her pockets. Behind them, she could hear the creepy old man decked out in some Tinker armor with a lot of pressurized stuff chuckling through his helmet and shivered.

Cyanide was his name. He was one of the guys that they found during that trip back to Boston. Apparently, he was an old friend of Krieg's, which meant that he was from Germany where the others had all but died out. She didn't like the guy because he kept trying to act like some kind of grandpa, all candy and gifts and shit. If it was up to her, she would have sent him along with Krieg to deal with the portal bitch, but because Kaiser decided to pussy out of the real fight, she was stuck with the stuck-up woman and the old man.

Though it wasn't like he didn't have his uses. He'd managed to single-handedly deal with both Miss Militia and Armsmaster, after all.

They stepped around the guard and made their way into the cell block, a hallway made of two rows of reinforced doors. All were electronically locked based on what she could smell. Something that Skadi apparently knew because the woman patted Thrud on the shoulder again and said, "Your turn."

Thrud huffed. "You're not the boss of me." Still, she took her cue and reached out toward the hallway.

As powers went, Thrud's was one of the better ones. She could take power from the local grid and turn it into lightning that coated and empowered her body. It let her move at ridiculous speeds and hit like a truck. Best of all, if she really needed to hit shit at range, she could put that lightning into an object and have it fly at the speed of a bullet and explode in a storm of crackling fury. She could also just zap people normally and it was half the reason why Kaiser pussyfooted around her.

And he was a pussy. Instead of coming here and just letting Krieg deal with the portal bitch, he decided that there needed to be more people who would jump her. The man's ability was more or less broken when used indoors, so what else could be the reason why he stayed in the truck?

She'd joined the main Empire because her old team was weak shit and got rolled over by Accord in Boston. Knowing this group had that pussy on the helm? Maybe she should take over the Empire herself after all.

With that, she finished draining the room, the arcs flowing into her hand and adding to the well of power inside her. That would give her enough charge to last another third of an hour or two more hammer throws. She hoped she'd get to use these soon.

"Done," Thrud said.

Skadi ignored her and beelined for one of the doors. She opened it and stepped inside, then came out a moment later with a really big man: her husband, Ymir. Seeing him without the Viking mask wasn't much different from seeing his face since most of it was full of beard. Thrud rolled her eyes and went to open the other doors.

It only took a few minutes to get their members out into the hallway. Well, everyone that mattered, Thrud thought. The two pussies had apparently taken the PRT's Kool-Aid and decided they want to be heroes now, so they were locked up on one of the upper floors enjoying hotel room service instead of the bare rooms that were the cells here underground. Now with seven people, they talked among themselves about what to do with the two traitors.

"I say we fucking leave them," Thrud said first. She wanted this shit out of the way already.

"We can't," Victor said. Like the others, he'd been unmasked and dressed up in bright orange. "Othala's too important."

Thrud scoffed. "You're just missing your wifey. Just face it, she bailed on us."

Wickerman without his breaker form was a thin, sandy-haired young man with a resting manic smile on his face. He patted Victor's back like they were buddies. "That's the spirit! We never forget about the babes!"

"Ugh," Thrud said and rolled her eyes.

"Seconding finding them," Skadi said. "We still need to take care of the real traitor, Tammi."

There were several nods at that. Thrud huffed and crossed her arms. Skadi had a full bag of powers that made her the ultimate hunter, one of them being some kind of mark that looks into your past until it sees you in the present, picking up every skill you had. It made her insanely good as an informant and why, despite having a costume, never really used it unless it was for show. Of course, they'd trust the woman on that.

"Let's go, then," Purity said.

"Go where exactly?"

The group whipped around to turn toward a new voice. Standing right in the middle of them was a white-haired girl with a body Thrud would have killed to have. She was dressed in this black dress thing with a white skirt and long gloves, making her look like some kind of princess shit. It took Thrud a moment to recognize the portal bitch.

Wasn't she supposed to have blue eyes instead of gold?

Either way, she was a dumbass showing up right in the middle of them as she did.

Thrud let her lightning blast out. Purity threw a beam, though she didn't turn into a flashlight. Skadi pulled out a Uzi and sprayed.

Light filled the hallway, blinding Thrud for a second. When her vision could finally focus, she saw that the portal bitch was just standing there completely unharmed. Golden eyes roamed across the room and Thrud suddenly felt the hair at the back of her neck stand up and it suddenly felt hard to breathe. She shook her head, wondering what the hell that was.

"Just seven of you," Selene said. "Where's Kaiser and Krieg?"

Thrud's face scrunched in confusion, mind going back to their plan. "Didn't they fight you?"

Silence. Then the Ward's lips turned upward into a smirk just as the implications hit Thrud and her chest swelled in anger.

"Those fucking bitches!"

Scowls spread among the group. The Ward let out a short chuckle and spoke in a mocking drawl, "Looks like some nazis have brains after all."

"Big words for a dead girl!" Thrud said.

She reached out toward Selene and released the lightning in her veins, briefly blinding everyone in the hallway. The sudden onslaught of violence spurred the rest into action. Ymir, Wickerman, and Victor stepped aside as Purity burst into light and Skadi pointed her weapon

The lightning died down, revealing a completely unharmed Selene. Seeing that, Purity released her own blast, but ultimately achieved the same effect. The Ward remained untouched.

"Can't say I'm surprised to see that you're all so willing to kill kids," Selene said like she was talking about the weather.

Without warning, Skadi fired several shots. The bullets, normally too fast for the naked eye, seemed to slow down as they approached their target before coming to a stop entirely about an arm's length away. Then they fell and clinked onto the ground, joining a collection of other rounds at Selene's feet. The Ward's face broke into a wide smile with an almost manic gleam in her eyes, and Thrud found herself bewildered by it all.

Wards were supposed to be the kiddie pool, right?

"Is that all you've got?" Selene taunted. "My turn, then."

She reached out, and suddenly, Purity was flying across the room toward her. Except she was flailing as she went with nowhere near the same grace she usually had when flying across the sky.

Ymir moved, frozen armor forming over his body and plunging the room into a deep cold as he moved to tackle Selene—only to find himself unable to make any progress as the distance between them seemed to stretch the closer he went.

Purity arrived and there was suddenly a bat in Selene's other hand. The girl swung the weapon upward and it smashed into the woman hard enough that her aura of light shattered. She was thrown all the way to the ceiling, bouncing off and landing in a heap.

Wickerman took that moment to set himself on fire and lunged across the room to tackle the Ward. Selene glanced at him before a giant gold-rimmed disk of darkness appeared in front of him, swallowing him up. Then another disk—portal—suddenly appeared beside Ymir and he emerged, slamming into the ice giant. A scream filled the hall as Wickerman's body melted its way through his ally's armor and body before his fire suddenly disappeared and he pushed off the other man—

Only to receive a baseball bat to the face sending him spinning to the ground.

Thrud sent lightning into one of her many hammers, charging up the object before throwing it at a speed that shattered the glass in the hallway and made her ears ring. It hit the Ward's invisible barrier for a second before exploding in a shower of sparks and arcing electricity that carved through the walls like hungry snakes made of fire.

She saw it. The energy seemed to wrap around the other girl like a pack of snakes but none of it ever touched her. Selene gave the teenage villain a dismissive glance before she turned and charged into a portal. Thrud heard two distinct thuds behind her and spun around to find Selene pinning Skadi against the wall with a taser stuck to the woman's neck and Victor on the floor with something that looked like a colorful feather sticking out of his shoulder.

Snarling, Thrud gathered all the charge she had left and blasted it all out in a storm of arcs and light, screaming. It didn't matter. She briefly saw the butt of a baseball bat before her world exploded into stars and pain.

She staggered backward. Someone grabbed her right hand, shoved a cold, metallic cylinder into her fist, and pressed it against her chest. She felt a moment of weightlessness before her back hit a wall. Then the thing in her hand exploded, and Thrud realized she couldn't see or move.

Selene turned her attention from where the girl was encased in containment foam on the ceiling to face the last member of the Empire. Cyanide hadn't moved from where he stood before the confrontation even began and raised his hands when he turned to her.

"I must say, that is very impressive," he said. "The future of this city must indeed be bright to have you as one of its guardians."

"Don't bother with flattery," Selene said. "Now, are you actually a robot or are you remote-controlled?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"I can fucking see through walls. You're not fooling anyone."

Cyanide was quiet for a moment before releasing a bark that echoed through his mask. When he spoke again, his voice had a metallic quality to it.

"The future is indeed bright with such a capable hero in its hands!"

Suddenly, smoke began to emanate from his body and Selene stopped playing with her weapon and glared at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing," Cyanide said, his helmet seeming to droop and lose coherency as he spoke. "Just making sure to clean up after myself."

The man, or rather, robot said no more as he seemed to rapidly melt into a foaming puddle and foul-smelling smoke. Selene scowled, turning around her as if she could find where he went, or rather, where the real Cyanide was, before letting out a frustrated groan and stomping hard enough to crack the floor.

-{0}-

--???

How delightful must it be, to be so young yet to wield such incredible power?

The man couldn't stop grinning even as the video feed dissolved into static, the console at the edge of the screen informing him that the signal had been lost and even the tracker had been effectively neutralized. With a job well done and made easier thanks to factors he did not account for, he finds himself feeling incredibly fortunate to have been given this assignment.

Truly, Madam had been right to send an agent. While the Empire would have collapsed on its own given the equivalent of a public execution and what he knew now about its internal dynamics, the intervention provided by himself ensured that it would all but happen overnight. The discovery of the hidden potential of the city's current darling was an unexpected bonus that Madam would surely appreciate being informed of.

He made a mental note to make doubly sure he would repay Crow. While it was not one of the famed Mimic models that were almost faithful recreations of the original, the Ghost model had performed to his satisfaction.

The man stretched and checked his watch, then hummed a short tune, one of the more famous phrases of Chopin's Marche Funebre as he meticulously returned the laptop to its bulletproof suitcase and placed it in a secure compartment beside the door. He stretched, making sure that his old bones were up to the task, then turned the key and listened as the truck's engine roared to life.

He gave himself a moment to bask in the calm before slamming on the gas pedal.

The truck thundered into the street, breaking away from where it had been parked in an alley of sorts and bursting into the street at speed. Predictably, its front rammed into the traffic and he felt the airbag hit him with the strength of a mean right hook.

How irritating.

His hand found a button hidden in his sleeve and pushed it. There was a pop as a canister on top of the vehicle violently bathed the entire street in a specially prepared airborne mixture that blocked sight, signals, and put to sleep anyone who hadn't come wearing a hazmat or had the cure currently running through their bloodstream.

Kicking the door open, he squeezed out of his predicament and took a moment to fix his attire: a dark business sufficiently immune to ballistics that mattered and held all the necessary tools for the mission within its inner pockets. His face was concealed with a silver opera mask that was equipped with all kinds of communication tools and helpful accessibility options. Other tinkers might have a more sophisticated suite, but he'd always prided himself on having just enough.

After all, having a specialty in everything you breathe and things related to it allowed for quite a variety of applications.

That was why he brought a gun for this endeavor.

He walked over to the SUV, the mask guiding his steps until he found it on its back. Max Anders and James Fliescher hung upside down by their seatbelts, with the latter having a not insignificant part of his skull caved in while the former was half-covered in a still-growing steel plate, eyes blinking blearily as his mind still seemed to be recovering from the crash.

The masked man did not feel anything for the death of his former subordinate. Neither did he relish it. He had abandoned that cause a long time ago after the wake-up call that the rhetoric of saving the world through the cleansing of filth was idiotic as it was the height of human hubris. Before the heavens, all were ants and race was just a delusion used by fools to excuse senseless death and suffering. The combined might of the heroes and villains of his country were nothing before the angel of death.

But he had seen real power—matter, monsters, and men bowing down before the miracles created by Madam's hand. Since seeing the wrath of the gods, he had finally found a star that would take humanity past this dark age, past the chaos of powers and impossible diseases, and into the light beyond.

"Y-you," Max said. The windshield had broken in the crash, allowing the two of them to talk to each other. "Who are you?"

The masked man chuckled and leveled his gun, a very special make from a colleague that could punch through layers of depleted Uranium in a handheld package. There would be no chance for the metal man to stop what was coming next.

"I'm nobody important."

Tribulation 4.7

-{0}-

To say that the aftermath of my rampage—and it was a rampage, as Ymir's third-degree burns and Purity's broken spine could attest—was light would be calling it an understatement.

Of course, Piggot gave me a good earful about the importance of the chain of command, but she also thanked me on behalf of the other PRT officers for taking the entirety of the Empire down. Not to mention that the first thing that she did once the villains had all been rounded up and saved from the immediate threat of death was to book my power for an express Delivery for the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center and then tell me that I was suspended from patrolling for a week.

And that was just about the extent of my punishment. I wasn't banned from going to the building, from going on console duty, or from taking the fuckers to the Birdcage and other appropriate prisons. No patrols and that was it.

Honestly? I welcomed that with open arms. It was nice to look forward to not having to work and give myself some mental legroom to rest. It wasn't like I couldn't be there in an instant if the city suddenly started exploding or anything. It also finally gave me time to help out Taylor with her independent thing.

No plan to lead us right to an ABB hideout and have Taylor be the one to report it while I dip, no sir.

Investigations, some interrogation, and a review of the security logs later revealed that the reason that the Empire was able to get so close to reattaining freedom was thanks to Skadi. The woman was revealed to have a power that let her learn everything from a victim's past, up to and including the present for a limited time after she had 'marked' them. Pair that with Loki's still-functional hard light and illusion technology and she made for an effective infiltrator and assassin.

And then the Empire just had to leave one last bombshell on top of all the chaos they caused:

CEO of Medhall Found Dead

The CEO of Medhall, Max Anders, was found dead alongside longtime associate James Fliescher at a traffic accident near Thompson Avenue in downtown.

The victims' vehicle had been hit by a much larger semi-truck at great speed. Witnesses to the scene attest to a mysterious fog that suddenly enveloped the area followed by a pair of gunshots. Those who breathed the cloud were rendered unconscious, while those who were far enough could not spot the suspect.

"It came out of nowhere," said Murray, a nearby cafe owner at Thompson avenue who had witness the entire scene transpire. "The truck came out of an alley and just hit that SUV on straight from the side like it knew it was coming!"

The PRT and Protectorate that later arrived at the scene confirmed that the substance was of Tinker make, suggesting that what had inspired was a form of Parahuman vigilantism. Adding to this was the evidence that Max Anders had been shot with a high-caliber weapon strong enough to pierce through the layers of steel that the deceased pharmaceutical magnate had been wearing.

See: 6 April 2011 news Section A2: Empire Unmasked: Medhall CEO, Nazi King?

Someone had gotten to those two before I could, though it wasn't like I had any real sympathy toward the two domestic terrorists. Either way, with their deaths, the biggest parahuman-fueled nazi group in America died with them.

Not all of them were sent to the Birdcage, but I was pretty sure that lightning lass and the guy who named himself after the SS symbol weren't going into revolving doors like I'd heard about in fanfiction from before. This America had dedicated Parahuman prisons. I wasn't sure if it was a thing in the original story, but the PRT had an entire branch dedicated to making sure that arrested capes didn't go anywhere they weren't wanted; the Parahuman Incarceration and General Treatment and Rehabilitation or PIGTR, which had a surprisingly successful track record of turning crooks into respectable human beings. Some might call them the Pig Train, but they themselves would rather be called Purgatory.

And then there was the robot in the end got away, leaving no trace. I'd memorized his facsimile of a face under the mask but there was no guarantee that it would be the same as the face of his controller. Some of the spooks at Investigations think that he had something to do with the entire fall of the Empire, which brought up complicated feelings.

In any case, it was out of my hands now. I had to move on.

"Well, if it isn't the girl of the hour."

I turned to Officer Bishop, the woman who was currently in charge of watching over the guestrooms that held the now-former Rune and Othala. "Hello," I said back. "I'm here to pay a visit."

"Here to check on Tammi?"

I nodded.

She gestured to the hall. "Be my guest."

I thanked her and continued toward Tammi's door, stopping. I took a deep breath; I could face down an entire team of long-time murderers with no pressure and find criminals in their homes with no sweat, but talking to Tammi? I didn't know whether I was supposed to feel like shit or be angry.

Either way, this entire thing had been put off for long enough. I knocked on the door.

I heard movement. Deliberately willing myself not to look, I listened as Tammi stopped whatever she was doing and made her way to the door. With a click of the lock, it finally opened and I forced myself to look up.

Tammi wore a neck brace and had her left arm tied up in a sling. She smelled of antiseptic and lugged around an IV drip. Her eyes carried a weariness that morphed into shock as they met mine.

"Hey," I said, then words failed me. Things like 'We need to talk' or 'Have a moment?' fled my mind as it took all my willpower to just not look away.

Eventually, Tammi took a deep breath and stepped away from the door. "If you're just gonna stand there and gawk at me, then you might as well come in."

I breathed my own sigh. "Yeah."

We stepped inside. The PRT guestrooms were a lot more luxurious than the one I had at the Wards' headquarters with its king-sized bed, ornate study table covered in Protectorate and Wards pamphlets, and a bathroom that had a functional toilet seat bidet in a country where the main practice was dry-cleaning. There was a tray of food left on the table—it was already half-past four in the afternoon and the beef stew had long since gotten cold.

I took a seat at a chair while Tammi took the bed, the action causing her to wince. Panacea had refused to heal her, so she was treated entirely with the medical tech at the in-house hospital. Ganted, that tech was good enough to get her out of the brink and to the level where practically only sores were left that only had to heal with time.

I spent a moment rolling the words in my mouth until I finally settled on the thing I actually felt about all of this.

"I'm sorry."

Tammi blinked. "Sorry?"

"I lost my temper when I should have listened to your side and ended up sending you to the hospital."

The girl's face went through several expressions and she finally settled on anger. I took a breath and prepared myself.

"Why would you be sorry?"

It was my turn to be confused. "You were my friend and I attacked you."

She scowled. "You don't get it, do you, V?" she said. "This is how things work. I'm a villain and you're a hero. I betrayed you, hurt you really badly, and you beat me up. Sure, you came close to killing me, but that shit's in the job description. I didn't exactly go into this job thinking there's zero chances of me dying."

I shook my head and looked down. "It's not that easy."

"It is that easy."

"It's not," I stated firmly. "There are people who have done worse but had gotten a second shot that they took because someone was willing to hear them out. Heroes are supposed to save people, sometimes even from themselves. And I failed to do that." I raised my head and regarded her seriously.

"I want to hear your side in this, Tammi."

Tammi's face went through another series of emotions before settling on somewhere between a scowl and a helpless smile.

"What the fuck, V?"

I didn't answer that, keeping my stare leveled at her. She took a few seconds to rub her temples before sighing explosively.

"What is there even to say?" She shrugged. "I didn't like my parents, got into a bad crowd and ended up in juvie where I got my powers. Then I got into a worse crowd and then the story ends up all the way with me here."

"What changed?" I asked. "If you were really as much of a villain as you said, you wouldn't be talking about it like it was something you got over."

She scowled. "Nothing fucking changed. They were the same assholes that they always were and I was one of them."

"You practically surrendered to me even though you did it in the dumbest way possible," I said, voicing the thoughts I'd been mulling over for the past few days. "It's like you wanted me to think less of you—to hate you like the rest of the other nazis. Why?"

Tammi flinched and looked away. Her hands tightened into fists and she took a deep breath before she finally looked me in the eye.

"Who says I don't want you to hate me?"

"I don't want to hate you," I answered back.

"You're making this harder than this has to be."

I shook my head. "But I really don't want to hate you. You're one of the first real friends I've gotten in like a decade since I left Frankfurt"—and the irony of using the event that I caused wasn't lost to me—"and I don't want to lose this just because I couldn't be assed to hear you out!"

Tammi jumped to her feet. "Because you don't need to be friends with someone like me!" she said. "Someone who steals and breaks into houses for the fun of it, who beats up niggers and chinks because I couldn't stand them! You're a hero, for fuck's sake!"

"Language," I said.

She chuckled at that. "Exactly. You don't need someone like me."

I opened my mouth to disagree, to tell her she was wrong and that she didn't have to put herself in a box like this. Except I understood that. I knew that sentiment almost intimately.

If everyone knew who I was and what I'd done, would they have ever chosen to be friends with me? The PRT might choose to play it safe and treat me with kiddie gloves, making sure that the ticking time bomb doesn't explode on them at all or at least outside an opportune moment, but I also knew that if I fucked up or did anything to reveal myself to the world, they'd be likely to turn public opinion against me as someone who'd deceived everyone from the very beginning. The others? Taylor, Vicky, and Missy? The Wards and the people at Winslow? If I sat down with them now and told them my life story, would they be sympathetic or condemn me for my six-digit body count?

And even then, even if they did wave aside my sin, do they deserve to be associated with a monster like me? Because even if I swore to do better and see to it that humanity prevails against the incoming tide, it would never erase what I'd done, and nor would it bring back the loved ones these people lost.

…

No. That was unfair. Mom, Alex, knew who I was and had accepted me wholeheartedly. Was I supposed to say that the fact that she made me her daughter say anything about her?

No, it didn't.

Kindness can and should be offered by everyone, even monsters at least once. That you've done much wrong doesn't undo the good you did or will do. All that mattered was what you were going to do moving forward.

If I didn't have faith that people could change for the better, how was I supposed to believe that I could change myself?

"That's fine," I said. "You fucked up, did bad, killed people, and ruined lives, but you stopped. You turned yourself in, even if the way you did it was fucking stupid. I still want to be your friend, Tammi. I'm willing to help you change for the better if you want it."

Tammi went quiet as she stared at me with her face scrunched in frustration. I couldn't help but smile; she might not like or want reconciliation, but I was going to keep offering her friendship whether she wanted it or not.

"Get out," she said.

I frowned. "Come on, Tammi. I'm not saying this to make fun of—"

"GET OUT!"

I stood up, hands raised. "Okay, okay. Just know that—"

She yelled and I had to dodge a pillow from hitting me in the face. "Okay, I got it," I said, making my way to the door. I stepped through but didn't close it so that I could turn to her.

"I'll always be here for you, alright?"

Tammi scowled and then the door slammed close in my face by itself, which meant she must have used her power. I rubbed my nose, more out of habit than actual pain, and shook my head. This wasn't going to be the last of it.

-{0}-

That same day, we were called to the Wards Headquarters in our costumes for an important meeting. Judging by the fact that there were three Shard connections on three people talking to Dauntless at a meeting room downstairs, we were about to have a few new members.

Everyone was there already when I arrived, all hanging around the common room. Vista and Kid Win were having a game of chess while Clockblocker was busy trying to rile the girl into making a mistake. Aegis was on the couch watching TV while Gallant was doing homework at the kitchenette. They all turned when I entered the room.

"About time you got here, Empire Ender!" Clock said.

I frowned. "Empire Ender?"

"Told you it sounded weird," Vista said.

Clock turned to Kid Win, who shrugged. "I'm with her on that one."

He turned to Aegis, who shook his head. The time-stopper crossed his arms.

"Tough crowd."

I shook my head. "No. I mean, I thought they were supposed to keep that a secret?"

They'd argued that it was better to keep what transpired a secret from the Wards and the public at large to avoid making them feel somehow inferior and avoid putting me in the spotlight more than I already was. What changed?

They looked at each other, and then Clock asked, "Uh, V, did you see PHO last night?"

I winced. I'd wanted to let out some steam and spent the rest of the evening in Void Space. I'd have to look at it later. "No."

"Well, I don't know how to tell you this, but one of the guys you were fighting with leaked a video of what happened."

I scowled. "Cyanide."

"So that's the name of the robot guy."

I shrugged. "Anyway, it's nothing. I got angry, thought I could do it, and somehow pulled it off."

I could have done much worse like smear them against the walls, but I didn't.

"Ah, and there she goes," Clock said, "acting like soloing the Entire Empire was practically a Tuesday."

"Wednesday, actually."

"Potato potato."

Vista elbowed him in the rib, glancing at me. With the Tinker-made fabric of our costumes, that would have felt like barely a nudge, but Clock still pretended to be hurt by it anyway.

I shook my head and made my way over to the couch, ignoring the way Gallant was staring at me. "Do you mind?" I asked Aegis. He gestured at the free space beside him, so I took the offer and sat down.

A few seconds later, he offered me a bag of Doritos. I shook my head. "No thanks."

He shrugged and then changed the channel to the news. I took a deep breath and found myself in a moment of comfortable silence.

Ever since Wednesday, my relationship with some of the other Wards felt like they'd changed. Kid Win had gotten comfortable talking to me about his tech and was extra enthusiastic if he was talking about antigrav and other spacetime-related effects. Gallant had gotten overbearing—I wasn't sure if he'd seen something when we went to search and rescue or if the PRT had put him up to it, but he'd frequently ask how I was every time we met. Aegis felt like he was a tad bit more welcoming, and I'd started doing power workshopping with Vista.

Clock, meanwhile, hadn't changed at all. Well, if you don't count that he'd stopped staring at me having finally gotten used to my appearance. I was glad for that.

Though with the reveal of last Wednesday? I wasn't sure how the dynamics shifted.

"... the series of scandals that the company is currently going through and in the sudden absence of its CEO, Medhall Pharmaceuticals had suddenly received a shocking offer from the international medical industry giant, the Amos Foundation, to be bought and be made a subsidiary of the Europe-based organization. This hot topic is the subject of much debate here at the Brockton News Brigade—even worse when we take a look at online discourse such as one Facebook and the Parahumans Online boards. Mary, what do you think?"

"Well Shelly, I think it is a little eyebrow-raising that we're seeing these kinds of events happening right after the other since the timing is rather impeccable. However, as news reporters, we have the responsibility to tell the truth to the people and not speculate without any evidence. With that in mind, the Amos Foundation has announced that they will be having a press conference in the late afternoon today, the Ninth of April, to be hosted by the foundation's director herself. Maybe what you're looking for can be found in that event?"

"You might be right, Mary. And with Doctor Sinclair herself in attendance, we might also be getting some juicy new reveals as the foundation has been pumping out every year since its inception…"

"So," Kid Win said, breaking the silence, "do any of you know why we're called here?"

Aegis and I exchanged looks. Him because he was probably briefed on this and me because I could already see them. He cleared his throat.

"Wait," Vista suddenly said, getting up. "Don't tell me. I'll try to take a look."

She put on a focused expression and held out her hands. Soon enough, I could feel the faint ripples of spatial manipulation only lightly touching the surroundings, spreading out radially. My chest swelled with pride. The first thing we'd started practicing was the incredible potential of her power for reconnaissance and the light touches of her power were her way of mimicking mine. It was nowhere near as high-resolution, but we found that it was good enough for most purposes that didn't involve counting the number of hair strands on her bangs or sensing the dimensional anomalies that are the source of people's powers.

"There's four people on the elevator," she said. "One of them's Dauntless and the others are … oh!"

She whirled around. 'We're getting new people!"

Gallant and Kid Win sat up, the latter doing a quick pat down of his armor and breathing a relieved sigh once he realized that everything was in place. Vista turned to Aegis, then seemed to think better of it as she turned to me. "Did you know?"

I grinned. "Same way you did."

She smiled at that.

It didn't take long for the buzzer to put on our masks to arrive—we were already in costume, so it was unnecessary. Once the timer expired, the elevator doors opened and two teenagers and a preteen walked into the Wards Headquarters wearing stick-on domino masks.

The first was a familiar older boy, dressed in leathers that were not all too different from his old costume sans the helmet. The man who was most likely Grue, or rather, Brian Laborn had an easygoing smile on his face that told me of his experience when interacting with coworkers.

The next boy was large, even larger than Brian. He had a chiseled face that looked like the poster macho-boy face, aesthetic-wise, and brown eyes that scanned the room before they brightened upon landing on me.

The last was a girl about Vista's age. Brown-haired and with a round face that still hasn't shaken off the baby fat. She stared at Vista with a puzzled expression on her face, while the other girl gave her a bewildered look.

"Dinah?" Vista asked, and I did a double take.

Dinah Alcott, the girl who'd been kidnapped by Coil in the original story. The precognitive who can tell you the chances of a thing happening. Thinking about it, it made sense that she was here when the original kidnapper had run for the hills. Guilt sprung in my chest as I realized I'd forgotten about her entirely—but it was okay since she was fine. Better, even, since the Wards was a place where kids were taught not just how to use their powers but also how not to be taken advantage of for them; something that the Youth Guard insisted upon.

"Missy, right?" Dinah said, and Missy nodded. Dinah beamed. "I knew it! I knew there was something off about you."

"Uh-huh," Vista said, crossing your arms.

"You're too calm, too responsible. Too good at leading the class and at PE. Yet nobody knows what you do after class. You're obviously a superhero!"

I watched in amazement as Vista's posture changed from defensive to preening as she took off her helmet for the other girl. "That I am!"

"Good to know you guys are busy introducing yourselves."

We turned and standing there was Dauntless. When the hell did he—huh. Reviewing my mental visual reel revealed that he'd been there since the start and was making an indulgent smile under his helmet as he watched the two girls socialize.

"Sir," Aegis said, and the man waved at him to relax.

"Don't worry about it. Anyway, these are the new Wards. You've already met Forecast. The other two are Valor," he patted the tall boy, "and Shroud."

"Forecast?"

Dinah smiled. "Ask me something about tomorrow."

"Uh, is Ms. Nancy going to give us Chemistry homework tomorrow?"

"Ninety-three point zero eight chance."

Missy groaned. Clock held his head.

"Holy shit," he said. "Does this mean we can finally win the lotto?"

"Um, eighty-three point forty-seven chance no?"

The room was filled with laughter. I decided to try my own luck—but it has to be a harmless question.

This one will do.

"What are the chances I'll be training tonight?"

Dinah—Forecast opened her mouth and then frowned. "Huh," she said. "The numbers keep changing. Wait, give me a second."

Well, that's interesting, I thought. I wonder if I also mess with other Thinkers?

She closed her eyes. The way her expression was pinched together suggested that the experience was a little painful, and when she finally opened her eyes, she looked exhausted.

"Sixty-three point four percent." She paused. "Thirty-two point fifty-three. No, Sixty-eight point fifty. Ow."

"I think that's enough," I said. "You don't have to keep trying if it's hurting you."

The girl nodded tiredly. "Okay."

"Well if that's fine with you, I'll leave you kids to socialize," Dauntless said. "If you have any questions, call my phone line. I'll be staying in the building … doing paperwork."

He sighed then turned to leave. The rest of us turned to the last two newbies.

"So, what can you guys do?" Gallant asked.

Valor shrugged. "I'm strong," he said. At our unimpressed looks, he sighed and suddenly took off his shirt.

Over the course of a minute, his body began growing, gaining mass and definition. Other changes came like how his jaw became much wider and his hair changed from brown to blonde. Soon, he was a head taller than even myself looking positively like a Greek god.

"I can do something like controlling my biology. I've also got something like being able to put force into things I touch," he said in a voice at least two octaves deeper. "Tactile telekinesis, I think it's called."

"Does it give you like a forcefield or something, too?" I asked.

"Kind of?"

"Let's try."

I walked forward and punched him in the stomach. Not too strongly, of course, but it was still enough to throw back a grown adult. My fist bounced off and it felt like the closer it got to his body, the more resistance it encountered.

"Neat," I said.

His cheeks suddenly turned red and I felt my face twitch. Shit.

I turned to Grue—I mean, Shroud. "How about you?"

He scratched his head. "I'm, uh, not sure how to put this, but you guys actually know of me already."

"Yeah?" I said, and he raised an eyebrow. I rolled my eyes and motioned for him to continue.

He responded by opening a palm. Darkness, a spatial anomaly to Void Sense, rolled off his hand in waves and drifted toward the floor. He stopped soon after and the effect quickly dissipated.

"Wait, you're Grue?" Kid Win said, astonished.

Missy frowned. "Who?"

"From the Undersiders. A small gang of thieves that," Kid Win glanced at me, "Selene took in on her inaugural patrol."

Missy turned to me. "Did you know?"

I shrugged. "Had a feeling."

She frowned, but then she eventually shook her head. "Whatever. Welcome to the team. Hope you don't turn out like Stalker."

Shroud frowned. "Stalker tried to kill me."

The ensuing silence was palpable, only to be broken with Clock saying, "Huh."

"So why did you change sides?" Gallant asked.

Everyone looked at Shroud intently, but the poor boy took to it like champ. "I started taking bodyguard jobs and stealing to get enough money so that I could get custody of my sister over my mom and dad. One of my bosses paid well and promised he'd help with that, but then he suddenly disappeared. I got caught, was offered probation, and now here I am."

"Your parents aren't…" Valor began, having shrunken back to his usual size and put on his shirt. Shroud shrugged.

"Mom's … not all there and my dad's … not there at all."

Silence once again filled the room as an unspoken understanding passed between us. Powers by and large were never really obtained from nice things happening and the same could be said for Herrschers. I took a deep breath.

"Let's move on from heavy topics," I said. "I'm Veronika, though you can call me V. Cape name's Selene."

Aegis took my cue. "Carlos. Aegis in-costume and leader of the Wards."

"I know we've said this already but I'm Missy and you know me as Vista…"

-{0}-

"I'm home!" I said, closing the roof deck door. Mom was in the living room watching TV.

"V!" she said. "Watch with me! It's about to start!"

"Coming!"

I ran over to my room, tossed my bag onto the bed, and then headed over to the bathroom to deposit my costume into the laundry basket. After that, I phased through the walls on the way to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of melon milk before heading over to where Mom was plastered over the couch.

I recognized the Brockton News Brigade from this afternoon. The newscaster was different this time, a man who looked like he was still in his twenties.

"Can you believe it?" Mom said. "We spend the whole day preparing for their arrival and then they decide to have the press conference at Medhall? After everyone's gone home? Unbelievable."

"Why Medhall?" I asked, sitting down beside her. Last I'd heard, its board was scrambling to get a new CEO on the chair.

"The buying was a success. Amos now owns Medhall, and by extension, all the other pharmaceuticals on Brockton Bay."

"Huh," I said. "Well, they did buy the company. And I'm not sure if their schedule worked out as well as they wanted?"

"Fair points," Mom conceded. She then turned up the volume.

"... the Amos Foundation has stated that it's always been about cultivating strength into humanity itself. This is why, despite the great talent of its roster, the majority of the focus has always been in medical care and the biological sciences."

The man suddenly paused as a messenger offscreen seem to have said something to him. Then, he turned to the camera with an excited expression.

"I've just received word that the Director of Amos has finally arrived! Tim, get in position!"

The camera panned to the stage where the same woman we met at the Brockton branch—Ms. Dunois—was standing at the podium.

"Greetings, everyone, and thank you for coming. I know that it's a bit of a late hour for all of us here, so I'll try to keep the introductions brief."

"Our speaker for today is one of the many founders of the Amos Foundation back when it was still known as the International Association for Paranormal Diseases. After publishing a breakthrough in creating a provisionary cure for the disease known as Z-Miasma, our speaker has been awarded a Nobel Peace Prize and was promoted to the head of the directorial board of the IAPD. Under her leadership, the organization has proceeded to create several other breakthroughs in various sectors, most notably in creating a universal improvement for public healthcare, devising a variety of methods to reverse-engineer tinker technology, and creating the first-ever successful cooperative platform for all Parahumans capable of providing medical care."

"The IAPD has changed its name with no small consideration for this brilliant woman's contributions as part of the organization's increased scope. More than just an organization for odd and anomalous diseases, the Amos Foundation has become the world leader in medical technology and economic Parahuman integration. Hailing from the infamous city of Frankfurt, Germany, and with a dozen other scientific prizes under her belt since the Millenium vaccine, we would like to welcome Dr. Augustine Mobius Sinclair!"

I spat my melon milk.

Interlude 4.B

-{0}-

--Theo Anders

"Excuse me," he said.

The woman at the counter didn't hear him over the phone call she was currently answering. He hadn't exactly minded that she was busy, but he'd been standing at the helpdesk for fifteen minutes now, and was rapidly realizing the limits of his patience.

It wasn't like the woman was the only one who was preoccupied. All around them, the PRT office buzzed with activity as the multitude of problems associated with the city's biggest source of employment—revealed to be the den of the biggest supervillain gang of white supremacists—appeared one after the other. The lobby was a battlefield of journalists, incensed executives' assistants making their case to save their employers, and well-wishers bringing flowers and fruit to the heroes who saved their city from its biggest source of rot. It made the room feel smaller and hotter than it should be.

And he'd been standing in this hell for fifteen minutes. More now.

"Excuse me!" he tried again.

Finally, finally, the front desk woman looked up, eyes widening before apologizing to her telephone correspondent. She put it down and gave him a fake smile.

"Hello, sir, how may I help you?"

Theo suddenly found himself at a loss, but he couldn't just say nothing. "I, uh, have an appointment."

"Name and purpose of visit, please."

"Theo Anders. Legal meeting for the Anders case."

The woman quieted at that, her face blank. Her coworker looked over from her own call. Theo's smile felt strained.

"Ah, sorry," his conversation partner finally said before turning her eyes toward her computer. "Appointment for one Theo Anders … got it." She looked back at him. That would be in room 4-B, here's your visitor's pass."

The woman handed over a plastic tag attached to a lanyard with blue PRT patterns all over its design. Theo took the pass and pulled it over his head and it felt strangely heavy against his chest. He thanked the receptionist and went over to the elevator where an officer checked his pass. Satisfied, the man allowed Theo to enter and he punched the button for the fourth floor. Fortunately, the PRT elevator didn't have any music.

He didn't have much chance to enjoy the quiet, these days.

When the elevator doors dinged open, he almost wished he could go back, just to have one more moment of silence. Needs must, however, so he continued on and made his way over to the room where he would be having a meeting with some government workers about his father's rotten wealth and property.

"You must be Theo."

An Asian man greeted Theo after he entered the right room, standing up from his seat to shake his hand. Theo felt part of himself recoil as years of hearing slander against the man's ethnicity returned to him momentarily, but he eventually shook it off and answered the man's greeting with a shake.

"That's me."

"Great. I'm Attorney Chu, and these are Officer Bradley and Mr. Young from Child Protective Services. We understand that this has been a very difficult time for you, but we assure you that we are doing everything in our power so that everyone can walk away from this happy."

As the meeting went on, Theo found himself reminded of the days when Max invited him to the board meetings at Medhall—the scent of cologne and the honeyed words of the executives that were all cleverly worded so that you wouldn't realize how they were working to extract the most amount of money from you. They would shower him with praise and tell him that he has great prospects. Then after the meeting, Max would pull him aside and tell you precisely what lies they were talking about and what assets they could obtain from the specific wording.

That was last year: before he'd started interning at Brockton General. He did that because it got him away from that place and from home and it actually helped. Working at the hospital felt like what he did mattered, that the people he helped, those who recognized the guy who brought the water or the right equipment at the right time, would look back at him later on and thank him for his help.

Talking to the lawyers and the PRT felt like he was back in that boardroom, only there was no intimidating Max to be the actual target of all the sweet talk. No, it was just him alone and he didn't even have control over the assets that these people were claiming he owned.

Did he even want to own them, knowing how they were obtained? Not really.

About a third of Medhall's assets were found obtained through less than legal means. A trace of Max Anders' account had led to a number of shell companies and proxies where more than a few 'anonymous' asset-building was done. Regardless of either, the bank would be freezing the man's assets and redistributing them as compensation for his victims, but Theo was still left with a sizeable enough sum to finish his schooling at Arcadia and college, more if he managed to get a scholarship. Kaiser had a laundry list of crimes long enough that his fortune was forfeited a long time ago.

Miraculously, all but one of the properties were taken away and it was the one he actually slept in. A portion of Kaiser and Purity's assets were sequestered to let him pay the bills for about a decade.

And then, there was the matter of custody over Aster—specifically, his lack of it.

"What do you mean Aster's going into foster care?"

"Think about it this way," Mr. Young said, "you're a minor who's still in high school, without a job and without anyone to take care of your sister at home. To add to that, you're the son of a supervillain."

Theo winced at that.

"Fostering prospects was already bad enough for you that we had to resort to appointing a legal guardian"—you, Theo thought, though didn't speak it—"so you have to imagine how hard it would have to be for your sister, who isn't even old enough to know how to eat by herself, to grow up with that shadow in her everyday life."

Theo gripped his armrest, carefully not letting the inner expression show on his face. The man was right; Theo was already dreading his return to Arcadia given how many death threats he'd found in his email that morning. He'd only read two but it was already enough to make him throw up in the bathroom. Letting Aster grow up in that environment would be criminal.

The man was right. Yet there was still a voice in him that cried out that he should be the one to take care of her. That he had the right to do so because he was Aster's big brother.

"And you're telling me it's not possible to avoid that if she lives with me?"

"That would be…"

The man trailed off. He didn't need to say the rest of it. Theo already understood that with what he had, it was impossible. So now, he was left with a decision: whether to let them have Aster or to keep her with him as the child of two of the most notorious Nazi supervillains in the past decade.

His stomach twisted into knots. Between the two of them, he knew which one could bear that burden.

"Fine," he said, grunting the word out.

Mr. Young smiled as he pulled out some forms hidden inside of his suitcase. "Thank you, Theo. You've made a very brave decision."

-{0}-

Theo didn't remember getting home. By the time he'd realized it, he was already twisting the key to the front door of the two-floor residential that he'd been left with, holding an envelope full of documents he did not fully remember signing under his arm. The lock clicked and the door swung open. He walked into the empty house, his steps echoing through the building as he listened to the faint sounds of the TV that had been left on upstairs.

Locking the door again, he passed by the kitchen to leave the papers on the countertop. Then he made his way up so that he could check on Aster. He'd left her in his room after bringing the crib over so that he could watch her while he slept; she often woke up in the middle of the night due to a dirty diaper, a need to eat, or to just be rocked back to sleep. He hadn't had more than three hours' rest since Thursday when all the caretakers left.

Aster wasn't awake when he found her, drool running down from her mouth as she listened to the droning of some children's show. He used the cloth he'd left nearby to wipe it off before going downstairs to heat some frozen chicken nuggets.

Minutes later, Theo was back in his room, having collected the papers he'd brought from the meeting again. He sat down on the bed and stared at the envelope.

He threw it across the room.

Papers flapped and scattered as the envelope tore from the force of his throw. They covered the entire corner, print and pictures littering about as they fell. For a moment, he felt good, like he'd just released a weight from his shoulders. Then Aster began to cry and it was like a knife was twisted into his chest.

"Shhh," he said, making his way over to Aster, stepping on paper he absently noted he shouldn't step on. He picked her up and started rocking her gently. "It's okay, Aster. Sorry. It's okay."

The girl kept crying, so Theo kept trying to calm her down. He continued to whisper to her apologies and promises he couldn't keep. No, it wasn't going to be okay. No, she wasn't going to be seeing Mommy again. No, they won't be going out to the park on Wednesday since the CPS was coming to get her as soon as they were able. But he didn't know how else to comfort the girl. He'd never really taken care of anyone before. Up until Thursday, Aster had been under the care of either Kayden or one of the caretakers, and the most he'd done was feed her a bottle that one time. He'd already lost count of how many times he'd made her cry these past few days.

Maybe that was a good thing. He was a terrible brother, so Aster going to someone else meant that she would be taken care of better than if she was with him.

Eventually, the girl managed to calm down, lapsing back into unconsciousness. Theo gave himself a moment just to breathe before he made his way back to the crib to set Aster down. Then he looked around. The room was in an even worse mess than before. His chicken nuggets were on the ground and his water had spilled all over the bed.

He sighed, picking up the plate and cup to set them on his study table before collapsing on the bed. He closed his eyes and wished for the growing pressure behind his eyes to go away so he could finally sleep. But they didn't and he was left awake.

His throat felt tight and tears threatened to come, but if he did that, Aster would begin crying again. So Theo held it back. He stopped himself from the wail that threatened to spill.

It wasn't like tears had ever helped him in his life anyway. It certainly never did for his monster of a father.

So he just lay there, eyes open.

Sleep didn't come to him that night.

-{0}-

They came for Aster at the crack of dawn. Theo had barely managed to make himself coffee—he was still learning how to do it since the caretakers had always done it for him before—when the doorbell rang. He was greeted by Mr. Young and a woman he'd never met and didn't bother to remember when she introduced herself. He was never going to see her again anyway.

He retrieved Aster from upstairs and planted a goodbye kiss on her forehead before handing the girl over to the foster system. The agents waved him goodbye, spilling another spiel about how brave he'd been, before leaving him alone with the silence.

Theo went to the living room and spent maybe ten minutes looking through TV channels before he couldn't take spending another second in the house anymore and went upstairs to change for school. In less than an hour, he was hopping onto the bus before the sun had really found its legs.

He found himself nodding off, only to be woken up by the sensation of his phone starting to slip from his pocket. He slapped the hand of the perpetrator and changed seats. He didn't want a repeat of the last time he'd tried to report that to the conductor.

The rest of the way fared a little better. He didn't fall asleep but he did have to trade that with having to sit through a burgeoning headache. Luckily, Arcadia wasn't too far from where he lived.

There were barely any students when he arrived. He made his way to his homeroom class in haste, avoiding anyone he came across. He shoved his bag under his seat, and as soon as his head hit the table, he fell asleep.

He found himself waking up to the feeling of something cold splashing against the back of his head. He looked around. There were more students than before, maybe about half the room full, but he couldn't find any obvious perpetrator. Instead, he found the class looking at him warily. Something ugly threatened to bubble up from his throat but he held it back. Instead, he held it back and spent the rest of the wait nursing a headache while vigilantly looking behind him every once in a while.

Eventually, Mrs. Hawkins arrived and started homeroom.

The rest of the morning passed by without incident. Arcadia was good at curbing bullying on the premises. Between the Wards secretly being in the study and the kids of New Wave in attendance, there was a pretty good chance for anyone looking for trouble to receive a broken rib or temporary anesthesia throughout their body. Heroes aside, the guards were no joke and made bag inspections at the entryways complete with dogs to sniff out any undesirables.

It reminded him of Tammi and her horror stories about the security situation (or lack thereof) at Winslow. He shook his head. The girl had been a villain, too, and now she was behind bars with the rest of the … bastards. He was never going to see her again.

That thought formed a lump in his throat and he scowled. Why was he being so torn up about this? The two of them had never really been friends, much less the couple they had to pretend to be. But part of him still enjoyed the company they had, even if it had always been to complain about something happening in school.

Lunch rolled by. Theo headed to the cafeteria and found himself stopping after getting his food. Usually, he was due at the table full of kids of the wealthy players in the city, but that table was full right now. Hell, when he met the eyes of Rupert—the de facto leader of the lot and son of the owner of Weymouth Shopping Center and Hillside Mall—the boy shook his head.

Theo didn't need to be told twice that he wasn't welcome there.

He looked for a different table. Today was one of those days where there wasn't really any that were empty. Arcadia had tables for six so as to encourage small friend circles and the only vacancies he could find were the seats leftover from friend groups not having enough members and he wasn't one to intrude.

He was pretty sure he'd ended up just standing there for a few minutes just looking for a place to sit. Then, to his surprise, he saw someone waving him over and recognized him as Dean Stansfield.

The Stansfields were the biggest real estate business in Brockton. Theo had met the other boy in more than one occasion, most of which involved galas and public events. He found himself a little jealous: Dean was popular and not just among the rich kids, he was handsome and fit, and had a girlfriend in one of the most eligible bachelorette superheroes of their city. What made it worse was that he seemed to legitimately be a good person—he'd heard from Panacea that the boy had personally attended charities and worked with shelters that his family's company sponsored.

Is that what this is? Theo wondered. A charity case?

He swallowed that thought down and marched over. He was going to have to eat, one way or another.

Dean smiled at him as he approached. Around him were three other boys he recognized from Chemistry class. Shit, I must be missing a group assignment, Theo thought.

"Theo!" Dean said, before turning to his group. "Guys, this is Theo. Mind if he sits here?"

The two other redheads of the group made noises of approval. The third, Theo realized, was a Latino, and the fact made the former corporate scion sweat especially when the boy frowned at the sight of him.

"Theo?" the other boy asked. "Aren't you—"

"That's Carlos," Dean quickly said. "The other guys are Dennis and Chris."

Theo forced himself to smile and waved at the other boys. "Nice to meet you," he said, then sat down. Fortunately, the other boys turned back to their original conversation—something about the Ward girl, Selene. It let him finish his meal in silence.

Theo wasn't blind, however. As the lunch period went on, he found himself being frowned at by Carlos more. Suddenly, Theo could remember all the times the Empire was featured in the news: the synagogues closed due to arson, Latin communities forced out by armed men in gang colors, and the black people found dead in alleys with their possessions untouched. A feeling of dread welled up inside him. He inched to the edge of his seat and tried not to look at the other boy, body tensed as if ready to bolt at any time.

It was why he didn't expect it when a girl suddenly came over and wrapped her arms around Dean. Looking up, Theo saw the blonde hair and pretty face and recognized Victoria Dallon.

"So, who's this?" she asked Dean, smiling. It didn't reach her eyes. The other boy chuckled awkwardly before answering.

"It's, uh, Theo from gym class."

Victoria hummed. "You mean that Theo? Theo Anders? Kaiser's kid?"

Theo felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He wanted to leave, but he was frozen. He'd seen what happened to the goons that Glory Girl managed to get her hands on a few times, being healed by Othala. He was distinctly aware that the person before him could twist him into a pretzel.

Dean didn't answer. Victoria's expression wasn't kind when she turned it to him. "You know, I still remember when everyone had gathered at Aunt Jess's funeral. She was killed by an Empire goon, some nobody without powers. Wonder what happened to him?"

He was promoted to a lieutenant, Theo remembered. Instead of answering, he simply swallowed and fell silent. The others at the table were trying not to look at him, and he could hear more and more of the cafeteria quiet down as they caught on that something was happening.

"Thought so," Victoria said. She unwrapped her arms from her boyfriend and stood tall, seemingly growing until she filled the room.

"Get lost, Theo."

Theo was quick to bring what was left of his lunch to the self-bussing area. He'd only eaten half of it.

-{0}-

Theo didn't take the bus home. After what happened in the cafeteria, too many people started to recognize his face and it made him regret not taking a hoodie that day. It was just his luck that the sky was covered in dark clouds when school ended and he'd forgotten to bring an umbrella.

He walked briskly through the streets, his phone out for a map. He'd never had to walk home from school before. Unfortunately, whatever street names Google Maps gave, it wasn't the ones he was seeing. Whoever put those in must have used a map from years ago.

He stopped by a sign. He was looking for Park Avenue, but the one in front of him said Bristol Avenue. Based on the map, he was in the right area, but the big golf course on the left side wasn't there on the map, and there was supposed to be a street there that led him to within a block of the compound where the house was.

Sighing, Theo decided to march on to the next corner and just circle around the golf course. He was going to get there eventually.

Then it happened.

He'd come to about the halfway point, between two old apartment buildings when it happened. A pair of shadowed figures suddenly jumped out of an alleyway and grabbed him. Theo cried out, only to be cut short as a fist drove itself into his jaw, causing the world to spin.

Something took hold of his bag and he found the wall rushing toward him. Pain exploded across his skull and he was barely aware of his backpack being ripped away. Something pushed him down and Theo found himself tasting concrete. Then the air was forced out of his lungs as a kick landed on his stomach.

Wheezing, Theo forced himself to roll away from his assailant and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. His head pounded as he tried to identify his attackers—a trio of figures dressed in baggy jackets and hoods, their faces hidden behind masks. One of them handed what looked like metal bats to the other two.

"Who are you guys?" Theo wheezed. The three of them glanced at each other before the middle guy stepped forward.

"You don't wanna know."

He sounded young, Theo thought. Then the three of them rushed toward him and he forced himself to raise his fists.

It was futile.

The first hit slammed right into his raised left arm hard enough to let out a crack. Theo's scream was cut off as agony exploded around his ribs from another strike. He sucked in, feeling it was hard to breathe. Then one of the figures bowled him over before putting his weight against Theo.

Theo could barely remember what happened next, only that it lasted forever and that his world became pain. And then the next thing he knew, it was raining.

He was on the floor, unable to move. It was hard to even think when his body felt like it was a giant lump of agony. At least he was still able to breathe, if only barely and with every breath feeling like fire down his throat—they didn't break any more of his ribs.

Between labored gasps and the encroaching cold, Theo found himself wondering how it all got this way. Then stopped. He already knew how.

It was always going to happen.

With the nature of Kaiser's chosen profession, Theo knew that when the day came that his parents were defeated, he would be losing everything.

While he knew that the wealth he had enjoyed wouldn't last forever, it had still been a shock suddenly needing to take into account so many things in his life. And then there were the suits and the entire shit show that was the trial. He'd had to leave from the middle of class to stand as a witness as the people in his lives were sentenced to imprisonment or the Birdcage. He didn't like them, but they were the only people he really knew outside of his internship.

An internship he'd lost while in the middle of another hearing.

Even outside of the Empire. All the houseworkers had quit a day after the entire thing had gone down. Even Mrs. Fields, his nanny—Max had left raising Theo entirely to the elderly woman and that hadn't changed even when Kayden arrived to shove him into a different estate from the main house.

But more than any of them was the loss of Aster. He was denied even the responsibility of being a big brother. He knew more than anyone that he wasn't qualified, that it was a bad idea, but the baby was the only person that was actually left in his life.

Then he had to give her away because it was for her own good.

He wasn't even sure he'd be allowed to visit her when she grew up, much less if she'd even believe he was her brother. She was going to be a stranger and there was nothing he could do about it.

But it didn't end there. No, of course it didn't. Of course, the world didn't just want to take from him, it wanted to hurt him, too.

Theo wanted to laugh. No, he was laughing and it felt like rods of fire stabbing him in the chest. He just couldn't be heard over the downpour of the rain, the roar of vehicles, and the ringing in his ears. His assailants were gone, that much he was sure. But what he was also sure was that they were going to come back.

The Empire had committed too many sins, and even though he'd taken part in none of them, they were all painted on his back.

The world hated his guts. He was born doomed to a life under domestic terrorists, and even when they were gone now, he had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. Doomed to be hated for the crimes he never committed. And likely, doomed to have no future too. After all, his address wasn't exactly a secret. It wasn't like his neighbors were going to stop anyone coming in to take from him.

It was all just too much.

And then he saw something vast.