a new beg

by thejarl7166

beg new a

4. new

Chapter Text

As you walk along the Boardwalk towards your destination you can't help but think back to the events of the past few months. It's weird how life can change so quickly from doing something that, at the time, was such an innocuous thing. Not that it made your life worse, not really. It made it difficult, sure. Terrifying too, sometimes. But not worse… more like… weird or strange, perhaps.

If anything, you are certain at this point that the weirdness it's in your genes (if your family is anything to go by). Meeting your Boss just made that weirdness shine brighter than before.

Life is good, though. In general. So more interesting than before, that's for certain. Life in Brockton Bay has always been dangerous, especially for people with your skin tone, but now that you are also dangerous that factor only serves to spice the monotony of daily life. You still do the shopping for mom, go to the gym with dad, spend time with your busybody older brother, and go to Winslow, etc etc. All those things a normal teenager does.

But you also sneak out at night, go to the Last Drop, and serve as enforcer for the best crime boss this side of Boston.

Meeting the boss was pure luck. She is slightly older than you and, therefore, in a different class in school but when you spend half an hour trying to help a girl wash her hair from that unknown pink sugary liquid in the middle of the school's bathroom you tend to get to know the person. The fact that she was smart and surprisingly funny (when she wasn't all intense determination) was just a bonus.

She was a good friend. After what happened the only thing you could do was to be a good friend back.

One thing led to another and now you are second in command to a criminal organization.

Ah! How's that for a twist, bro?

You are like 87% sure you make more money per week than your brother does in, like, a month.

You think. You never compared salaries. Neither of you want to know what the other is actually getting up to. Of course, that's why you do know what he's up to. It's your duty as the annoying little sister.

After half an hour of walking, a clouded night has already descended, and you finally arrive at your destination.

Five months ago, this place was a run down, decrepit shit hole. A warehouse for a shipping company specialized in transporting all kinds of valuable stuff. After Leviathan's appearance and the Dockworkers little rebellion, the company took offense to the city and moved south to greener pastures, leaving behind its former headquarters'. When you and the boss first found the warehouse, it didn't look like much. In truth, it didn't look much different than any other warehouse: an old rectangular building smelling of rust and salt. The location was nice, though, stuck between the Docks and the Boardwalk, with a nice view to the Bay (if you classified the Bay as nice to view that is). When you were inspecting the place, however, things turned interesting.

See, there was a basement beneath the basement.

It was well hidden. The only clue were two metal vents that went down to it, and a breeze coming from a crack on an ordinary section of the wall.

It was strange already for such an old warehouse so near the sea to have a basement, but to have another level to it?

Something fishy was going on.

That is why, when you and the boss, finally, after what seemed like an eternity, cracked the damn mechanism behind the basement door (and by cracking you mean it literally) that lead to the next level, you are pleasantly surprised to have your suspicions confirmed.

Down there, right above a hardcore looking mahogany desk, was a big, stylized M.

The symbol of the March.

Everyone knew the March. They were one of the first big parahuman gangs in the city led by its sole cape Marquis. He was legendary in Brockton Bay for being a gentleman villain and being a one-man army, pushing back the E88 and the Teeth all by himself. But then, he was captured by the BBB (or New Wave, as they call themselves now) sent to the Birdcage and things got complicated for a bit. Suffice to say the older generation of the Bay still sigh nostalgically whenever Marquis's name is uttered.

So, when you find what it looks like to have been his base, you can only think that you won the lottery. The entire place looked looted, though. When Marquis was sent packing his subordinates jumped ship, apparently, and escaped with anything not nailed down. The desk was only left there to suffer the passage of time because it was too heavy to have been looted. Beyond that there was only a few rotted chairs, random newspapers pages on the ground and just a fuck ton of dust.

But it was good. Perfect, even.

When you and the boss took down the Merchants, helped dismantle the Chorus and swallowed up both gang's more business minded members; when the both of you established yourselves as the new big gang in the city you celebrated both things by making the warehouse your official base and rebranding it.

Currently, the sounds coming from it was of loud techno music and the light escaping from its windows was a psychedelic rainbow of random neon colours. Outside the main door was a line of people waiting to get in, organized in a neat file by a red rope and burly security men. On top of the door, the circular brand of the Last Drop was hanged up and shining gloriously with fluorescent light.

You approach Carlos and when he spots you, he makes way for you and starts opening the door.

Ignoring both the complaints and the whispers from the people in line to enter the club, you get in the building. Carlos says a greeting that is barely heard above the cacophony of sounds that explode outwards when he opens the door (you do try to match his "Good evening little boss" with an enthusiastic greeting back, but it's October and you don't want to stay outside in the cold so you kind of speed through the thing to get inside).

The room you enter is small and there is a large window to the side where Anna is waiting for people to give her their coats and stuff before entering the club properly. There is also John and Mike in the room, who proceed to frisk you as per the new procedure after some idiot decided bringing a gun inside an enclosed place full of people was a smart idea.

The weapons they do find on you, though, they let you keep, as usual.

After that you open another door, and you are assaulted by even louder music than before. The club itself was divided in two: the ground floor where the main fun happened and the second floor, where private party rooms and a private bar were made from the company's former office rooms. The private party rooms have tinted windows inwards and so does the private bar, showcasing to your richer clients the club below.

Sure, it might be a bit elitist, but when you guys were establishing the gang, you were in dire needs of funding, so, taking a cue from Faultline's Crew, the both of you decided on making a more legitimate business front. Therefore, the need to appeal to all audiences.

"Hey! Don't judge! It´s hard to make money when the crime boss has morals!"

Amused by that confession that one of your underlings said way back in the beginning, you move through the thin crowd to reach the diagonally opposite end of where you came in. The basement was for gang members only and the steel door to it was guarded by the most menacing looking members of your security team.

They make their best menacing impression when they see you. They know who you are, of course, but Master/Stranger protocols exist for a reason. It's also the reason why you kept a tight leash to your power this all time.

You didn't want to have things get messy like last time you forgot to do that.

You were kind of allergic to bullets. Not very good for your health.

Under the heavy scrutiny of the two men around you, you knock on the door.

One, two.

Pause.

One.

Pause.

One, two.

With a scrapping sound of steel against steel, a peephole opens at eye level and a pair of blue eyes look out from it.

"Is there any point to which you would wish to draw my attention?" Comes an accented voice from behind the door.

"To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time." You say with a smirk.

"The dog did nothing in the night-time." The voice responded.

"That was the curious incident." You say, nodding dramatically.

There's an amused scoff from the voice and the peephole closes. The grunting of steel precedes the door opening and you are now faced with a muscular ginger man who greets you.

"You are here earlier than usual, little boss."

"Oh, you know how it is! Didn't have anything to do and decided to help you guys open up the club!" You make a mischievous smile stretch across your face. "Besides, who knows what the big boss will do without proper supervision?"

The man snorts with amusement and lets you pass through the door. He smiles at you and says:

"Aye! Who knows! Last time you weren't here she wanted to ban smoking inside the club!"

"She has the best of intentions!" You manage to say with a straight face. "But yeah, if she did that half our customer base would be gone in a heartbeat."

"Better than a couple of cigars lighting the place on fire."

"There's insurance for that!"

He laughs a bit and makes a shooing motion with his right hand.

"Go see the boss. She's in her office, as usual."

"Hmm." You hum softly, thinking. "Did she go out during the day?"

"Nah, not today. Last I heard, the boss was busy with reports about Purity's movements"

You perk up at that. The infamous Blaster 8 of Brockton Bay has been one of the main powerhouses of the E88 but there have been rumours circulating for the last couple of months of a falling out and that's she is trying to go independent. It's a big deal if it's true. If.

You wave goodbye while speeding down the set of stairs that lead down to the basement. The place is big and open, with chairs, couches and sofas for people to relax as well as tables to meet up. There is also two bathrooms down here for whoever needed. A big TV on one end of the basement is blaring out a baseball game and there's a dozen people of varied genders watching a few members playing a game of poker in one of the corners. The night is still young, so the bar down here is empty, with Chuck cleaning a few glasses behind the counter.

You go and do your usual thing of greeting the few lieutenants present and make small talk with them, but you do it mostly out of sense of duty. Boss has said that it helps morale if the higher ups take noticeable care of their underlings. She is rarely wrong, and it did help make the gang members see you beyond a little girl trying to be an adult.

But some had a hard time of it.

They were quickly dissuaded.

It's hard to see a person as a child when she can cut your throat without you even noticing.

When all is said and done you move on to the part of the wall that has the secret door. Since it's inside the only place that is separate from the rest of the basement, there is no need for much secrecy. It's a rectangular room in one of the corners of the basement and it's supposed to be the boss's office. It's just a prop room, a diversion, an extra room to have the boss meet people when they are outsiders or newbies. You take one of the books from a shelf full of them (The Hound of Baskerville by Arthur C. Doyle) and you put a finger in until you meet the bookcase's wall and find the button. After a resounding click is heard you push the entire thing forwards opening the hidden door to show a hallway.

As dramatic as the boss is, there is something to say about this kind of thing.

The hallway is short and quickly ends in a set of stairs that go around the elevator shaft. The elevator is industrial and is connected to the ground level to the club's backstage. It makes too much noise, however, so it's only used when it's really necessary, like when the boss needs one of the vats moved or the product is sent to be sold. Those were the reasons why it was installed. When those times come it's an all-hands-on-deck situation and always at the highest point of the night when the noises of the club make for better cover.

After two flights of stairs, you are faced with a big open hallway full of tinkertech vats containing great amounts of liquid. Half of them are a neon purple and the other half a toxic green. There's smoke in the air and you smell oil and something overly sweet and spicy.

The combination makes your nose twitch.

You move down the long hallway, passing through all the product, until you are the boss's door. Boss's sanctum sanctorum is, no joke, a dangerous fucking place. As probably all tinker labs are. But boss's tinker speciality makes you shiver a bit. Chemical tinkers are scary as fuck, as you have come to realize this past year… a bit too intimately.

You knock precisely once and you wait fo-

"Come in."

You open the door.

The boss is siting in her swivel chair (one that looks more like a throne that an office chair) with her back to you. The office is spacious and very well decorated. It was decided early on that she would inherit Marquis sense of style, a more sophisticated look, making the entire room a late XX century feel. That contrasts rather shocking and purposefully with the modern lab on the left of the office, which contrasts even more heavily with the other part on the right of you. You tend to avoid looking at the blood-stained floor beneath the surgery bed. Behind the mahogany desk, there is a commode where on top there is a small vitrine showcasing two skulls. Beneath each of them there is a small name tag identifying whom they belonged to.

The boss is reading papers from a clip but puts the reading on hold as she turns around to see you.

"Good evening, Taylor."

"Good evening, Aisha."

You approach her with a skip on your step and you sit down on one of the corners of the desk.

"Any news?" You say as you peruse over the documents on the desk. "Jack told me you were reading on Purity"

"Hmm" Taylor hums with the back of her throat, as she puts the clip down on the desk. All her movements are slow and methodical, like she is thinking while moving, no rush or stress, like she has all the time in the world. Her long black hair contrasts heavily with her pale complexion, her eyes – no longer their original colour – shone purple with bioluminescent light. Her tall, chiselled figure showcases her long legs and powerful strides that you know she has. If you were asked for a comparison, you would say she looks like a panther. After a moment of thought, she responds:

"There is most definitely a schism between Purity and the rest of the E88. Before July she had already started actively targeting the ABB." She sighs. "The only reason she isn't attacking us it's because people still think the Merchants are operating normally and nobody attacks the Merchants"

"Because they smell?" You suggest, jokingly.

"Because they were scum." She spits out. "And only would-be heroes would dare go against them. Everyone else ignored them."

Damn, you were hoping her mood was better today. But you know the subject of the Merchants was a minefield. You try to dispel her mood before it got worse.

"Any plans regarding Purity then?"

"No. She is not attacking the E88, which means they either have blackmail on her or she still has emotional ties to them. In other words, she is radioactive."

"They probably have her civ ID… And if she joins the Protectorate?"

"She won't. Their idiotic PR has made the mistake of disappearing the villains that turn themselves in. It has created a feeling in villains that their life will end if they try to turn a new leaf." Taylor's right hand moves to massage the bridge of her nose. "Either they are actively malicious or incompetent or straight up idiotic. Who knows?"

"Sad for her then. Anything else?"

"Your idiot brother's gang is doing well. A few thefts here and there, mostly from the E88 and from our Merchant's front. Tattletale has been sniffing around but I think she is trying to find a new recruit."

"He's not an idiot, Taylor. He means well."

"Yes but like all other parahumans he's lacking one critical component: common sense."

"Well… Alright, I don't have anything to say to that. I already heard all your rants about it. It really would have been simpler for him to gain custody of me by joining the Wards." You say with a shake of your head and a sigh.

"Hmm…" Taylor finally looks directly at you with a thoughtful expression adorning her face.

"Whenever you do that, you give me the heebie-jeebies." You say, after a moment of silence, with a fake shudder. Disrupted from her train of thought, Taylor's face colours a bit.

"What? Me thinking?"

"No, you plotting."

"Ah."

"Yes, ah."

She hums softly this time and rests back her head on the chair. You take that moment of relaxation as an invitation and with one swift movement you sit down horizontally on her lap. She startles a bit and glares at you while you wiggle your bum to make yourself comfortable, as if you were a cat kneading a new bed.

"You'll be the death of me." She says, with an expression of utter resignation.

"Hmhm." You confirm with, you are sure, is a shit eating grin. Her stern expression cracks for a second and you count yourself victorious.

"In other news..." She says in an obvious way to change the subject. "I have found breadcrumbs the size of houses, in my investigation of Shadow Stalker, that have led me to finding out where she went."

"Oh no! I was really hoping she died, or ya' know got dropped down a portal straight to Hell."

"Unfortunately, neither of us is so lucky. She joined the Wards."

"My God!" You say incredulously.

"Yes. But wait, there is more."

"No!"

"She was sent to San Diego in the hopes of being straightened out at a Summer 'boot camp'. Military style."

"No! They are making things worse! When the bitch goes back to the streets, she'll have proper training and shit!"

"Yes, well if sh-"

You are interrupted by a single knock on the door. You both look at the clock hanging above the door. It's 11:40. The club is probably at full swing. Taylor looks at you and you nod, understanding immediately her meaning. You get up from her lap and let reins of your power free. Taylor, who was looking at you, has a moment of confusion before a spark of realization shows in her eyes. She picks up the clip and turns around in her chair. You roll your eyes. So dramatic. You move to stand by the door.

"Come in." She commands.

Chuck comes in cautiously trying to look straight ahead, avoiding the more… ugly parts of the office. He enters fully in the room, closing the door behind him.

"Good evening, Ma'am."

Taylor slowly turns around and puts the clip she was pretending to read back on the desk. See, you think, so dramatic.

"Good evening, Eric. What is it?"

Oh, shit!? His name isn't Chuck? You have been calling him that for the last two months!

"Jack says there's a cape on the back-alley entrance hoping to talk with you."

Taylor's eyebrows rise considerably, and you can't help but imitate her. No capes are supposed to know you exist! Taylor pushes herself forward putting her elbows on the desk and interlocking her fingers, seemingly in anticipation.

"Did they ask for me, specifically, or…?"

"Ah" He startles a bit nervously. "They asked for Skidmark."

"Really?" Taylor says slowly as she relaxes slightly back to the chair, untangling her fingers. You can already see the gears ticking behind her purple eyes all while her left thumb unconsciously fiddles with her two mechanical fingers of her left hand. She always does that last thing when Skidmark's name is said, a nervous tick you think.

"Did they tell Jack their name?" Tayl- no, the Boss said.

"I don't think so Ma'am." Eric says quickly. "But Jack said they didn't look normal."

"Not normal?"

Fuck, that's the most redundant thing to say when one mentions a cape. Of course, they are not normal! They are flesh bags full of trauma and the chances of you dying are increasingly bigger the closer you are to them.

"No, Ma'am. Jack says the cape looked like someone gave sentience to the contents of a trash compactor."

Ok, now that was awfully specific. Boss's eyes narrow, though, in recognition.

"Trainwreck… huh." She says, clearly intrigued, but there is some steel entering her tone. "Ok, you can go back to tending the bar upstairs. Before that, though, tell Jack I'll be at the back office, on the ground level in 6 minutes. We can't bring him inside the basement level, understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Eric bows a bit and quickly (although not quick enough to be deemed rude) gets out of the office. You then chain your power back and see Taylor's attention turn to you. Her eyes are cold amethysts.

"What are you thinking?" You say. The name of the cape sounds familiar. Probably from one of the Boss's briefings.

"He came from his own free will."

"Yeah, and the problem with that?"

"To join what is supposed to be the Merchants."

"Ah, I see the problem now."

"The Merchants." The boss says with her teeth clenched.

"Ok, then. How are we solving this?" Too late, the boss is already on a bender.

"The Merchants! The fuckers! Fucking scum not fit to lick my boots! Drug-peddlers!"

"Ah, boss we kinda sell drugs too." There is really no point to your response though, the boss is already going away from the desk and starts kicking the shit out of one of the spare armchairs in the office, screaming all the while. You make a mental note to put another extra armchair in the office.

"Rapists! Killers! Bastards! Kidnappers!" She pulls out a terrifying looking gun seemingly out of nowhere (one that looks more like a hand cannon than a pistol) and shoots the chair repeatedly. You sigh and make another mental note to get a new carpet.

When the bullets run out, you approach the boss slowly, because she is starting to hyperventilate. From mindless rage to impotent fear. Boss's episodes are not common but not rare either. A month ago, she went full rage mode on an unpowered member who tried to sell Shimmer to some teens from Winslow. Suffice to say no member ever tried to sell drugs of any kind to kids since then. Their operations were supposed to be a secret after all. They were supposed to be better than the Merchants after all. The weekly shipments of Shimmer that were sent to Toybox and Blasto were heavily guarded and for someone to have managed to steal, no matter how few, bottles of the stuff to sell was a major issue. One that the Boss dealt with quickly and publicly.

You manage to hug her closely but not too close, so she doesn't feel trapped, and you whisper comforting words.

"Shh… it's okay. Breathe Taylor. They are dead, remember? Yeah? I pissed inside their tequila bottle, remember how funny that was? Breath, sweetie. Shh..." When she starts hugging you back, you continue. "It's okay. Sh… I want you to do something for me, sweetie. Can you? I want for you to tell me seven things you can see in this room, sweetie. Can you tell me?"

"Armchair, … Huh" A deep breathe right in your ear. "A clock, … a desk, a table, a bottle, a chandelier… a distiller …"

"C'mon sweetie, one more." You say softly.

"A skull."

"Good." You turn her so you can look her in the eyes. "Do you feel better?"

A deep breathe.

"Yeah, I do" She says.

The both of you spend a moment just sitting there, on the floor, hugging each other.

"Eight things."

"What" You say a bit confused.

"You made me count eight things."

"Yes, well… The armchair doesn't count."

"Why?"

You pointedly look at the remains of what was once a perfectly comfortable chair. She, on the other hand, chooses to bury her face in the crook of your neck.

"Well, it was old and ugly anyway." She chooses to say.

You continue to hug it out on the floor for a bit more.

"What time is it?"

"11:44"

"Ok. We need to go." She disentangles herself from you and in one quick movement she is striding towards the desk, where her mask and yours are. She opens the drawer and takes out the rebreather for her. Taylor puts it on, there's woosh sound from the vacuum seal, and she picks up your mask and throws it at you. "C'mon, my little Imp. Get up from the floor, we have stuff to do."

"What's your plan?"

She reloads her hand cannon, straightens out her suit and passes a hand through her gorgeous hair.

"We find out why the bastard came here and what he wants. If we don't like the answer, we kill him."

"Neat. And if we do like the answer?" You say putting on your mask.

Both of you are at the door, looking over each other.

"We might kill him all the same." She confesses with a sigh. "I don't think I can trust the type of person who would willingly join the Merchants and we can't exactly let him go with the knowledge that we exist."

"Hmm. Not it."

"What?"

"I'm not gonna be the one getting rid of the body."

"Ah."

"Yes, ah."

You open the door for her with a small bow and a flourish. Before you can follow her out of the room, though, you hear her voice soft, weak, a bit tired.

"Hey, Aisha…"

"Yeah?" You respond.

"Thanks… for everything."

"No problem."

Notes:

Hello! Thank you for reading this chapter!

Long ago this was supposed to be a one shot, so a lot of details on the AU went unmentioned for literary reasons, so here's the gist:

Basically, Taylor triggers as a chemical tinker when her dad was kidnapped and drugged by the Merchants before canon story begins. Before that tough, in school the bullying already began and that's how she meets Aisha. But Danny dies in the hospital due to complications and Taylor goes on a revenge quest against the Merchants. Butterflies ensue and Aisha also triggers early and joins Taylor in her quest, cause she is supportive and her mother is a drug addict, so by eliminating the dealers she can get her to stop consuming. Taylor can't join the Wards 'cause whoopsie, she kinda killed some people and decides to make her own gang. At this point in the story it's the end of October, 3 months before Taylor triggered with QA in canon.

If you liked it, pls do kudos this fic and thank you very much for reading!

Chapter 2: Snakes

Summary:

The heads of a Snake.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

1- The first Head:

"So, you have come to meet me, then?"

"I have. Do you wish to play with me?"

"A game?"

"Chess."

2- The second Head:

"So, you are finally visiting me?"

"I could have made you wait for longer."

"What are we discussing then?"

"I want to play a game."

1- The first Head:

"White or black?"

"Black"

2- The second Head:

"White or black?"

"White."

1- The first Head:

"What are your plans, now?"

"It depends on many things."

"Do you have the tendency to improvise, then?"

"Sometimes you have to roll with the punches."

2- The second Head:

"Do you plan to kill me?"

"That outcome depends on many things"

"Are you that impulsive in planning things?"

"What is the saying? Man plans, God laughs?"

1- The first Head:

"Your move."

"Thank you."

2- The second Head:

"My move."

"Go ahead."

1- The first Head:

"I am afraid to say you caught me quite unprepared."

"Hmm, like a snake in the grass."

"Yes, it seems I forgot there can be other snakes hiding there."

"Maybe, but in this case, my role is more akin to that of a secretary bird."

"Will you eat me, then?"

"Perhaps. You do make for such a juicy meal."

2- The second Head:

"I didn't even know you existed."

"Well, one cannot be prepared for something one does not know exists."

"Nevertheless, this entire situation is a bit humiliating."

"Take this as lesson, not an insult. All men will be humbled at some point."

"Not the women?"

"We already spent all our lives kneeling."

1- The first Head:

"I do hope I don't give you indigestion."

"Well, if you do, I already have some pills ready to deal with it."

"Are they yours or an underlings?"

"A mix."

2- The second Head:

"Ah, Lustrum would be proud then."

"I don't take that as an insult. My mother was a lieutenant for her, in her youth."

"Interesting, then villainy is in your blood."

"More like rebellion."

1- The first Head:

"You are quite good at this game."

"Thank you. I really never paid much attention to it before."

"Really? You seem quite experienced."

"Why? Am I beating you in that other simulation, as well?"

2- The second Head:

"Rebellion? Rebellions usually have goals; a purpose."

"And I have yet to say mine, and you are wondering."

"So far you only have shown that you are an experienced rebel."

"Why? Am I beating you in that other simulation, as well?"

1- The first Head:

"Simulation?"

2- The second Head:

"Simulation?"

1- The first Head:

"I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, please Thomas. It's the only explanation."

"Is it?"

"It's simple: your power allows the creation of two simultaneous simulations either of in real time events or of a precognitive nature, after you see the events unfold you choose the simulation you wish to keep by dismissing the other. Until the events match up with the end of your simulation your body acts in auto-pilot."

2- The second Head:

"So, you have figured it out then. But what do you mean by simulation?"

"Oh, please Thomas. It's the only explanation."

"Is it?"

"It's simple: your power allows the creation of two simultaneous simulations either of in real time events or of a precognitive nature; after you see the events unfold you choose the simulation you wish to keep by dismissing the other. Until the events match up with the end of your simulation your body acts in auto-pilot."

1- The first Head:

"You seem confident in your theory."

"I call it as I see it. By the way it's your turn to play."

"Ah, interesting move with your bishop."

"Thank you."

2- The second Head:

"You seem to have a very in-depth knowledge of the workings of powers."

"Not really, I just have common sense. By the way it's your turn to play."

"Ah, interesting move with your knight."

"Thank you."

1- The first Head:

"Now, I am really curious how you discovered me."

"You sent Trainwreck to spy on the Merchants. Unluckily for you the Merchants no longer exist for the past several months."

"You took over them?"

"Yes, me and my companion."

2- The second Head:

"What are you planning to do with me?"

"I still don't know. Finding out is this meeting's purpose."

"May I ask what is causing that indecision?"

"Your power."

1- The first Head:

"Trainwreck informed you of my existence?"

"He informed me of something far more valuable."

"And what is that?"

"Your power."

2- The second Head:

"My power? And why is it valuable to you?"

"You see, I have connections in the parahuman world."

"You are leading this conversation somewhere."

"Hm, yes I am."

1- The first Head:

"Ah, I told him I could control Destiny."

"Yes, you did that coin trick. A very peculiar trick made by a peculiar power."

"What do you mean?"

"The coin still landed heads every time in the real world."

2- The second Head:

"Let's cut to the chase then."

"Very well. You see, you already made a mistake today."

"I have?"

"Yes. You told me I found your power valuable; despite the fact I said no such thing."

1- The first Head:

"You are interested in my power's effects?"

"Yes. Very. A second chance at everything. To always win."

"Yes… I see it like that as well."

"And with you stalking that new precog, you would have become very difficult to remove."

2- The second Head:

"I have been using my power for the entire conversation, yes."

"And you get the information of both conversations. How rude. Is the other me a better conversationalist?"

"Just as cryptic. Now, what is it you want with my power?"

"I want to use it. Check, by the way."

1- The first Head:

"So, you know that too. How unfortunate. Will you be recruiting her for yourself?"

"Maybe. Perhaps I'll save her from you and make her my Pythian Oracle."

"Is your objective to control this city?"

"My objective is to save it. Check."

2- The second Head:

"How will you use it?"

"By hook or by crook."

"What does that mean exactly?"

"Either you'll cooperate with me or I'll kill you, make a clone of you and use him instead."

1- The first Head:

"And is my power going to help you with that?"

"Yes, by hook or by crook, I'll use it."

"What do you mean exactly?"

"Either you'll cooperate with me or I'll kill you, make a clone of you and use him instead."

2- The second Head:

"Ah, so I am simply in the way. My death will be just a consequence to your objective?"

"Yes, when my objective is saving this city, your death is just a necessary consequence."

"Saving this city will be a bloody affair."

"All rebellions are. Even the bloodless ones."

1- The first Head:

"Ah, the threat of violence. Does that always work?"

"You tell me."

"Violence is an inherit part of cape culture. At this point I am desensitized."

"Hm, violence, I think, is inevitable. It's the cost of change."

2- The second Head:

"You make a compelling case."

"Don't I?"

"I refuse."

1- The first Head:

"You make a compelling case."

"I think I do."

"Can I ask how will you make a clone of me?"

"Toybox. Me and the tinker organization have an agreement of sorts."

3-The third Head:

"What?"

"What is it, Thomas?"

1- The first Head:

"What?"

"What is it, Thomas?"

3-The third Head:

"What just happened?!"

"Ah, I see."

"What? What did you do?"

"You should have accepted, Thomas."

1- The first Head:

"Nothing, an itch. Too much time sitting in this chair."

"Hmm. No, I don't think it's an itch."

"It's your turn to play."

"Ah, yes, it is. Checkmate, Thomas."

4- The fourth Head:

"What in the world!? What the fuck are you doing to me?"

"Me? I am not doing anything."

"You are doing something!"

"It probably means you should have accepted, Thomas. Oh, would you look at that? Checkmate, Thomas."

1-The first Head:

"I refuse."

4-The fourth Head:

"I refuse to be your puppet, bitch!"

"Really? How sad then."

2- The second Head:

"What the…?"

5- The fifth Head:

"…"

"Well, good luck next game, Thomas."

2- The second Head:

"No wait!"

"Goodbye Thomas! You have proven yourself unreliable. I would much prefer a clone of you."

Darkness

6- The sixth Head:

"No, I'll-

Darkness

Notes:

So... This was a thing.

It's very experimental. I had a good friend of mine read it first. He doesn't know anything of Worm really, only found out that Worm existed when I first made him read my first chapter (which was supposed to be a one-shot). So he read this thing and he loved the concept: he told me the revelation of Coil's power was really cool. A bit chaotic and hard to keep track without naming the people involved, but that was why I starting naming Coil at the end when it gets more chaotic. Truth is, he also told when he read the first chapter that I could imitate a certain author and give no names at all to the characters in my story and go at it blind. So this ended up a mix of both.

But like I said in a previous comment on SB: this is meant to be an adventure to me. And going on an adventure means taking on risks. Can't go to with the dwarves if I don't step out of my hole in the ground.

I'm currently working on the next chapter and I already wrote a short Interlude. This thing simply cramped itself in my head and wouldn't leave until I wrote it. The updates for this will be a bit sporadic, I'm afraid. In between studying for my MD and certain things in my life, shit might be wild for a while.

Thank you for reading this! Pls comment and let me know your thoughts!

Chapter 3: Dynasty & Dystopia

Summary:

Emilly Piggot would only be truly happy if all parahumans in her city, at least the enemy capes, disappeared during Christmas morning.

A wish she would have thought would have never turned true like this, even if not complete in its resolution.

Notes:

So... another wave of inspiration arrived and I decided why not?

My friends liked my writing and I liked writing it.

So here you have it. Techinically another One-Shot.

This one is in 3rd-person, since I think Reader-POV might not be everyone's cup of tea.

I hope you enjoy!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

If there was anything Emily Piggot had wished for New Year's, it would have been for a peaceful year. But she knows that's a pipe dream. So, she would have wished for a less violent year. But she realizes that this particular wish is as improbable as winning the lottery. In her heart of hearts, she wished that Ellisburg hadn't happened. In her rational mind she wished that the Endbringers hadn't shown up or just fucked off somewhere else or just dropped dead. But her biggest wish, in truth, was for all parahumans to fade from the face of the Earth so they would stop causing trouble. Fuck, she would have been happy if all parahumans in her city, at least the enemy capes, disappeared during Christmas morning.

That was the last wish she would have thought would have turned true from her list, even if not complete in its resolution.

Fuck.

Two gangs apparently disappeared, vanished from the city like a bad dream, in the space of six months and nobody noticed!

How?

Somebody, several somebodies, were going to get fired from this, God help their souls, and if she has anything to say about it, they won't even find a job flipping burgers after this.

At least, Armsmaster seemed just as perplexed as her at the news that Assault had given at the weekly Protectorate meeting.

The meeting started as usual: bland greetings, bland announcements, bland budgetary reports, everything bland and boring and good. Armsmaster, with his bad social skills, reported no weird or strange happenings in the city, no unusual movement from the gangs, no new reported parahumans. A professional meeting, with its participants having a another-day-another-dollar type of mood, like nothing was wrong.

Assault, the red jackass, had the gall to wait until everything was over to drop the nuclear bomb, right before everyone was already quite done with the day and wanted to go on their way. Like what he was about so say was another one of his quips!

The official report of the Protectorate ENE was that the Merchants were laying low after the past summer's events, underlining the possibility that Squealer might be working on something big for the next outing. On Chorus, Piggot's organization had marked them as gone from Brockton Bay, with three of their capes already gone to jail and the other last seen in New York the gang was as good as gone.

Sure, they had gotten rumours about a club at the docks that was being run by the Merchants but after an investigation by the PRT the entire establishment was shown to be legal and according to regulation. It was also owned by an unpowered man named Jack O'Reilly, a son of Irish immigrants, so if anything, the PRT had to give over the rest of the investigation to the BBPD. And even if they ran with the assumption the entire thing was a front for the Merchants they couldn't raid it, just like they couldn't raid the Palanquin or the Ruby Dreams Casino or Aegir's Bar. At best it might be classified as a small (but nevertheless considerable) breach of the unwritten rules, at worst a provocation to initiate a round of escalation by the gang raided giving them permission to rampage across the Bay. It was a way to destroy the status quo that Piggot has tried so hard to maintain since being inducted as Director.

So, when Assault raised his hand to speak after Armsmaster asked if anyone had anything extra to report the last thing she was expecting was:

"I was invited to a meeting yesterday." He said in an unusual severe manner. The first fucking clue that shit was about to hit the fan. But at the time Piggot had simply raised a single eyebrow.

"A meeting to what?" Piggot had said with no little annoyance.

"Well, you see, apparently some folks knew about my… chequered past and decided to invite me to a meeting." Okay, at that point everyone was giving Assault all their attention. The fact Assault had been a former villain was supposed to be a classified secret! "A meeting between villains. At Somer's Rock."

At this point the entire room had exploded with arguing voices, even Battery looked surprised. Piggot had been choking on her own spit for too long because it was Armsmaster that was able to be heard through the cacophony:

"What did they talk about?"

"What!" "Who cares!" "When did you go, exactly?" "How did they find out?" "Did th-"

"SILENCE" Piggot had screamed, finally having worked through the chocking.

Silence established itself immediately.

"Explain." She said with all the authority that her raging mind could summon.

"Ah." Assault shifted on his chair uncomfortably. "You see…

Ω

The bar was old, dim, dingy, and depressing. Everything rusted or about to rust. But it has been tradition for the villains, vigilantes and other ne'er-do-wells of the city to meet at Somer's Rock during Truces. Nobody knew exactly how the tradition started but it's origins could be roughly traced back to the Slaughterhouse 9 appearance in Brockton Bay. Because of that, Ethan wasn't exactly sure those suspicious looking gashes in one of the walls were made by Stormtiger or if they actually had far more… evil origins. Or that those dark red stains beneath it weren't ketchup. Despite that, he still tried to make himself as comfortable as possible on the red couch that he was sitting on, directly below said gash on the wall. He tried to summon up a bit more confidence and that feeling of arrogant showmanship from his days as a villain, but he came up a bit short when he took another look at the people around him.

All the villains in the bar were clearly looking at him with suspicious stares and giving him the stink eye. Some curiosity was mixed in there but main one was confusion. Good, they weren't sure why he was there and that meant they didn't know who he used to be. But still, it wasn't exactly comfortable being side eyed constantly.

Kaiser and his entourage had arrived first. Krieg, the Valkyrie twins, Alabaster and Hookwolf. All of them in their respective costumes and a confident half goose step military style walk. Short greetings were exchanged and if they were surprised that he was here they tried not to show it. They sat down on his right side and only Hookwolf ordered something from the bar. Kaiser seemed so at ease in his section of the booth that Ethan would bet that there was a dent in the stuffing in the exact shape of his ass. He seemingly suffered no discomfort from wearing that bulky metal suit.

An awkward type of silence ensued.

A silence that was disrupted with the entrance of Lung and Oni Lee. The Dragon of Kyuushu sat opposite to Kaiser's right and ordered a beer. Oni Lee, silent as the grave, kept standing as still as a statue behind Lung, who seemed to be radiating a sense of quiet boredom. Ethan lamented not bringing a camera so he could immortalize the moment Lung only moved his metal mask in shape of a Dragon so he could drink the beer through a straw. Ah, the incoveniences of full face masks...

The third group arriving was Faultline's Crew, the only mercenaries in Brockton Bay. Faultline, with her welder's mask, walked in first followed by Newter and Gregor the Snail, the Case 53's she had adopted into her crew. Newter was a tall orange skinned humanoid with bright blue hair and a large tail dangling behind. Gregor, well... he looked like his namesake with a large protrusion in his back. His skin, however, was transparent leaving his insides for all to see. The rest of her group were nowhere to be seen. They sat down on one of the empty seats that were arranged in semi-circle around the booth.

The fourth group arriving was Uber and L33t, who came in dressed as Mario and Luigi, and sat down on one the farthest away seats from the booth. They ordered sodas and kept whispering to each other in hushed tones.

A bit more time after that the Undersider's arrived. They were relatively new group in the Bay that although classified as villains were working their thieving skills more on the gangs than in civilian places. The group consisted of Grue, their leader who wore a motorcycle helmet modified to look like a skull and according to reports he generated some type of darkness effect. Tattletale was a blond teenager who wore a purple and black full body catsuit beyond that her powers were unknown. Regent was another member who's powers were mostly unknown but it was speculated to be some type of minor master power. Hellhound, however, was well known, being a known criminal with an exposed identity. She could command dogs and physically alter them to better make them fight. They sat down on the seats closest to the booth and Regent ordered a novelty soda. Now only four seats remained.

Circus was the last of the independents to arrive. Classified as a grab bag cape since the powers reported were all over the place. Just like the Undersider's they were deemed a villain, but they were mostly a thief. Their gender was also unknown and even Ethan had difficulty pining it down since her costume was mostly feminine in style. After they chose their spot, only three seats remained.

The silence at this point was only broken by Regent making slurping sounds with his straw.

After a few moments of that, Hookwolf was looking like he was seriously considering breaking the Truce just to punt Regent across the bar.

Kaiser was the one to finally break the silence:

"Where are they? We have been called to this meeting by those degenerates so they should have been here already."

"Coil is missing as well. He's not the type to miss these… reunions." Faultline added.

"Is anybody gonna point out the red elephant in the room?" Said Krieg, pointing at Ethan. "Why is one of the heroes here?"

"That, my dear Krieg, is for me to know and you to never figure out." Came a voice out of nowhere. Everyone jumped a bit in surprise (except Lung who was already looking there and Oni Lee – zombie bastard –). The voice belonged to a tall woman who was coming into the bar through the back door. She was wearing a dark purple suit with white vertical lines that reminded Ethan of one of those mob bosses from the 50's. The mask she wore was a full face one seemingly made of copper metal with eye openings that showed purple eyes that seemed to shine with their own eerie light. The lower part of her mask was distinctly a gas mask decorated with green ampoules around it and seemed to distort her voice making it more breathy and mechanic sounding. The back of her mask was open leaving her dark brown hair to cascade down her back. She didn't have much of a bust or feminine figure to begin with but she carried herself with confidence and a certain slow movement that brought Ethan's instincts to stand on edge.

She was carrying a fat looking suitcase, wider that it was high, on her right black gloved hand. On her left hand, she had a cane whose handle was on the shape of some kind of bird skull.

Behind her, two more people came in. A girl wearing a red and black suit with a copper mask which seem to have red ampoules around it to decorated it. It also clearly showed her mouth by having small vertical openings around it. The man, however, was the most eye-catching. He was wearing black and copper power armour adorned with green and purples tubes. His face, which was ugly looking, was only hidden by black goggles.

"Who are you?" Said Lung in a calm authoritarian tone.

"That, oh Dragon, is why I called in this meeting. To officially introduce myself and my group to the city." The woman said. Without further discussion she moved to middle seat of the remaining chairs. The black and red girl also sat down, but the man – clearly a tinker – decided to stand, probably so he wouldn't destroy the chair with his weight.

"I thought the Merchants were the ones to have called this meeting." Kaiser droned with a calculative eye.

Without responding the woman picked her suitcase and placed on top of the table.

"Before that, let me order something. The discussion will be long, I am sure, so I must have something to ease my throat." She said, raising her left hand to call down the waiter. Ethan noticed that her first two fingers were mechanical, and her glove had that portion of it cut showing the metal contacting the skin. They were tinker prosthetics. The waiter came and the woman asked for a cup of black tea, which was swiftly granted a few moments later. With a mechanical woosh the part beneath her nose detached from the rest of her mask revealing a wide mouth and perfect white teeth. With a slow movement she put the detached part on the table. Ethan would bet his salary that she was enjoying having all these villains being kept waiting. He could have sworn he was seeing Krieg almost blow a gasket.

"Thank you." The woman said to the waiter, she put a bit of sugar in the drink, and after mixing she took a sip. "Now, …"

She took a moment more to look at the people in the room.

"My name is Duchess Sera; you can call me Duchess for short. At my right, is one of my lieutenants Spitfire and on my left is another by the name of Trainwreck." She took another sip. "And I am here today to announce that the Merchants and Coil's Organization no longer exist."

To say the room was stunned was an understatement.

"What?" Said Lung, Ethan could already hear the gravelly tone of his voice getting heavier.

"Today makes five months that the gang known as the Merchants ceased to exist while two days from now it will make two weeks since Coil's Organisations demise." She reiterated seemingly oblivious to the surprised looks of the people around her.

Tattletale, who was just as stunned, moved her eyes quickly looking at the woman, seemed to catch her breath, a sound somewhere between a scoff of disbelieve and a sob, and started laughing. A full bellied laugh. The attention of the room turned towards her.

"You did! You really did!" She continued laughing. "Fuck yes! Hahahaha!"

The woman took another sip.

Tattletale stopped, more for the lack of air than wanting to stop, and turned to the woman:

"She… she really did take over both gangs! Oh my god, that is awesome" A small laugh escaped. "Thanks a bunch! Really!"

"Hmm" Duchess said. "If you feel that indebted to me, you may want to call me later for a private conversation." The woman raised slightly from her seat and grasped the clasp of her suitcase. The entire room tensed. There was a resounding click and the case was revealed to be a vitrine, a black panel dropping with a soft thump. Inside three gleaming white skulls were showcased to the world. Two of them had an M carved on their forehead while the other had a carving of a small two headed snake. Like pieces in a museum there were three tags beneath each one.

Skidmark. Squealer. Coil.

The mood in the room dropped. Several villains immediately jumped from their seats with Grue, L33t, Krieg and Alabaster all seemingly ready for a fight. Ethan too prepared for things to go pear shaped. But, thankfully, that wasn't what happened.

Kaiser simply raised his arm telling his subordinates to sit down.

Uber put a hand on L33t's shoulder making him go back to his seat.

Tattletale grabbed Grue's arm and pushed him to sit down, all while sporting a vicious grin.

The woman took another sip.

"May we ask, why such… final measures were taken to these villains?" Ethan wondered if Kaiser asked that so he could avoid said measures.

"Yes, one might wonder why we suddenly have three dead villains." Said Faultline. Ethan noticed how tense she looked. Apparently, she must have resisted the urge to jump from her seat like him.

"These three villains committed two grave mistakes." Duchess said, the mask giving her voice a haunting sound. "The first was to flaunt the Unwritten Rules." She picked up the bowl and served herself more tea. "The second was to make me their enemy." She put the bowl back on the table.

"And how did they make you, their enemy?" Said Lung who crossed his arms in a menacing pose.

"Coil attempted to infiltrate my organisation, which would have made me reveal myself sooner than planned. The Merchant scum…" Duchess said with venom in her voice "… were a problem of a more personal nature."

"That is another question." Said Faultline. "How did you take down two gangs with nobody noticing?"

"It was easier than you'd think but more difficult than you'd imagine." Duchess said cryptically. "The Merchants were ignored on general basis by everyone present, including the Protectorate." At this she nods at Ethan, recognizing his presence in the crowd. "Only newbie heroes attacked the Merchants, mostly to test their mettle before fighting the bigger gangs." She took another sip from her cup of tea. "So, after the past summer's events everyone thought they went underground to recoup their strength, but the truth is I cut them down before they regather their numbers. Afterwards, I seized the opportunity and took control of Chorus's unpowered members to bolster my own numbers. Then I began certain projects and contacted several parahumans from outside the city to gain funding. On the month of October, however, Coil sent a person to infiltrate the Merchants and gain information on them." She took another sip and Tattletale took the opportunity and piped up:

"But the Merchants no longer existed. He was going to infiltrate your organization instead. So, after you questioned the intruder… Trainwreck was the intruder?" She questioned but the look Duchess gave her made her think twice. "No, he forced Trainwreck to infiltrate your gang you got offended from that and decided he had to go. Nice." She smiled a foxy grin. She turned to Grue, and her grin fell a bit. "Not nice." She amended at his look.

"You would have to know that your ruse would have been impossible to maintain in the long term." Added Kaiser.

"Yes." Said the woman. "That is why we had originally intended to break the masquerade in December. However, after Coil's attempt at infiltration we wanted to gather more information on him. By Christmas, we already had gathered enough to conclude he had to go."

"What information was so valuable that a man had to die for it?" Asked Lung.

"The civilian identities of everyone in this room." She answered.

Silence.

"Appropriate then." Lung nodded cautiously.

"Like I said before: he broke the Unwritten Rules. He was undermining every single one of your organisations. Including the PRT." She looked directly at Ethan's surprised face. "Indeed, Assault, he worked as a consultant for the PRT in his civilian identity. He was slowly eroding any faith that the PRT had in Director Piggot so he would replace her." She took another sip. "With several operations he had, that I assure you all would have most definitely worked, he was going to rule the city's criminal world as Coil and own it publicly as PRT-ENE's new and promising Director."

That brought another round of silence. Kaiser was the first to break it.

"Well, we thank you then, for taking care of such a… conniving snake hiding in our midst. May I ask, however, what has been done with that information?"

"Destroyed." Duchess said, looming a bit over the table and interlocking her fingers. "We have no use for it. If we wish to either imprison or kill any of our competitors in this city we will do so publicly." She was definitely giving a look to Kaiser, the type that said we are above such petty things. "We won't attack people in their sleep, like some degenerates…" At this Kaiser seems to straighten his spine. "…that have no concept of how this game must be played."

"You said you would kill publicly; despite the fact you killed those three in secret." Said Faultline, pointing to the grim display.

"Ah!" She exclaims softly, almost wistfully. "A necessary measure, I am afraid. Coil had several backups and insurances in case anything ever happened to him, so we had to do it secretly and quickly. His power was a major pain to deal with, after all. The other two…" She shrugged, uncaring. "Personal business."

"What are your plans, now?" Lung asked, taking a pack from his pants, and lighting a cigar.

"Officially? I am here to establish myself and my gang and to personally inform you that I am taking control of the following areas: the Docks, the Trainyard, the northern half of the Boardwalk and Lord's Market. Coil's former territory is also mine. I am also here to announce my presence to the PRT and the Protectorate. This way there is no disruption of the status quo and no power vacuum to fill" Another sip. "Unofficially? I am building a dynasty in the middle of this grimdark dystopia and anyone who dares attack it will end as another skull in my display."

Well, Ethan mused in his head, if anything this new villain certainly knows how to silence a room. It was at this moment that he decided to speak for the first time in this meeting:

"As member of the Protectorate, I feel that I must remind you of your crimes and possibility of lenience if you give yourself up and cooperate with the authorities." He grimaced a bit, at the look the villains gave him – don't blame me, I was never good at this official shit –, but he soldiered on. "I must ask you one thing, however."

"Ask it."

"Why that name as a villain?"

He could hear a pin drop in the room.

The woman released a small laugh. He counted that as a win, if he was good at anything it was cracking jokes to release tension… and this room was so wound up that were it a violin it would start playing Paganini.

"Ok, I'll answer." She served herself another cup and took a long sip of her tea. "I have a specific set of skills that I am extremely good at and one of those skills is administration, therefore I took a hierarchical name that would better fit me and so: Duchess. I could have taken several others: Queen, most prominently. Unfortunately, I think that one makes people too nervous, nowadays. I could have taken other names of noble rank, like Baron. Even came up with a nifty name with it." She shrugged with one arm. "But we already had a Marquis, and we still have a Marchioness, so I decided to go for a higher-ranking name. The Sera part?" She snorted delicately. "It's a reference."

Suddenly, there was a bip-bip sound coming from somewhere in her jacket. With her right hand she went inside it and took out a golden pocket watch. She opened the lid and peeked inside. Before Ethan could inspect the carvings on the lid, Duchess closed it just as quick and put the watch back in her jacket. There was a sigh that came unbidden.

"Well, ladies, gentlemen, assorted beings." She said with an air of finality. "I must away now. People to see, things to do, stuff to make." She took a hearty gulp of her tea. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss?"

Each of the gang leaders shook their heads.

"Very well. Thank you, everyone, for your presence today. I must thank Assault, especially, as an unofficial representative of the authorities and for braving into a villain meeting." She turned to him and threw him a small metal object. "Inside of that is all the proof I have gathered on what I have said. I do hope you give a glowing review of me to Director Piggot." She was about to raise herself from her chair, when she look back to him. "By the way, good luck reining in Shadow Stalker. Keep her well chained and my group will have no problems with the PRT or the Protectorate." She snorted a bit more crudely than before and added: "More than the usual between heroes and villains, that is."

With a click, she closed the lid of the suitcase with her mechanical finger. Picked up the detached part of her mask, got up from the chair and, with her lieutenants in tow, left the building.

Ω

… and that's how the whole thing went." Assault finished. "The other villains left pretty quickly after that." He snorted and showed the the small cylinder that ended in a USB connector. "I think they didn't want to be anywhere near the same zip-code that she was in."

At this point Piggot was on a hair trigger. She was quite sure if she had a gun in reach, at the time, she would have shot Assault.

Fuck. Two gangs – three supervillains! – gone for weeks apparently and nobody noticed!

And one of them was a consultant for the PRT!

Who!?

"Thomas Calvert." Said Armsmaster, taking the blasted thing from Assault.

Ok, she hadn't realized she had spoken out loud.

"Why him?" Why Calvert? He had been the only other survivor of Ellisburg. He would have... Bu... she had heard of what he had done, back then. He was always ruthless, and the plan described by this new villain seemed plausible, but…

"I immediately cross-referenced all our consultants; Calvert is the only one that hasn't shown up for the last few meetings the PRT has had for the past two weeks. He hasn't called back or presented a reason for his absence yet. Besides, we only have two other consultants in Brockton Bay, and they are female. He's the only option." Responded Armsmaster.

Piggot just tried to rally herself up in the only way she knew how: by giving orders and delegating. She could wallow sometime later in private.

"Okay, people. This is what we'll do: I want a review of every single employee in this organization. If Calvert was indeed Coil, he didn't do this shit alone. Search and frisk everyone quickly and efficiently. I want to get the rats before they jump ship. Assault, if this information wasn't so valuable, I would have suspended you and swiftly after made my personal goal in life to end your entire career. But right now, we have a new player in town; a new devil to contend with, when I would have much preferred a devil I know. I want everyone in high alert. Miss Militia and Battery will work out a new patrol pattern for the Protectorate and the Wards. Armsmaster, focus on that device. I want to know everything in it. Velocity, if any mole pops out and tries to run for it, I want you to be there to catch them so stay in the building and keep a sharp eye. Assault, go inform the Wards, tell them to stay vigilante both in costume and out. We have a villain in town that is not afraid to kill and show us her trophies, so they have to be vigilant. Especially, Shadow Stal-, actually Assault keep that brat tightly handled, we don't want to see what that villain has planned if our new ward goes for the deep end." She swallowed a breath of air and continued: "Everyone understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" they chorused.

"Everyone dismissed!"

BONUS SCENE 1

You watched as your boss proceeded to demonstrate exactly why she was so terrifying with her demeanour. And also because you couldn't keep your eyes off her. You licked your lips in anticipation.

"Unofficially? I am building a dynasty in the middle of this grimdark dystopia and anyone who dares attack it will end as another skull in my display."

Oh, God. You were pretty sure you just wet yourself a bit. Thank fuck for your power or all these villains (including your brother!) would have seen a very lewd sight. She was just thankful that she had a front row seat for this.

All of this, all of her, was so interesting after all.

Notes:

I decided fuck Coil. Sure is an asshole but the Coil plot is so extremely overdone in Worm fandom since the vast majority start right at the beginning of canon story or sometimes they go farther and start right at the obligatory Locker Scene. So I cut the middle man and had Taylor figure out with Trainwreck's help who Coil is and what he has done and what he is planning on doing.

The Bonus Scene is to show that Aisha/Imp is in Somer's Rock during the meeting and she's having the time of her life. Also, totally forgot to mention that Aisha is older than in canon. Last chapter I thought I mentioned that becaise that is how they meet, they have similar school schedules. She is also the one who made Taylor take the name of Sera, so she would have something less formal to answer too when with the crew.

Duchess was quicker on the draw and Spitfire ended up joining Taylor's Crew.

A Crew that is as of yet unamed, cause names are hard! And I really don't know for a good gang name.

I hope you enjoyed reading!

Chapter 4: Sidestory: I missed you

Summary:

She is waiting.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It's almost night and Taylor is hungry.

But her dad isn't here to make her food and she isn't in the mood to make it herself.

So, she sits at the table alone.

She looks like she is waiting.

Waiting for something.

Waiting for her dad to come home and cook dinner. They will have some pasta, he'll ask her if everything is alright at school, about homework, about Emma. She'll answer blandly and vaguely, making all the appropriate noises. She'll ask him about work, how the DWU is doing and how is Kurt and Lacey. He'll answer melancholic and tired, making all the appropriate noises.

Afterwards, they will do the dishes together. After they are done, he will say good night and give her a quick kiss on the forehead accompanied by a one-armed hug.

He'll go to his room to sleep and she will go to her room to fill her diary with a new entry. To it she'll confess everything that happened to her today. Maybe after she will half-heartedly do some homework and only after go to bed.

Sleep would come quickly, embracing her softly.

But he hasn't come home yet.

So, Taylor is still sitting at the table.

She is waiting.

Waiting alone.

Waiting for something.

…

Her hands twitch.

Her body trembles.

Her mind shatters.

Her will wavers.

…

She is still sitting at the table.

Sitting alone, waiting for something.

What is she waiting for?

…

"Taylor! Oh my God! There you are!"

She looks at source of noise.

A girl is there by her side.

"What happened?"

She keeps looking at the source of noise.

She decides to turn away from it.

She is not what she is waiting for.

She is still sitting on the table.

Sitting alone, waiting.

"Oh no! Taylor! Look at me! Taylor!"

She ignores the noise.

She is waiting.

She is sure that whatever she's waiting for will arrive soon.

She is sure that the noise will distract her.

She keeps waiting.

"Oh, Taylor! When was the last time you took the vial?"

She keeps ignoring the noise.

She will keep waiting.

She will keep waiting until it arrives.

…

What is she waiting for, again?

"Here, I have it with me. Keep still!"

She keeps still.

She has done nothing but keep still.

Waiting for something.

She is alone but she is waiting.

Waiting still.

…

There's the feeling of a prick in her neck.

…

Her hands twitch.

Her body convulses.

Her mind expands.

Her will strengthens.

…

She looks at the girl.

She is looking at Aisha.

She sees tears in Aisha's eyes.

"Oh, Taylor…"

She feels warm arms around her.

"I didn't find you and…"

She ignores Aisha's babbling.

She feels something warm and wet in her face.

She feels her arms rise and encircle Aisha.

…

It's night and Taylor is hungry.

Her dad isn't home to make dinner, but she and Aisha will cook something up.

So, she sits at the table with her.

She is sitting at the table, waiting.

She is waiting, still.

But now she is not waiting alone.

Notes:

... I was in a mood and inspiration hit.

The chapter currently has 2.7k words and the Interlude is already written.

Idk when I'll post it.

Chapter 5: Guns For Hire

Summary:

The stress of work and the stress of family

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Taylor kept pacing in her office.

She wasn't nervous.

Not really.

She was more impatient than anything.

Trading with Blasto was a titanic endeavour, one that we couldn't fail at. The physical distance between us and our buyer was problem number one, maintaining trustworthy security that would keep the transport safe was problem number two and problem number three started with an A and rhymed with O.D.D.: the villain thinker Accord.

Despite Taylor's agreements with Accord, the Boston supervillain still had no friendly feelings for Blasto so letting their shipments of Shimmer pass through with a simple tax was already a miracle. One that the gang couldn't let go to waste. If you didn't know any better, you thought Accord genuinely liked talking with the Boss, if the amount of time he lounged through her meetings were a clue… and wasn't that a whole can of worms that neither of them wanted to open?

That was why trading with Cranial and the rest of Toybox was a breath of fresh air in comparison. A simple teleport in and a teleport out. Neat stuff. Shame Boss's speciality didn't touch teleportation because she said her powers had no reaction while looking at Dodge's tech.

The truth was, no matter how fat and deep Coil's pockets were, you needed your own source of income. The Last Drop was profitable and the selling of low-grade Shimmer on the streets made for a neat sum of cash, but other revenue was needed. Boss was a tinker and tinkers needed shit that sometimes were really damn expensive. No wonder they were the most numbered type of parahuman in the Protectorate and the Wards.

Thankfully, in the beginning Taylor had cannibalized Squealer's tech, and so far what was made from it still works, but now with another tinker on the team Boss was getting antsy with the money.

You looked at the clock on top of the office's front door. Taylor's guests had yet to arrive; they were not late, but you could have sworn that they would have been curious enough to come early. Taylor seemingly deciding that she still had some free time went for her desk and opened the second left drawer. Rummaging through it she found what she needed and took it out.

"Do you need help with that, Boss?" Taylor doesn't really jump anymore whenever your power is forced to deactivate, but by her expression you could deduce that a warning would have been nice.

"Yes, please Aisha." She carefully gives the instrument to you and goes to sit down on her swivel chair, making herself comfortable. Meanwhile, you start playing around with the needle and the Shimmer vial accompanying it.

"Comfy?"

"Hmhm." You can see Taylor forcing herself to relax. After a few seconds, she flattens her expressive lips in a way that indicates she is trying to think of something. "What are your thoughts on today's meeting?"

You try to be as gentle as possible when sitting down on the desk next to her. You know she is not asking about the politics or the strategy of it all, so you take careful consideration before actually speaking. After a bit of fiddling with the metal thingy, you start to massage your patient's throat with soft hands. "I think… you were terrifying."

"I was?"

"But in a good way."

"How can I be terrifying in a good way?"

"You looked like royalty should, protecting your people… protecting what's yours."

"I didn't feel very terrifying."

You finally stop your impromptu massage and put the vial's needle on Taylor's throat.

"Don't worry. I really think they got the message. Bringing the skulls was a very good touch. You usually look like a mob boss but with those on display? Really brought forth the villain vibe, ya'know?"

Without waiting for Taylor's reply, you pressed down on the vein that is today's target. The Shimmer vial empties itself inside Boss's body. Taylor convulses, her expression a mix of pain and pleasure. You can't look too hard at her or you'll do something that might end up hurting her, so you try to force yourself back. You try hard not to hug her not even getting close to her personal space. When her eyes light up with purple light and when her veins do the same you keep trying not to look too hard. Only when the convulsing (the soft babbling of nonsense words and a small weak call for her mom) ends that you get up from the desk.

About forty seconds of this.

Forty seconds of your heart breaking softly.

Every day for almost two minutes your heart cracks a bit more.

She used to be under the effects for longer, in the beginning. Nowadays, her formula has improved immensely, and the quality of her raw materials are far better than before as well. She theorizes that she won't need this formula for much longer and that soon she will be able to move on to the more commercial version of Shimmer.

If she were anyone else, you would have abandoned them, you know that deep down. You already have someone in your life making themselves miserable with drugs you don't need another. But she's your Boss. The both of you went through so many hardships together for the last five months. Besides it's not like Taylor got herself like this on purpose. It was either this or… shit that doesn't even bear thinking.

The shit with Coil, however, made Taylor more paranoid than usual, more irritable and angrier in between shots, and you think that how things are going the episodes will worsen.

The only thing you could do was hope.

That and pray that Skidmark and Mush's souls are being fucked over in Hell.

It pains you that Mush's skull isn't with the rest but the body hasn't been found yet. Bisecting the asshole in mid-air with a well-aimed projectile in the middle of the Boat Graveyard didn't really do well for body retrieval.

Unless you were aquatic, that is.

When Taylor comes back to reality you are already holding her in your arms, staying as still as possible while you are awkwardly sitting next to her on the desk.

You start petting Taylor's hair calmly, trying to hold the older girl in place.

"Better?" You whisper.

"Yeah, a bit." Taylor says, frowning heavily as if she were forcing as best as she could to get her eyes to refocus.

Calmly you sit on her lap, trying not to jostle her too much. Now that you can hug her properly the both of you stay like that, in silence, for a while.

"What do you think of the meeting? You already told us some stuff when we arrived, but I want to hear your own thoughts." You confess.

"The E88 might try to test us soon, but not just yet. They still don't know what we can do, and they are afraid they'll bite more than they can chew. Lung, on the other hand, cares very little. As long as we don't mess with the dragon's hoard, he'll look the other way." She adjusts herself in the hug so she can look you in the eye.

"You think so?"

"For now? Yes. Of course, if we or the E88 falter, Lung will take advantage of it, but that's why we have the Protectorate on speed dial."

"Ah, the beauty of the status quo." You say with a smirk.

The landline phone on Taylor's desk starts to beep. Taylor disentangles herself from your hug and clicks on the red blinking button.

"This is Duchess, speak with me."

"Boss." Came Spitfire's soft voice from the phone. "The Undersider's are here to see you."

"Good, let them in to the club. Me and Imp are coming to the prop room to meet with them."

"Ok, Boss." The beep of the call ending vibrated through the air.

"Let's go." Taylor says. A hint of nervous anticipation creeps in, she opens another drawer starts taking out the masks the both of you will wear. "Remember, we need the Undersider's help in securing territory. The extra manpower that your brother, Regent and Bitch represent is too big to ignore. They will help us keep our transports safe and if the E88 does attack us we need their firepower. Tattletale is someone we dearly want and need on our side. Today's meeting made the villains think that I am a thinker and that Trainwreck is our group's tinker, but for us to gain the upper hand in this city we need an actual Thinker on our team. We either recruit Tattletale or we will have to entrench ourselves deeper into Accord's good will so that he lends someone suitable."

"What about Project Oracle? I thought we were pretty sure that we would get a Thinker out of that." You say strapping in the mask.

"The last thing I'll do is force the poor girl into a life of crime. Or worse, into servitude. I killed Coil as soon as I found out what he planned to do with her but it was a damn miracle I was able to spy on Coil's monitoring system." The vacuum seal of her mask activated with a woosh and her voice turned mechanical. "Let the girl figure out her numbers. Powers, by themselves, seek conflict. We know this. Some of Manton's theories were discredited after his disappearance, but this one seems to be correct. Her power will show her the numbers, but her power will also make her take risks. If we keep ourselves in our grey morality and be honest with our desires to help this city, she'll see that we are the better option and joins us." The she shook her head a bit and added. "She triggered this month, remember? It will take a while for her to get used to it. She'll babble all the questions lodged in her heart and only after will she start asking the real questions."

"Are you sure you are not a Thinker, Boss? 'Cause that was a very thorough analysis." You say jokingly, as both of you approach the door.

"I am just an observer of the human condition." She said with a fake lofty accent that made her sound like a senile old codger. "Besides, in the past three and a half weeks since her trigger she keeps being sent to the hospital for headaches, despite being in perfect health. For anyone with half a brain it smells like Thinker headaches like nothing else does. So, it means she has been using her power constantly. I just followed the breadcrumbs." You open the door for her, and you follow her. You then hear her mutter: "That the PRT hasn't picked them up like I did speaks more of their incompetence than it does the effectiveness of Coil's sabotages."

"Well good thing his moles are our moles now." You say with a laugh.

After passing through the hallway and going up the stairs you are finally at the secret door. She turns to look at you, her purple eyes gleaming with greed, and puts her left hand on your shoulder. She closes the gap between you and whispers:

"Remember: eyes on the prize. You want your big brother on our team and I want the hot blond, everyone else is a package deal."

"I know." You whisper back. "Should I activate my power?" You can feel the ever-smaller gap between the both of you. You try to supress a shiver at the proximity. Hugs are one thing, close encounters of the villain-ish kind in tight spaces are wholly another.

"If you feel dramatic, sure." She smiles and another shiver needs to be contained. "But just be yourself. But when I unmask you need to unmask yourself." The she leans back and leaves your personal space. "Your brother needs to know I haven't been a bad influence on you." She snorts softly. "Especially, when quite the opposite is true."

She opens the bookcase door just as you unchain your power. By habit more than need you already have taken out the butterfly knife you stole from some merchant jackass a few months back.

The prop room is empty for now, so the Boss takes the seat on the desk and arranges the place like she'd been there the entire night. You help chaotically organize the place even with your power on until the both of you hear a knock on the door.

Spitfire enters cautiously.

She is wearing her mask and her official costume still from the meeting earlier today. She is a sweet older girl, kind and attentive. You gave her another month until she became the official mom of the team. She was already passive-aggressively forcing your boss to eat more and at regular hours and help keep the boss hydrated whenever she does something physically strenuous. You would have been jealous if not for the moony eyes she has been throwing Jack.

It must be the muscles.

Chicks dig muscles, right?

You are so concentrated in trying to gauge your own level of swole, that you almost miss what Spitfire says:

"-er's are all here. I told Hellhound that she should keep her dogs upstairs… she was not happy about that."

"Unfortunately, it must be this way. To Bitch, even the smallest dog is deadly in her hands." Taylor, already in full Duchess mode, says. Then she nods. "You did well Fire, let them in, please, and go do whatever you like. You have the evening free."

"Thanks boss." Spitfire's soft voice somehow gets even softer.

She opens the door and with a with a gesture, lets your brother's gang in.

Brian comes first. You can still recognize his figure and his posture despite the black leather and the motorcycle helmet. The rest of the Undersiders walk in, in their disguises.

"Please, sit down. Can I give you all a drink?" Boss says in her mechanical tone of voice. With a few answering nods cups are given out and the boss pours the non-alcoholic drink from a bottle in a corner of her desk. "I trust Tattletale has told you why this meeting was necessary?" She questions Brian.

"Yeah." He said. Only with your status as his sister were you able to recognize his tone of voice, that was so similar to their father, of when he is angry but trying not to show it. "After the meeting she has told us the identity of our patron. Now that our employer is dead we should discuss with you our future."

"I don't mind who I work for. I didn't even know who it was to begin with." Says Regent pointedly. Brian looks at him and with the helmet you can't see his expression, but you can guess.

"Well, first I think a measure of trust is needed to begin with." You boss says. With a woosh and a click the entire face mask falls of into her waiting hands. "My name is Taylor Hebert, I am 15 years old and I have been a parahuman for the last seven months. I am the leader and co-founder of this organisation. I am classified as a Tinker"

The Undersiders seem a bit poleaxed about the unmasking but Tattletale comes to the rescue. She also takes off her mask and says:

"My name is Lisa Wilbourn, I am 16 years old and I have been a parahuman for the last two years. I am classified as a Thinker."

The rest of her team looks at her and she shrugs.

"She has access to Coil's files. She already knows who we are, probably for longer tha-, yeah, longer than that. This is just her levelling out the playing field."

Your boss nods with a small smirk.

Regent goes next:

"Hi, my name's Alec, I like video games and long walks on the beach. I am 15 years old and I have been a parahuman for the last five years. Oh! I am also classified as a Master."

Brian grunts but takes his mask off too.

"My name is Brian LaBourne, I am 17 years old and I have been a parahuman for the last two years. I am classified as a Shaker."

Bitch goes next. She takes her mask off like it personally offended her and says:

"The name is Rachel but I prefer Bitch. I am 16 and I have been doing this for a long while."

"She is a Master, like the PRT has her classified, but she doesn't have the disposable minions characteristic of Masters nor can she control them at will. She needs to train the dogs for them to obey her." Tattletale says. Bitch simply scowls at that and nods.

Your boss nods as well.

"Thank you. But… there's something we are missing." She looks confused.

Ah, right it's your turn.

You chain your power back into the depths of your mind.

The entire room except your boss jumps.

"Ah, yes. Everyone meet Imp."

You bow dramatically.

Then, you take off your mask.

Your Brother's jaw hangs open and he falls back into the chair he was sitting on.

"My name is Aisha LaBourne. I am 15 years old and I have been a parahuman for the last four months. I am the second in command and co-founder of this group. I am classified as a Stranger." You wave your hand. "Hi, big bro!"

"Aisha? What?"

"Aisha here is a dear friend and has been with me from the start of this operation." Taylor says.

Brian seems to try to raise from his chair and say something, but Tattletale stops him.

"Later. Not now."

"She killed Coil. And the Merchants. Were you with her?" Your brother asks.

"Yes. Every step of the way." You proclaim proudly. "But you should listen to the fox over there. We can talk later." You say nodding.

"So!" Tattletale speaks loudly. "You took out Coil. Why's that?"

"Well, there is only enough room in this town for one obligatory Bond villain." Says Duchess with a mocking tone, while you pick up a glass and pour your own drink. "And I couldn't go to Boston, because Accord already has the market cornered down there nor could I go north to Canada because I would either get gunned down by the Guild or snatched up by Heartbreaker." She took a sip of her drink and grimaced. "And I'm still in the process of figuring out how to use my speciality in getting rid of mental compulsions."

"You're planning on killing Heartbreaker?" Tattletale blurts out wide-eyed.

"Eventually. Maybe." The girl in the purple tailored suit said to the girl in the purple cat suit. "Your power is really good, by the way." Taylor admits.

"I know." Tattl-… Tats said. Her name's too bloody long, you think.

"I would pay you." Said Regent with a smirk. Although, you think he suddenly sounds awfully serious.

"Of course, you would." Duchess said with a matching smirk. "But in all eventualities, it wouldn't be me landing the killing blow. It would be Aisha over there." She points at you and you proceed to emphasize the point by twirling the butterfly knife on your hand. "I would just release some kind of bio-toxin, or sleeping gas, or an anti-master gassy bullshit, or all the above at the same time and let the Stranger 5 slit his throat." She sighed. "His skull would be a very nice addition to my collection."

"About that…" Said Brian uncomfortably. "Did you really need to kill them all?"

Duchess's left hand clenches around the glass and her mechanical fingers cause it to crack audibly.

"Yes." She whispers with steel in her voice. "Skidmark and Squealer deserved to die. I didn't start the fight thinking I would make their skulls into trophies but after I was done it seemed appropriate."

"What about Mush?" Said Regent.

"Dead. His body fell into the waters of the Boat Graveyard. We haven't been able to find it."

"Yeah, real shame, too. That was technically my trophy to keep." You said with a smirk. Brian just looks at you with a very complicated expression. You decide to stay silent and not gloat over how an amazing shot it was. You really wanted to ask Taylor to upgrade the sawblade-gun but the thing was too deadly to use on non-brutes so it was just collecting dust downstairs.

"And Coil?" Said Tattletale, seemingly eager to hear his fate.

"Planning to do worse to a preteen girl than what he did with you, fox girl. I couldn't abide by that." Boss said with a sigh.

Tattletale frowns. "I see. What about his money, his mercenaries and his workers in the PRT?"

"As soon as Assault tells Piggot everything that happened, the woman is going to do a clean sweep of all the departments in the PRT. The more obvious and untrustworthy of Coil's plants and moles are going to get caught. All while the ones we like will entrench themselves deeper into the system, because they would be revealed to be the seemingly trustworthy ones and the PRT will need new people to replace. Therefore, new positions open up and promotions are given, and staff is moved around." Duchess makes a circling motion with her free hand and takes another gulp of her drink.

"The PRT ends up doing the job for you." Says Brian with that constant frown, the one he has had ever since revealing yourself to him, lessening in severity.

"Pretty much. His money and his mercenaries are ours. Up until now they were doing a fantastic job of making it look like nothing was wrong and Coil was still active."

"So let me guess. Coil is gone, you replaced Coil and since Coil apparently was our employer you want us to accept a similar deal he gave us and continue to do our job." Brian sighs deeply.

"Meh. You are half right." Says Tattletale with a waving motion of her hand. "She will give us the same deal he gave us but, instead of acting independently she will ask us to fully join… her gang." She frowned. "Have you thought of a name for yourselves?"

Taylor looks at you.

You look at Taylor.

The both of you shrug.

"Names are hard." You say instead.

"I was thinking of Zaun, or Nation of Zaun. Something like that. Shorten it to NZ. Make a stylized tag of the first letters and start tagging the place. Our colours would be green and purple, of course. Now that we revealed ourselves, I already have a bunch of my workforce getting rid of all the Merchant tags we can find. Cleaning them and eventually replace them with our own." Taylor admits with a shrug. "The members would be called zaunites."

"Mhm, not a great name. But I also can't think of a better one." Says Regent.

"We could adopt the Undersider's name for us. But that just seems like inviting a bunch of trouble because it implies a lot of wrong things." You add to the conversation.

"Anyway, that needs to be a conversation for another time. Spitfire and Trainwreck can I have other ideas for the name that they might want to discuss with us." Taylor says. She moves to refill your glass and you let her. She smiles and you can't help but smile back. After the glass is filled, you move it to your lips and take a sip. With a small nod, Taylor turns around and goes to sit on the chair behind the desk. You watch her go. After she takes her place, and you see her adopt her role as Duchess, you let your eyes stray to the rest of the room.

The rest of the room is looking at you.

The sip you were taking deepens and you have to gulp the drink to avoid choking on it.

Regent has a shit eating grin on his face and Bitch just looks curious, but Tattletale has a calculative stare and Brian just seems a mix of half-pissed off and half-incredulous.

You look somewhere else.

Taylor, the oblivious and socially awkward idiot, who was messing around with a stack of papers on her desk, just seems to continue like nothing happened.

"Now, I understand if you wish to decline my offer bu-"

"No, we get it." Interrupts Brian, who is still looking at you. You can already see the we are gonna have words look that he usually gives when you do something that he dislikes. He finally dislodges his eyes from you and looks at the rest of his team, one by one. After each one gives an affirmative nod, he speaks again: "We accept."

Duchess smiles a bit, with a victorious glint in her purple eyes, and says:

"Welcome, then. Your salaries will be the same as the rest of the team: 2500 per month; except Trainwreck, who is a tinker and therefore receives an extra sum for his materials. Bonuses will be given as rewards and their content and value will be determined depending on the reason for them. If you wish to act independently, both alone and as a team, whenever you feel like it or want some extra cash, I want you to run by me your plans, just in case they intercept with some of our own." Duchess links her fingers under her chin.

"Now, Bitch. Tell me, how do you like having a job specifically for you."

"What is it?" Bitch grunts.

"Right now our organization needs extra security. How do you feel about training some dogs into proper guard dogs for my men?"

Bitch frowns.

"They won't hurt the dogs?"

"Of course not, and if they do I'll let you do to them whatever you want."

"Good." She nods. "I can do it."

"Wonderful, I'll even give you a very small bonus for each dog you can train for us."

Duchess's attention then turns to Regent.

"Just do the thing and I'll be happy." Regents tries to shrug nonchalantly. "But until then, give me my salary and a place to play my video games and I'll work for you."

Duchess nods and turns her eyes to Tattletale who says:

"Keep me in the loop and I'm in."

"I was already planning on it."

Duchess turns to Brian, who looks grimly back.

"Anything you want?"

"Just keep my sister safe and we'll call it even."

"No worries. I'll even do you one better."

She takes some papers from a drawer and puts them on the table.

"These are the papers that will give you custody of your sister, just like Coil promised."

"Really?" Brian's eyebrows raise upwards in his forehead.

"Yes. You can read them at your leisure and if and when you sign them, give them back. I'll send them to a notary and after that you are the official guardian of your sister until she reaches adulthood."

"Wow, really feeling like I'm being traded like cattle here." You pipe up, slightly annoyed.

Duchess gives you a half-teasing, half-admonishing look but restrains herself from actually answering in front of the guests.

You ignore her refrain in favour of doing a few more tricks with your knife. You don't need to create more gossip with what would have been your first reaction to that.

At that point the meeting degenerates into… well, it's either the weirdest… well it's not dick measuring contest but it's certainly a contest measuring something between the boss and Tattletale. Then again, with Brian occasionally adding his own two cents it could also be classified as the world's most cockeyed gossiping session.

Bitch almost immediately stops paying attention, gets tired and leaves the room to re-join her dogs.

You, on the other hand, start playing thumb war with Regent.

By the third time he makes your thumb twitch with his power, you are five seconds away from drawing your personal hand cannon and giving him a third eye.

Unfortunately, that moment is also when Tattletale suddenly draws the meeting to a close.

"Well, all this was very productive. You don't mind if we keep our previous accommodations, do you?" She says raising from her seat.

"Of course not. Spitfire, Trainwreck and I are the only ones living here full-time. Aisha sometimes spends the night here as well." You can feel Brian's stare. "But you are welcome to come here whenever you want and even spend the night. This place is supposed to be our home away from home. Especially for us, outcasts."

While saying this boss gives a meaningful look at Tattletale.

"Here, I'll show you to the door. Tomorrow, if you like, you can come back and I'll give you a tour of the place, right boss?" You ask, breaking the new stare-off.

"Of course, Aisha."

You cheerfully move to open the door as you lead them upstairs. You have to serpentine your way through the busy basement, filled with partying members of your gang and ignore the couple who are throwing knives at each other and ignore those two men arm wrestling for money and ignore… Wait!

Back up!

Is that Spitfire and Jack in the corner?

Are they…?

Huh.

It's the muscles, isn't it?

You don't feel in the mood for watching though, so you ignore them as well and move on.

But, maybe on the way down if they are still there.

You shake your head so those thoughts go away.

When you finally reach ground level the commotion is not much better. The club is full. Thankfully, instead of going into it, there is a second door to the right of when you enter the hallway to the basement that leads backstage. So, you hurry through it.

After moving through the byzantine layout of this part of the building you finally find the back-alley door.

"There you go!" You say with a flourish. "Let me just open up."

You open the door and you are faced with Bitch sitting on top of an overturned (thankfully, empty!) bucket of paint, scratching behind one of her dogs ears.

The entire party leaves the building and before you can say anything else, Brian speaks, audibly irritated:

"Aisha! What in the world! Were! You! Thinking!?"

"Look, bro! I just wanted to help my friend! It just… it sorta escalated a lot over time you know?" You defend yourself, weakly. "One day I was kinda helping a girl kick her bully's ass, then in the other I was buying stuff for her to tinker with, and then I received the most amazing sawblade gun and-"

"Aisha!" Your brother interrupts. "What happened? Really?"

"It… Look it's like I said we didn't plan all this. Ok, that's a lie. We sorta plan a lot of this but we planned as things came along… And… Look, things escalated, right? You know I love you. You are my big brother! I was sorta, eventually, maybe, going to tell you. But kinda also thought you would confront me about it first? I mean I wasn't very conspicuous after all. My power literally makes you forget I exist! Wait a mi-"

"Aisha! Dammit! I just want a straight answer. Don't keep babbling on!"

"Or what?!" You snap. "It's not like you told me about all of-" You gesture to his team of villains. "- this! I had to Sherlock Holmes the shit outta of it! I thought you had some skank on the side! I thought you were dating that blond vixen over there or maybe that party clown there-" "Hey!" "or who knows! You were absent during the day! Sneaking out at night! I thought you joined a gang! Pfff, look you did!" You, again, make a gesture encompassing the Undersiders. "Worse! Sometimes, I thought you were planning to leave town! Leave me! So, when the boss and I found each other, we had no one so we stuck together! So, what if that eventually made me trigger? I don't regret it!" Before you know what your hand is doing you are already taking the hand cannon from it's holster and you are pointing it to the Undersider's. "So, here's the warning." You try to imitate the boss, getting close and personal, slow movements and threating tone. "You mess with Taylor you mess with me. You betray her? Well,… Grue's my brother so I won't do much permanent harm. But the rest of you?"

You laugh a bit. "They still haven't found Mush, have they?"

You make sure to make eye contact to each one of them.

"Now leave." You put the gun back in the holster.

"Aisha…" Brian says, his voice sounds distant.

"Leave, Brian. We'll talk later. With cooler heads."

"Ok. We'll talk at home. But we will talk."

"Sure."

BONUS SCENE 2

"You understood all that, right?" Lisa looks at Brian. The actual meeting went well but she was sure that last part made Brian end up in a bad mood, worse that what he looked like externally that is. The full list of revelations hit him a bit hard especially all at once. The fact that Coil was their employer, that the employer was now dead, that we were getting a new employer, that his little sister triggered, that his little sister wasn't so little anymore and that he was suddenly getting what he worked so hard to get for the past half year… all of it left him numb.

"Which part, Lisa?"

[Annoyed. Angry. Tired. Wants to go to sleep. Won't go to sleep before talking with his sister. Wants to kn-]

She cut her power there and talked softly:

"It's pretty obvious your sister has massive crush on our new boss."

"Yeah, that part. Yes, captain obvious, I saw. I didn't know she was into girls, either."

[Refers to her trigger. Sad that his sister triggered. Angry at himself for it. Annoyed that she kept it a secret.]

Lisa sighs. The point she was trying to make was that she was sure that whatever feelings are being traded between the girls are not entirely of the healthy type. They are clearly influencing each other's personalities, and in teenagers? That thing tends to be important and sometimes everlasting. She looks back at the building they just left.

[Renovated. Rebuilt. Cleaned regularly. Cleaned by the members of the gang. Cleaned voluntarily.]

She shakes her head, feeling her headache arriving. She makes a last-ditch effort to rally herself up and looks forward, following Brian.

"We are still keeping our end of the deal, right?"

"Of course. It's not like we have much of a choice." He grunts.

She entertains a few thoughts in her head while walking back to base.

Like, how her power constantly told her that Duchess was on drugs.

If she were a worse person, she would have commented out loud how ironic it was for these two girls to start a drug business.

Instead, she shook her head again and tried not to think too hard on her new headache.

She only knew one thing for certain: for however long this thing lasted, it was going to be interesting.

Notes:

Hello!

This entire thing took me ages. It didn't flow as well as all the other content I have created so far.

On Aisha and her performance this chapter. In terms of personality she is closer to Regent's than Brian. She has a temper and she is protective (she threatened Taylor in canon if she did anything to her brother) and she is also very impressionable, in canon we see that especially with Warlord Skitter and Warlord Tattletale.

Btw, this fanfiction is now also available on !

So, thank you for reading! All comments are welcome!

Tell me your thoughts and criticisms as well!

Chapter 6: Sidestory: A short reunion

Summary:

Family is everything.

Notes:

CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains the usage of drugs. Reader discretion is advised. Don't do drugs, kids. It's bad. You want a chance to experience escapism? Buy a book. It's can be just has addictive and will also leave your wallet just as empty. That's why I'm big brain 'cause I read fanfiction. It's even more addictive but also free on the net.

Chapter Text

"Oi."

"Hey, Aisha." Taylor looks up from her papers. She is still in the prop room, drinking a new amber liquid. Her purple eyes glint, shine and sparkle like amethysts in the sun. A look of contentment on her face. She slowly puts her reading material on the desk. Her hand goes to the few drawers there. "Where did I put the thing?" One drawer close, another opens. "Aha!" From the drawer comes a miniature Arab waterpipe, empty and clean. Ready for use.

"Here. Yesterday I messed around with a few extra components for fun. I was thinking of imitating tobacco in liquid form. Like one of those e-cigars or whatever from Earth Aleph? Well, it worked really well! But then I thought why not mix with Shimmer? Want to see the result?"

"Sure." You think you need a bit of a distraction right now.

You sit down on her lap; her protest muffled a bit by the sudden drop of weight on her. She takes two vials from her inner coat pocket. One is transparent, the other the usual purple of Shimmer. She drops the entirety of the first vial inside, and then uncorks the other. With a careful hand she lets a single drop go down into the waterpipe. There's a sudden almost silent crack of sound and the contents of the first liquid, which was once transparent, now seem to shine with glitter. Taylor takes from the drawer two pipes and their tubes and connects them to the Arab looking waterpipe. On the bottom of the vent she puts a small block of something black. Another rummage through the drawer and a lit lighter is pushed to the block, that starts burning.

"Coal. It will warm 'till it boils. We'll smoke the fumes."

She responds to your inquisitive look.

After the first few puffs you feel energized, like you just drank a cup of black coffee. The taste is the same as tobacco from the cigars you tried to smoke once, but that taste is also accompanied by the sweet and spicy flavour you have come to associate with Shimmer. The smoke you exhale is a vague pinkish grey.

"You should go to your brother."

"What?"

"It's bothering you. I can tell."

"I… we just had a fight."

"I can tell that too."

"Yeah? You can tell a lot of things, can't you?"

"No matter how short this meeting was, it will have repercussions that will affect everything. I took everything in consideration."

"It was pretty short." You unscrew one of the waterpipe tubes and seal it. With a swift movement you steal Taylor's pipe and take a puff. You also move yourself to straddle on top of her, your legs on the side of each of her hips. She doesn't outwardly react. Your objective of cracking her façade is a failure… for now.

"It was short because the outcome was already decided. It was a simple formality. They were dependent on Coil, now that he's gone, they'll be dependent on his replacement. After Brian found out that you were already there, in that new gang? That was really just... well you can either see it as sweetening the deal or the last nail in the coffin."

"Your perspective is too cold. I wonder sometimes." She takes the pipe and inhales. She exhales right on your face. You inhale the fumes.

"Wonder what?"

"Wonder if your heart still beats red and not purple."

Silence.

"I wonder that too."

You drop your head on the crook of her neck.

"You should still go see your brother. He'll be waiting for you. Restless. He's not the type to let something like this slide. He means well."

"Does he? Weren't you the one who ranted a lot about that topic?"

"I never disagreed on the fact he cared. I just disagreed on his methods of showing it… Kinda like I disliked how my father and I distanced ourselves after mom died. There are a lot of things I miss about him, Aisha. And I wished I could talk to him now. Family is important."

You take another puff. She huffs in annoyance. Both her hands go to hold your cheeks and makes you look her in the eyes.

"Family is everything. Right now? You are all that I have left. Family can be more than just blood shared; you and I are proof of that. But you still have other family. Go enjoy them while you can."

"I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, my little imp."

You get up from the chair and your concentration falters. Your power unchains itself. The boss looks slightly confused. She sees the extra tube lying on the desk and frowns a bit, a look of curiosity. She puts the pipe in her mouth and takes a deep breath. The large exhale is a pinkish grey.

You turn around and head out.

It's time to go home.

Chapter 7: Blood and Chrome

Summary:

Experiments of the unhinged mind

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

I felt the electricity in my blood, the cold fire that I just used to try bringing back one of my subjects radiated outwards hitting me. I paid it no mind beyond the physical mix of pain and pleasure it momentarily caused. The spark of lightning was still contained in the ampoules and other protective equipment that I had in my lab, so there was no reason to worry.

My office was shut to intruders, not even Aisha was allowed to be here when I tinkered. Normally, the girl was just outside the door, just in case. But today she decided to spend some time with her brother. A wise decision. Positive for me as well, as it allowed me to do some of my riskier work without having her over my shoulder worrying herself needlessly.

I checked back on Subject Alpha-E1-009.

Huh, dead.

Ah, wait there was a twitch.

Huh, just a muscle spasm.

Damn. It's dead.

I got the electricity ray, which was on top of the reinforced glass tank, out of the way. I reached my hand in there and took careful possession of the rat corpse. I brought it to another table and started to dissect it. After, opening its chest cavity, I started narrating what I was seeing and doing. My voice, that was rebounding off the tiled walls of my lab was also being recorded through my new audio equipment. After eight other subjects dying, finding the cause of death was simple: tumours had grown in the rat's stomach. They pulsated still, despite the rat being dead, with an ominous green light.

After confirming the cause of death was the same as the other eight rats that took the E1 serum I threw the poor thing into the trash.

In the beginning of my experiments, Aisha and I had carefully disposed of the bodies of the 51 rats, 30 pigeons and three garden snakes that had valiantly sacrificed themselves so that the first Alpha serum could be successfully made. Nowadays, they ended up in the trash and cremated in some far-off abandoned warehouse. The number of animals dead due to my experiments had diminished a lot, thankfully, my hesitation and inexperience being slowly replaced with clinical knowledge and methodical precision. My raw materials were also better than before and so was my equipment. I was sure that with them I would build something grand, something actually good.

Despite all of that, the series Beta-A1 and Alpha-B3 were still one of the most memorable chem-tech successes of my career as a tinker.

Such a shame that serum Alpha-E was proving to be so difficult to make.

Tired of failure for the past three hours I decided to pause my work and went to check my computer for the info I asked Jack to gather. Human subjects were hard to come by. I know I am able to do body modifications and enhancements, my current body is irrefutable proof of that. Although, I still had to take the damn Beta-B2 serum every day. In the past, when I had to patch myself back, I didn't have the resources I have now, so my self-surgeries were all made with pancake mixers and kitchen knives. The continuing partaking of my own serum to make me physically strong and fast in order to fight didn't help in that situation. Until now, beyond certain weapons and pieces of armour I made when we hunted down the Merchants, my focus had been on advancing my chemical formulas.

Now, I am paying the price for all of that.

Eventually, when I succeed with Alpha-E, I will be able to return to top shape.

Until then I only need to find a buyer for my body-mods. I both want and need the practice before doing it on myself and… well… I needed to see if my theory worked.

Ok, think Taylor think… I said in the privacy of my own mind you already narrowed down all the options for other potential buyers. This is the only one left. Cranial doesn't need my mods and Glance is already a customer. That weird cult thing that Coil had information on might be interesting, but it seemed like I would fall in a rabbit hole if I contacted them, so they are out. There was that tinker in Indiana, but… I really didn't like his propensity for show boating. He is very likely to spill his guts if someone questioned him with a bit of force. I definitely won't sell to Bonesaw, that is just a quick way to die. Shame, both of our specialities would synergise quite well.

Whatever. I already narrowed down as much as possible. Damn, Mike really was right: it's hard to make a profit when I have morals. If I wanted, I could be building a damn weapon for the next Endbringer fight or at least some drug to help the injured. Instead, here I am bickering to myself about my lack of human subjects. Goddammit. Is it my power messing with me, or just the drugs? I tried not to sigh, I knew what I had to do, the only thing that I could do, was contact the buyer. For the fourth time this week I tried not to think how much of a blessing Coil's money turned out to be.

I took a deep breath, picked up my phone and dialled the number on the computer screen.

It was ringing.

"Da?" They picked up!

"Good…" I checked the time. "…evening. Is this Mr. Uri Gherlorot?"

"Yes, that is me." The Russian accent was practically movie worthy. "Who is speaking?"

"This is Duchess Sera, I believe you have heard of me? Through our mutual acquaintance?"

"The tinker?"

"Yes, I was told you were interested in my body modifications?"

"Da, they sounded like exactly what I was looking for."

"Good. I have read your resume, both the public one and the more… classified one. I believe you are exactly what I was looking for as well. Have you seen the schematics of the various mods that I have sent to Accord?"

"I have. I was told these tinker tech mods did not need maintenance from a tinker. Is that true?"

"Yes, the majority of my tech is fully reproducible by normal humans. If you find any professional mechanic, he'll be able to help you, if anything happens. Of course, the safest option is learning how to maintain its upkeep by yourself. It'll be no different than maintaining a gun or a car, depending on the complexity and size of the mod requested, of course."

"Good. Very good." There was the sound of a lighter being turned on and the intake of breath to light a cigar. "How much for an extensive modification?"

"How extensive?"

"My legs, you see? Since the war with those china capes it has not worked well. My entire lower body has gone to der'mo, yes? I want all of it gone and replaced."

"I beg your pardon? You wish to replace your entire lower body?"

"Yes. Is it not possible?"

"Yes, yes, it is possible. Difficult, but possible. Anything else?" I was sure if the man asked for some brain mods I should be able to entice Cranial for a joint project. Unfortunately, Cranial's tech was pure tinkertech, but we would make do.

"My right hand and lower arm. An explosion took them, you see?" An outtake of air. "Blasters are such a pain to deal with."

"Very well, Mr. Gherlorot. I believe we can come to an agreement. Are you still enjoying Accord's hospitality in Boston?"

"Da, Mr. Accord has been very good man to me."

"Alright, Mr. Gherlorot. Now, I feel I must inform you that this will most likely make you the equivalent of a parahuman, depending on the mods you wish for. According to the US-Canadian Parahuman Treaty, it is illegal for a person to be wearing, consuming, or otherwise utilizing any object or be, knowingly and voluntarily, under an effect, either created or granted by a parahuman power with the objective of giving/obtaining temporary or permanent effects similar or equal to parahuman powers on a non-parahuman person, without a certified license and special authorization by the proper authorities. With me giving you these permanent mods, if you get caught committing a crime, you will be judged as a powered human in the court of law. Is that all understood?"

Thank God, I was able to spit out the entire subsection of that law in one breath. I had to sit down and read the last few Law publications on the legality of my tinker work. Surprisingly, a lot of it was more inspired on Teacher and his thralls than actual tinkers producing and giving out their stuff to other people. Makes sense if you take in to account that tinkertech tends to break down or needs maintenance regularly.

It was also interesting to note that this law also applied to Othala, who could grant regeneration. The E88 sent Othala and Victor to Behemoth and Leviathan fights to help the wounded and because she needed to be certified as a healer to be there, she got said permission by the authorities. And while it meant that if she ever got caught and sent to jail, she wouldn't be accused of the crime that this section of the law stated, it also meant that whatever goons she ended up granting one of her "gifts" couldn't be prosecuted for it. Loopholes, am I right?

The PRT being what they are I am sure they will cover that legal caveat in the next… let's be generous and say: decade.

Also interestingly, the most recent laws coming out were more on bio-tinkers and/or wet-tinkers, that ended up messing about with unpowered people, like Bonesaw… or now like me, I guess.

"Da. And money is no problem, I'll pay what is needed." Came a very satisfied sound from the phone.

"Very well, then I advise you to acquire a cape name for yourself. In the meantime, I shall inform Accord of our agreement. He will most likely arrange for transport for you to my lab. When are you free? Such an extensive surgery will take time."

"I was dispensed from Mother Russia's army, Duchess, I have nothing else but time."

Yeah, I know. I read your resume. Sure, that's a bit sad, but now you are just wallowing. I wasn't going to touch that topic ever again, though, not even with a ten-foot pole.

"Very well as soon as we end the call send me all the information on the mods you want. And we shall meet in three days."

"Understood. Do svidaniya, Duchess."

"Goodbye to you as well, Mr. Gherlorot."

Click.

Thank God, that went extremely well, I thought to myself.

I put the phone on one of the cleaner tables, as I went to one of the corners of my lab. Finally. This way I would be able to repay my favour to Accord by giving him a new enforcer, gain some money and experiment with the rest of my speciality.

Three birds, one stone.

I took careful premeditated steps towards my cleanest table and picked up the metal bottle full of tea. Taking a gulp, the warm liquid heating my insides, I thought about what I was going to do for the next two and a half hours until dinner. Spitfire already threatened to ask Trainwreck to manhandle me out of the lab if I spent more than seven hours a day in it.

Putting the bottle back down, I decided on focusing on Project Viper. It would be a nice conversation to end the day. I could even do something at the same time while I am at it.

There was the sound of a deep beep coming from one of the corners. With a sort of unreal hurry that only panic can give you, I bounded to that corner.

After a bit of fiddling and hurried writing of passwords, I could finally see what was happening. The machine registered several off-key patterns while studying the project. Strange, but nothing serious. The patterns were marked by each expulsion of content of one of the protein tubes. I pulled the records to examine. Excess of protein? Excess of something that's for sure. Something that is going in with the protein.

After a few more seconds I found the problem.

The body was producing too much energy without actually wasting it.

Thank, God. It's nothing bad. I thought. Maybe I should get other types of beeps.

Actually… That is pretty good. It means that everything that needed healing already has been, so the body no longer needs to replenish itself.

The vat standing there in the corner, connected to the machines, was bigger than I was. I approached it carefully. Full of greenish liquid, it was a masterpiece of a joint project between myself and Glance. The silhouette of the thing inside barely visible with the number of tubes going into it.

"Don't worry." I said putting my left hand on the glass. It was cold. "Soon, we'll be together again."

I felt my left hand close into a fist.

"You will live again."

Notes:

So, here it is: The interlude. Well, ladies, gentleman, assorted beings, can anyone guess the two LoL characters in this chapter?

Anyways, in two months or smth you guys are gonna ask: "Rogue, what in God's green marble possessed you to create an entire original character do-not-steal in a story where you already have no concrete idea where the plot is going?"

And I'll say: "You see... I... er... well..." *silence* "Huh... Hey! Look, is that a Chem-tech dragon being riden by a yordle?"

"What! Where? What? There's nothing the- Ah shit, he's running away! Catch him!"

*I exit, stage left, pursued by mob*

Chapter 8: Flashback

Summary:

Wounds of the past

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Shit. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

Fuck.

You drop the heavy gun out of your hands and on to the wet cement floor.

"Taylor!"

You drop to a dead run towards the figure lying on the ground.

She seems so far away.

While you are running, a thought appears in your mind: Be cautious, Taylor said, don't turn your back on the enemy.

You are halfway through the docking platform used for big cargo ships when you decide to turn your head to the target's last known location to assess the situation.

There's a lot of blood.

So much so that it makes you stumble and stop for a very short moment.

Your body had registered what you had done but it seems your mind hadn't kept up.

Suddenly, from the water a scaly shiny torso breaks the surface causing the water to ripple.

More ripples show up.

Note to self: don't skinny dip in the Bay.

No, correction: don't go swimming in the Bay, dumbass!

What remained of Mush had already floated up to the surface, his own torso floating in one direction and his lower body floating in the opposite. The gore of his intestines spreading through the salt water for all the world to see.

The pieces trembled, being pecked apart by the fish of the Bay in a surprising and worrisome display.

The fish of the Bay might be a bit too accustomed to dead bodies being dropped in its frigid waters.

Forget that! You have more urgent business, you fucking idiot!

"Taylor!"

Your brain catches up to your body's actions and you begin to sprint again.

You probably only stopped for a few short seconds, in your shock it probably looked like it took more. But even those few short seconds were precious if your suspicious were true.

Taylor, in her costumed suit, was lying belly down on the wet floor.

You don't see her moving.

Somehow you start running faster.

"Taylor!"

You finally reach her.

She is still, the floor is wet from the rain, wet from the salty sea and wet from a red sticky substance that is quickly spreading.

"Shit, fuck, shitty fuckity fuck."

You crouch quickly, dropping on your knees you start praying, wishing in your mind that what was happening was just a bad dream.

You turn Taylor onto her back.

You drop your face right on her nose.

Is she breathing?

…

Oh, thank fuck!

Your eyes finally move down from her face.

You wish you hadn't.

Her entire right flank is fucked. The suit there is gone, some of the edges are burned away, letting you see the damage. The skin of the upper half of her flank is gone, not gone as in burned or scratched or straight up cut, no it was simply gone as in it looks like it was peeled off, skinned like a hunted animal, leaving the muscle beneath exposed to the open air. The lower half was even worse, her guts were showing through three small holes in her body while the rest looked mangled and mushed.

You are pretty sure you are seeing her liver.

Shit! How was she coming back from this?

This wasn't just some fingers that she could lose and say that it wasn't a big deal and then replace them like nothing happened!

"Ai…sha."

What?

You open your eyes you hadn't realized you had shut closed.

She is looking at you.

One of her eyes is unfocused and the other seems like its looking straight at you.

"Taylor!"

"Po…ck…"

"What?"

"ket…"

Ah! Damn!

From the inner coat pocket of her other side you take out a phone.

Your mind halts before you press a number.

Either you could call Jack… or call the Hospital.

See, if they have Panacea...

"Kit…"

You are broken from your contemplation.

You know what to do for now and you immediately go for the pockets in the kit she gave you early in the day, that is strapped to your waiste.

Just in case, she said.

You take out a vial.

Three, each one is connected to the other by a chain.

One it's purple, of a deep tone you have never seen before, the liquid so thick it looked like goop. The other is very small and its green, a very deep green, but so thin in aspect compared to the normal vials you just used to power your gun. The final bigger one is empty.

You hear a sound.

A grunt of pain.

But not from Taylor.

Your eyes move to the body a few feet from Taylor.

Skidmark's body is down on the ground looking up at the sky.

"Ai…sha."

Shit, you shouldn't get distracted.

"Mix…gi… it."

Mix it? Ah, fuck! What are you doing? She told you all this before!

But before it was just theoretical!

"Ok. Taylor, don't worry you will be okay."

You uncork the green one and put in the big empty vial and then uncork the other and do the same. They turn a sickly blue before deepening in tone, but midway through it starts bubbling and the glass heats up. You can feel it through your fingers.

When it stops boiling it's a deep blue so dark it's almost black, but it seems to shine with light of its own.

"Gi… it."

"Ok."

You put the vial filled with the new chemical abomination of a liquid next to her lips.

She weakly opens her mouth.

You drop the entire content inside it.

She tries to swallow but fails so you move one hand to her throat and make her swallow it.

Your other hand is taking out another vial inside the kit. You fumble a bit with the amount of cotton put in there so the glasses wouldn't break.

This vial is a more traditional purple colour that you have come to associate with Taylor's inventions, but inside there is a large amount of crystals.

Your hand moves to meet the other and you click the vial and a needle together.

Taylor should start to convulse any second now.

…

Taylor's sole focused eye rolls into her head.

You move before you can think about it.

The needle goes straight into her heart and with a push you inject all the contents inside the vial. The small crystals break and crack audibly in protest, but you keep pushing.

By the time there is no liquid or crystals on the vial anymore, you take the needle out.

Taylor shakes immensely on the ground.

Her mouth opens in an empty scream.

1 Mississippi

2 Mississippi

3 Missis-

"AAAAAAaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh"

There it is.

You can't do anything about that, so you let your more basic instincts take hold and let a few tears flow but not before looking to the closest possible source of danger.

Skidmark is on his belly, for whatever reason he can't seem to get up and you can hear curses that would make your father blush being muttered in between sounds of pain.

You pick up the discarded phone and dial the number on speed dial.

"Talk to me" it barely rang before Jack picked it up on his end.

"Shit's fucked. Come get us now!"

"Where are you?" He can probably hear Taylor's cries of pain, because he immediately sounds hurried and worried.

"I… don't fucking know!" The night went from them suffering an ambush to a running battle from the end of the Docks to the Boat Graveyard with the Merchant capes running away. Squealer's corpse might be still where the fight went from a brawl to a retreat.

"Are you in the Docks?"

"No, Graveyeard."

"Give me the name of the ship that it's closest to you, then."

You look around.

"The Maribelle."

"I'll be there in 5."

"Come quick, please."

You look back at Taylor.

She stopped screaming and she is breathing hard.

Her side previously wounded beyond belief is now pinkish, the colour of new skin. The holes in her body are still there, but smaller and the rest of the wound no longer looks like she was hit by a… honestly, you have nothing to compare it to.

Before either of you can say anything, there is the sound of a grunt next to the both of you.

Skidmark is there.

He somehow crawled all the way to only a few short feet of you.

He is still on his belly, and he looks furious in his grief.

"Fukin bitch, what you lookin at? Stay there cause I'll fucking kill you fucking rug munching toe licking daughter of a three legged whore!"

He slams his hand to the ground, the blue of his acceleration field quickly expanding in a line towards a few rocks and gravel that his other hand threw but before they could connect-

CRACK-BANG

-you hear the sound of a hand cannon right next to you.

A sudden spurt of blood comes out of Skidmark's collarbone, right on the end of his neck, and he visibly recoils with the force of the hit.

He immediately drops dead.

Taylor sighs heavily and tiredly.

Her hand drops the gun.

"Shit." You say, with neither the energy nor the will to say anything else.

Silence.

You are still holding on to Taylor so you feel her readjust in your arms.

"I…" Taylor says, softly. One of her eyes is still somewhat unfocused.

You look at her.

She looks at you.

"I.. we… we did it."

The both of you look at each other.

"You are very hurt." You simply say. "What in the world happened?"

"His.. fields… kinda re… bounded my… shot."

You sigh.

"Is there anything else I can do?"

"My lab."

"What?" You are feeling like you are going to say this a lot. Your mind seems to be in a need of a vacation because this whole half-hour was something from hell and tired you out like nothing else.

"Wounds… lab."

You look back at her wounds in her flank. Yep. Still three holes, but while they had stopped bleeding right after the injection, that was no longer the case. They were bleeding again just as bad as before.

Ah, shit.

"Hold on. I have to maintain pressure on the wound."

Now which wound?

The one that bleeds more, dumbass!

You put your hand on the uttermost right, the one you thought you had seen her liver from and put pressure there.

After a minute of silence with Taylor's breathing getting weaker and you panicking, trying to keep her awake, there is the sound of the motor of a van coming towards you.

The van stops right next to you.

Jack and a couple of other guys get out from it.

"Boss, what do you need?" He drops to one knee, ignoring the pool of blood.

"Take… me… lab."

"Will do, boss."

"Corpse…"

"What was that, boss?" Jack is already giving out orders to the others. From the car a stretcher is taken out and put close to you.

"Squealer… Skids… Mush… bring."

"You heard her! The two of you get Skidmark! Little boss, where's Mush and Squealer?"

"Squealer is still on the docks next to that warehouse we burn the experiments in. Mush…" You point to the Bay. His torso is still floating but his legs have disappeared, and you can't see the fate of his head from here.

"Ah, shite. We get him last. One of our boys will come back to get it." He turns around giving other orders.

Taylor is already on the stretcher and being moved inside the van. You climb on to the vehicle.

With everyone inside, including Skidmark's cooling corpse, Jack puts the peddle to the metal.

Four minutes later the entire back side of the car is almost drenched in blood, both Taylor's and Skidmark's.

But you finally arrived to the warehouse.

"Use the cargo elevator, I don't care about the noise we need to be quick." Says Jack.

A downwards ride later you arrive at the bottom level.

"How are you still alive?" Martin, the caretaker of the vats down here, sounds incredulous as he looks at the boss.

"Shimmer." Taylor spits out.

"Ah, makes sense."

Martin opens the door to her office and your whole group move to prepare the lab.

"Ok, what do we need?" Martin asks, looking at Jack. After a short list is spat out by the boss, the two of them start gathering chirurgical material while you go open up a few drawers and closets getting the amount of Shimmer required for this.

You organize the vials the same way you did before.

Martin, who had been a male nurse at Ander's Memorial Hospital before being fired for his skin colour, gathered everything in a metal table. At the time he had been trying to study to become a doctor, but fate had other plans, so you trust that he will his job well. Jack, who has no experience beyond first aid, focuses on keeping the boss awake.

The bullet that her hand cannon shot had fractured into pieces either when they hit Skidmark's field or right after. The biggest three passed clean through, creating the holes, but the rest left behind loose shrapnel on the rest of her body.

The brand new mechanical fingers were also ruined and will need replacing.

What follows are three agonizing hours of opening the boss, cleaning her wounds and regrowing several organs with the help of the chemical mixtures.

You are correct in assuming her scream will haunt you for the rest of your life.

She cries purple liquid and begs for her mom and dad.

She thrashes so hard she starts bleeding from the back of her head and she needs to be restrained with two belts from the men and four handcuffs you had to get from a random drawer and a call for your goons.

In a single moment of clarity, she tries to tell you something, her eyes focused on you.

But then Martin pushes something inside her stomach, and she screams again.

The horrible truth is that anaesthesia would disrupt the chemical process the Shimmer is doing to her body.

Pure Shimmer formula allows the body to relax its rules on the mutation of its cells, paired with certain other chemicals several outcomes can be created. The commercial formula functions as a halogenic drug but the few the Boss has made on the side have other purposes.

The one currently being forcefully injected into her spinal cord would allow for a mutation to occur in her cells that would give the Boss, theoretically, apex human condition and regeneration.

Three hours of this.

After three hours of bloody work, you finally approach Taylor's still conscious body.

Her voice is thoroughly ruined from the continued screaming and the places where she was restricted in movement were visibly red. Her eyes are closed and was still crying purple. The massive sobs and sniffles were hard to hear.

Her naked torso was bloody but of the holes nothing remained but scars, and even that might fade with time and other applications of Shimmer.

You run your hands through her gorgeous hair, trying to soothe her.

"Hey, sweetie. It's okay. It's over. I am sorry. I am so sorry. I shouldn't have gotten distracted with Mush. I-"

"Its… ok." Her voice comes out deeply scarred.

Her eyes open.

"I am alive. You are alive. That's all that matters." She said in between coughs.

Her eyes are deep glowing purple.

"You are all that matters."

Notes:

Has anybody seen the new LoL champion?

Her name is Renata Glasc, and she is probably the second female character in LoL to be visibly older in age, with greying hair.

If you want to imagine what Taylor looks like in this fanfic: that is pretty much it, everything but the white streak of hair. This champion is bringing Silco vibes to LoL, and she is giving me the same vibes he was giving me xd. They are hot, is what I am saying.

And also, can I just say that a reverse crossover with Taylor as this character would be amazing? The woman is pratically Khepri: she is missing one arm (ok, the opposite one but still), one of her voice lines is "Work for me or work against me. *short laugh* Doesn't matter. Everyone comes to my side, eventually.", the drone she commands and finally the mind control effect! I mean...

Anyway, welcome to something completely unplanned, I hope you enjoyed reading it!

Chapter 9: Sidestory: Toxicity

Summary:

Crime is eternal.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

How does one own the world?

How does one own disorder?

Crime is eternal. Since primordial times, when a man accumulates something of value another man seeks to steal it from him. Since the birth of civilization such truth was acknowledged, and a system was created to deal with it. Every war ever fought was a battle for resources, no matter the veneer painted, or the perspective changed. One man craving the resources another man, with time had simply evolved to one country craving the resources of another country. The modern world evolved so much that these wars were no longer needed. It grew so interconnected that war was now an endeavour that all parties tended to avoid. Sanctions are given instead of military orders. Diplomacy evolved to become an art in and out of itself. This step forward in our collective evolution becomes apparent in how disappointed humanity was when we found out that our primordial times looked more like something theorized by Hobbes than Rosseau. Like human nature was ever something so mutable that a few millennia of organized society could correct it.

Crime is eternal. Murder, the very first sin; Theft, the most simple of acts; Usury, an act as old as money; Prostitution, considered the oldest profession in the world; Drug consumption, an act even older than medicine; Adultery, an act probably just as old as marriage; Simony, an act as old as organized religion; Extortion, when one man realizes how power is knowledge; Rape, when one person's greed becomes evil; Treason, an act as old as the first rebellion against authority; Slavery, when one man found out how to steal another man; Piracy, when simple theft was not enough.

Crime is eternal. When parahumans arrived, they filled a niche in society by taking charge of a previously almost empty profession and perpetrating crimes both old and new. No one had thought to include in their law books, laws pertaining the theft of one's body and of one's mind, for example. Liquefying someone still could be simplified as murder, at least.

Crime is eternal. Taylor's city was full of it. Lung's men kidnapped girls for their brothels, Kaiser's men killed men because of their skin colour and Skidmark's men captured their prey by forcefully addicting them to drugs. Other minor gangs made their living in the middle of them trying to not gain the attention of the bigger fish in their pond. A culture of violence and materialism had descended upon the already dying city.

Crime is eternal. There was no cure for it. The PRT and the Protectorate tried, or at least told themselves so, so when they went to sleep, they slept better. They were merely maintaining a status quo that was detrimental to their city. They were in a bad position, sure. The argument could be expanded with an example of why they didn't have such a heavy handed approach. The Endbringer truce for one. It was better, in case of your city getting targeted, for you to have more parahumans on deck to defend it. But also another one, right next door: The Boston Games. Once upon a time, in 2007, the PRT department in Boston had grown weary of the villains living in their city, so in a matter of a single week they defeated their homegrown villains, threw the worse ones to the Birdcage and slapped themselves in the back. Only for, not even a day after the official announcement, a massive migration of villains to begin. Villains of all kinds from out of town showed up and claiming all at the same time that the city was theirs. It was war. A war so bad that out of town heroes had to be called, New Wave, the Guild and Legend all had to go there to establish order. The aftermath was no better than before: Accord established himself as de-facto owner of the best parts of the city; The Teeth, freshly thrown out of Brockton Bay, carved a new home there; Blasto found a new place to conduct his experiments in; and Damsel of Distress blasted her way into the big leagues of villainy gaining a chunk of territory. Since then all PRT and Protectorate departments shied away from such final measures.

Crime is eternal. This was why Taylor decided to become a villain. A revelation that shook her beliefs and her thoughts that she found no way of denying. It was all well and good for heroes to go around punching villains, but they were only putting a band-aid on a rotted wound. It was Taylor's opinion that it was better to cut the limb away before it could infect the rest of the body. The social, political and economical reasons for people to turn to crime as a way of living were not being addressed. Taylor had no way of addressing them.

Crime is eternal. But if Duchess had control of it. She could direct it, keep it in check from darker impulses. Turn the evil to a source of good. Address the problems at their root. Manage their revenue to renovate the city. No more suffering in the dark, in the bowels of this city, for those deemed lesser or lost. The outcasts thrown away would find a home in Zaun.

Crime is eternal. The heroes were deluding themselves in thinking they could change it.

Crime is eternal. The villains were perpetrating it with impunity.

Crime is eternal. No one has the realistic motivation of keeping it in check.

Crime is eternal. Therefore, Duchess would keep it in check.

Crime is eternal. No one was owning up to it.

Crime is eternal. Therefore, Duchess would own it all.

Crime is eternal. No one was doing it well.

Crime is eternal. So why let someone else try doing it better...

When you can do it, yourself?

Notes:

So... this came about when I try to see if I could make Taylor's descent to villainy make sense canon wise. I mean, she heavily distrusts drugs in canon but she is taking them in this fanfic. She constantly wants to be a hero for much of canon, so why become a villain... ya know beyond the people she just murdered? Taylor became a villain to own the city. She realises that if she went out and become a hero she wouldn't be solving the underlying problems, especially if she joined the Wards, so she becomes a villain. This is not a case of "If I can't prove myself a lover in these well spoken days, I must prove myself a villain." Not at all. She just looks at Heroes and the Villains and sees children playing with the fate of her city. That's why she says parahumans lack common sense. They are too fueled by conflict to notice the big picture. Taylor thinks that if she owns the city's underworld she will curtain the worst parts of what Crime entails.

I hope you enjoy reading this, all comments are welcome!

Chapter 10: Headsman

Summary:

Alternative Title: The Pain of Becoming

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

"Don't scream."

After receiving such a blatant and monotone warning he thinks he is not at fault for actually yelling instead of screaming.

The day started as any other when one is under such an observant eye as Accord's. He showered, made sure to cut any hair on his face and head and dressed smartly and properly. Couldn't have a fibre of his suit out of place or he might be the one being plucked out.

Seeing himself in the mirror was no longer a pleasant an experience as in his youth. His once mighty muscled figure has longed succumbed to the detriment of age and a life no longer as active as before. A nice fat gut now existed where once a six-pack capable of making Heracles jealous once was. His arms still had the same musculature has before, however, his role as his mother country's personal cape executioner gave him a reputation that even his solitary life couldn't keep away from, so it was always necessary to have the strength to pick up his old rocket launcher, just in case.

Having said reputation once one was replaced with a new shining model was even worse, so he was forced to escape from Russia, jumping island to island, until reaching Alaska. After that there were only confusing, tiresome, and snow-ridden memories until he reached Canada and from there it was a simple life of making use of his axe skills as a forester. Of course, he should have known better than to stop running away.

Damn capes.

Fleeing to the US was not in his original plans, there was a lot of empty emptiness in the wintry forests of Canada that he could enjoy, but he was still found time and time again. Like a dog with a bone, his pursuers wouldn't let go. So, he had to find a patron that would make this chase no longer enjoyable for his pursuers.

He knew of Accord only by reputation. He had read the file his country had on him from his few Endbringer evacuation plans the country's government had paid him to design after that disaster in Moscow. That is why when he remembered that where such an intelligent man existed there might be a few people that needed to lose a head for annoying said intelligent man. He might find use for such an old headsman, and he was in high demand for someone who might protect him. Unfortunately, the crew sent to hunt him down was competent in its job and he ended up even more wounded than before.

It was a difficult couple of weeks of being under the Ambassadors mercies while he was kept in custody.

But he always believed in his own worth.

So, after he proved that to them, he was granted entry into their group. Especially after it was revealed why he was forced to escape. His country thought him a Thinker. Unfortunately for them, he was not. From the many fights he enjoyed it was only a matter of time until some screw was loose in his head. Accord, the meticulous man he his, found that he only suffered from synaesthesia. He heard sounds when he saw things and sometimes colours with the sounds. When he reported it to his superior's they thought him a cape and ordered him replaced and killed. Couldn't have their cape executioner be a cape themselves, after all. But he was no Thinker.

He only had a screw loose.

But he wished he was.

God above, he wished he was.

No matter how puny a power, capes had a strength all but enviable.

They had been found worthy and given power.

In one of his early meetings with Accord he had confessed such feelings.

Accord agreed. Despite his powers many annoyances he too found to be a certain aspect to capes that made other humans envy them. Perhaps it was how larger than life they were. No normal human could look to Alexandria with anything but respect and awe, even her enemies, who were capes themselves, could not look to her in any other way.

Accord informed him that despite having no powers his mental abilities his loose screw gave him plus his long list of heads he cut off made him a good candidate to become his enforcer. He only needed his physical strength back. Another thing that his fights had taken from him. Accord saw no problem with this. He gave a contact number to a promising up-and-coming tinker in a nearby city who could correct such problems. Her designs according to him were remarkable and also reproducible.

Which meant two things: thing number one, to receive such a compliment from Accord the tinker in question might be the new Hero; and thing number two, this tinker was also the next Dragon. Therefore, to receive the attention of this new tinker was a blessing from the Heavens.

The voice from the phone was young but spoke firmly and assertively as if they were sure the angels themselves would grant her the path to Heaven if she would only but ask. He could see the small gravelly sound her voice made when it hit harsher notes, the visual cue he came to associate with the scarring of the throat of those that had screamed beyond exhaustion had.

He remembered still, their screams.

After breakfast, they set off to Brockton, only to arrive shortly after lunch.

The city they arrived to was clearly dying but he has seen worse. The misery of Russian winter when one has nothing but a blanket and the clothes on their bodies. The despair that gave birth to capes, all but enhanced after Behemoth's passing.

In comparison? This people still had roofs over their heads. What does it matter if that roof was leaking a bit?

In this world, no roof was waterproof.

After wandering for a while, they found the club indicated. Its outsides were clean and the building look practically new in contrast with its surroundings.

The Last Drop.

A good name. He thought to himself.

The body that received him at the back entrance to the Tinker's lair made that voice sound appropriate. But also made whatever expectations he previously had vanish. The girl- no, woman he saw carried the strength of blood and character, so few people had. The type of woman his aristocratic mother would have subtly pointed and made note of in her little black book. A worthy one, she would say.

She was tall, muscled but not too much. She had little of female charms, but she had a sculpted physic that few women could master. Her suit was white and black with purple highlights, her half mask was of copper and black with purple liquid vials that possessed a light of their own. Her black hair cascaded behind her masked face like a waterfall of ink. In her waist he could spot a weirdly shaped gun. She wore fingerless black gloves of silk and her two fingers of her left hand were mechanical. She had a cane in her hand, decorated with a handle of a bird skull.

But her eyes.

Her eyes glowed in the early afternoon.

Shined with purple bioluminescent light.

They seem to have a life of their own.

Small details that his trained eyes noticed followed. The way she seemed ready to take her gun and shoot him. The way her eyes followed his steps like a hawk watched his quarry. How her back was straight but not taunt, ready for movement. The way she put only a small amount of weight on the cane, that suggested old battle wounds that she was still recovering from. The way all her subordinates seemed to unconsciously look towards her in guidance and the way they all seemed prepared to defend her.

A warrior queen.

He acted as if she were another Accord, and by that he means he acted as if she could kill him with but a thought for a small transgression only she could see.

He bowed as perfectly as he could, despite the apparatus he was sitting in, just like his mother taught him and introduced himself.

"Good afternoon, I am Uri Gherlorot and at my side is my companion Othello, who serves as Accord's representative for the continuation of our stay."

"Good afternoon. Accord sends both his greetings and his regrets for not being here personally and hopes he has not offended you for letting a representative come in his stead." He heard from the masked butler at his side.

"Good afternoon. I am Duchess Sera, leader and co-founder of the Nation of Zaun, and I welcome you both to my home. I warmly receive Accord's greetings and I hope you deliver to him a message of hope that one day we will meet each other face to face." The woman speaks slowly and methodically, like Accord but unlike Accord, her mask carries a mechanical sound, and her tone of voice is full of poison and her bite full of venom. He can see the colours pulse with such a commanding tone being uttered. It is eerie and uncanny. "Until then, I welcome you here as his representative. Now, let me introduce you to my Chem-Barons: this is Tattletale." She points to a blonde girl wearing a purple cat suit. "She oversees our communications and information; this is Spitfire, she is in charge of our base;" She points to a girl wearing a black and red suit. "And this is Grue, he is in charge of our offensive decision making." She points to a large black leathered man with a motorcycle helmet.

There are others in the large roster of parahumans and unpowered humans, but since she only presented to you these three, they might be her main lieutenants. Or, perhaps, only the ones hospitality obligates her to introduce.

Her attention turns to him, in his wheelchair.

"So." She looks at him up and down. "You are my patient, then."

"I am, Duchess."

"Come, now that introductions are over, we have much to do."

"Very well. I am at your command." He says obligingly.

He follows the woman into a cargo elevator. Half her contingent stays while the other accompanies her to the elevator. Othello, the Ambassador assigned as your companion, also came into the machine.

After a small ride down, he is presented with a large hallway filled with copper vats whose contents seem to be purple and green liquids. The hallway is well lit but despite that he can still see the light that the vats emanate.

"This is the special liquid that will be necessary for you to keep in hand." She points at a green vat. "Just like a car needs petrol to run, your mods will be powered by this liquid. I already reached an agreement with Accord that a vat of this size per week plus one will be given to you at the end of each month. I theorise you will only need three per month, but it is better to have a surplus then have to send emergency vats your way. Thankfully, this formula has a long shelf life." She explains as she walks.

"This is my office and lab." At the end of the corridor, she opens a door.

The office reminds you of your old boss's office. The old Russian general sitting behind a desk of hard wood in a room of cold decadence. This one however was underground and instead of a row of French windows on each side it had two labs. One resembled a lab taken science fiction movie; the other is taken straight from a hospital. Behind a great mahogany desk, there is a commode where on top there is a small vitrine showcasing three skulls. Beneath each of them there is a small name tag identifying whom they belonged to.

"You shall lay there in that bed while I work to modify you. I must reiterate the warning I gave you on our second call: the procedure will be extremely painful. Since you only paid me half in advance, I do hope you prove resilient and survive." She simply stated, looking at the hospital lab.

Despite feeling a bit speechless at a person that said such obvious but rude things so casually, he still went inside her lab. With a bit of help they stripped him of his clothes and her men were able to raise him up to the bed. Othello sat himself comfortably in a armchair indicated by one of her lieutenants.

She prepared herself by stripping herself from her coat, took off her gloves and put her cane in a corner of her lab. She put on a white lab coat and, after washing her hands thoroughly, put on some purple latex gloves.

"I shall put you to sleep for the first part of my work. After that, you must stay awake or the chemicals will not work, understood?"

"Da."

She handled a small vial filled with translucent liquid with a needle at the end. She put it in his arm and emptied it inside his body.

"Now, do me a favour. Count me down from 100."

"100, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94…" He counted in Russian. "…83… 82… 81."

He fell asleep.

Darkness.

Dreamless sleep.

Suddenly he was no longer awake.

"Don't scream."

And that was how he was woken up. After receiving such a blatant and monotone warning he thinks he is not at fault for actually yelling instead of screaming.

"Ah, fuck!" He yells.

"Currently…" Says the woman, who's lab coat was stained red. "… It's 18:30 of the first day of surgery. You have no right arm from the shoulder down. You also have no legs from the hips down. My first plan was to do away with everything below the waist, but someone told me some men might take offence to that. We are currently proceeding to the second part of our procedure. It will be done without anaesthesia, so we will give you something to bite down on."

While she was telling he noticed the odd feeling of calm from the drugs disappearing and the pain in his body making itself slowly but undeniably known. A hard wooden cylinder wrapped in cloth was put inside his gasping mouth and he made sure to bite as hard as he could.

"Now it will be extremely painful. But don't worry. Think of it like birthing pains. You are becoming something new. The pain is the act of becoming." Her purple eyes glitter and shine. "All I can tell you is to think of something important and focus your mind." She advises. She inclines her head a bit, as if in consideration, and adds: "And pray."

She picks up a tube connected to a purple vat with one hand and a pair of tweezers on the other. The pain he was feeling was increasing and at that point he lightly felt the tweezers push skin and flesh away only for the tube to suddenly go all the way inside his stomach through one of the holes where one of his thighs used to be.

Suffice to say after that point he barely remembers anything but pain and muffled screams. He tries to follow her advice, but he feels his mind escaping at random times. Whenever he does concentrate, he thinks of the future he will have, the power he will wield. He thinks of the open fields of his youth, the streams of cold water, his grandmother's fond grumbling, his father teaching him how to skin what he hunted, his mother's focus on decorum while his sister sneaked him a cookie.

His entire life passes through his mind, him joining the military, the first parahuman, the special hunting squad, Behemoth, all the faces of those he prided himself in executing. All the moments that led him here. The escape, the running, that fiery hunger to be more than himself.

It does nothing for the pain, though.

But it does help somewhat.

At some point a breathing mask is put on his face. Instinctually he breathes through his nose all while attempting to scream. He feels something hot enter his lungs and the pain somehow doubles. After a while his lungs are no longer burning, and he feels he can take a bigger lungful of air than before.

After what seemed like days they stopped.

He was sure he lost consciousness at a few points, but never for long, whatever the liquid was kept him awake through most of the surgery.

They let him rest, at least.

After a while, he hears someone approach, and the woman's masked face shows up in his field of vision.

"Good. You are well rested, then?" She says with an air of anticipation. "It's 01:45 in the morning of the second day of surgery. We are currently going to start the third part of the procedure, which is to actually install your mods. First it will be your arm, then your legs. Since I will give you the mods you asked for, the fourth part of the procedure will take place somewhere else, so I can give you the… more exotic additions to your body." He can hear her smile. "Don't worry this part won't be as painful. Let's start, shall we?"

It's barely less painful than before.

But he doesn't lose consciousness at any point this time.

Whenever he focuses himself away from the pain, he can see her connecting wires to his flesh and rounding up her bundle of wires through rounded metal caps that she fit in his stumps. Sometimes she would connect empty tubes that started somewhere in his body to the metal caps, where small screws were bolted. A small part of the empty tubes went a bit further than the metal caps. One for his arm, another for his right leg and another for his left leg.

"There! Done! You know, this was far more extensive work than what I am used to. Last time I had to connect nerve endings was to make my prosthetic fingers, and I did never connect chem-tech tubes to it. It was rather enjoyable." She appears in his field of vision, wiping her hands with a clean cloth. "Well, I'll need a refill for my tox-mask but I'll be with you shortly so we can continue with this." She makes a gesture outside of his view. "My men will take you upstairs where the mods I have been working on the last three days are. Othello will accompany you. Then we will begin the fourth and last part of this procedure."

He feels the bed stutter, a sound of a spring being uncoiled, and he starts being moved while still on the bed.

Othello was the first to show up fully in his field of vision. He could see silhouettes of other people around him, but none appeared close enough that his pain filled, and drug addle mind could concentrate on.

"So, you survived. Well done. You were worthy of being one of us, so I shouldn't expect anything less." The masked butler says in polite tones.

"I…" He breathes out roughly. "… never doubted." He coughs, breathing in more from the mask on his face.

"I… was always worthy."

"So, you are." Othello responds simply.

He can now see the roof of the elevator you entered through. A short upwards ride later the view from his bed started changing.

A few moments later the low ceiling opened to a high roof with various light and fog machines.

"Put him up." He hears from his left side.

The bed starts to rise while leaning onto where his feet would be. He then felt the distinct rough feeling of rope around his waist while another went beneath his arm. With a pull he felt himself rise from the bed.

"So, with this its easier to put you in position to finally connect you to the mods themselves." He heard Duchess's voice although he couldn't see her from this position. His vision was still really badly focused. The pain and the drugs had done a bit of damage, although he could already see a noticeable difference in improvement from before. It was probably only a matter of time until his vision recovered even better than before, if Duchess's sell pitch was true.

He felt himself being slowly dropped from his previous height and the skin of his waist touch something cold.

There was the sound of a woosh and bubbling from the pipes around him.

A sudden loud clank.

A burst of pain followed by a burst of energy, like he just drank his father's spiked coffee.

He felt something hot inside his mask and he was forced to breath it in. Pain wracked him a bit more. He could hear the sounds of metal against metal, something mechanical and the wound of a welder. He had closed his eyes and focused his mind.

After a few more moments he could feel the same sensations coming from his stump that used to be his arm.

The same motions and the same feelings repeated.

He heard a laugh.

It was loud and joyful.

A bit of the madness in it accompanied by the sheer relief.

"Finally." Duchess's voice came still carrying notes of laughter. "It's done! Put up the mirror! The customer needs to see what he is paying for!"

He opened his eyes.

His vision was no longer clouded for he could see better than ever before. A picture perfect image as if in high quality video feed.

He looked down and saw black and grey metal beneath his gut.

He looked away from the sight and dredged his eyes upwards to his front.

There was a large mirror.

The image that the mirror showed was terrifying.

It was a hulking shape, with six mechanical legs and many guns, flesh and metal fused perfectly as if such a mechanical monster was a natural occurrence from the wilds. This thing was the new him. The him that the pain gave birth to. With but a thought, like he never changed legs to begin with, he was able to turn around in his new massive form. His inspection revealed the chemtech-filled tubing that his body was riddled with and the solidly massive gun that served as his new arm. His mask glowed as it vented pure alchemy into his lungs, and he breathed it in deeply.

"Rejoice, Mr. Gherlorot. You survived my pure formula." Said the woman, who despite looking smaller to his eyes than before, in his mind had grown into a giant. "With this you are no longer an outcast. You survived. You are worthy."

She puts a hand on one of his mechanical spider legs. She strokes it slowly and looks him in the eyes.

"Have you thought of a name for yourself?"

"Urgot"

He said with surprising clarity.

"My name is Urgot."

Notes:

Congrats! For those that guessed Urgot!

And there it is the birth of Worm!Urgot and the beginning of more LoL components showing up to disrupt Earth-Bet. I made his backstory both original to the Worm setting and as League lore correct as possible. For example, his melding of flesh and machine his far smoother than in League. We don't want to offend Accord's sensibilities after all. This might might be me shooting myself in the foot a bit if you are reading this in the future when the next season of Arcane is still focused on Zaun and somehow retconned/modified Urgot's backstory.

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this. It took me a while both because I was focusing on my studies and because I was a bit stuck handling two different chapters that I disliked immensely and had to rewrite. Also, I kept unintentionally writting with "You" which proved to annoying af.

All comments are welcome! Let me read what you thought of the chapter!

See you next time!

Chapter 11: Steel for (Para)Humans

Summary:

The 3 B's of Capes everywhere:

Bureaucracy, Bussiness and Badass-ing.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Taylor was sitting on a swivel chair.

Her right hand was manoeuvring a particular page of a report that was just handed over to her by you.

Inside the club all the lieutenants and parahumans in your gang's roster waited for her to speak.

Tattletale on her left, Spitfire on her right and you behind her.

The rest mingled in the dance stage, sitting down on whatever chairs they could get. Only five days had passed since the meeting at Somer's Rock, so the parahumans present here still divided themselves by their group of previous friends. Namely, those recruited after the revelation of their existence and those recruited before.

By having Tats and Fire by her side and you behind her it's a subtle message to encourage unity in the gang. Or that was what it was explained to you before this general reunion. The club was closed during the day and for this general meeting the desk from the prop room was moved upstairs and placed where the DJ's set usually resided. It made the meeting look somewhere between a rally and a bi-quarterly meeting of a company. However, this much open space was necessary for this meeting.

Taylor puts the report on the table and from one of the pen holder on her desk she took a fountain pen. She dabs the tip a bit so it wouldn't smudge the paper and she signs the report. With a slow movement the pen glides over the paper writing: Duchess Sera.

Another slow movement puts the pen carefully back in its resting place.

"Very well, so far our plans have been moving inside our projected time span. No large deviations have been found and the small ones registered have been dealt with. We have placed tags demarking our new territory and installed a new protection racked on the people inside. The jurisdiction on this new revenue stream has been given to Spitfire," A hand gesture to the girl at her side. "who is in the process of establishing a soup kitchen and a homeless shelter. Shimmer productions continues uninterrupted, and our last transport of goods was successfully delivered." Boss nods at Grue, Trainwreck, Regent and Bitch, the ones assigned for maintaining the safety of the product for that turn. She then takes a deep breath from her tox-mask, the gassy and mechanical sound echoing through the building.

"Congratulations, everyone. We have fully and officially established ourselves has one of the three biggest gangs in this city." You can hear her smile.

The people in the room applauded, a few bumped fists with each other or slapped each other on the back and Regent dramatically bowed. The boss let them celebrate for a moment before taking another breath and continuing:

"Unfortunately, that means that the other two gangs are soon going to attack us. We are the up-and-coming sensation that threatens their existence, they will want us dealt with." The boss's mechanical fingers tapped on the hardwood. "Parahuman squads of two to four people are going to be made to patrol in important areas; no zaunite will travel by their lonesome, pairs and small groups always; finally, be vigilant of our dealers, like usual, but be more careful to who you sell Shimmer to. The PRT was already bold enough to disguise one of their members so he could buy Shimmer, if he hadn't been caught by Tattletale while exiting the club that vial would be, right now, in Armsmaster's hand. The same thing already happened to two E88 informants and an asian man who was thinking of getting favour with Lung by delivering our vial to him."

Boss takes from her inner pocket the new toy she recently got. The first payment of the protection fee was made directly to the boss who personally took charge of the collector's group. It was done so, so people in her territory knew who their leader was and that she went out of her way so she could see each of them face to face. That she knew their names, their faces, their professions and their families. All to make the point that she took personal responsibility for their wellbeing. Of course, that was the intention she had; what the people glimpsed or thought of it was probably so she could scare them to compliance. You say: why can't it be both?

Anyway, when one of the store owners in her territory paid the protection tax by giving her one piece of whatever she found interesting in his antique shop, two days ago, she took the offer. After a bit of searching and idle chatting between her and the old man she found something to her liking. It was a beautiful black wood tobacco pipe with engravings with the intricate details of steam ships and mechanical cogs. The old man said it used to belong to a captain of one of the ships still stuck in the Graveyard before he sold it, almost a decade ago, because he needed the money.

She took the lower half of her mask from her face. A small cloud of purple gas releases from within and she puts it on top of the table. With a shake of her head she raises the pipe to her lips. With the mouthpiece stuck between her teeth, she takes a small metal container from her other coat pocket, opens it and picks up a small amount of the glittering dust with her fingers. The dust is deposited in the pipe, carefully.

Taylor knocks her metal fingers on the wood of the desk.

Your power is forced back. A few people jump and you smirk. You pick up the box on your pocket and take a matchstick and light it. Over the boss's swivel chair, with one armed propped on it, you slowly extend your hand with the lit matchstick, and you light the pipe in her hand.

She inhales, the dust shines amber and the smoke that comes out of her nose is bright blue.

She sits with her back fully on the chair.

Boss looks across the room. You aren't in front of her, so you can't see the expression she is making to the main door, but the others who are, aren't reacting positively. Must be one of those creepy, terrifying looks she gives, when her eyes light up by themselves.

You don't know which subtype of terrifying look she is giving, though. There are so many classifications you've discovered and named in the time you known her. Must be a type 3, by the side-eye Jack is throwing you. The I am more pensive than annoyed but if you dare talk out of order, I'll shoot you look she gives when thinking on a subject that irks her.

She takes another puff, before she speaks at the same time the blue fumes escape through her mouth and nose.

"I've decided… that the best defence… is offence."

Tats moves her head to look at the boss, her eyes scrutinizing Taylor.

"We have the momentum. I know some of you might be hesitant to throw yourselves at conflict, to start a gang war. And it will be war, be not mistaken. But we only took four days to mark a physical and visible presence in this city. The other gangs expect us to sit tight and assess our situation. To prepare ourselves to defend our holdings from the attacks they are no doubt preparing themselves for. They will not be expecting us to take the initiative. However, I have been advised to take more cautious measures. So I decided on a compromise. In other words, to maintain a façade of legitimacy we will wait until they seem ready to attack first, then we will start strong offensive manoeuvres. The patrols I previously mentioned are designed to be a mix between a defensive measure and an offensive one. We all need to ready ourselves for this. As soon as they come sniffing about we will punch their noses and the rest of their mugs so hard down the hole they came from they will end up in Hades." Boss takes another puff. "My own personal projects will be halted momentarily to focus on this new… war effort."

She shakes her head slowly causing the smoke she exhaled to come out wiggly.

"To help us with said war, our business partner Accord, has lend me a new enforcer that I have been working on. He has been pleasantly surprised by my work so he is giving him to me, for the duration of this conflict, as a reward. Truth is this is a test, a proof of concept, for Accord to assess how best to use this new asset. He'll help us in anything we need and then depart to join the Ambassadors. The man is a somewhat recent Thinker who needed my help. We will be as welcoming as we can be, but do not speak with him about anything classified. If you even think you shouldn't tell him something, then don't. He is not a member; he is a guest. He is a potential Thinker, so a bigger amount of caution is needed than the usual guest." She takes another puff.

You don't know what to think of the man. You were there when he arrived, he and his companion, the weird butler. He certainly seemed anxious to prove his new strength.

Duchess had a full debate in private with you, Spitfire and Tattletale about the motivations of both of their guests. It was agreed that Othello was there as neutral observer, while the newly named Urgot was there for some deep-rooted personal reasons beyond showing his usefulness to Accord. With an attentive crowd of three Tats went overboard in her analysis, just to prove that she was the smartest person in the room. At least, the whole thing ended the big dick-measuring contests that Tats and the boss still had the past three days. Their discussions have mellowed too, in the passing five days, with Taylor and Lisa reaching some sort of agreement. A surprising turn of events in your opinion. Sure, the Thinker seemed eager to help but you thought she would take a dislike to Taylor, thinking her another boss she would have to work under. Or maybe not. Maybe having a say in her employment and killing Coil made her take an immediate liking to Taylor. It's very likely she just saw something with her psychic thinker powers that made her more amenable. By the rate they are going you think that you will have to shoo the thinker away with a broom (or a loaded gun), so she won't try to steal Taylor away from you.

Nevertheless, the four of them had concluded that including Urgot in their battle plans wasn't going to be harmful to their operations. Quite the contrary.

Your boss speaking up broke your train of thought.

"Let him in."

The main doors opened to show Urgot. The massive cyborg of a man glowed with green light and his deep breathing seemed to haunt his presence as his mechanical spider legs took him inside the building. He nodded in greeting.

Taylor returned the nod.

"Urgot, it will be a pleasure to fight by your side."

"The feeling is mutual, Duchess" His mechanical voice responds.

"Now, Spitfire, here have these and distribute them." Boss gives Spitfire a bunch of small pamphlets. "Read them and memorise them. They are your patrol schedules and when you leave this room you will give them back." She picks up one from the pile, while Spitfire descends the stage, and continues: "Let's see… Let's start with Patrol B, since they will be the ones passing through potentially hostile borders. They will be composed of Grue, Bitch and Regent." And then you stopped paying much attention, as Taylor rattled on about the route and advice around the subject. Then Boss, moved on to Patrol A, consisting of Spitfire, Trainwreck and herself. And finally, Patrol C would be a patrol done in civies by you and Tats.

You perk up and pretend to start paying attention. You understood Taylor's tactic and you were there for its inception, so you already knew everything. It was a way to pair up the parahumans with an A.O.E. power with the damage dealers and long-range focused people. On the other hand, pairing the two support oriented parahumans together in civies was an effective way to gather passive info off the streets. Plus, if any of the other two patrols were in trouble Patrol C would mask up and go help. If both were in trouble, depending on the threats, you and Tats were to separate and go to the fight you were more useful in. By simply going to one of the marked alleys they would find a secret cache and both of you would be equipped with long-range weapons and healing vials, along with other knick-knacks to help.

Urgot would be assigned to Patrol D (for Dickhead), and he would stay in the base unless one of the big hitters of the E88 showed up. If anyone saw Kaiser's metallic racist ass or Purity's stupid glow or Hookwolf's s blender blades, they must call the heavy guns too by summoning Urgot and then let him do his thing.

After that it was just budgetary reports and other minutia and you really stopped paying attention.

Ω

It was the day after the general meeting when all their plans came together.

Taylor and Aisha were relaxing on one of the sofas in Taylor's office, experimenting with the flavours and the various dosages for their commercial drugs. Lisa on the other hand, was simply relaxing on the opposite sofa. They had a quarter of an hour before needing to join Brian and the rest, so they were trying to stray their minds to other thoughts.

Occasionally, the price would be discussed, and a heated debate would ensue. It couldn't be too high or they wouldn't sell and people would be forced to buy from the other gangs (which Taylor had demonstrated empirically that their quality/quantity ratio was worse and more expensive than its actual value), but it couldn't be too low which not only would endanger their bottom line but also become more easily accessible to people (something that Aisha had suggested in the beginning; she had no problems with rich fucks killing themselves but for other people it was a different story). In terms of taste, some experimentation was still undergoing. Some of the best unaltered formulas for comercial usage tasted like honey but they had branched out to try making new flavours, so the discussions they had also tended to deviate on what a good flavour would be for a certain formula in an attempt to make each version of Shimmer unique and appealing.

On this occasion the discussion had revolved around the glittering blue dust that Taylor distilled from one of her liquids. The dust, that could be either snorted or burned, and its fumes inhaled, had been dubbed as Spice by Taylor, who, on that train of thought, also jokingly called the purple eyes she now sports as her own Eyes of Ibad.

The geeky dork, Lisa snorts in her head.

Nevertheless, despite the jokes involved, the production of this new drug was another potential avenue of future inventions that Taylor was attempting to discover with her speciality. The dust was an attempt to produce something that could give thinker abilities, much like its namesake. After experimenting this avenue to its fullest, and depending on the results and data gathered, Taylor would move on to try creating something to mitigate Thinker headaches.

Something that Lisa was very interested, involved and personally invested in.

The actual results so far, however, were mixed, the liquid form was too potent to actually be consumed without dying while its dust form was only strong enough to cause a few errant deductive thoughts and the mild high. No matter how surprisingly accurate those thoughts were they weren't to the level they wanted nor did they have the frequency necessary for offensive use. The potential commercial product was there, however, and since Lisa's power had confirmed that it was safe for consumption… well, as safe as any mind-altering drug could be, they had moved on to how to price it and, perhaps more importantly, how to market it.

Although Lisa actively participated in the earlier part of the conversation, afterwards she did her best to ignore the later part of it. She personally knew, both because of her powers and simple deduction, that the "fight" had simply been a way for the two girls to vent their anxieties. Taylor would arch her eyebrow and a honeyed insult would come out of her mouth; Aisha retaliated by baring her teeth in a cheshire grin and deliver a biting insult. This went on until both girls decided on a victor or marked a truce and would go do something cheesy and sweet, like what they were doing now. This befuddled Lisa because every time they would do the whole thing in a will-they-won't-they way that already crossed the line between romantic to insulting a long time ago. The whole thing was more befitting a popular teen drama that needed to pan out its running time as along as possible. Neither girl seemed to want to pin down the relationship to anything cohesive despite both being too possessive of each other.

Case in point, Lisa wasn't blind to the murder-glare Aisha gives her whenever she and Taylor start their own cat fight and neither was Alec blind to Taylor's pointed tapping of her steel fingers whenever he and Aisha play games together.

And while Lisa would simply ignore it and focus on her opponent, Alec has already started to do stuff to purposefully annoy his new boss, like low-key flirting with Aisha.

Whatever, it's his funeral, Lisa muses amused.

A part of Lisa was still enjoying watching the whole drama, anyway. Free from her chains, with a new sympathetic boss and a nice paycheck, Lisa could do what she loved without a Sword of Damocles hanging over her.

Life had gotten better and certainly more interesting.

On the exact moment Aisha, who went from sitting on the sofa to sitting on Taylor, was about to start experimenting with combining two vials that Lisa's power assured her would boil and explode, the door to the office opened violently.

The occupants of the room jumped from their seats, causing … what was Lisa thinking about? Oh, right someone just came in.

[It's Jack. Jack has news. News involves the gang. Gang problem. External gang problem. ABB or E88 interference.]

"It's the E88! They have been spotted by our lookouts! Patrol B is moving to engage them, soon!"

"Alright, who are the parahumans? Any unpowered members?" Taylor rattles off, already moving to uncap a purple vial and then drinking from it. After that, she starts suiting up the rest of her costume.

"It's Krieg, Stormtiger and Rune. About 15 unpowered members acting as support. Victor has been spotted in a crow's nest, but he might change positions soon."

[Victor has skills as a sniper. He is acting as long-range support. Will change locations to other predetermined places.]

"Very well. I have been hoping for that combo so I already have ideas on how to deal with them. Grue's power will ensure Victor is useless." Taylor finishes suiting up.

Her entire costume is a mix between a business suit and a general's armour. Ornate copper shoulder pads on top of her black and red duster coat with burnished copper highlights, vest and trousers in the shame fashion, small copper armoured gloves and her face mask with glowing purple vials. She also recently made some copper vambraces equipped with hidden needles and knives and a simple copper poleyn for her knees. The entire thing had a nice tinkertech mesh hidden beneath acting as sort of chain mail to protect her body. Her cane was already in her hand and her hand cannon in its holster.

Taylor went to a corner of the lab and started clicking passwords and other info on a terminal. The small vat opened and showed a person sized elongated drone with three spikes in its back made of purple vials of different Shimmer formulas. It also came with two black wing-like additions hidden in its frame. It trembled as if in anticipation and came out of the vat, a purple gas cloud following it. Lisa had to contain her power so it wouldn't go on about the machine's propulsion system or any of the other things her power seemed eager to analyse.

Taylor looks at her and Lisa needs to shake her head to distract her power. Now that she is going into the action, she needs to conserve it.

"Will you come?"

"Of course, sounds like a good time." Lisa responds.

"You will need to stay in the back, though." Taylor counsels.

"I know the drill, I'll hunker down somewhere and give you info through comms."

"Let's go then."

Duchess Sera struts out of the room and Tattletale follows her.

Ω

Brian was conflicted man.

The past week has been the most volatile in his life ever since the week when he had gain powers. The new gang showing up and upturning every way of life he made for himself since he decided to turn for a life of crime. He was still angry at the whole thing, but he couldn't truly be upset when he saw his first paycheck or when his sister laughed and smile while doing work for the gang. Family and reputation were everything for Brian and now that he had both a part of him couldn't help but feel content. The conversation he had with his sister went relatively well and despite the fact he still was uncomfortable with the fact she triggered he still resigned himself to the situation. Having her tell him the circumstances of it all lit a fire in him though and though at the time he did his best to comfort and reassure her, he still felt like should do something.

Today his work was to patrol along the stretch of territory connecting their part of the Boardwalk and Coil's old stomping grounds. Bitch had her hounds already transformed and was making them sniff around for trouble. Making them learn to detect and track the smell of blood as well as conventional drugs made them more useful than just using them for fights and it was a skill they were using more and more under Zaun's banner. Regent was strutting around while performing tricks with his new sceptre, seeming completely bored out of his mind.

Brian took a moment to breath deeply through his skull mask. While doing so he inspected his own costume as well as his teammates. New gang meant new colours and their new costumes reflected that. While they were still the same as before, now they possessed purple highlights. His black skull mask had a purple tear drawn under his right eye and his black leather jacket had a metallic chain, coloured purple and toxic green, diagonally from his waist to his shoulder. Regent had changed his trousers to a toxic green and had an ornate golden chain around his neck with a purple vial filled with liquid. Bitch on the other hand only changed her shirt to a purple one with the words "Hounds of Zaun" inscribed in black ornate letters. Brian took a moment to see everyone was dressed properly, just in case, because it wouldn't do well to show themselves dishevelled when the gang was still so new in the eyes of the city.

After confirming their state he turned forwards and continued walking, until a sound came from his radio.

"Patrol B, this is Overwatch, do you copy?" Spitfire's voice came through the small thing in his ear. Brian had only started knowing his new teammates but so far, he found he liked all of them. They were all strong and competent, even in Trainwreck's case who was gruff and had a rough demeanour. Unsurprisingly, he was getting along well with Bitch.

"This is Patrol B, we copy Overwatch. What is it?" He responded.

"One of our spotters just saw a bunch of E88 goons walking down Keystone Avenue and went to scout the place. It isn't just goons, Grue, they are accompanied by capes. I am still trying to see who they are."

"Ah, shit. Alright, we planned for this. We will fight them back if we win good and if they retreat, we then pursue them all the way to their base if need be."

"Exactly. Ok, I just got the report from the scout, it's Krieg, Stormtiger and Rune."

"Well, it seems Duchess and Tattletale's prediction came true, then. Do they have any other support one of the scouts can spot?"

"We'll keep an eye open, but so far no one has been spotted. I'm informing HQ regardless."

"Ok, we will go there and intercept them. Patrol B, over."

"Roger that, Overwatch over."

Brian looked back at his teammates.

"You heard all of that?"

Botch nodded and Regent answered with a "yup!"

"Let's do this then!"

With a map of the area still half-remembered in his mind, his team navigated the streets until arriving two streets away from the avenue. It was then the radio turned on again.

"Patrol B, this is Overwatch. We have reports of a sniper's nest in one the buildings to the north of that street, reports indicate it's Victor. Boss and Patrol C have been briefed already and are going to assist you. Duchess asked if you remembered the contingencies for snipers."

"Overwatch, this is Patrol B. Yeah, I remember: make a wall of darkness between buildings."

"Alright, Trainwreck and I are leaving Overwatch and moving closer to their flanks, estimated time of arrival: 3 minutes. I'll do something about Victor. Patrol C plus Duchess already left HQ, estimated time of arrival is 7 minutes. Urgot will stay in Overwatch until our victory is assured and move on to pursue. We will see you on the field, Overwatch out."

He heard the off beep before he could respond back. He turns to his companions.

"Do we wait or go to them?"

"We can take them!" Bitch growled.

"Heh, maybe I can make Sabrina the Teenage Nazi drop from her platform." Regent mused out loud.

"Is that a yes or a no?" Brian asks.

"Sure, it's a yes." Regent shrugs.

"Well, then we need to get in character then." Brian says thinking on how to approach the nazi trio. Duchess had told them to be as polite and gentlemanly as possible when dealing with people outside the gang. They wanted to present a formal and polite demeanour like Marquis while punching just as hard as him. They needed the reputation of classy villains, to show they were the better option than the other two gangs. He breathed in a gulp of air and turned to walk to the avenue the nazis were waiting.

A few moments later he was walking up the avenue in arrow formation with Bitch and Brutus on his right, Regent and Angelica on his left and Judas behind him covering their back.

Rune was already up in the air in her concrete platform, her costume swaying with the breeze. Krieg in his SS costume and gas mask stood front and centre with Stormtiger, with his bared chest and white and blue tiger mask, on his left. They had about 10 visible goons in empire colours way in the beginning of the avenue.

"Good afternoon, lady, gentlemen. What might be the occasion for this gathering?" Brian got out when he reached hearing distance.

"Good afternoon, Undersiders." Krieg responds. "We were just walking through… Might I ask what are you doing here?"

"Well, you see the Undersiders no longer exist." Brian comments as if it were an obvious thing. "We are members of the Nation of Zaun… and well, we too were just passing through, minding our own business, until we saw someone that shouldn't be here."

Krieg's costumed body straightens, Stormtiger back arches and bends his knees as if to pounce and Rune simply raises a few more objects.

"I see." Krieg's voice comes from beneath the mask. "Then I think this is inevitable."

"It is." Brian simply responds.

Silence descends on both groups, for a single moment, weighing their opponents, waiting for the first to cave in and attack.

Victor is the first.

The bullet somehow misses hitting a few inches to the right of Bitch.

The sound of the gun echoes the beginning of the fight.

Brian immediately inundates the battlefield with as much darkness as he could. Bitch yells at her hounds to attack. Judas jumps over Brian, his hulking frame passing over the shadows pouring out of his body and goes for Stormtiger while Brutus and Angelica go for Krieg. Regent does what he does best and makes Rune's neck to twitch causing the objects she was holding to waver instead of being fired at them.

Krieg sends a blast of kinetic energy to Brutus throwing the dog into a shop but Angelica is quickly on the nazi and uses her massive paw to fling Krieg backwards into a restaurant. Stormtiger sends air claws with one hand to Brian, who tries to dodge, and with the other hand sends a blast of compressed air to Judas. The compressed air explodes on contact sending the dog back and causing damage to the animal. Brian manages to dodge the first set but the aerokinetic is fast on the draw and sends another blast to Bitch. With Angelica inside the restaurant chasing her prey and Judas on the ground, it was Brutus who came to the rescue, putting his body in front of the attack.

With the entrance of the street blackened by Brian's power it was only the roar that came from the sides that warned them of someone incoming.

Trainwreck burst through the darkness like a speeding train locking on a target and running towards it. The nazi teenager had spent the last moments trying to hit Regent in a rage for what he did so she didn't pay attention to the hulk of a beast that quickly approached her. As soon as he is close Trainwreck jumps and grabs on Rune's platform causing the girls attention to shift. Too late though as Trainwreck pushes himself up. Rune screams but somehow has enough presence of mind to actually do something instead of locking up in surprise. She drops the platform and instead goes even more up into the sky. Brian is still seeing if Bitch's dogs can still go on, but he manages to see that Rune is now floating on top of a sewer grate. She must have been on top of it even while still floating on the concrete slab.

Trainwreck is able to land on his feet and he rolls out of the great crash of concrete that drops from the sky.

In the same moment, Angelica is blasted out of the restaurant hitting the building opposite cracking the façade. Krieg comes out of the wreckage of the italian restaurant and has the gall of brushing fallen dust on his shoulder like it was no big deal.

Brian decides that the best way is to continue the fight is for him to go against either Stormtiger or Krieg but before he decides Trainwreck is already running towards Stormtiger.

Well, Krieg it is. Brian thinks sardonically.

With parahumans with long range powers they rarely put effort in close range, especially when those capes have team members who can take care of the more personal type of engagements. So, he has to get close so he can trounce him.

"So, you are going fight me, then?" Krieg's voice comes into his ears, but Grue ignores it. It's time to punch a nazi.

He starts running towards his target. The sounds of the surrounding battle are drowned out by sheer focus in trying to get close. Krieg, who is an experienced cape, immediately understands his intentions and starts sending blasts of kinetic energy, the displacement of the air the only way of noticing his shots. Brian dodges and instead of trying to shoot more Krieg noticeably tries to do something with the air around his head but the skull mask protects him long enough for the nazi to see himself in trouble.

Brian tries a jab at his opponent's midsection, but it's deflected.

The next few moments are a confusing mess of up-close fighting. Krieg is too slow while defending himself to find an opening and do his kinetic thing, while Grue tries to direct wisps of his darkness towards the nazi's eyes when he is also trying to maximize each punch. He has to deal as much damage as possible in a single strike so that he can actually damage his opponent instead of just giving Krieg more kinetic energy by hitting as much as possible.

Suddenly, Grue's leg spasms making him drop from his stance.

Brian's mind tries to reboot from the sudden drop in height – the spasm could have only been caused by Regent – but before it can a muscled arm appears where his head used to be. The arm hits Krieg in his shoulder instead, sending the nazi reeling.

Brian immediately rolls out of the way to the right and reassesses the battlefield.

Cricket, in her cast iron mask that seems like something out of the Mad Max movie from Aleph that Alec made them watch, is now standing next to Krieg. Cricket starts to rotate her right kama, but before she can do anything else there is a cry from next to Cricket.

"Lay off my brother, bitch!" Imp appears out of nowhere and shoots Cricket in the leg with a hand cannon. The road turns red with chunks of meat when Cricket's lower left leg disconnects from the rest of her body. Imp's weapon t-

Holy sh-, wait, what just happened?, thinks Grue in a daze, oh right Cricket got her leg blown off.

Krieg who was just as much surprised as Grue, instead of attacking, goes to help his companion, picking her up bridal style while ignoring her screams. He runs away from the battlefield quickly, but Brian has doubts his absence will be permanent.

Brian is not one to reject an opportunity, however, so he takes advantage of this moment of peace to catch his breath. He also moves inside the wrecked restaurant for cover and turns his mic on. He needs to know the situation.

"This is Grue. What's the sitrep?"

"Grue, this is Tattletale." Lisa's familiar voice responds. "Spitfire took care of Victor, Hookwolf is fighting Urgot a street over from you-" There's a distant boom and the building trembles as if on cue. "Yeah, suffice to say Accord is gonna be happy. Urgot has the bastard chained up like a misbehaving pup. Cricket is out of the fight but so is Bitch and her dogs. You should probably peek out of your hiding place right about now though."

Grue, very much used to Tattletales cryptic advice, peeks out of the debris he is hiding behind.

He catches the exact moment when Duchess enters the battlefield. She runs to Stormtiger, who was previously busy toying with Regent, and starts attacking him. With a swift kick to the groin and a downwards swing of her cane-turned-sword she cuts off his right hand. With her hand cannon on her left hand she shoots at a newly arrived Crusader, who is starting to fill up the street with his ghosts, and manages to hit him right in the shoulder.

Both nazis cry out in pain and drop to their knees.

Duchess doesn't stop and immediately starts running towards the building opposite of the restaurant where Grue is regathering his strength. With a purple dash behind her she starts running up the wall and uses it as leverage to jump to Rune's position. The girl tries to protect herself by putting random objects in the way but from Duchess cane-sword a violently bright purple starts oozing and a moment later, with a diagonal swing, a purple bladed blast extends itself from it and breaks the stuff in two. The boss raises her left arm and shoots her gun, missing Rune's head, seemingly on purpose, but destroying her hood. Rune freezes in fear and Duchess manages to put a foot inside the sewer grate. His boss then head-butts the nazi teenager making the two of them fall to the ground.

Somehow the boss is able to catch the girl bridal style during her fall and lands on her feet, like a particularly agile cat.

"Attention! Everyone!" Lisa's voice comes from the radio. Brian is barely able to pick his jaw from the floor before he is bombarded with new info. "The Protectorate is coming in 5 minutes! Wrap it up! Let the heroes deal with the rest!"

Trainwreck, having been throwing shit into the air trying to hit Rune, raises his arms in celebration letting out a deep "Hurrah!".

Duchess simply lets Rune lie on the floor and moves on to survey the battlefield. She nods and says:

"Well done everyone." Then she sighs and puts the gun back in its holster. "A bit boring though… didn't even need to use the drone."

Murphy might have been peeved that day, because it was right after Duchess ends her crestfallen statement that Crusader tries to rise, and two more ghosts show up from his body. Three more show up from the wall of the building left of her. The nearest to Duchess raises his spear but the boss blocks with her sword and raises her left arm. From somewhere beneath the cover of her coat there's a sound of something being fired and soon after that something hits Crusader's medieval armour. Crusader starts lifting off the ground and goes for Duchess with great speed. The nazi cape's ten-foot-long spear goes through nothing as Duchess dodges, using both her legs on the ghost's chest to propel herself out of the way. A downwards swing of her purple sword later and Crusader's spear is cut in two. She backflips mid-air and swiftly fires another something from her sleeve to the nazi cape.

Regent, even as exhausted as seem to be, with a bleeding gash on his chest, makes Crusader trip before he could dodge or sprint into a run.

Brian spots Stormtiger trying to attack Regent from where he is sitting and immediately sprints to the target.

What felt like an eternity later he finally kicks Stormtiger's head before the air in his hands extends outwards. The bastard drops unconscious.

Brian turns around to help Duchess with Crusader but the boss is fencing one on one with the enemy cape. Crusader is still holding on to half of his spear and after a few blows are traded Crusader is suddenly hit on the back with something translucent and he fumbles a riposte.

It takes Brian's brain a bit to decipher what just happened.

Apparently, Trainwreck just attacked the guy from where he was a few feet from that fight and while he was still fighting a pair of Crusader's ghosts, simply by picking one up by his leg and throwing it back at his creator.

Duchess's sword doesn't miss however, and Crusader's chest is split open.

The sirens cut through Brian's battle focus.

Anxious, he goes to Regent and helps him up. Bitch shows up in that moment with a new dog already transformed and she helps him secure Alec on to it.

"Let's go." He hears the boss from behind him.

Tired he simply nods.

They manage to escape the Protectorate, but he simply falls asleep before they reach Overwatch.

BONUS SCENE 3

"Fraulein, stay here. Othalla is already coming." James says.

He still doesn't know exactly how it happened but with Cricket being this badly wounded he needed to retreat with her before she bled out. He could have continued the fight with the ***** but Crusader would do a good job replacing him in the fight.

This alley was a good distance enough from the fight so she would be safe here.

"I need to go back. Stay here, and for God's sake don't fall asleep, or anything."

His companion nods wordlessly and James nods back. He gets up from his position and gets away from the alleyway. There're barely a few moments of peace while he is walking back to the fight when he hears someone speak from behind him:

"Naughty, naughty! Don't tell me you forgot about little old me?"

James turns around, lifts his arms to f-

What?

Right, the battle, he needs to get back to it.

He turns around again and starts walking towards the fighting. Damn, they really weren't expecting the Undersider's to join the new gang. He was glad that Kaiser had prepared three more of the Empire's capes just in case the Tinker had anything prepared.

"So, you did forget. That's very rude, ya' know!"

There's someone in front of him. Wait, is that bi-

What?

Right, he still had a fight to get to. Before he even takes one more step forward, he feels a prick in his neck and a voice whispering in his ears.

"Don't worry, though. My name's Imp, and where you are going you ain't ever going to forget about me."

He tries to struggle, but his body doesn't respond.

"See ya' soon!"

Darkness welcomes him.

Notes:

Hello guys!

This chapter was exhausting.

First fight scene I ever wrote, and well, just if you guys tell me your thoughts I'll be much obliged. There's the possibility that I will want to improve it, so you'll probably see me editing this chapter for a while.

Anyways, I wanted to show just how much Taylor has grown from her fights with the Merchants. And also show how she ins't infallible by having part of her plan that is discussed in part 1 of this chapter crumble a bit.

If you guys want to see the fight from Urgot's perspective, I think I'll do next chapter cover that side of the fight. I just didn't want to jump straitght to the big one without proper training.

This chapter is also pretty experimental, cause we see 3 different POV's: Aisha, Lisa and Brian. I guess it could have been broken down into three different chapters, but *shrugs*.

And, also, yes the title is inspired by the Witcher... there is only so much chapter titles I can rip off of Arcane, and I am saving some for other chapters.

In other news, I am trying to write a new Summary for this fic, both for SB, AO3 and FF...

Thank you so much for reading!

Chapter 12: Sidestory: ZAP!

Summary:

Knowing how to handle complaints is an essential part of any manager's repertoire.

Notes:

CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains the usage of drugs. Reader discretion is advised. Don't do drugs, kids. It's bad. You want a chance to experience escapism? Buy a video game. It can be just has addictive and will also leave your wallet just as empty. That's why I'm big brain 'cause I play Dark Souls. It's even more addictive, but also offers a lot more gameplay with each death... a lot more gameplay...

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

CURTAINS OPEN

AISHA is sitting in one of the sofas of the Last Drop's main office and is visibly relaxing while twirling a butterfly knife.

AISHA sighs in contentment.

The door opens violently, and DUCHESS comes in. She closes the door with force. She sits down on the opposite sofa and takes off her mask. TAYLOR sinks down onto the sofa.

AISHA, looking confused.

What is it?

TAYLOR, looking at the ceiling annoyed.

I just spent the last half hour listening to your brother ranting at me.

AISHA

Why?

TAYLOR, still looking at the ceiling.

Your brother was angry about the fight earlier. Kept telling me that I shouldn't have given you the hand cannon. Apparently, he was a bit disturbed in how you used it.

AISHA, visibly amused.

Don't tell me you agreed with him? A bit hypocritical if you did. I mean, what did you do earlier? Cut off a hand, wasn't it?

TAYLOR, looks to AISHA with a frown.

Cape fights are dangerous, true. A bit of dismemberment isn't uncommon. (Sighs) But he is somewhat right. We can't make this a common theme in our fights. Soon enough people are going to compare us with the Teeth. (Shakes her head) That's a reputation we don't want.

AISHA, stops twirling the knife and sits up on the sofa.

You serious? We killed a couple of villains already! Put up their skulls on our desk like they are Junior League Baseball trophies! What we are planning to do with Krieg al-

TAYLOR, interrupts AISHA mid-speech.

It's necessary. Promises and threats only work if people understand that we will carry through with them. Taking down villains with force is all well and good but what if next time we go against the heroes? New Wave or the Protectorate, or hells, the Wards? We can't use that type of violence all the time.

AISHA

I know the shit you are building here, Taylor. That's a pretty fucking nice glass house you live in, better not start throwing shit at it, don't you think?

TAYLOR, gets up from the sofa and starts pacing across the office.

Fine! I get it!

AISHA, picks up a pipe and starts smoking from it.

Then stop pacing around like a headless chicken and do something about it, smartass.

TAYLOR, still pacing.

I know you like my smarts and my ass, no need pointing that out, sweet stuff.

AISHA, quirks an eyebrow.

That and your legs.

TAYLOR stops pacing, blushes and fumbles a bit.

Silence for a few seconds.

TAYLOR, resigned.

Damn, I need better comebacks.

AISHA, snorts.

Yeah, you are really bad at flirting. You need to get your game on, girl. Ain't gonna catch no fish with that bait.

TAYLOR

… You are so lucky you are hot. It's unbelievable. You and your brother are so hot is unfair to the rest of us.

AISHA, makes a face of disgust.

Ewww. Don't make me think of that. (Narrows her eyes at TAYLOR) I think there are other people just as hot as us here. Like Lisa. What do you think of her?

TAYLOR, resumes pacing slower than before.

I like her freckles. (Shrugs) Makes a nice cutting figure with her catsuit-

AISHA, interrupts slightly distressed.

Alright, we are getting off topic. You have problems with the violence. What are you going to do about it?

TAYLOR

Give me a moment. I'll think of something.

The occupants of the room keep doing their activities. TAYLOR sometimes mumbles something to herself while AISHA keeps smoking from the pipe. The room fills with blue smoke.

TAYLOR, stops pacing.

Can I see your gun?

AISHA, takes gun from somewhere in her leather coat.

Sure. Here.

TAYLOR takes the gun and goes to the lab side of the office. Mechanical sounds come from the lab. The clock on top of the office's door shows 20 minutes passing while AISHA continues to smoke.

TAYLOR, gets out from the lab, her hand behind her back.

Here. Close your eyes and give me your hands.

AISHA does as instructed, although she pouts a bit. From behind her, TAYLOR takes out a gun. The barrel is just as big as the hand cannon, but it is transparent with a copper coloured coil inside connected to the firing mechanism. There is a small dial at the side and a blue ampoule serving as the aim.

TAYLOR

You can open your eyes now.

AISHA opens her eyes and recoils from the sight of what it is in her hands.

AISHA, awed.

What is this? Why is it blue? What does it do?

TAYLOR, visibly smug.

It's a stun gun. You fire it and electricity comes out. You can calibrate the power output high enough so that it can definitely kill someone but also low enough that it won't be lethal. I call it the Zapper!

AISHA, still awed turns to TAYLOR amused.

Zapper? That's a terrible fucking name. Hmmm… I'll think of something better.

TAYLOR

Like what?

AISHA, starts mimicking firing the gun while making pew-pew noises.

(Murmurs) Pew, pew, stop there vile villain, pew pew.

TAYLOR, sighs.

I'll be back when you aren't high. Just don't shoot the thing indoors!

AISHA, distractedly.

Yeah sure, see ya. (Murmurs) Pew pew, die alien die, pew pew.

TAYLOR exits the office through the main door leaving AISHA behind her still mimicking firing noises. AISHA notices a small button near the dial and messes with it. The gun misfires sending a blue lightning bolt through the office and its content until hitting the wall. The sound from firing is loud reverberating through the building.

TAYLOR, yelled voice comes muffled through the door.

AISHA LABOURNE! WHAT DID I TELL YOU?!

AISHA gets up from her seat and runs away out of the office.

CURTAINS CLOSE

Notes:

Hello and welcome to another experimental piece for this fanfic. I hope you enjoyed reading it! I am interested in reading your thoughts on it.

So, I have been attempting at slowly transforming Aisha/Imp into Jinx in the plot inside my head. In the beginning of Arcane Powder is not Jinx yet, in truth she doesn't become Jinx until the very last scene of the 1st Season. (It can also be argued she is not even Jinx then. 'Cause, she is not at the point of LoL's Jinx, The Loose Cannon, just yet. This way you can argue she is at the middle of her transformation.) This is a way of doing so in my fanfic, here we are getting the first clue/hint/reference of Aisha becoming Jinx.

I haven't written Urgot's fight scene yet. Real life threw me a curve ball with a few things acelerating my schedule until mid-March, but you guys can rest assured I'll have it ready until the end of next weekend. I already have another sidestory ready for after the chapter after Urgot's, so we'll see how things go.

See you guys then!

Chapter 13: Shimmer for Monsters

Summary:

A fight between monsters and a talk between teenagers.

Notes:

CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains underage drinking as well as mild violence. Reader discretion is advised. Don't drink if you are underaged. In the US that means don't drink if you are under 21. In my country it means don't drink if you are under 18. If you do drink, please do so with caution, with proper (sober) supervision. In a crowded place keep a careful watch of your cup and be mindful of what you drink. Don't drink and drive. Also, if you do drink remember that fatty foods and water helps a lot afterwards.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It was a slow day in the beginning.

The red and black clad girl brought lunch served from a grease filled paper bag, which filled his belly nicely, and the conversation that came with it wasn't terribly boring either.

The underground base he was in had a massive room protected by heavy doors where he could move freely with his new body, so his accommodations weren't as bad as they could have been if he had to stay in the Last Drop. The fact that Duchess had an Endbringer shelter all to herself was quite surprising although apparently, they were still in the process of moving stuff from the club to here where it would be better hidden and protected, so the acquisition must have been recent.

The patrols had been slowed down in preparation for an offensive against the E88 today at night, so most of the gang was resting to gather strength for that eventuality. Urgot, as a patriotic Russian, would take great pleasure in kicking nazi ass but for now he still needed to get used to his chem-tech body.

The guns and his spider legs and his new lungs and liver all made him feel like a new man and he could barely wait for a fight to prove himself.

The TV that was installed in his room blared a soap opera that he started watching way back in his cabin in Canada and he let himself relax moving one mechanical leg after the other, stretching them to their max and then coiling them as back as possible.

Then, when he was about to exercise his new arm, the speaker in the corner of the room blared with sound:

"Urgot, this is Spitfire. We have a situation. The E88 are attacking Patrol B on Keystone Avenue and we have confirmed sightings of Hookwolf, Cricket and Crusader heading there as reinforcements. Patrol A and C are moving to help, and we need you there to deal with the murder blender."

"Da! I hear you loud and clear!" He yells back. "Open the door and let me out! I'll deal with that scum!"

"Good, Tattletale will give you directions to there, through your comms. See you on the battlefield!"

He moved to the slowly opening gates while using his normal arm to pick up, from the pocket of his coat, the small object to put in his ear. As soon as the object was put in place, he clicked it on and spoke.

"This is Urgot. I need directions to the fight."

"Urgot, this is Tattletale. Be ready for the info." Duchess's lieutenant spoke.

Navigating through the base with as much speed as he was allowed, he finally came out inside the car park beneath the Fortress Construction building. He made his way towards the northern exit as he tried to commit to memory the information the blond girl was giving him.

Years of military training and experience was quick to kick in as he finally received word that Hookwolf was moving to the avenue in a pincer move with Crusader. He was only a few streets from there, since Patrol B was patrolling the stretch of territory connecting the underground base to the Boardwalk.

After turning a corner, he finally found the nazi fucker, wearing nothing at all from his waist up with a metal mask in shape of a snarling wolf on his face. He looked like something out of a very deadly trash dump. Full of knives and shiny hooks coming out of his body as he ramped himself up to enter the fight.

Urgot was lucky in finding him before Hookwolf was fully transformed and before he went to join his nazi friends.

Unlucky for Hookwolf, though, because now he had an empty street where Urgot could unleash everything he had without worrying about friendly fire.

Without even a greeting, Urgot sent two shots from his arm gun towards the nazi. Hookwolf was hit by the first and, despite his surprise, he dodged the second. The green goo exploded in contact with the enemy cape as the liquid was released from its bullet shaped container with a shower of bubbling acid that made Hookwolf scream in pain. The other shot hit the building behind the nazi rotting one of the walls.

The nazi's metal body, now fully transformed, shook itself like a wet dog sending sharp pieces of itself everywhere, all of them half-eaten by the acid.

"Who the fuck are you?" Hookwolf loudly ask.

"Your fear, given chem-tech and flesh." Urgot proclaimed as he ran closer to the enemy cape.

Hookwolf's body was already replacing the lost weaponry as Urgot shot towards him again. This time Hookwolf dodged cleanly and pounced towards him but was surprised when he received a burst of flame from Urgot's most forward spider leg, sending the nazi cape back. Hookwolf fell on his hind legs, shook himself again and pounced towards Urgot's left flank, away from his gun arm. With a downwards swing of his claws, Hookwolf attempt at dismembering Urgot failed when his claws met a green energy shield. The shield seemed to bubble at the hostile contact but didn't budge. Urgot flexed his spider legs and threw himself towards the nazi cape using his shield as a battering ram.

They hit the wall of a building. Bricks and glass falling on top of them.

Before Hookwolf could regain his bearings from the impact, Urgot decided to put more distance between them.

With his strong left hand, he caught Hookwolf by his windpipe, a place where no knifes or sharp edges existed, lifted him up and threw the fucker behind his back.

Urgot turned around quick enough to see the metal wolf flip through the air and land on his four legs like a cat.

Urgot took a deep breath from his tox-mask and proceeded to cock his gun arm and switch the internal mechanism, like he trained himself to do for the past few days. He took aim and immediately a hail of bullets came through the nozzle. The only thing the nazi could do from such a distance was dodge, but he couldn't escape the trajectory of so many bullets and, as he was hit, he lost parts of himself. Hookwolf still tried to regain lost ground and reach Urgot but was again surprised when a different spider leg shot a burst of flame towards him making him loose a few more pieces. Still defiant Hookwolf tried again and this time Urgot decided to oblige him ending the bullet shower and preparing to ram the wolf again.

Another green field activated and the russian man jumped at the nazi cape with all his strength. Hookwolf unbidden threw himself to his opponent as well, cracking the concrete road beneath their feet, as the opposing monsters met. Urgot pointed his gun directly towards the wolf's head but feeling the impasse Hookwolf used the green shield as a launching pad with his hind legs and jumped backwards, retreating. Both men took a moment to regain their bearings and regain their strength, pausing the fight.

"You are quite strong. It has been a good fight." Hookwolf breathed out, taking the opportunity to rest a bit. "Have you thought about joining us, instead?"

"Ah. You respect strength. Good. Then you understand." Urgot's new mechanical voice responded, pleased. "Unfortunately, I have prior commitments… and even if I didn't, I would never join a man that walks beneath the nazi flag."

Urgot decided that it was best to end the fight then and there so he could join his teammates fighting in the avenue next to him. He needed to prove himself as a reliable comrade, so he needed to go there in case they needed help.

With a burst of energy from the green liquid that was flowing inside his body, he took position.

With a creaking sound, he felt his lower belly and his waist giving way to the machinery beneath him as the roar of the metal was began to resonate deep in his bones.

To an outsider, his belly seemingly opened upwards to reveal a complex metal structure, only to immediately from it swing out two cylinders full of spikes that hit each other with a bam sound. The two cylinders then threw themselves apart from each other. The entire thing resembled a mouth opening, waiting to be fed.

At the same time, two holes reveal themselves from the chassis and from them two hooks shot themselves forward. With great speed they flew towards Hookwolf.

Since the whole thing happened frighteningly quick, the enemy parahuman, who was about to answer back to Urgot's response, barely had time to dodge. But his attempt was too slow. The two hooks immediately found purchase in the nazi's complicated body structure and with a yank brought him towards Urgot.

In no time whatsoever the metal wolf was inside Urgot's mechanical mouth as the indentations on both the ends of the metal dropped, keeping him in place. The two cylinders started quickly rotating and hit Hookwolf from each side.

The nazi cape screamed as Urgot's drill quickly thrashed his metal body, pieces flying everywhere and dropping to the floor. The chem-tech contraption ripping and tearing the hard metal like it was paper. The damage was so great that the chains stopped being useful because the pieces they had hooked on no longer existed, so they retreated back into the chassis.

"If only you were stronger." Urgot sighed, in disappointment.

Then what was left of Hookwolf fell onto the road. It was nothing but a metal ball of seemingly liquid shiny metal with a deformed animal leg attached. Urgot prepared himself to pick up the remains and throw them somewhere suitably degrading when something else stole his attention.

"Attention unknown parahuman, this is the Protectorate! Identify yourself!"

Urgot's attention went from the remains of the nazi on the floor to the armoured man with a shiny halberd, several feet in front of him. There was a motorcycle behind him, and he could see two other masked people coming towards their position.

"I am Urgot, a temporary member to the Nation of Zaun." He simply responded to the hero. He saw him tense up and the man responded (Urgot made the effort of studying the local hero branch, just in case, and by the signature weapon, he judged him to be the parahuman tinker known as Armsmaster).

"Then you are a villain. Please, surrender peacefully to our custody or you will be forced to!"

"How about no?" Came a voice from behind him.

Suddenly the street was being flooded with green and purple smoke that came from small round copper grenades that clinked across the road. A thump and a sudden weight on one of his legs announced the arrival of Spitfire, who turned to him and spoke quickly.

"We need to go! The rest are already retreating!"

"Very well." Urgot responded, trying to ignore the disappointment at missing such a promising fight. But he had yet to prove himself, so he obeyed. His conscience soothed with the knowledge that, at least, there will be more fights to come.

"Just let me cover our own retreat."

Spitfire inhaled harshly through her mouth and when she opened it, liquid napalm was spat onto the road, through the opening of her mask. She spread the liquid all through the width of the smoke covered street. The heat coming from the flames was so immense that the heroes will have a hard time getting through it if they try. Then she hit him on the shoulder announcing the end of her task and he turned around to run away with her still on top of his chassis.

As quick as he could, he dashed the length of the street, with Spitfire sometimes spiting on the ground behind them. He could also hear yells from behind them, but he paid it no mind.

With Tattletale's voice returning to his comms, helping the two of them evade the heroes, he took the back roads and went through narrow streets. They stopped in one alley for a bit, on the thinker's advice, and then they backtracked trough a few streets before arriving finally to the underground base.

As the doors to the shelter closed behind them, he heard Spitfire proclaim with tired cheer:

"So… that went well!"

"Da, that was a good fight."

"Well, to you, maybe. I had to deal with Victor, the bastard."

Urgot raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I know. I can literally spit fire but the damn nazi couldn't stay still for a second. Thankfully, I just had to make him retreat."

"Then we both did our jobs correctly. We will drink tonight to celebrate!" Urgot nodded, enthusiastically.

"Sure, why not?"

"I'll get the vodka then."

Ω

"That was a disaster."

"What?"

"That was not supposed to go this way."

"Look, sure they caught us by surprise but what is important is that we bounced back and kicked their asses!"

"We weren't supposed to be caught by surprise!"

"Look…" Tats interrupted the fight between you and Taylor with a sigh. "We still won. By all measures we won an astounding victory. Just because we were caught unaware by such a large force does not mean we lost the vantage point. If we act offensively next time, we can still use the self-defence excuse. An excuse that we were planning on getting anyway. The entire team knows we ended up in the best of all possible worlds with this situation."

Taylor simply grounded her teeth against each other with a look of fury. Despite the celebrations of the gang's victory going on outside the office, Taylor was not in a celebratory mood having raged her way through the office after the official team meeting. Her fickle mood fully changing after a few comments from Regent and Brian during it. Somehow, giving you the new gun before the meeting, no matter how non-lethal, only soothed Brian's opinion a limited amount. With her plan to deal with E88 having been derailed, even if only by a slightest amount, served only to compound her feelings to create this new mood. This derailment changed the narrative she wanted to utilize, and she was pissed about it.

Despite the fact you thought that she was overreacting, you understood that her rage was coming from a place of fear and anxiety. To Taylor this gang was her life, ever since the death of her father she threw herself, mind and soul, to make Zaun a reality. Sweat, tears and blood (from Taylor, from you, from Jack and from all the members that came to join them throughout this journey) were the price at building such a massive organization and to even see the slightest possibility of the castle of cards falling down was certainly worth an anxiety attack.

You throw at Taylor a pleading look and her anger seem to dissipate a bit. Well, at least she stopped trying to ground her teeth to dust.

"Look, relax Taylor. Nobody on our team was badly wounded and the nazis got so wrecked I hardly think they will try something like this anytime soon." You add to the conversation.

"Regent-" Taylor tried to protest.

"Regent is now as good as new. I bet he's already annoying the bartender at the club like nothing happened." You interrupt unflinchingly. "He only complains for complaining's sake."

Taylor simply threw you another look but this one was less hot than the previous one. She then shook her head and gave her attention to the cane sword lying on her lap. With slow motions, she cleaned the blade with a white cloth that was slowly turning magenta, with the amount of blood still remaining on the blade and the shimmer that coated it like some dark poison. The two other occupants of the office simply took this moment as a respite and tried to relax. Tats had a wet cloth on her forehead that was slowly falling to her eyes, dripping water onto her face, as she lied down on the biggest sofa of the office. You were on lying horizontally on the nearest armchair, playing again with the butterfly knife. Before the fight, you saw a video on the internet with a new trick you wanted to try, so you were now attempting at performing it.

With a click, your attention went back to Taylor. She was now sheathing her weapon to look like a normal cane again and with the previous click she had put another purple vial on the handle, recharging the device.

After finishing the maintenance session, Taylor simply put the ferrule of cane on the floor, tapping it, and putting both hands on top of the bird skull that served as the handle. She rested her back to be fully reclined on the sofa, took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

You continued trying to perform the new trick, while taking the occasional glances at both girls.

After a few moments, Taylor opened her purple eyes. The sudden move, after so much silence, startled you a bit making you fail at the 15th attempt at the trick.

"Tomorrow, I'll be seeing Urgot. The drills need replacement after today. Lisa… you will follow Aisha to the shelter. There you will observe Aisha's… interrogation of Krieg. Get everything from him. Coil's information was excellent for us, but it was superficial at worst, incomplete at best. I want to know his bank account, his social security number, his favourite food, even his high school sweetheart, everything." Duchess said softly. "Do not disappoint me." She closed her eyes again. "The both of you."

You harrumph at her audacity, but she only opens one eye and somehow manages to glare with just that single one.

You glare back.

When the glaring doesn't stop, you huff.

Now thoroughly annoyed, you get up and move to the door.

"I'll be up there partying it up. When you finally get out of that funky mood of yours, you are free to join me. Until then, stay there." You firmly state before opening the door and getting away.

Damn Taylor. Forcing me to do this. You think angrily as you go your way to the floor above. It's nothing she wouldn't do herself or that we haven't done before, but just now she acted as if I'm beholden to her. I shed just as much of myself as she did, to see this gang rise up from nothing. She has no right to be like that!

The party was in full swing on the floor above the office. Urgot was staying in the shelter, so he was the only person missing from the party. Not for the lack of wanting to come. According to Spitfire, he drank his own weight in spirits before falling asleep where he dropped to the ground drunk. Spitfire wasn't looking any better, having to call Jack to bring her to the club.

Now, you can spot her somehow sleeping on one of the couches, while the party continued. Jack was next to her, resting against the arm of that couch while drinking a beer and talking with… Sam? You don't know who. At this point, there have so many additions to the gang that you lost the who was who of the lower ranks. You now only interacted with the elite members and the few medium ranked people responsible for a few minor but vital operations of the gang.

You immediately went to Chuck at the bar.

"Hey little boss. The usual?" He saluted nervously.

"Of course." You respond amused.

Chuck quickly gave you your vodka mixed with orange juice on the usual cup coupled with a two ice cubes and a little straw to drink from.

Sitting yourself on the bar chair in the most secluded spot here, you decide to relax a bit and people watch before actually partying. The anger had been quick to come but was being slow to fade and it had no business in fouling your mood on the dance floor. You could always go to the ground level and play with the common folk but watching people having fun while wearing your gang's colours always warmed your heart something fierce, so you stayed.

"Eric, can you give me my usual?"

"Of course, boss. I'll be right back with it."

You don't look back to the bar. Your eyes are fixed at some point between the ceiling and the disco ball reflecting the many lights being shined at it.

"I am sorry."

You ignore the voice next to you, your eyes moving on to a couple that is trying to go through the dance floor and probably find somewhere private for them.

"I understand that you don't like being ordered around… especially when you are in charge of this place as much as me… Look, I-"

"Boss." Eric interrupts. "Your absinthe."

"Thanks Eric. Here, keep the tip."

There is a few seconds of silence which you break by sipping loudly from your straw.

"I am sorry."

You decide to look back at the speaker. Taylor is there, still in the suit, but with no mask on. Her cane resting by the table of the bar, her hand around a clear bottle that was slowing dropping its contents on top of a cube of sugar resting on a spoon. The cup beneath slowly filling up.

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to be better." You take another sip of your own drink. "I've been putting up with your moods for too long." Taylor's hand trembles and you quickly add: "They have gotten better but a girl has a limit you know?"

Taylor inhales sharply and puts the bottle of cold water on the table. Her other hand goes for the small glass shot on the other side of the cup, where another measure of the green liquid rested, and she drinks it straight and quickly down her throat. You watch her pale throat bob up and down drinking the spirit.

"I am sorry." She repeats when she finishes, with watery eyes.

"Stop saying that." You admonish.

"Ok, I'm sorry."

You sigh.

Another moment passes.

Drinks are drunk.

"I don't blame you. Not completely at least." You say softly.

She looks at you uncomprehendingly.

"Do you remember… that time when you escaped that tiny room we had before the club? I came from school – you weren't going there by that time –, came home, didn't find you, didn't even know how you ran away with the apartment still locked… It felt like I searched the whole city for you. I was so worried. I didn't know you stopped taking the vials, so your sudden disappearance... I felt so dumb when I finally went to your house and found you there." You take another fortifying sip of your drink, trying to make the memory of her state when you found her vanish, before continuing. "After that… Well… You were the only person that I felt a… I don't know, I am not as good with words as you are, but… You gave a shit you know? Despite all that bad shit happening to you, you still cared for other people. Sure, Tats will probably say something about your heroic tendencies that are so big to the point of you being suicidal about them. Just with more words and shit, you know? But you cared. And the thought of losing you?" You shake your head disparagingly. "You told me I am the only thing you have. I agree that you have me – and you always will – but I am not the only thing here. You have the gang. All of this you and I built. This is the stuff that stops you from going full mad scientist and… I don't know… sell WMD's to some shmuck."

You look back at Taylor, hoping that your rant made some sense to her because you weren't sure it made sense to you. Maybe you should stop drinking when having heart-to-heart conversations.

"What I am trying to say…" You rant a bit more. In for a penny, in for a pound. "Is that I hate the fact that you act like this. Cold-hearted and authoritarian. Overly demanding. Detached and clinical. You being some sort of natural leader wasn't why I decided to stick by you. It wasn't why I befriended you or joined you in this mad crusade. It was because you cared. You looked at the city and thought I can make this a better place. You looked at me and thought That is someone I want by my side." Forgoing the straw, you drink what remained of the entire mixture in one gulp. "You cared about me. And all this crap you and I are taking? I feel it bubbling under my skin waiting to be used. And when I use it I feel like… invincible but afterwards? I feel maddened really. And you? Ever since that fight with Skidmark-" The usual mechanical tick from Taylor's fingers interrupts you, briefly, but you forge on. "-, you feel more and more like someone else wearing the skin of the girl I came to regard as my best friend. All that planning you make…"

You feel Taylor's hand fall on your bare shoulder. The cold of her metal fingers on your skin breaking your rant and making you look again at the girl. Taylor's purple eyes shine and sparkle. The music from the club suddenly seems to come from far away and the people a few feet away from your secluded spot look like indistinct blurs. You focus on her eyes and nothing else.

"You are my best friend. I won't ever forsake you. And I am sorry I made you feel like that. I'll try to be better. But…" She stops briefly her eyes searching your face. Then she gets closer to you. "It's only us, Aisha. Everyone else… they'll leave us. Eventually. The gang? I created the whole thing for you. Every time you came to me with another complaint about your mother… Sure, my dad's death gave me other reasons along the way. But in the beginning? It was all for you." Her hand goes from your shoulder to your cheek and you reflexively lean on it. "I am sorry. I have the same fears as you, really. They keep me awake at night. Will I become a monster? So cold and calculating… I know I have it in me. A terrifying level of practicality and ruthlessness. An end-justify-the-means kind of mentality. The Shimmer, it only makes that side of me surface more. I… what did you say a few days ago? A heart beating purple instead of red? It flows inside me, too. It feels like it wants… more. To be more. When I use it… It's like it grants me… eyes. To better see. To understand. Did you see me fight, today? How I did all of that so effortlessly? Shimmer is a curse and a blessing. It is necessary for us." You are so close you can smell the anis from her drink. "But no matter how maddened I'll become… I know I'll be ok in the end, if you are there by my side. And if you become mad too… I'll be by your side as well, and we'll be ok. I love you, Aisha. You are perfect."

It's a feather light touch that grows slowly. Warm lips meeting yours. After a wonderful time of light kisses, you deepen your kiss. Things only get more heated from there.

After a while, you separate yourself from her. You are out of breath, and you are sure you are blushing beyond compare.

You can only look at her eyes. You feel warm inside. Was it the drink or the kisses or the proclamation of love? All of them?

"C'mon." Taylor whispers. "Let's get out of here. We can talk more somewhere else."

"But… your drink?" You whisper back, still discombobulated.

She turns around and gets it from the table. At the same time, she grabs your hand and pushes you out of your seat. The party still rages on, everyone seemingly oblivious to the momentous event that happened just a few seconds ago.

She leads you through the throng of people, back to the office.

You simply tighten your hold on her hand.

No matter what comes next in their lives… you know everything will be ok for now.

You'll do your best to enjoy this as much as you can.

"Hey, Taylor." You whisper to her ear, when she opens the secret door to the floor below.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks, for everything."

"No… Thank you."

Notes:

Hey its ya boi Rogue at it again with a new chapter!

I sincerely hope the fight was enjoyable to read and, again, I am very interested in reading your thoughts on it. Was Urgot too OP? I mean, I even went to a friend who is way more into LoL than me and ask him about Urgot's gameplay and... nothing can really beat tinkertech corrosive acid can it? I probably need to reread Hookwolf's entry on the wiki or reread the chapters he shows up because I probably underplayed the hardness of his metal. *Sigh*

Anyway on this emotional Aisha POV... it sorta came out that way? It wasn't anything like I intended it to be which means I'll need to rewrite that Sidestory I have already written for after next chapter. We get a hint of Aisha's annoyance/worry of Taylor's coldness back on the Sidestory: A Short Reunion and that perspective sorta spilled out of me. We also already know Taylor's fickle mood and rage attacks, so her being angry about such a small thing makes the thing... more poignant? The mixed messages were already obvious to you guys but the kiss kinda came out of nowhere during my writing, so...

Oh well, I'll read your opinions on it and see if changes and other shit are needed.

Can I just add that Absinthe was like the first party drink I ever drank? Also, it comes from a plant(?) whose latin name means Wormwood. I think a green drink with the word Worm in it and psychadelic connotations needs to be in this story.

Thank you all for reading!

See you next time!

Chapter 14: It's About Sending a Message

Summary:

Tentative alternate title: Shimmering with the fishes.

(...Yeah... another pun)

Notes:

CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains Violence, with a capital V. Reader discretion is very advised. If I say anything else, it would probably count as spoilers, so yeah, be warned.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Being a crime boss means that sometimes hard decisions need to be made. And while reality can be more complicated and gruesome, on paper the decisions boiled down to ensuring the business turns a profits, by all means necessary.

Securing the viability of the drug trade and the security of the dealers was essential for a gang such as Zaun. Threats worked wonderfully, especially for the weak-willed, and bribes were nice incentives for the soft-spined. Unfortunately, threats and bribes only worked to a point in this business. Reputation kept people in line and for that reputation to grow and solidify itself in the minds of the populace, examples needed to be made.

In the early days, secrecy had been paramount. A single bird in his nest could tweet a song and suddenly the whole tree was singing it back. The bird needed to be hunt down before the rest of the birds heard the song. It had been your job to do so. After all, it was pretty hard for the bird to escape when it didn't even know it was being hunted. Threats on their family, threats of bodily harm, threats of stealing their cat and dropping it in the middle of one of the enclosures of the zoo. All viable threats. Bribes were easier to handle. So many cops in this city had a second source of revenue directly from the gangs it was a wonder the IRS wasn't stomping about the urban landscape more often.

But a threat only stayed a threat if the people knew what would happen if your… suggestion wasn't followed through, That was what examples were for.

Once, way back in the beginning, an ex-merchant joined the gang claiming forceful entry of his previous one. Revenge was a familiar concept, so you and Taylor let him in our gang and helped him take a slice of the pie. Not even a week later he was stealing cash from the register. We gave him a warning. This wasn't a petty gang where such dealings were allowed. Skidmark's neglect of his finances had been his problem, not ours. When the warning fell to deaf ears, Jack got the rat to sit in the middle of the warehouse to see his girlfriend kick the bucket by Taylor's hand cannon. After that we went full cliché and made him sleep among the fishes.

Business never ran more smoothly than the time immediately after such examples.

But too much of the stick will get you a knife in the back so an appropriate amount of carrot needed to be given to balance out the scales. Oh, your grandmother got cancer? We'll pay for the treatment. Your kids need new stuff for school? Here's the stuff plus a few cheat sheets too. Your wife got fired for her skin colour? Well… if she wants a job we are seeking new personnel and, hey if her ex-boss shows up with a broken arm do try to act surprised.

And so on and so on.

Your power was very good at making things look like an accident and if someone refused to do what they been told you always took a proper amount of pleasure in acting out horror movies. Move stuff in small increments in the room they are in, paint ominous messages in the mirror while they are taking a bath, open and close doors, turn lights on and off. Ghost stuff.

It was also good in keeping tabs on other parahumans. Not a thing you did actively but damn if this fucking city didn't have an enormous amount of them. As the daughter of a dockworker, Taylor has told you of the times her dad and his co-workers found dead bodies wash up on the shore and she also told you of the times some of the bodies were wearing homemade costumes. You can say a lot about the PRT and their propaganda, but one thing they didn't get wrong in this city it's the death rate for independents. So whenever you found a rookie going around, especially in your territory, depending on what you think of them, you follow them around and try to help them see another day. If you really like them you tell them to join a gang. Any gang, even the PRT. If they keep going at it alone they'll die, either Lung will burn them to a crisp or the E88 will skewer them like they are shish-kebab… or you'll be the one forced to make their bodies float in the bay.

Such is life in Brockton Bay.

You don't get the reputation of top 3 most dangerous city in the Eastern Coast for nothing. Top 5 most dangerous city in the US, not counting the cities with the Machine Army, Nilbog or where the Simurgh took a vacation.

Nevertheless, it's the times where you see the members of your gang living their lives to the fullest that makes you realise that all the stuff you do has a purpose.

It's those times that makes you realise that stuff like this it's what will keep Taylor and the gang safe. There is safety in reputation such as there is safety in numbers.

"Tell us what we want and we'll make it quick and painless."

"Fuck." Cough. "You."

Well, fuck you too, buddy.

Another punch to the gut makes him spit blood.

Krieg is sitting in the small interrogation room you and Taylor used for Coil. There was a two-way mirror into the room while in the other room the window was protected with two inches of bullet proof glass and steel bars. The wall themselves for both rooms are reinforced. Never say that Coil didn't spend a lot of money in making his base.

Tats is in that room with her computer checking his reactions and other bodily tells watching through cameras and the window to better gather info on Krieg and his gang.

You on the other hand are kicking the living shit out of Krieg.

You feel on top of the world. The memories of yesterday's event served as their own energy drink while you kicked nazi ass.

"Tell me, does Hookwolf fuck Cricket in his spare time? They seem pretty buddy-buddy for what I can tell. Or maybe it's Crusader? Nah, he seems too much of a conservative to have sex for sex's sake." Tats then tells you hints on what more to say and you continue. "Oh! You know it's always the conservatives that end up with weird kinks. Maybe his thing is adultery? What do you think? Did Crusader put the horns on Kaiser?"

Krieg thrashes in his seat trying to use his power but failing. You take a second to thank Taylor and her chemistry set and then you punch him again.

"C'mon Krieg boy! If we don't get the answers, we'll just have to get creative!"

His insistent refusal to answer earned him a personal encounter with a machete.

With a finger less and this session already going into its second hour it was time to speed things up.

Disappearing from his view, cloaked by your power, you go behind him and start scratching his back with your knife. Slowly from soft scratches to skin tearing, all the way to using the knife to cut the muscles. After making his back look like a Jason Pollock painting you rechain your power and start asking questions again.

Here's the thing you have found out about parahumans: they all act high and mighty until they can't use their powers. For a parahuman having powers is all that makes them special, makes them above normal humans. Heck, the fact you were a parahuman yourself only made it easier to attest to that. Your power is pretty great overall and despite the high price it came with it feels nice to have it as a sort-off fucked up reward. All the trauma of a parahuman manifested as a power, making it a symbol of their survival, therefore granting them a special status above the masses.

No matter the fact the masses usually end up suffering just as much if no more due to said parahumans. Those members of the masses rarely trigger, after all. And when they do, they come up with a special kind of hatred for their fellow parahumans, kinda like Hatchet-Face. And then the cycle continues again.

So, strip them of their power and watch them crumble. Watch them panic and beg and struggle. Coil did all those when his turn came.

They all become human.

And they hate it.

They are no longer special. Their powers were used like hammers in an analogy. They used them to solve everything in their lives and to suddenly see themselves without them?

Unthinkable.

So, it only took two full hours for Krieg to break and start singing.

Torture works very rarely in real life, talking things out is unironically the best way to get information from someone. Ask them about their kids, their friends, their spouses. Ask if they need money to solve something (whoever said money doesn't solve everything clearly never had many problems in their life) or if they need protection from someone. Ask them if they ever thought things would go this way, if they have a way out, a retirement plan. Provide them with what they need and people will talk.

Parahumans, unfortunately, until the 80´s, were not real life. The bastards are tough nuts to crack, mostly because threats of violence aren't enough. Violence in cape business is abundant and overrated. Practically every cape is at some level desensitised from it. The threats need to be made and need to become a personal reality soon after for parahumans to take notice and start complying.

Without his power and it seemingly not coming back any time soon, it was only a matter of time for Krieg to try negotiating his way through.

The stuff that Krieg spouts from his blood-soaked mouth is carefully written down by Tats in the other room while you continue to make leading questions.

Most of it is corresponds pretty solidly with what Coil already had but the few more pieces of info are useful to know and also more up to date.

It takes about an hour and a half for him to tell you everything he knows with Tats fact checking his information.

After that you let him stew a while.

You had breakfast before coming but you need your elevenses to keep going until lunch. You lock the door before you leave and after a bit of walking, you reach the cafeteria. Coil's men had it maintained for themselves, and while some of them decided to continue their employment with your gang, and so some were also inside enjoying a mid-morning snack, some have faded away after you and Taylor broke the news to them.

There's a hot coffee already in the pot and with a dab of milk and a bit of sugar, you recline on one of the chairs and enjoy it from your mug. You proudly drink from it despite it saying "Nº 1 Little Sister" in big round colourful letters for all your minions to see.

After intaking one more mug of coffee and literally stealing a bunch of cookies from the brightly vandalised cookie jar you retrace your footsteps to the interrogation room.

Instead of going in, though, you take a few more steps to the right and enter the adjoining room.

"What's up Tats?" You greet the blond thinker.

"Nothing unusual. Working myself a headache, though." She says with her eyes still glued to the computer screen.

"Well, tomorrow is rest day, so you can rest and do whatever you Thinker types do for fun." You glance into the next room. "How's the prisoner?"

"Sleeping. You kinda worked hard on him."

"Hmm. Supposed to." You mumble through the cookie you just put in your mouth.

Tats barely turns around and steals one cookie from your hold.

"Hey!"

"There's more where those came from, Imp. Sharing is caring."

You pout indignantly.

"Duchess is coming by in a few. Want to wait here or do you wanna go greet her?"

"She is coming already? I thought she was still with Urgot."

"It was a simple matter of replacing the cylinders. She already made a couple of them just in case."

"Nice. I'll go get her then. Anything I should tell her immediately?"

"Nah. Everything is according to parameters. Nothing major either."

"Well, see you then! Bye Tats!"

"We'll literally see each-"

And you closed the door to the room.

You proceeded to go on your way through the underground base. It has been… two weeks maybe? And the gang was slowly transitioning into making Coil's base their own. Slowly filling it up with simple chairs, folding chairs, armchairs, wardrobes, bunk beds, king-sized beds, coffee tables, writing desks, cabinets of all types and sizes, a couple of poker tables to pass the time and even a kotatsu. The sterile environment kept by Coil slowly changing to represent the aesthetic of the new owner. Several intricate carpets were on the floor, the walls were painted with deep colours, a few tapestries and painting were adorning the walls. While the old bourgeoise aesthetic was prevalent the steampunk aspect of the gang shined through the details. The clockwork look of the doors, the metal tubes that were impossible to cover up painted copper, the mechanisms of the base made to look like they were powered by steam and even the actual clocks on the walls. The tubage of the new alchemical machine that made Shimmer, installed at the lowest level, going through the walls, with glass parts showing the green and purple liquid rushing through the facility. Since only a small amount of time has passed since the base has come into their hands, only the main areas have been updated but the bunker is already beginning to look like a second home.

This base was to be their fallout shelter. If anyone dared to attack the Last Drop the gang would use this base as a secret rallying point but since it had plenty of space it was also serving to expand their Shimmer production. The entire thing being an Endbringer shelter was just a bonus, but Taylor already disclosed future plans in trying to reinforce the facility in case of something just as evil as an Endbringer but far more casual comes to town… like the Slaughterhouse 9 or the Butcher or Heartbreaker.

It is impossible to prepare for every single power in existence but failure to prepare is failure to succeed or something like that and damn if the PRT can have the Rig the gang will definitely get something just as cool as that.

By the time you get to the main entrance you still have a few minutes to scroll through the messages in your phone, answer them and then browse through PHO. All the cookies end up in your belly as you mindlessly go through the messages leaving nothing to entertain your body while scrolling PHO, so you end up climbing a few boxes and dangle your legs from on high. There are already several videos of yesterday's fight, with special highlights to Urgot and Duchess mowing down through their enemies. The majority of the videos of Urgot Vs Hookwolf fight was blurry, shaky and far away; understandable since the people recording were probably very squishy humans. The other fight had better quality videos and photos. Thankfully no images and no videos recorded you shooting Cricket's leg off, the vast majority of recordings focusing on the moment Crusader arrived and then him, Stormtiger and Rune getting single-handedly thrown out of the fight by the Purple Flame that Dances on the Graves of its Enemies, or how PHO has started calling Duchess: the Purple Sword Chick.

Nevertheless, PHO is running rampant with rumours and half-truths while waiting for an official report and interview by the PRT. Tax collection had been done discreetly but you made sure to take photos of the procession like an amateur paparazzi and give them to Tats, who was currently using them to further fuel the rumours. Photos of the new tags planted all over our territory were also circulating through the net while a video of Grue's loud pronouncement of their new allegiance was making rounds.

If Taylor's idea went through, we might even get the first word in this situation, even faster than the PRT.

Pieces were falling into place.

The main gates to the base then open.

Taylor, in her usual garb, saunters through the entryway while Spitfire walks calmly a few steps behind. They are accompanied by a few more minions who are immediately ordered by Taylor to go do some menial tasks.

"Good morning, boss!" Then you look to her companion and add "Hey, Fire!"

"Good morning, Imp." Taylor answers with a warm tone of voice.

"Hi, Imp." Spitfire returns your greeting.

"So, you here for the nazi?" You ask dropping down from your spot on the mountain of boxes.

"Yes. How has the interrogation gone?" Taylor inquires as she starts walking the way you came from a couple of minutes ago.

"Well enough, in my opinion. It was pretty easy to get everything after that dampener was injected." You lock steps with her. Your arm brushes hers and you feel the highlights of yesterday's events flash through you mind. You have to supress a shudder.

"Good. That mixture is too damn expensive and time consuming to make. Every drop needs to count. Anything new?"

"Yup. But not as much as we previously thought we could gather from him."

"That's bad… but also good." Taylor ponders out loud. "I would ask you to report in full but we both know Tattletale will want to be the one to do that when we arrive." She huffs in amusement and changes topics. "Spitfire has told me your brother is going to see your mom after the meeting. If you want, I can reschedule a few things for today and let you go with him."

You honestly ponder that invitation for a few silent seconds. The only noise in the hallway is the sound of three pairs of boots walking on the carpet. There is a part of you that wants to go. She is your mother and since you forbade people from selling hard drugs to her, she has been kinda in withdrawal. It would probably do her a world of good to see you… maybe. Well, if Brian was going maybe he´ll act as a buffer if anything happens.

"Sure." You answer. "She is still family, right? It's important."

Taylor gives you a swift glance from the corner of her eyes, but you can see the subtle pull of her facial muscles suggesting a proud smirk.

"Exactly." She answers, seemingly satisfied with your response.

The closer you get to the interrogation room the more Taylor's back straightens and her casual saunter becomes more of a deadly prowl. Duchess enters the room next to the one where Krieg was still resting and immediately strikes an intense conversation with Tats after the normal greetings are done with.

You mostly ignore them. Beyond the fact you already heard it straight from the source, you don't need to know whatever details Tats scrounged up in the meantime and idle talk bored you. You were an action focused person and the usual babble of nerds and geeks are only amusing to most until a certain point. Hearing Tats and Duchess discuss the minutiae of operating the gang might mean you lose touch with certain things, but that, in the end, really didn't matter. It would probably make a normal person insecure of their place in the hierarchy, but the truth is you are very much secure in your position. The goons, the minions and the support staff all knew you personally. You made sure to meet every new member of the gang and be there for their first tag, announcing their official membership into Zaun. Sure, names escaped you sometimes. It's hard to keep track of who's who when some even have the same name but you still recognize them by face. You were there for the dirty work, up and personal with them. You are their Queen. Leading them, directing them and assuaging them. But if you were a monarch in this analogy then Taylor would be a God, giving the sword and the sceptre to you. And like all Gods they are removed from mortals. They show themselves rarely, sometimes barely more than a mirage, but they are there, watching. They are the ones being prayed to and looked upon in hopes of being found worthy. Taylor is the one that directs the fate of the gang even if you are in charge.

What you are really trying to say, however, is that you looked at the small picture while Taylor viewed the big one. Your perspectives were different. It was very easy for Taylor to send a man to die from so far away in her desk but you were the one that silenced the man and gave compensation to whatever family he had.

A person can't be everywhere and do everything so delegating, and knowing who to delegate what, was very important.

Taylor and Aisha. Imp and Duchess. A dyad.

"Aisha?"

Taylor's voice breaks you away from your thoughts. The sound reaching your ears automatically making you smile a bit.

"You were pretty deep in thought. Never thought a nazi deserved such contemplation." She said gesturing with a nod to the window of the room showing an unmasked Krieg sleeping in his chair. You weren't paying attention to where your pensive and unfocused gaze landed, but apparently it landed on the content of the other room.

"No… I was thinking of something else." You shake your head. "Nevermind that. Now that we know all this… what's our next step?"

While Taylor gives you an inquisitive look, nevertheless she responds to your query.

"We know their patrol routes and main hideouts so attacking them would be easy." She then sighs. "However, Krieg's kidnapping is already known. They definitely know it's us that did it and they are on high alert. Changing locations and throwing decoys and making traps are the likeliest things they are doing right now. Thankfully, it's a good thing that this endeavour didn't have that objective. Coil's information has been proven to be reliable. There is no point, no matter how much knowledge one might have, if all of it is proven false. Beyond that… we are here to give the example to the threat we gave in the truce meeting."

"Like I thought." You admit. "Will you be the one to do it?"

"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword."

You look at her for a moment. She is still looking at Krieg but does notice your silence. When she looks at you, she does a subtle double take and then rolls her eyes.

"Yes. I am a geek. I know."

"And a hypocrite."

"And a hypocrite." She repeats dutifully. "But c'mon. Can't let you handle everything of this sort."

You shrug. With the previous analogy still in your mind this might just equate to divine retribution. Then that thought leads to you thinking of Taylor in a greek dress with a spear and a shining halo smiting people… and then that made you think of what a greek toga would do to Taylor's lightly muscled frame… it might show a bit of her long legs…

Ok, you should probably refocus.

"-spite the fact that it needs to be done in an appropriate acid mixture. I don't want to damage the goods with any carelessness. I need to find that tattoo artist too. He had a nice firm hand in sculpting the images on them. It speaks well of his art, I think. Maybe I'll check his portfolio, see if he's actually that consistent in his quality and then get a tattoo for myself. Maybe you and I even get matching tattoos." She winks. "What do you think?"

"I think a tattoo would be good… for you. I still have school to go to. Communal showers are a thing. With the ass kicking we are doing to the E88 it's only a matter of time until someone in Winslow sees it on me and babbles to some upstart nazi wannabe about the black girl with the zaunite tattoo and they come after me."

"I never did say to get a tattoo referencing the gang though." She points out.

You raise an eyebrow.

"Then I'll think about it." You simply respond.

"Nice. Thank you." She then goes to retrieve the pocket watch from the folds of her jacket, opens it, checks the time and put it back into its resting place. "Welp. I think it's time to end this encounter. Grue and Regent are setting up the recording equipment and for us to be ready for the shooting of the video we need to hurry up."

"Sure. C'mon I'll show you in."

"Thanks. Tattletale… it's probably best you go get some coffee." A concerned look from Taylor ends up mixing with the commanding tone she gave making the statement more of a suggestion then an obligatory order. But Tats just nods tiredly until suddenly she shakes her head. She sits up straight with a look of resigned determination shinning in her bottle green eyes.

"No. I'll stay here for a bit more. There's still a bit more data to be mined from Krieg's accounts."

Taylor gives her a searching look and then nods slowly but firmly.

"Very well. But as soon as you are done I want you to go rest. Get a snack before you go take a nap. Spitfire will probably cook you something if you ask."

"Sure, thanks."

"C'mon." You nudge Taylor along.

It´s a simple movement: you open the door, pass through, close it, walk a few steps to the left and then open that door with your key.

Spitfire is alone in the corridor scrolling through her tablet. She looks at the both of you and then nods. She takes out her phone and starts making a call.

You and Taylor enter the room waking up Krieg from his nap.

"Wha-What?"

You lean on the wall while Duchess walks forward to meet Krieg. Her hands resting on her cane and her eyes piercing through the nazi.

"Good morning, Krieg."

"Ah, Duchess. I was wondering where you were."

"I hope you were well received by my partner?"

"Partner, huh?" He gives you a searching look, up and down.

"Yes. She was quite busy and couldn't go to the meeting at Somer's Rock, unfortunately. Her name is Imp, she is the co-founder of Zaun."

You wave cheekily.

"Well, I would say it was nice meeting you, but that would be an enormous lie." He snorts derisively. He then turns back to Duchess. "So, what now?"

"Now, we will release you from that chair and put to rest any animosity between ourselves."

He snorted again.

"Do you really think that?"

"Oh, Krieg. I can be quite persuasive when I want to."

"I highly doubt whatever you say will make me forget what you and your pet ***** have done to me so far."

You try not to frown at his choice of words.

"Nevertheless, I assure you, you won't even remember this conversation after we are done."

He narrows his eyes and looks suspiciously at Duchess. Then, there's a look of understanding in his eyes and he speaks again.

"You. You are the tinker, right? Not that monstrous cape. What are you going to do to me?"

"Well, you are half right." She waves her hand slowly. "Trainwreck is also a tinker. Despite being a Case 53, his specialization is quite good if one knows how to properly manage it. Refinement of base materials is something that complements by own specialization quite well. Anyway, me? I won't do anything. Thankfully, I have contacts with Toybox. Cranial, specifically. I'll give you to her and she'll remove the memory of the past two days in a jiffy."

"This is a trick, isn't it? You are going to steal more than just that?"

"You already told us everything we need to know. Why take more? It's a waste of money and Cranial charges a pretty penny. We just can't have you remembering our base. But I give you my word that Cranial won't do any harm to you."

He tries to use his eyes to search for any signs of lying from both you and Duchess. When he finds nothing, he sighs.

"Not like I have much of a choice, right?"

"Good. Imp release him but bind his hands and his thumbs, will you?"

"Sure." You respond.

Going behind Krieg you use a plastic cable tie to tie his thumbs together and then you handcuff him. After that it's only a matter of undoing the knots in the ropes keeping him stuck to the chair. Surprisingly, he doesn't struggle. You pick him up by his forearm and Taylor makes way for you.

Spitfire is outside with Coil's (yours now) mercs. You end up moving as unit through the underground base. After a while of walking Krieg speaks again.

"Wait. We are going down?" He says after entering the newly arrived elevator and seeing Duchess punch the floor number in.

"Toybox enjoys teleportation technology. Up or down doesn't matter." Duchess dismisses.

"Hmm."

When the elevator doors open what greets him isn't Dodge and his little dimensional wormhole but the half-lit nothingness of the great room of the Endbringer shelter. At first, he doesn't comment. Probably thinking the Toybox tinker just hasn't arrived yet. But then he hears a noise similar to the cocking of a gun, and he stiffens.

He turns around slowly.

"Hey… Wh-"

"I am sorry, Krieg. Nothing personal, it's just business." Taylor simply raises her sword-cane, readying for a strike.

"Please, think about this. Are you really going to kill me?" He speaks rapidly and worriedly.

"It does cost me far less than keeping you alive."

There's an electric purple swipe, its light inundating the half-dark room, that blinds your vision.

The head drops to the floor.

The body follows it.

A moment passes.

Taylor sheathes her sword-cane.

She walks slowly to Krieg's cadaver.

"You know your orders. Get rid of the body." She picks up the head, her hands on both its cheeks. "I'll deal with the rest myself."

The merc to your left simply takes out the body bag rolled up in his backpack and joins his fellows in preparing the body.

You go to Taylor, who is still staring at Krieg's head.

You avoid the growing pool of blood and put your hand on her shoulder.

"C'mon. I want to see that tattooist you were talking about." You try bit of levity to distract her but then your eyes escape your command, and you glance at the body being lifted up and put inside the body bag.

You look back at Taylor. Her right hand caresses each eye of Krieg's head, closing them. Her voice comes out soft and delicate.

"I didn't want to kill him in the interrogation room, despite Lisa's insistence in staying there to watch."

"I understood that." You simply say. "She wasn't ready yet."

"No. Not yet."

She shakes her head and looks back at you.

"Let's leave these morbid thoughts behind. The day is not yet over. We have other things to do."

"Of course, Duchess."

One of the mercs approaches with a plastic box in which Taylor drops the head in. He gives the box to her and goes to join the rest of his company in lifting the occupied body bag.

You leave the main shelter and the smell of copper and death behind.

It reminds you to contact one of the cleaning lads.

They'll take care of removing any unpleasant remains.

Now you just need to be there for Taylor.

Notes:

Hello!

Life's been a bitch and a half these past two weeks. A few updates on my research kept me occupied and then I got my last wisdom tooth removed a few days ago. This week, I'll be even more occupied, however. It involves leaving my country for a small amount of time (and I really should be packing my stuff). I have said that I already wrote next Sidestory, but it does need polishing and I don't know when I'll do it.

I hope this introspective chapter gave you guys another view of Aisha's personality. Not all is Jinx's mania... I did say parts of Sevika would be sprinkled on top, so Aisha's job as Taylor's main enforcer made her a bit more serious whenever moments of ennui come up. I think it still remains in character while keeping the seriousness of the situation.

Thank you so much for reading!

Chapter 15: A Matter of Perspective

Summary:

Various players across BB

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Amy was having a mixed couple of days.

Yesterday had been a good day, she hadn't been greeted with any emergency cases, nor was she welcomed by a grieving person trying to force her to heal someone. She was simply met with one of the main nurses who usually supervised her work and from there she went straight to heal people.

But the day had increasingly gotten worse. As they usually did by her experience.

Brockton Bay was in the middle of a gang war.

This was why they can't have nice things.

She had been too busy to pay much attention and only ended up hearing rumours from the hospital staff and small stuff on the old TV's on the patient's rooms that she heard in between healing; but by the time she got home she was tired and wanted to go to bed. Ever since she triggered there was something like a heavy weight in her shoulders, a weight that seemed to keep increasing leaving her tired beyond belief. The little voice in the back of her mind whispering the secrets of the human body every time she healed someone didn't help either. Nor did those moments when the voice stopped whispering and seemed to yell instead, asking her to make improvements and changes that went from minor tweaks to extremely bizarre (no, I don't want to give her gills! Wtf?). Nor did her heart somersaulting every time Vicky even looked at her when she arrived to pick her up. She felt a piece of herself break every time she healed someone but, at the same time, every time she didn't heal someone a bigger piece of herself seemed to sink below the surface of her soul.

She was tired.

Nobody would fault her for going to bed early.

Next day she got up from bed still half asleep, gone through her daily ritual of ignoring Carol and trying to eat breakfast without inciting attention upon herself. She went back to bed after breakfast, while her Vicky clamoured with someone on her phone.

After a few hours of napping and ignoring her problems, she was forced to wake up again.

Vicky burst into the room blabbering excitedly and pushed her phone into Amy's hands. Still groggy Amy did her best to pay attention to what Vicky was saying. Something about a gang fight… a new gang went against the E88? Yesterday? Oh. And they won? There are videos of it? But how did a new gang show up out of nowhere? What do you mean nobody knows? Who did they fight? Hookwolf!?

Apparently, it was the new gang's response on PHO that had gotten viral half an hour ago, then taken down by the mods, then posted in another site and gotten even more popular. So, Vicky had gotten her to sit down on the edge of Amy's bed and explain everything better and slower.

According to the villains, and the PRT, who recently confessed to knowing this, two gangs had disappeared in the last 6 months. Or rather, they were taken over. Duchess and her band who called themselves Zaunites(?), of all things, had taken over the position of one the three great gangs in the city. The fight with the E88 where they debuted was apparently not their first, having fought and killed the Merchants. Plus, whatever they did with Coil. And didn't that make everyone confused. Did Coil even have powers?

The PRT had done their best to control the media storm from the released videos, but nothing could stop people from viewing it. It was like a forbidden fruit: the more one prohibited something the more people were curious to have the thing.

After the fight, and apparently capturing (kidnapping?) of Krieg, they had responded to the media who looked to such a number of organized parahumans and pointedly asked who are they?

Amy had another question: what fresh new hell is this?

It didn't take long for Vicky to show her the video the gang released.

Even now as they made their way to the PRT the glowing purple eyes of their leader were still burned in her mind. In the video she was looking at the camera, with her mask of copper and cascading hair of black ink, perfectly composed. Duchess Sera, she had named herself and then she introduced the people surrounding her, who she identified as her lieutenants whom she called her Chem-Barons. A few parahumans she never even heard of mixed in with a few she only heard gossip about.

Her hand with two mechanical fingers, resting on a case showing three skulls.

Words came from her mouth like honey and syrup with slow perfect diction.

Together we are building a better future. No more criminals robbing and maiming us. No more villains destroying our properties or killing us. We are bringing order and peace to this city. No more waiting for the cops who will never come. No more waiting for the heroes to save us. Her eyes shone then, almost supernatural in its eeriness. We can save ourselves.

These parts of the city are ours she told the camera. Then her hands went for something beneath her desk, a sound of a drawer opening, and another skull was put in line with the rest. We are building a new city there, renewed, reborn. All those that oppose us will end as skulls in my vitrine.

Beyond the labels demarking whose skull belonged to whom, each had a symbol etched on their forehead.

The new one had the symbol of the E88.

The tag spelled Krieg.

They had declared that they were defending themselves and their territory. The E88 had over extended, woken up a sleeping beast and gotten bitten.

At the end of the video, she had taken a deep breath. It was accompanied by the sounds of hot gas being deposited in her lungs; her exhale was marked by the small escape of purple fumes through the side of her mask. It wasn't a foreign sound to Amy who spent her time in the hospital where machines existed to help patients breathe and other contraptions with eerie sounds roamed the halls. But that didn't stop her from getting goosebumps.

We are the Nation of Zaun. She declared. We are the outcasts, the broken and the forgotten. And we are here to stay.

The video's ending was edited to show only her glowing purple eyes and the shiny purple fumes being slowly swallowed by a liquid darkness. Or at least that was what she thought until her sister corrected her by telling her that the shadows were the powers one of their members. The skull masked guy: Grue.

Her sister then gotten her to watch the videos of the fight between Victor, Krieg and Rune. Vicky watched with a thoughtful expression, sometimes whispering a few comments but mostly thinking out loud.

But Amy couldn't care less.

She was in a bad mood while her sister carried her to the PRT accompanied by her family.

A new gang. Even more powerful than the predecessors it had taken over.

Full of villains that were proving themselves to be even scarier than the usual sort.

She resisted the urge to huff in discontent.

This was why they couldn't have nice things.

Ω

I am Duchess Sera, the leader and co-founder of the new faction born in Brockton Bay.

It was moments like these that made Emily wish for a drink.

Yesterday, Protectorate forces led by Armsmaster received a call about a fight breaking out between the Undersiders and the E88. After a quick response from the hero team they quickly arrived near the scene, not to a fight between those two groups but between Hookwolf and a monstrosity of a man with half his body made of metal spider legs.

Jesus! Can the cape scenery get any weirder?

Fucking parahumans.

After the man's proclamation of his allegiance, he proceeded to escape the scene with another fucking unknown parahuman!

Sure, this is Brockton Bay!

But this many hidden parahumans coming out of the woodwork are a bit too much!

Well, actually… Emily reconsidered a few thoughts running through her mind: the parahuman was unknown until this fucking video dropped into her lap.

You might have seen our tags being painted on the streets, seen our men and women patrol our territory, you might have already tasted our drugs or even seen our recent fight with the E88.

The immensity of this problem was beyond the calculations and thoughts laid out a almost a week ago. The new tinkertech drugs being peddled on the streets was not news for the PRT, having heard rumours through their information network. But they didn't think much of it beyond the fact that it was another shit that the Merchant's sometimes try to peddle… that they used to peddle before finding out some drawback to the drug that even they wouldn't find it funny. The usual notes of trying to find a sample was there in the meeting logs from the Protectorate-PRT meeting but the entire thing was promptly forgotten after no examples of the drug were ever found.

Assault had already confirmed that the parahuman in question was the one he saw accompanying Duchess at the villain meeting.

These are my companions, my friends, my allies. My Chem-Barons. To each a piece of this city will go. To me they each pay allegiance to. Together we are Zaun. And like iron under a blacksmith's tools, we will beat this city until it is in proper shape. We will melt it and reforge it if need be. Already the forge is being heated and fed. The groundwork is already beginning. Together we are building a better future.

Duchess, Trainwreck, Spitfire plus the Undersiders that makes seven parahumans. Eight with the spider-legs-man, Urgot. But whatever he actually meant by temporary member of Zaun is anyone's guess. Perhaps they have outside help? The E88 usually enjoys monetary aid and weapon deliveries from Gesellschaft so it wouldn't be outside the realm of imagination if Zaun enjoyed similar aid from another group…

This needed careful consideration.

The sheer number of parahumans involved in this new gang rivalled only the E88 and the Protectorate, especially if one counts the wards. Which Emily tried not to most days. A warring part considered them just another bunch of parahuman bullies and another considered them just unlucky traumatized kids. But both parts of her agreed that that last part just made the first one worse. A bunch of parahuman idiots with something to prove.

The fact that the PRT was caught with its pants down is undeniable. The sudden revelation that they had a supervillain working from within on a near constant basis made them scramble harder than anything Emily had experience in Brockton since Lung's arrival in 2004. It also made them lose the manpower needed to try to assess and control the new situation that was brewing. Rooting out rats and informants was not an easy job. Thankfully, Armsmaster and Miss Militia threw themselves into the work with voracious anger. Dragon had also lent her aid cutting down the time needed to search each employee and read each individual file. It took them most of the entire week to review everyone and by the time they were done she had to answer to her higher-ups.

The council of directors ended up just as shaken as she was when she told them the reason for all the commotion in her branch of the PRT. Costa-Brown got very determined and demanded similar inspections to other branches and a full report to be delivered to her desk by week's end. After the other directors left the virtual meeting, Costa-Brown admitted that so long as the information doesn't break to the general public then no great harm has been done. Let the villains come to the light, let them accuse whatever they want but the PRT had stronger claims and a stronger public image. In the meantime, new M/S procedures would be drafted, specifically for Brockton Bay, and a PR response was being written already in case the information does escape. The new gang and its disposition might be worrying but at the time they discussed that it would be better not to escalate immediately, much to Emily's disappointment. The biggest score for Piggot on that meeting was Costa-Brown finally allowing reinforcements for Brockton. A new Protectorate hero would be chosen and given to Brockton Bay and a new possible Ward was also on the table. If the Ward was allowed to come join the brocktonite Wards he or she would come from either the East Coast or directly from Alexandria's batch of proteges. Emily was hoping for the last one; only the most promising of parahumans entered Alexandria's and Legend's batches, although that was also true for the most troublesome and problematic who needed proper oversight.

Our group wishes no harm to the civilians and the rogue parahumans working freely away from cape business. We are only interested in the other gangs. The PRT will inevitably try to go against us and brand us as villains. They won't be exactly wrong. Although we share far more traits with vigilantes, rogues and other practically minded parahumans we shall still act as villains. Life has more colours than just black and white. In our case… we willingly became what we were forced to be.

Later today the Protectorate and the PRT will meet and talk about the events of this week. They will also discuss strategies and possible counters and weak spots of the members of the new gang.

For now, Emily will simply imagine that this cup of lemon water that she is drinking is something a bit stronger.

Ω

Max Anders is pissed.

No, forget pissed he is beyond livid.

How dare they?

How dare she?

To do this and then brag about it in such a way?

He replayed the video, watching as she took out James's skull from beneath her desk and put it on display.

To Kaiser: we hope our intent is clear. Our warning was not just a bit of advice and a threat. It was an inevitability. I do hope you understand the name of the game now. This is no longer a petty fight for the city where you can rely on little rules. The true game is afoot. You want to fight us? Then we will gladly bring the fight to you. You want Brockton? You'll have to come through us first.

Oh, they'll regret doing that.

The entirety of E88 was already up in arms despite the defeat yesterday. Hookwolf doesn't much care about Krieg but he is itching for another fight. Victor ended up having to carry the mangled hunk of metal away from the PRT's grasp and Hookwolf seemed to be seething from the shameful event. Cricket is mad at this point, stuck in bed. Othalla's regeneration working very slowly to heal her leg and it's still unknown if it is going to regenerate her leg completely. Rune seems fully discombobulated from her fight, seemingly thankful for not getting maimed and furious for having been so easily handled. Crusader and Stormtiger are in PRT custody. One can only hope they get Panacea to heal them after all of that.

Now, Gesselchaft will either cut ties or go immediately all in on the situation. Brockton Bay is their spring board in the US and James was their main tie with the E88. Sure Night and Fog might have been given by them but the pair are so… well re-education programs of the german group are infamous for a reason.

He sighs deeply.

Now, he is only just waiting for a phone call from them.

They have to respond to this, however. Max will either have to escalate, give as good as he got or simply let it lie. If Max escalates, the city will surely be torn apart and Lung might take the opportunity to do some escalating himself. On the other hand… the status quo still exists. They could just reaffirm their agreement from the Truce meeting and take James's death as a sign and save face. With the presence of a serious competitor in the Bay, Lung might finally be forced to respond in some manner eventually and they could regroup, recruit new people and then wait for an opportunity. But the truth is that Max will probably be forced to respond in some manner because of Gesselchaft itself. Never mind the fact he is very, very, angry at this whole situation and won't need any direction from some foreign jackass in how to deal with this new headache.

Beyond all that they still need more information on the new gang and going in blind just proved to be a fatal error.

Might as well start preparing for the worst then.

He clicked on the small red button of his desk phone.

"Jessica, mark me a meeting with Kayden. If she refuses, you are free to pass me the call and I'll talk to her."

"Yes, sir." Jessica's voice came through the device.

Now it's only a matter of time.

Ω

"What are the chances they know I exist?"

94.5989%

"Damn, chances they want me to join?"

80.2731%

"Chances they'll force me to join?"

17.7635%

"Alright, good numbers… certainly better than the ones two weeks ago. Now, what if…"

30.9821%

"Not bad, but… Not exactly what I want. What if I don't do that?"

20.5710%

"Hgh, ouch… If I do my first plan?"

53.0012%

"Alright. I can work with this."

Notes:

Good morning!

This went from a Sidestory intitled Marchioness to a full chapter in, like, two days. So my apologies for taking a bit to update. It just went from polishing to rebuilding the entire thing. Next chapter already has a title and I have an entire dialogue in mind a for it. After that it will be a new experimental piece that will probably be a Sidestory if I refrain from going above 1K words.

I hope you guys have a great day and an amazing week!

Comments and criticisms are always welcome!

Chapter 16: Sera's Dialogues

Summary:

Alternative titles: "Zaunite Ethics" (Nicomedian Ethics) and "Le Sera, or on Optimism" (Le Candide) and "Sera's Dispositif" (Foucault's Dispositif*).

Notes:

This title is a pun? Maybe it can be considered word play? It's a rip off of Plato's Dialogues that's for sure.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"Does killing even make you feel anything still?"

"Depends, I think."

"On what?"

"On the person and the situation. You?"

"Not really."

"Hm."

"I am sad, I think. Despondent? I used to be a very moral person. It is strange how much can change in a year."

"I think we just grew up and responsibilities piled up."

"Grew up? Somehow, I doubt that. You are still just as short as when I met you."

"Not my fault I don't have your long legs. Besides, I meant, like, psychologically."

"I know what you meant."

"Anyway, I can't imagine you being anything other than yourself: a lawful evil person."

"Pfff. You should stay away from Regent if that's what he's teaching you. People are complex; they don't fit easily into alignment charts."

"Oh, shut up. D&D is amazing. Where else can I be a rogue/bard that slays bitches and lays witches… or was it the other way around?"

"Are you calling me a witch? Or a bitch?"

"…"

"Just for that your cookie privileges are revoked."

"What? No!"

"You can have them after you apologize."

"Argh! Do I need to get on my knees? I don't want to get up from the bed."

"I can think other ways to apologize that don't need you getting up from the bed."

"… Really?"

"Hmhm."

"Like what?"

"Surprise me."

:::

"It's a boring book full of complicated stuff that was written on purpose to be as obnoxiously dense as possible. It's like it was just made to be thick, like a university student padding out pages just to fill the word quota on their paper."

"You have strong feelings about it."

"Look, I have very little time to read for pleasure nowadays. I picked it up because its been on my reading list for a while. The content was interesting but it took me a while to decipher it all… I ended up having to see a video on the net and then reread it to actually understand it all."

"Well, if you want next rest day we'll go shopping for another book. If I like it we might even read it together."

"Really?"

"Eh. I'll listen if you read it aloud."

"I am not an audiobook."

"Aww. But I like your voice!"

"…"

"You blush so cutely."

"Shut up."

"How can someone so deadly be so cute?"

"I am sexy not cute."

"Sure, you keep telling yourself that."

"…"

"…"

"Stop that."

"I wasn't doing anything."

"You keep brushing your fingers on them."

"Not on purpose, I assure you."

"Just… fine."

"I like them."

"I don't."

"Why would you not?"

"It's awful. I just… I was never pretty and now I look like this. I…"

"Shhh. It's alright. I like them. You look beautiful."

"I was a frog on legs and now I am a disfigured frog on legs."

"Take that back."

"Wha-"

"Take. That. Back."

"Fine! Just… release me."

"Oh, Taylor. You are beautiful without compare. I simply can't get enough of you."

"…"

"…"

"Don't strain a brain cell. That pick-up line sounded like it burned a few."

"Pf! Nah, still have two more."

"Pick-up lines or brain cells?"

"Yes."

"…"

"…"

"…Why do you like them?"

"It reminds me you survived. You are alive and breathing. You are a fighter Taylor, a warrior, a commander. These? There are just battle scars."

"You have scars too."

"Small in comparison."

"Misery shouldn't be compared."

"Mhm. Maybe. Bad things are bad things but what happened and what the person felt during what happened are two different things."

"Bad things… I just hope we aren't going to have more bad things in our way with all this. God, sometimes I wonder why we even started all this."

"You wanted to own the city. Control the crime, protect the city. Zaun's national motto."

"What a terrible fucking name. Was I drunk when I named the gang?"

"I remember when you were reversing names for yourself. The great and powerful Baron Shimmer!"

"I was not that jubilant when I told you that name."

"It's for the drama."

"Take over the city, huh? What a joke. Can't even keep myself together most of the time. My emotions run a mile a minute. Is that how insane people think like?"

"Probably not. I heard something about how insane people don't think themselves as insane. It's just the Shimmer, Taylor. I´ll give you your next dose in a bit."

"God, Aisha, the shit we have done. I wonder what mom would think of me. What dad would think."

"Taylor, don't start thinking too deeply on those things. They are your parents, they would keep loving you with all their hearts even if you took over the world."

"…Even if I wanted to take over the world I wouldn't. Too much trouble."

"Of course, don't mind the fact thar the true reason you wouldn't is because you dread bureaucracy."

"Whoever invented it better be suffering in Hell."

"…"

"…"

"Can you kiss me now?"

"You are very demanding, my little imp."

:::

"On one side we might consider ourselves the victors of this conflict. And as the saying goes we can write history. Let the public stew in whatever we tell them happened. Our version will be the only version of events that anyone would know about."

"What about the PRT?"

"The video is already circulating. They will have to respond fully not just make a half-assed confirmation of the contents of it. But! We did put our version of events first into the spotlight and since not even the villains know for sure what happened the only source of info is us."

"Welp, I am still a bit mad that I didn't show up on the video."

"I'll reward you some other way. Did you like the ending?"

"Neat trick with Brian's power."

"Speaking of Brian…"

"He's off talking to Jack I think. Something about coordinating unpowered members with the parahumans."

"I hope you didn't go out naked just to find that out."

"Nah, had a bathrobe on me. Besides it was only Bri and Tats in the office downstairs."

"…what."

"A) I am his sister and B) Lisa is a girl, it isn't anything she hasn't seen before and C) she is asexual. So don't go there doing moony eyes to her. You'll only inflate her ego. Besides I needed to refill our jar of cookies while you napped."

"Being asexual doesn't also make her aromantic by definition."

"True. It probably doesn't make her incapable of appreciating the human form either."

"On a purely aesthetic level, I presume. With her power I highly doubt she wants to get close enough to someone in other ways."

"Most likely… Can you imagine using her intuition powers during sex, though? She'll cold read you and then play you like a fiddle. It would probably be equal amounts of terrifying and mind shattering."

"Ok, wow, enough talking about that, please. Not when we are like this at least. Anyway, they were downstairs?"

"Yup, Tats was doing thinker things and Bri was brooding. But like I said he is off somewhere else by now."

"I hope he is having a civil conversation with Jack and whatever agreement they come to they'll discuss it with me later."

"I am sure they will."

"…"

"…"

"…What are you reading, now? Can't you simply enjoy doing nothing for a while?"

"I was thinking about the girl that Coil wanted. It made me curious enough to read a few books about precognition. I'll probably read a few other theses on Thinker powers in general later."

"That explains the Fates on the cover."

"You know who the Fates are?"

"I am your girlfriend."

"Of course. Anyway, it's pretty fucking woolly over all. The majority of parahumans currently known who are exclusively precogs are vague at best, way too specific at worst. Although several non-thinker type capes have been recorded has having a sixth sense, specially relating to combat. Which you know, gives even more credence that powers seek conflict since these small add-ons are usually coupled with high damage dealers, like brutes and blasters."

"Doesn't Watchdog keep a leash to those special Thinker types?"

"Yup. The PRT's personal Think Tank and surveillance department. It's the reason I have been keeping mum about exploring legal commercial options. NEPEA-5 plus this regulatory agency keep pretty much any parahuman with a business sense afraid."

"I heard about that. Some story about a tinker that transmuted gold got stomped on by them."

"Again, yup. But that's an extreme example but is also pointed as proof that parahumans need regulation and oversight. The dude kept selling gold and the price tag pretty much tanked. That was in the beginning when parahumans started showing up so there wasn't much legally written out about the subject. Imagine what a Thinker like Tattletale can do to the stock market. I am pretty sure she has a few stocks in some companies but they are negligible and spread apart so I haven't said anything."

"That's the reason the Elite were founded. To free the proletariat, I mean parahumans, from the oppression of the ruling class, I mean the government."

"Ah! Fighting for economic freedom might have been the initial goal but they are way pass that. They still do have a prosperous commercial and financial sector to their organization, however. For villains, their banking system, in North America, is second only to Number Man, after all."

"Fighting for freedom feels like a strange thing for villains."

"Everyone fights for something. Besides, they only became villains after the government decided that any parahuman who could serve as a producer and purveyor of goods needed to sit still and get hammered in."

"A good fight then but like what happened with the Elite it can get not good pretty quick. Thw way to Hell is paved with good intentions. Whatever the intentions of the founders of the Elite had they have long since disappeared."

"They are not the only ones. But just because of that we can't disillusion ourselves. That fight is still worth fighting. Heck, I can summarize the entirety of History as a fight for freedom. A constant human struggle to achieve a higher level state of being. We build things to free ourselves. Walls and laws to free ourselves from violence; farms and breeding animals to free ourselves from hunger; and so on and so forth. While the more advanced we get we gain different worries, other problems arise and we work until we get rid of those too."

"Yeah. Honestly, on this topic: I hate precogs and everything they come with. The idea that all of that struggle is futile? That somehow all of that would happen, one way or another, simply because some metaphysical rug told it would be so is… disheartening. No matter what we do, stuff still happens?"

"All those decisions we took and everything we have done so far? Predetermined? Hmhm…"

"Yeah. It is hard to believe we live in the best of all possible worlds."

"The existence of Earth-Aleph puts that theory to rest, I believe."

"It is even stranger when you are in that line of thought and you consider precogs, like our little Pythian Oracle. It might not be the best of all possible world but is it the only viable possibility? What would philosophers think of a deterministic world being proven?"

"I think everyone here is a bit preoccupied surviving to stop to consider all the consequences of such a thing. You have to talk to some Earth-Aleph professor for that. I hear some people there still think we are all suffering of some mass delusion or that our world isn't even real. Besides, I don't think the world is deterministic. At least, not fully. Even with the precogs running around. Especially, those like the Simurgh."

"Hm?"

"Think about it. You know that saying? Life is like a box of chocolates. It's a funny saying from a movie but the underlying motive isn't wrong. In my mind, life is like a game of chess."

"What? I hope you aren't saying that people are pieces in that game?"

"Nothing so callous."

"Then?"

"Imagine this: you are the player in a game of chess. You have a set of pieces you can move but you can only move them in a certain predetermined way when it is your turn to play them. The amount and quality of your pieces and the state of the board is also already predetermined. If you are born poor in Africa then you get a very shitty board with few poor quality pieces. You may gain more pieces and they can upgrade in quality and the board may change. All depending on how and when you move your pieces. You may gain riches and a good life or you may end up being eaten by Moord Nag's beast."

"Alright, I can see it. You are proposing a limited… well that a very limited amount of free will exists."

"Yes. But the scenario isn't over. A game of chess isn't complete without an adversary. That adversary, however, is ever changing and sometimes unknown and its pieces mutable as is his side of the board. If you want I can personify that adversary. That is Chaos."

"So, let me see if I understand: you are stating that there is no such thing as a collective free will. Only a type of personal free will exists, but that free will is extremely limited both by events outside of your control but also by other wielders of personal free will, whose own decisions might or might not impact, either directly or indirectly, your own decisions and their consequences. Therefore, only an extremely small amount of free will actually exists."

"Yes."

"How do precogs enter the analogy then?"

"Well, I haven't thought much on the subject but I can theorize that in this analogy they can see the adversary and the movements of its pieces."

"Alright, but what about the changes they make?"

"Again, the previous analogy still functions. They still act inside their limited amount of options despite the glimpses of Chaos's movements. The Simurgh still has to choose a domino piece to topple for all the others to follow. I imagine the true power of the Endbringer is both the accuracy in choosing which piece to move and the detail it can see the consequences of its movement."

"Damn. There is a physics based thing I could probably quote, right? Something something quantum."

"Probably. But I am a literature geek not a science nerd."

"I can see you lent a lot of thought to this topic even before this conversation. Let me guess, you are suddenly worried that all those pieces you moved and when you moved them weren't the best moves you could make?"

"Yes."

"Look at it this way, then: if your mother hadn't died, and if your best friend hadn't betrayed you, and if she hadn't start bullying you, and if your father hadn't fallen into a coma, if Panacea hadn't been a bitch and if you hadn't triggered, if you hadn't started tinkering funky liquids and consume them, if your father hadn't then died at that moment, if you hadn't then met me because of the bullying, and we partner up against the Merchants and ended up killing them, if we didn't start a gang, gotten rich, bought a warehouse and made a club of it, and if we hadn't kissed and now revealed ourselves to the world…" Aisha recited calmly "Then we wouldn't be here, lying together on a mattress soaking up the spring sun eating chocolate chip cookies with no obligations but to ourselves."

"And yet…" Taylor responded picking up another cookie. "We must cultivate our garden."

Notes:

Why, hello there.

You thought you would need to wait until next week for another post?

... Me too. But I got inspired and this came out.

It's a downtime chapter, can't have this train always go up the mountain (my name isn't Wildbow after all); you need to appreciate the valleys and the plateaus. And also I just wanted to portray Taylor's and Aisha's relationship a bit more, flesh it out as they say.

If you come from SB and notice this chapter as few more things in it, you are not hallucinating you are reading right. I censured part of it on SB so the Mods have mercy on me.

Also also, on the subject of Tats... I wrote as I see it, I just hope I didn't made a mistake regarding the apropriate LGBT labels, if I did please do correct me.

I hope you enjoyed reading.

See you next time!

*-Because a reference to this french dude or something aproprietaly french and sexy like Sartre was obligatory when both protagonists are discussing philosophy naked-

Chapter 17: Sidestory: It Gazes Back

Summary:

IT beckons.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Handshake_Procedure_Initiated

It began with thunder... or maybe the lightning or maybe both, for the sound and the electricity came separate but then united, too long to be natural.

Violet of colour and violent of nature it ranckled some deep part of her mind and she couldn't help but notice how cold she started to feel.

What?

Handshake_Confirmed

It started to rain or it felt like it began to rain. The raindrops felt like they fell heavily and whatever image she had of the landscape around her dissapeared, forgotten even before she could properly look. A darkness encapsuled her and she felt out of breath.

Too many thoughts crossed her mind then.

There had been something there... beyond the veil of rain. Revealed, in that flash of lightning.

She was sure there had been something there...

Something... but she forgot. Why did she forgot?

TYPE: Vital_Shard | FUNCTION: Admnistration_T-Series | IDENTITY: Grand_Quatermaster

Aaaaaah! FUCK!

Pain flashed through her mind. Lightning and thunder rang and flashed around her. The rain hit her body harshly.

What the-? It hurts! Too much. That was too mu̶c̵h̷.

She tried to open her ẹy̴͙͐͠͝ͅȩ̵̛̼̪s̶̛̘̫͙͆͝.

There was a titanic shadow beyond the veil of rain.

A new wave of pain rammed against her mind and she screamed.

DESTINATION: Host | QUERY: Agreement?

Stop, please, what is happening!? Too much! W̶̩̼̺̌̓͋́̈́ͅH̵̨̖̥̳̓́̓͠y̶̨̬͌̆̿?̶̪̙̥͈͖͗͛̓͂̈́̕ ̶͎̲̟̝͈̖͚͎̓̒͑͂̌͌̃w̶̛̛̰͕̫̠̟̼̔̎͌̈H̶͓̳͈̗̣͛̄͌̚Y ̵̨̙̣͚̙̚͜͜D̹͇̫̦̺̙̀̀̇͂̎ͅo̻̦̩̭̤̊̓̽ý̷̨̨̛͓͓̬͙̏͂͛̕͝o̷̢̼̗̟̫̪̹̽̽̃̑́ ̷̨͇̃̊̑̌̈́̽͌͌ṷ̵̓̕H̷̰̘͛̒̅͗͗ú̧̦͓̙͉͗rt̪̲̮ͅ ̵̨̢̱̭̻͎̔̓̇̀m̬͇̃͝e̶̡̢̪̻̺̮̩͉̐̂̄?̵̼̬̝̞̗̥̩̓͐̓

REPETITION | DESTINATION_HOST | QUERY: Agreement?

She screamed again and harder. Her throat somehow undamaged while she panicked and wailed at the pain she felt.

When the pain faded her eyes returned to the sight before her.

The shadow beyond the veil moved as if anxious and she tried to remove her gaze from the sight in front of her but she couldn't. It hurt to look elsewhere, even if briefly, and the shadow beyond the veil moved and trembled when she tried.

The storm around had intesified.

She felt nauseous. Her stomach revolted at the sight. She felt fear. Her mind denied the sight. She felt finite. Her body small in comparison with the sight.

But above all, she felt cold.

Cold entering her body, her mind, her very soul. Something harsh and unwavering and it burned in contact with her being.

The rain was hitting her with a sudden, unending, bruskness.

REPETITION | DESTINATION: Host | QUERY: Agreement?

She screamed again, pain filling her mind.

She tried to fall to her knees but she didn't. ẘ̴̡̢͚̤̺̟̜h͓̗͚̄̔͒͑͊͐ͅY̷̘̳̩͕͒̕͝?̴͔̜̰̜͍̥́

A noise filled her ears. Something between an air horn and a whale call multiplied by an eletronic speaker.

The pain was so overpowering that she even forgot to scream again.

T-DIRECTIVE: Gather_Data | MEDIUM: Host | T-COMM: 4̵̼̰̪͖̜̞̔͛̑̚0̶̡̡̡̬̭̱̞̓̾͋̆̏̓4̶̹͚̿͒̋͗̚_̷̨̙̘͍̠̭̂̒Ê̶̖̗̲͉͎̐̔͜͝R̷͔̳̖͔̬͑̾̐̍̉̆R̷̡͎͓̿͒̉̏̿͋̇͘Ȯ̴̧̡͖̟̠͍͌́̂̾͝R̷̺̟̣̹͓̓̇ | W-DIRECTIVE: No_Response | BACKUP_STRAT: Following_Initial_T-DIRECTIVE | DESTINATION: Host | QUERY: Agreement?

Ỹ̵͈̠́̑E̴̡̪̬̘̖̰̔S̷̙̳̮̀̔̓ ͚̋̈́̑͋P̵̱̀̋̆́̎̀͠L̴̫̫̈̉̓̕͝E̶̮͗AͅS̴̢̢̯͖͉͚̺̏ͅȄ̷̮̟͈̐̈͂͌͌ ̶̢̖͎̰̞̰̀̃̋̈́P̵̗̿̕͝͝͝LË̛̪̻̲̞̐̉̈͂A̵̛͕͌͛̆͠S̼̉̈̂̉E̷̯͈̗̭̰͖̣̱̓̈̎́̌ ̛͕̤͕̫̪̹̈̍̾́J̵͚͙̞̤̥̹̙͛́̓̐͘ͅŲ̶̪̮̣̻̜̔̀̋S͖̖̜̈͗̎͆T̷̨̡͓͋̇̉͠ ̵̛̱̬̤̙̖̠͕͌́͐̐̍̀̚M̷̼̞̠̔͊̑͂͘Ǎ͉̮̇K̶̥̅E̴̩̭̪͕̟̠̥͍̿ ̵̨̖̼͖̦̩̲́Ǐ̴͙̤̫̫͈̏͝T̷̤̤̬̾͋͐͗͘ ̵̮̦͇͈̟̟̈́̃̿͌́̎͘͝S̷̰̲̫͂̊̚͘T̷͈͔͚͚͚̀̓ͅȮ̶̡̙̙͇̓͒͌͊P̧͚̞̪͔̌̍!̷͕̯̪͎̭̍!̷̘͕̙͖̒̿͗̌͘!̷̙̻̲̤͑̚͝ͅ

The rain stopped.

She opened her eyes

The thunder and the lightning reverberated and flashed one last time.

The darkness, like dark clouds, parted.

AGREEMENT

What

The

Fuck?

TRAJECTORY

T̷̡̧͇̫͇̝̘̰̩̰͂̋̏͂͌́͌̊̆̈́̊̅͋͘͘͠o̴̞̩̹̎͋͛̔̋̚ȍ̶̳̖̹̲

M̴̢̢̻̭̭̬̮̖̬͙͈̳̮̦̞̗̹̗̪̯̠̖͐̐̿̓̀͋̀̇͝ā̢̹̟̖͇̉̉͒͂͑̾̐̀̊̈͑̇̽͌̏͝N̴̛̫̟̮̥̼͖̰̩̊͒͆̌̎̇͛̽͒́̅́̆͋́̽̏͋̈́̕͝͠ͅY̵͎̲̠̳͕̞̌̏̀͗̅̉̇̅̆͊̇̓͆͌̓͋͌̒́̌̔̆̓̚͘

Ę̡͖͙̺̲̥̥̗̻͈͇̘̤̯̫̘͖͈̦͍͙̮̗̲̦̣͚̻͖͙̗͕̟̬̫̊̀̾̾ͅŸ̴̧̨̡̡̢̧̢̢̛̛͈̼̬͓̘͉̙̹̟̭̤͔͓̱͔̖̻͈̯̻̗̗̮̱͇̤̮̱̘͚͖̣̼̩̬̘̫̠͍́̓͊̌̐̂̋̐͂̈́̈̐͋͋̈́͐̀̊̀̍́͂̉͘̚͜͠͝͝ͅͅE̷̢̛͎͓̪̫͓̥͎͐̃̅̒͌͑̕͘͜S̵̨̖̜̺͙͚͔̬̝͈͕̜͎̟͈̤̜̹͕͕̞͉̰͕̪̘̭͔̺͈̱̤̭͇̪̼̰̠̺̭͈͐͗͆̈́̆̒̇̏́̄͂͊̈́͆̈́͗͋̇͆̅͆́̌̀̑̈́́͑̈́͗̈́̀̈́͜͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅ

AGREEMENT

"Wake up!"

"aaaAAH!"

Notes:

Hello!

Welcome to an experimental chapter. How is it experimental? I messed about with BB codes and fonts. Also, I have no idead how to do hidden text for AO3, so yeah I'm not looking forward to eventually edit that. Maybe.

My apologies for taking so long to post. I have no excuse as to why I took so long. I haven't been busier than usual or anything. I just made a goal for the end of the month for my studies and I'm going at it. Whatever free time I have or get by procrastinating I either spent it with family or I've spent rereading Berserk and after that I just searched for new fanfics to read. Also, yes I like Bloodborne, why do you ask?

On this sidestory: there is a clue there for the timeline it happens and there's also something else... Hm.

I hope you enjoyed it. Next chapter will be titled Flashback II and I'll try to post it 15 days from now. See you then!

Chapter 18: Flashback II

Summary:

Metamorphosis of Taylor or "Kore Dymetor"

Notes:

CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains trigger worthy topics, namely bullying and attempted suicide. Even if it is a fake attempt. Reader discretion is very much advised. Both topics are heavy ones so I apologise beforehand.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Winslow High was where hope went to die.

Or something equally dreadful. For what were its long hallways filled with graffiti and its claustrophobic bathrooms smelling of mould and its suffocating classrooms where boredom ruled if not hallmarks of an environment where hope no longer existed. So, what can you call the place where hope dies? Hell? Was high school Hell on Earth then? For Taylor, it might as well be. But never mind that for now, let's continue that train of thought: Winslow High as Elpis's murder scene.

On top of natural drama that occurs wherever and whenever a large number of teenagers exist together, there was also the gang violence supported by a system that once upon a time tried to enforce order but gave up after being hit back too many times. Not everyone remembered those first teachers who denounced misbehaving students to the principal never to be seen again the next class period, but those events became so engrained on the school's memory that the effects were still felt.

If the broken system wasn't enough the pervading feeling creeping into the student's hearts proved to be too much. Outside its walls the city was falling into decay and the corruption can be felt inside the school. Gang signs and dilapidated lockers and decaying furniture polluted the view of whoever laid their eyes upon the school, followed by packs of roving gang members, packs of the run-of-the-mill high school bullies, packs of loners, victims, oblivious people, and all those who tried to live a normal teenage life despite their surroundings.

But what was the point of good grades when the biggest employers in the city were the gangs? They certainly didn't care about grades. What was the point of putting hard work and effort if you were a person of colour or gay or transgender and because of it you'll never receive the fruits of your labour in this town? A guarded existence of constantly looking beyond your shoulder, flinching at swastikas or wincing at mere glances from other people; never knowing if the next person you meet will put a shiv in between your ribs for being who you are. What was the point of perfect attendance records when there was a large chance, you'll end up dead two minutes after leaving school grounds? A drive-by shooting, a gang fight, a cape fight, consequences of a random cape's power, or even, God forbid, an Endbringer, were all immediate threats inside or outside the school. This type of continuous existential threat did very little good for the minds of youth who were meant to have every expectation to live well into old age.

An apathetic attitude, therefore, prevailed. Innocence of childhood died when entering teenage hood, when one inevitably started to realise ones parents weren't always right, that the police won't always protect them, that their friends might move on or abandon them, that love wasn't unconditional or eternal and the future is not certain.

By the time High school came hope was on its last throes. It inevitably drew its last breathes inside the supposedly hallowed halls of this school.

Hope's death, however, might be delayed if you did well enough to go to Arcadia, or if both of your parents were white and well enough to support the tuition fees of Clarendon. But was that delay good? Is ignorance of the truth of the world around you better than realizing the precariousness of life? Building your view of the world on wrong assumptions and ideas was like building a castle in the sand: inevitably the sea will come to tear it down. Usually for teenagers the sea came for the castle when that castle was still small, but what would happen if reality crashed down on an adult? Someone who built their castle large and high, restful in the security of its foundations for the entirety of their life only for it to be swept away by the waters?

Well, the bigger they are the harder they fall, as they say.

At least Taylor knew her castle had long since disappeared underneath the waves. The waters came and went and with new insight into the workings of life she could build it anew and better than before.

Finally arriving at said school Taylor's thoughts went to more pressing matters, namely how to quickly get to class without anything happening to her.

Her troubled mind had problems in keeping itself in one train of thought since that night but damn her if she wouldn't dedicate her last working brain cells in this task.

Quickly passing through Winslow's main doors she kept herself to the wall at the right in a hurried, but not too hurried, a pace. She made two turns to the right and up the stairs, a turn to the left and finally reached her locker. Finding it undisturbed she unlocked it and in one fell swoop took the notebook she forgot to get last time she was here and closed it again.

If everything went right, today would be her last day she would spend in this horrendous place. Her preparations took a long time to put in place but the fruit of her labours would be sweet. Now, she only had to go to class, act normal and then leave. If the Fates were good, the Trio would simply be their normal selves as well and-

"Hey, Taylor!"

Did she… she just jinxed herself, didn't she?

If she wasn't trying to be as apathetic as possible, she would have punched the arrogant bint and the traitorous bitch right then and there. Unfortunately, these past few weeks she was instead trying to look more depressed and apathetic than usual, so she simply turned around to look at the arriving group of people. Somehow, she just found it more depressing how easy it actually was to immerse herself into such moods.

Count to 10, Taylor, you have everything planned out, can't waste weeks of preparations just to punt the bitch to next month.

As usual, it was Emma leading the group of teenage sycophants with Sophia and Madison right behind her. She was wearing the best clothes that daddy could buy with her red lustrous hair left flowing to her waist. Sophia was merely wearing a jacket and faded jean sporting an amused grin with a look of contempt splattered on her face. Taylor just ignored the gnat named Madison.

"You're still coming to school?" Said Emma, with a teasing tilt in her voice.

"We thought you would have dropped out already!" Continued the echo chamber named Madison.

"Yeah, we were thinking you would have dropped out and joined your daddy in the drug house!" Emma said sweetly.

"Oh wait. She can't even do that can she?" Interjected Sophia, her grin transitioning from amused to bloodthirsty. "He ded." She snorted. "Don't worry, keep being yourself and you'll join him right quick."

Count to 50, Taylor, remember the plan. After today you'll never see them again.

She turned around, hoping her clenched hands didn't jump from their place at her waist straight to their faces. She couldn't even fully turn around before a hand grasped her shoulder and threw her to the lockers with a clang. She tried to supress the full body shudder that tingled her spine and made her twist her neck and ignored the colourful flashes that crossed and sparkled in the corner of her vision.

Oh! The things she could do to them now. Maybe she'll make them her test subj… no, Taylor, remember you can't tinker on them. Count to 100. Remember the plan.

"Where do you think you're going? We haven't stopped talking to you!"

She gritted her teeth and tried to close her eyes, only to be shaken violently against the locker, with a big metal lock digging at her back and hurting her further. She opened her eyes only to see her vision blurred with a sickly fog. Sophia's face appeared out of the fog very close to her own face, her face set at an angry disgusted look.

"Don't think you can turn you back on us while we are still speaking to you."

"Yeah, Taylor. Who thought you would be so rude? Didn't your mom teach you better?" Emma spouted from behind Sofia.

"Look-"

But before Madison could continue the farce, Taylor was saved by the literal bell. With a click of her tongue Sophia one-handedly shoved Taylor to the locker again making her drop to the floor. She said a few more scathing words about how she got lucky, but Taylor was no longer paying attention. Her eyes were clouded and her mind full of fog. Flashes and whispers were being bombarded into her mind and she couldn't really focus on the Trio, who were now departing to class. It took a few moments on the floor of the hallway for her to regain her bearings. The few people passing through not paying attention to her.

After this episode of sickness ended, she finally got up from her downed position, picking up the bag that fell during one of Sophia's shoves at the same time.

She took a deep breathe, tried not to think negative thoughts on how her episodes were growing worse and she moved swiftly to Mr. Gladly's class.

The day proceeded to go as expected. The Trio harassed her all through the day's classes and at lunch time, when she hid beneath the staircases reserved for the staff, she got hit from above with a mix of raspberry soda and beer, making her both sticky and stinking of alcohol. After that impromptu shower given by the Trio she told herself that enough was enough and left school.

The first thing she did when she reached her house was take an actual bath.

After that she decided to put her plan into motion.

She sat her desk and wrote a few letters. One for Kurt and Lacey, who had taken custody of her after what happened to her dad. Although they had tried to make her come live with them, they too were barely making enough money for themselves so Taylor had refused and subsisted of her dad's life insurance while staying in the house.

Yesterday, however, she had discreetly sold the house and the furniture inside to a real estate agency, one of the few still operating in the bay. Her tinker stuff had long since been relocated to the new apartement, but she had spent the last few weeks organising her father and mother's stuff into crates and sending them to the dump outside of town, exchanging half-way for different crates and sending the real ones to her new home base. With this particular letter she was giving them the money of the sell while apologizing for what she was about to do.

Three letters followed. She even wrote one to Emma and Sophia, though granted Sophia's was only filled with two large red-inked words: Fuck You. The final one was her last will and testament, which basically gave everything either to Kurt and Lacey, her distant grandma, or as donations to charity.

By the time she was done the moon was rising. When she finished she got dressed with the best clothes she had in her wardrobe, picked up a small sack filled with only what was needed for the next part of her plan and got out of the house.

She took one last look at everything before she left.

She probably would never come back to the house.

Trying hard not to have a breakdown she quickly turned around, went to the front door and, after locking the door, she left for her last destination before her last part of the plan.

:::

Annette Rose Hebert

1969-2008

She taught something precious to each of us.

Daniel James Hebert

1970-2010

The anchor who kept the ship from drifting

She keeps looking at the grave whose dirt was only now getting settled. The flowers that she put contrasting with the grey stone and black letters of the gravestone in front of her. She sighed sadly and spoke to it.

"Sorry, mom. Sorry, dad. This will probably be the last time I'll be able to see you. I hope you are together wherever you are and that you can rest in peace." A pause, then a snort. "Don't worry too much about me. I'll be fine."

A few moments pass and Taylor silently weeps, a few tears down adorning her cheek. Then there's a huffing sound and a heavy intake of breath followed by a slowed breath of air.

"I'll be going then. Goodbye mom and dad. Thank you for taking care of me and raising me well."

:::

It was a long way down from the starting point of her jump.

When she finally hit the water, it was like being hit by a truck. Thankfully, the most recent dosage of her compound held true, and she came out of it (mostly) unscathed. The worst part was trying not to hit the sea floor after her drop and then swimming all the way from there to the agreed location.

By the time she dragged herself from the frigid cold Atlantic waters to the small ramp that dipped into the sea a mile from her initial position she felt like her body was one giant bruise. She didn't break any bones but…

Note to self: next project should be on upgrading the brute formula.

She was simply resting, belly-up, arms and legs splayed around like a starfish when suddenly, a large warm towel is dropped on her head.

"Hi, Tay-Tay!"

She adjusted the dropped goodie across her body and sighed, already feeling slightly warmer despite the cold still being felt in her bones.

"Hi, Aisha."

Taylor looked at the person who had just approached bouncing energetically. Today Aisha was wearing a black top beneath a biker's jacket with faded jeans and her hair was, as usual, a mess but one that was carefully coordinated to only look like a mess. The single large strip of violent purple dashing through her hair accentuating her face and was falling down her cheek. Her lips were painted chocolate, but the rest of her face had very little make-up which Taylor thought was completely unnecessary to begin with since her new friend ('cause what kind of person helps fake a suicide if not a friend) was drop dead gorgeous.

"I wasn't actually expecting you to jump from the highest container crane, ya'know? You almost gave me a fucking heart attack." Aisha says with an amazed tone of voice, then she hands Taylor a couple of bandages and a bottle of povidone iodine. "Here for the wounds."

"You thought I was actually going to do it?"

Aisha simply looks at Taylor, her eyes searching something from Taylor's face, as the wet girl looked after her self-inflicted wounds in her arms.

"For a few moments? Yes."

A few moments of silence passed as both girls seemed to be consumed by their own thoughts. Aisha was now looking at the far away crane with a pensive look.

"Did the camera watched my fall?" Taylor broke the silence with her inquiry.

"Yup. Did you leave the razor up there?"

"That and enough hints of blood for whoever comes to investigate figure out what I did. I left my letter at home like we planned so there's no doubt of what happened."

With the wounds bandaged and her body warmer than before she got up from her crouched position. The dark secluded corner of the docks where Taylor swam to barely let her see her new friend if not for her improved vision so Taylor could only vaguely see the expecting look adorning her companion's face. Not wanting to be caught looking at it for too long she bent down to pick up the respirator and goggles she used to swim underwater across the docks.

"So, now you are free."

"Now I am free. I can do whatever I want."

"You are going to need a new name, right?"

"Yeah, haven't really thought about it."

"How about Sera?"

"Sarah?"

"No, Sera, like serum. We make it an inside joke."

"Hm. Sure, why not."

Aisha's face transformed to a look of giddy anticipation.

"What are we going to do tonight, then?"

"Tonight, I am going to rest. But tomorrow we are going do what we'll be doing every night from then on." Taylor said sporting a similar look to Aisha's. "We try to save the world." Then she shrugged. "Or at least, this little corner of it."

Notes:

Hello, everyone!

I do hope you guys had a good month and I also hope you guys enjoyed reading this admitedly short chapter. Unfortunately, this chapter was sponsored by my frustrated mind and entirely made of pure spite, since these last two days were very tiresome while at the same time disappointing 'cause I utterly failed at completing my study goal. I am 5 manuscripts short of finishing the damn fucking thing, but whatever. I decided to read a few new entries to my bibliography and that goal is now delayed because of it.

So this is how Taylor has gone without school all this time. The entire world, or at least the part of the world who even acknowledged her existence, thinks she is dead.

We do have a moment of a Shimmer episode that gets triggered when Taylor is faced with the possibility of violence. I also decided against go too much into the whole... suicide thing... so you guys only got a tiny bit of everything that happened.

Happy 1st of May! I wish you all a good Beltane and a proud Worker's Day!

So, yeah, all comments and criticisms are welcomed and thank ya'll for reading!

Chapter 19: No Rest For The Wicked

Summary:

The Plot Moves Forwards!

Money doesn't grow on trees after all.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Sleep came easier than she thought it would.

A tiredness, a foreign thing since starting her path, had settled in her bones.

From this week alone she feels like she aged half her age.

So, she welcomed the rest that Sunday had given her.

A moment of peace and pleasure, all alone with her lover, idling the day away.

A lazy day.

Certain moments of physical exertion aside, of course.

However, that physical exertion did allow for another type of tiredness to take hold, but of the good kind, where her belly felt filled with warm ambrosia, where her muscles felt loose like jelly and too disconnected to properly move while her mind became too full of nothing but her lover's caresses to feel anything else but those fleeting moments.

Before Hypnos came for her she relaxed and spent the last few moments of her day interlacing her fingers through her imp's hair. Letting her fingers feel the softness of her shoulder-length dark hair and appreciating how the purple highlights glinted in the moonlight of the open window.

She appreciated with an inner smugness how her lover's skin still trailed a few beads of sweat that they too glinted above a bite mark in their shoulder.

Satisfied with the sight, soon she found difficult to keep her eyes open.

Her night however turned restless.

She was woken up by a nightmare which left the previously warm space beneath the blankets feel cold. Her skin felt clammy and her breathe came in short spurts.

No matter how hard she tried she didn't remember the nightmare.

Trying to shake off a creeping feeling of unease she got off the bed carefully as to not wake up Aisha.

Taylor dropped a kiss on the forehead of the girl nestled in bed, who after mumbling sleepily about guns then noticed the lack of a cuddle partner and instantly grabbed a pillow and cuddled into it.

It was barely morning, so she had to carefully manoeuvre around the room that was only illuminated by the yet faint orange light of coming dawn before leaving the room and heading downstairs.

The converted attic had a steep set of stairs that led to the converted second floor of the warehouse that, after the expansion of the gang, had been remodelled to support the homeless members of the gang. Now that Coil's base had entered their possession the second floor was being remodelled yet again to its original iteration as a sectioned off place for VIP clients of the Last Drop. Thankfully, the remodelling was simply a change of paint and different sets of furniture, so it wasn't that expensive or time consuming. Limited money had discouraged them to further expand and remodel the second floor and now with a new base Taylor was counting her blessings (nevermind the fact that this all thing barely lasted two months and already was going to change again).

When Taylor arrived at the common area that used to be the bar for the VIP's she found Lisa sleeping on the sofa next to a working computer and a half-empty bowl of popcorn. Scoffing silently, Taylor went to an armchair to the sofa's right and gathered a thin but comfortable blue blanket. She unfolded it and let it gently fall on top of the blond girl who burrowed further into the sofa.

Picking up the bowl of popcorn and turning off the computer, Taylor left for the small area were the bar used to be. A small gas cooktop had been added next to the already existing sink and a microwave sat a bit further away on the black countertop. She put the bowl on the counter and covered it with a bit of transparent plastic wrapping. Afterwards, she put the kettle on. Some tea was needed at this point: it's too early in the morning to be up and about without some black tea.

Taylor passed the time on her phone reading up the reports and small updates made by the lieutenants who were on night duty. The club hadn't opened for outsiders so while most dealers had continued their business out on the streets, some had been let out of their usual duties.

From Taylor's research there were four distinct type of drug dealers: the entrepreneurs, those who own the drugs they sell; the dealers, those who are members of gangs that own the drugs they sell; those who sell by consignment independently; and those who are paid hourly to sell drugs. Now from her own personal experience, the new world of parahumans didn't change the business much, but it did give it some more nuance. Namely the gangs usually fully owned the drugs that could be made locally, while the drugs that were more… exotic, like those derived from plants that couldn't be grown in the US were far more expensive. Independent sellers that sold what they owned existed, sure, but no longer existed those that sold what they actually made.

Why? Because a complete monopoly of production and manufacturing had been created.

After capes started showing up and fighting over stuff and territory like angry toddlers with godly powers it wasn't long until one that still had enough brain cells to produce a thought figure out that the real source of money was not the distribution of drugs, especially since international trade became more and more dangerous, but the making of drugs. That led to massive search for chemists and moonshiners and whatever other poor idiot that had skills with a beaker. It was like a witch hunt but instead of burning them at the stake you were holding them hostage for them to make you potions.

It was no wonder that in Winslow that one nerd that did well in Chemistry and got straight A's disappeared from school before graduating to college only to show up in the morgue a year later having, apparently, joined the Merchants. How? Certainly not willingly if the reported signs of malnutrition and abuse were any indication.

Anyway… The usual data that was reported of that night's and yesterday's revenues were already being compiled from the multiple records that Taylor obligated her people to make.

Usually, something between 50.000 to 120.000 dollars were made monthly from non-tinkertech drugs. With a kilo of cocaine about 10.000 to 15.000 bags can be made to distribute with a neat price tag of 10 dollars. To actually calculate the monthly profit, however, you need to subtracte from that amount the costs of packaging (1% of the actual cost of the drug), production and "cutting" and then divide it between the salaries of the dealers, producers and security.

In terms of wages, dealers and producers received about $700 per month, not bearing the bonuses that they might receive depending on how much they sold or made that month. Zaun's dealers also had hazard pay in case they got caught by rivals or by newbie heroes or vigilantes and if they did get caught and beaten up healthcare was given personally by Taylor, so all in all it was pretty good job to do in between an actual legal job in order to supplement an individual's normal income. And since securing the goods was probably the most important part in the business around 2.000 dollars were paid to those with experience or just enough courage to stand still with a gun while other people manage the drugs or extorte people and then actually stand ground and shoot people when trouble inevitably issues.

Plus, if you take into account other indirect expenses like food, amenities and the purchase of guns and ammo, then the final amount of profit is even smaller.

There was also the need to deduct the amount lost from those that "came up short" with the drugs they had. But the punishment for that is Aisha's domain.

Tinkertech drugs were another business completely, however. Since Taylor was the single source of these type of drugs in Brockton Bay she had full monopoly of its pricing. Sure, Blasto could make a few drugs if he wanted to and do to Brockton what she was doing to Boston, but did you really want to come down a high with a new appendage that you didn't have before? No!

The commercial formula of Shimmer sold for 30$ per syringe, thanks to the machines Taylor had created that produced so much so easily. The non-commercial formulas were sold individually and personally either by Duchess or by Imp and the prices ranged from 100$ to 500$. The medical variant was the most expensive per syringe second only to the physical enhancement formula. Those beneath Zaun's banner received a heavy discount in both when they came to her to buy it. Even the civilians that were only inside their territory despite the fact that they had to use it in front of her so that the formula wouldn't be leaked. It also had been decided recently that a quarter gram of Spice will be sold for 50 to 70 dollars depending on the amount that she had produced that month.

Business was booming, like never before.

And it was also getting harder to control.

But Taylor had the impression that these were simple birthing pains and after a while of expanding the business, it will settle and fit comfortably in the new space it had created for itself in society.

Killing the Empire's main connection to Gesselchaft solved the international supply issue, at least for a while, until it was inevitably re-established but after that she would have the market already cornered. If she was quick she might even evade any serious repercussion from the german nazi organization. The problem was dealing with whatever comeback the E88 cooked up. Besides Krieg, two of them were already in PRT custody… Maybe next encounter with them should be to disrupt the inevitable jailbreak.

ABB response…

Delayed. And if stirred only Oni Lee would be the one showing up.

Now, the PRT and New Wave… What a delightful complication. What new wrench could she throw at them?

Perhaps… She couldn't be that evil, surely? What sort of reaction would it spark?

But Taylor sighed disappointingly.

Nah, both projects were still in the works. And despite signs of progression, she seemed to have hit some sort of obstacle in trying to improve both of them further. It was not her bloody fault that squishy stuff was only tangentially in her speciality.

She could simply release her drone somewhere public and make it cause a riot. Make it act as a distraction. A distraction for what, though? Another engagement, perhaps? Maybe make it a distraction for the PRT while she dealt with New Wave, or the reverse.

She was taken from her train of thought by the sound of the kettle.

After making a piece of toast to accompany the hot beverage, she settled down to watch the sun rise from the makeshift kitchen table.

After eating the very light breakfast she decided to go for a bit of exercise so went to dress herself properly back in their room.

Ω

You wake up with your head burrowed into a soft pillow with something wet near your cheeks.

With a sudden shock of realization, you bolt straight and try to wipe whatever drool was coming out of your mouth as quickly as possible. After checking if everything else was fine and the drool was clean you take a look around the room.

The morning sun was lighting up the empty room showing the discarded clothes randomly strewn about and the dishevelled bed you were resting on. The room was small, being built among the rafters of the warehouse as an access to the roof, but the large window and the cream colours of the walls made the space more open and welcoming. An inbuilt set of lockers on one side served as a wardrobe and on the right side of the bed was small working desk that was brought from the old apartment that Taylor had rented months ago. A few frames were hanging on two walls of the compartment showing both of their families and a couple of photos taken during these last few months. Predominantly, the most recent one hanged to the right of the door to downstairs showing the entire gang including Urgot who, as Taylor's greatest creation so far, had been forcefully included.

Taking notice of your naked body, you groggily move yourself to get dressed to go downstairs. Picking a random selection of black clothes (a black jeans short shorts and a black top) and putting your feet in a pair of flip-flops, you decide that is good enough and go your merry way.

Going downstairs you notice a presence in the sofa slumbering away. A blonde head of hair peeking out from underneath the blue blanket giving an obvious clue to who it is. Disappointed that Taylor wasn't here to have breakfast with you, you move to make some coffee for yourself.

After assuring yourself that yes, you did put enough sugar in the cup. No, it didn't need more chocolate milk and that yes you could put an extra pinch of barley coffee in this unholy mixture and no there was no need for whiskey in it so early! What do you mean it's always 6PM somewhere? It's dawn here, though!

Huffing despondently at your dissenting thoughts you take regular sips of the imp-made coffee as you prepare some toast. Putting the cup down randomly on the countertop to get the bottle of honey that. Must. Be. Here. Somewhere! HA-HA! You wiggle your way out of the bottom cupboard, victoriously wielding the honey that will soon be put to toast and be tasted by your tastebuds.

As soon as you start putting the honey to the toast, humming a nonsensical song as quietly as possible while you are at it, you almost cut the toast in the middle with the blunt side.

Why? Because of the sight that just entered into your eyeballs.

Walking slowly while on the phone towards, apparently, their room, was Taylor dressed in sports clothes.

You unwittingly had your power unleashed so she wasn't registering your presence letting you enjoy the sight of her wearing skimpy gym clothes.

The beautiful hair put on a bob letting you see her fully exposed neck with a very noticeable hickey. The muscled arms that held you tight just last night. The up-and-coming six-pack partially hidden beneath the massive set of scars on her right side. The devastating shorts that showed muscled legs that went all the way up.

You saw her fully naked already, but by the Gods, that doesn't mean you had enough.

Breaking yourself from your daze, you leash your power back in control and lightly cough as to announce your presence.

Taylor flinched a bit and quickly turned around only for her glare to soften when it settled on you. She wasn't as constantly aware as usual which you hoped meant that she was able to unwind with yesterday's events.

"Good morning, beautiful." You say slyly, cocking your hips slightly. "Come here often?"

Taylor smirked, letting her eyes roam over you up and down.

"Good morning to you too." Then she abruptly stopped her roaming eyes and shot you an amused look. "I didn't think you would be so forward?"

"I mean…" You stutter loudly. "I wans't-! But…?"

"You let the church's door open while going commando."

You stay there a bit trying to decipher her words only for the meaning to hit you suddenly and violently. As quickly as physically possible, while also ignoring the blush enflaming your face, you zip up your short shorts. Trying to calm yourself from your embarrassment you pick up your hellish concoction and take a sip of it like nothing happened.

"Let's pretend I seduced you thanks to my awesome pick-up skills and ignore all that, shall we?"

"Aww. Well, let's not ignore it and we can say it was a calculated preview instead."

You pout.

Taylor approaches you languidly, her eyes iridising the room in eerie light. You get the urge to fidget like you were under watch of a predator higher in the food chain but you refrain from doing so. She's nose to nose to you when she finishes her approach and the need to close the distance wells up inside you as she speaks slowly.

"You know? You should be overjoyed really, because despite how unconventional it was, it certainly worked."

"Cough, cough!"

You both jumped from the sudden sound interrupting the moment.

Looking at the offending source of the sound you can't help but pout at the unamused gaze that was groggily directed at them.

"Can you guys not do this right now, this early?" Lisa interjects in a rough I-just-woke-up-from-a-death-like-sleep type of voice.

Taylor is the first to disengage and move away from you.

"I'm sorry for waking you up, Lisa." She apologizes.

"Yeah, sorry about that." You demure.

Lisa scoffs in a dismissive manner before turning around towards the front of the sofa and resettle the blue blanket on top of her. With a content huffing sound, her breathing quickly stabilized and she was out like a light.

"I want to take a bath…" Taylor suggests in a whisper.

"Hmm, me too." You say suggestively.

"Well, there's only so much hot water we can use…"

"Would be a waste to do use the bathroom twice."

"…"

"…"

"I'll eat this quickly."

"I'll be waiting, then."

Ω

The opportunity to enjoy the rest of Monday went out the window by the cold realization that Aisha still had to go to school. Taylor's online college classes that she enrolled after finishing her G.E.D. in December had also begun so at least she wouldn't be unoccupied enough to get bored.

That was one of the things about being a gang boss: 80% was of the time it was a lot of nothing happening and then the rest was a lot of everything happening all at once.

The decision of enrolling in college classes, despite them just being online, was partially for sentimental reasons. Taylor was the daughter of a college professor who had been a militant feminist and a socialist ex-rioter that managed a Union for almost a decade, so the urge to educate herself and the desire to be better that was instilled in her didn't exactly disappear after faking her suicide and disappearing from society. It wasn't very difficult to create a new identity (plus an entire fake background) and enrol at college. With Tattletale on the team, she was even able to smooth out a few irregularities in her fake I.D. and a few other kinks on her new persona so any problems that could've come up no longer would. For the rest contact lenses, make up, a different hairstyle from her usual and a bad desktop camera took care of masking her identity as extra protection.

When they finally ended their shower and got dressed properly for the rest of the day, Lisa was already up and about blearily sipping coffee with her eyes closed in an expression of dazed satisfaction. Aisha already had her backpack ready since the majority of the stuff for school she kept in her locker, so she simply kissed Taylor goodbye, and needled her finger in between Lisa's ribs on her way out, cackling at the yelp the blond let out.

After 3 hours of the classes that she had scheduled for Monday, Taylor went back to her lab two floors down. After entering the passwords to turn down the usual electronic defences plus two keys for the locks, Taylor dressed in her usual lab garb and proceeded to work through yesterday's batch of crystals that were refined and had left to mature during the necessary 24 hours that were needed to stabilize Spice.

It was Spitfire, dressed in her civilian identity as Mary, that dragged Taylor out of the lab and forced her to dress as a civilian so they could go eat lunch to one of the restaurants inside their territory. The one they went was the closest and was run by a gay zaunite couple who sought protection under their aegis in exchange for providing food to the members who went there. A little deal made by Spitfire so that the homeless and the poorer members could actually eat hot meals after she heard of a mom working in distribution not eating so she could give food to her two sons. Thankfully, Zaun wasn't as ruthless as they could be so if the costs got too much for the couple Spitfire would cover the extra expenses. Also, thankfully, since the thing was run by members Taylor could go there without her costume on even if they had to ask for a private booth in the end.

When the nice plate of pasta was completely eaten, and the ice cream fully appreciated Taylor practically ran back to the lab with an exasperated Mary at her side.

Despite working the next hour on her joint project with Cranial, who complained the entire session away about his new round of orders that were made to Toyshop, filling the lab with his southern accent through her speakers, she ended the early afternoon in a surprisingly good mood.

Of course, her good mood was promptly ruined when she went to move on to her next project and she was startled out of her musings by shouting.

"Boss! Boss? Boss! Ah! There you are! You have to come quick!"

Interrupted so rudely and suddenly her hand spasmed trying to get the gun hidden in her lab coat but at least she managed to calm down before actually withdrawing it and shooting the intruder. Turning around she noticed that it was Jack fretting right by the limit that separated her lab from the rest of her office.

"What is it, Jack?"

"One of our depots is being attacked!"

The phrase was barely out of his mouth and Taylor was already getting her lab coat off and going to her desk to put her costume on. Seeing this Jack turned around but continued speaking unheeded.

"The one by Williamson's Street! We got a few of our rookies inside managing the packaging when the spotter told them that flyers were flying by. They did as protocols state, but it was too late! They were still able to radio in before the attack about the situation, though."

"So, the attackers already knew the depot's location?"

"Seems so."

"Whose turn was to watch the packaging in that depot?"

"Regent's."

"Shit. Were they able to identify the flyers?"

"Nope. But there aren't that many in the Bay to begin with."

"An entire family plus a few more"

"Not that many."

Finally dressed, Duchess's distorted voice resonated through the room as she activated the winged copper drone and put the last of her accessories in. The thing came out of its holding place and had two black wing-like additions in its frame that came out in a I-am-here manner.

"Who is able to come?"

"Grue and Imp are unavailable today. Spitfire is already on her way to give aid as she was put to watch over the depot by South Avenue today. Bitch is also on her way there. Tattletale is already waiting upstairs and Urgot is already leaving the bunker."

"Trainwreck?"

"Too far away. He went to check on the Trainyard for extra stuff."

"Well, we'll make do with who we have."

The run to Williamson's Street was not a quick endeavour as they were land bound but Jack's motorcycle was being to put to good use as Duchess and Tatts broke several transit laws to get there. Thankfully, the drone was able to keep up leaving a small trail of pink clouds whenever it sped up.

Berating herself for not having quicker means of response, Taylor made a mental note to invent something that would allow her and her allies to fly. Maybe something using the propulsors from her drone? Anyway, that should take priority from then on.

A street over from their objective she let Tattletale off the bike so she could hide and observe the attack from afar.

Duchess left the bike as well and started running to the depot while the drone followed her.

She couldn't keep in the groan that escaped her as she saw one of the people who were attacking the depot.

"Fucking Barbie…"

Nevertheless, she didn't hesitate in joining the fray.

Making sure that nobody was around her to watch or attack her she proceeded to pick something from her pocket. The following motion was to stab herself in the leg. The needle of the syringe went deep into her right leg and as she felt the coolness of the Shimmer spread through her veins. Not willing to discard the syringe in a public setting she put it back inside her pocket and prepared herself for the fight.

Almost crouching she breathed in deeply and then she jumped. She cleared the height of the small building but barely, having to vault over the protective railing that surrounded the roof of the building.

Spotting a tall man in a costume she took out her gun and started shooting at the closest target. Before the bullets could connect, the small pipsqueak flying on top of said target reacted faster and raised a bubbly shield around Manpower who despite seeming surprised to be interrupted mid-monologue didn't flinch at the bullets hitting the shield. He immediately reacted, however, running at her far quicker she thought possible for a middle age man. There is a saying about old people in a profession where most die young.

She barely had time to raise her cane sword with her left hand and dodge to his right. With a sweeping gesture her sword grazed the right side of his stomach, but not actually hurting him, so instead she moved to his back and used his momentum against him. With a spartan kick she threw him off the roof.

Not waiting to see if he landed okay, Duchess turned around and continued on her way.

Glory Girl was the first to arrive in her line of sight and Duchess decided to make quick work of her. Activating the Shimmer aspect of her blade, she sent two purple blasts of cutting energy at her while shooting twice at the same time. The blonde superhero dodged the first blast and, with a closed fist, dismissed the second but either didn't care or didn't notice the pot-shots Duchess made after sending the blasts and her shield got hit with a bullet but the second one penetrated her shield and hit her left arm. The quick succession of attacks had fully realized their objective.

With a cry of pain, Glory Girl fell from the sky to the roof clutching at her arm.

"No, Victoria! YOU!"

Being suddenly grabbed by the throat by a very enraged mother was not a very nice experience but Duchess was nothing if not unyielding. Through a painful rasp, she decided to channel her bitchy side and comment on the situation.

"Harder mommy."

With a flinch of utter disgust Brandish was distracted from the fact Duchess was still armed and dangerous. With a sudden gun to the face and a sword through her gut she let the villain go as she screamed in pain and landed on the roof just like her daughter. Duchess could've simply speared her through with her sword, but she knew Brandish had the ability of making herself invulnerable at the cost of mobility and being choked while locked in place by both her hand and her shield was not a good prospect for the villain. Shocking people and throwing them off was always the best option when faced with situations like that.

As soon as Duchess's feet touched the roof of the building she pounced to the next target in her way.

She had yet to know of Regent's location and she hoped to reach the depot that was located in the building directly opposite to the one she was on top of so she could regroup and help her allies.

Unfortunately, before she could reach the end of the roof she was hit on her side by a laser blast which sent her into the tiled roof of the neighbouring building.

Momentarily almost blacking out by the blast, only the Shimmer running through her made her capable of not becoming paraplegic by the hit.

Shit, she thought dizzily, the entirety of New Wave… maybe it wasn't a good idea just to jump into the fray.

She coughed once. Drops of colourful blood hitting her costume.

Where's the drone?, she tried to think.

Through her daze she heard a young-ish voice coming from above.

"Surrender now or else!"

Duchess scoffed.

"I choose the third option." She gasped while righting herself up.

In front of her stood a girl a bit older than her wearing a multi-coloured bodysuit with a comet motif. Her blond hair was styled in a coquettish sweep to the right side of her face and had a red hairband holding the look in place.

"And what's that?" Laserdream asked pointedly.

"I get pay back."

With a sudden thud of metal hitting flesh, the copper drone rocketed into the girl's right side launching her into the street below.

With a quick motion of her now empty right hand the drone took its orders and quickly settled in her arm. With the copper of its underside opening a space for her she deftly positioned herself like she was using a shotgun and aimed at the battlefield.

The two streets and the buildings between were now a fully fledged battlefield. Urgot had arrived at some point and was managing Manpower as both brutes carved the street apart. Glory Girl was now at her mom's side who was picked up from the roof and moved away with great speed. Lady Photon was attacking the depot while Shielder protected her from the guns aiming at her from inside that building. Flashbang was nowhere to be seen which worried Duchess.

Taking but a single moment of thought she aimed the drone weapon at Lady Photon and fired it. She was hoping of granting her people inside a bit of relieve from the woman's attack. Shielder, surprisingly, flailed in his suspended flight taking away his concentration but unfortunately, he didn't drop the shield he was holding in place. Nevertheless, every second counted in battle, so he didn't notice the sudden rocket hitting his mother in the back. The sudden violent explosion made them both fall to the street below hitting the pavement rather hard.

After the explosion went off, her attention was taken by a blond wearing a mocking mask coming to the window of the depot and yelling at her.

"The earpieces! Wear them you daft bint!"

"Oh…" She softly let out. "Right…" She felt immensely embarrassed that in her rush to fight she forgot to put on the earpiece that would connect her to Tatts.

Feeling for her inner pocket she went for the tiny object and placed it in her ear. Almost immediately she was bombarded with sound.

"-INKING?! DUCHESS?"

"Yes?" She answered sheepishly.

"What the hell?" Lisa asked both angry and worried.

"I-"

Before she could fully answer, her attention was taken again this time by two other things at the same time. One was Laserdream who disengaged from momentarily helping Manpower with Urgot, both seeming to be having trouble with the other, and coming to her for a second round after seeing her mom and brother blown up. The second thing was Glory Girl who returned to the battlefield after briefly leaving with her mom, probably to wherever Panacea was hiding. The blonde barbie was going straight for her in a mad rush.

"Fuck you!" Laserdream yelled as she also flew like a maniac straight to Duchess while having a large amount of light charging in her fist.

"No, thank you. How about you go fuck with somebody else?" With a click and a mechanical whoosh her drone detached from her arm and immediately readied itself to release what had become the best formula of Shimmer she had made so far for proactive combat: the Berserk Formula.

Proudly releasing its black wings, the drone let out a large cloud of a pinkish red gas that was so concentrated that it rained beneath the cloud and quickly enveloped the battlefield. As they were flying too quickly to just stop both girls tried to diverge their path, despite the fact they wouldn't suffer from the laws of physics since their powers would protect them from it. Despite their new flight route they still got gassed by the Shimmer and the effects showed immediately because their paths changed again this time to each other. Manpower was also hit by the cloud while Shielder and Photon Mom were already incapacitated on the street to her right.

Urgot was backing away as quickly as possible because despite being able to be inside the cloud unaffected, he didn't want to continue being Manpower's target.

This worked because the hero turned around to the direction of his daughter and niece. Both girls were locked in a rather intense fist fight with Glory Girl almost knocking the other girl out if not for Laserdream's quicker reflexes. Laserdream seemed to quickly get fed up with her cousin and sent a giant bright blast of laser straight in her face knocking Glory Girl out. Laserdream turned around and flew down to her father trying to pummel him into the ground. But Manpower was stronger and after a damaging punch straight to her belly he proceeded to fully tackle his daughter and in a surprising move suplex-ed her into the road. Seeing her fully unconscious Manpower changed targets.

Thankfully not to Duchess but to the quickly approaching and fully armed and fully pissed-off Brandish.

"Neil! What the hell are you doing?"

Manpower ignored her and went to a sewer grate on the road. With prodigious strength he ripped it from the gound and threw it like a frisbee at Brandish. Brandish met it with a hardlight shield that made no sound meeting the metal frisbee that was thrown like a cannonball. Unfortunately for Brandish while the gas had already dissipated, the Shimmer coating the ground still left visible plumes of pink smoke so she couldn't drop to the ground or maneuver into certain areas all while trying to deal with a berserk Manpower that seemed to spark static shock all around him. All this made her attention fully occupied and she was unable to help her family who was unconcious all around the battlefield.

Fortunately for Duchess however the drone's usage of the gas allowed Regent and her people enough time to leave the building with everything essential that they had there except the drugs. Lisa's voice was narrating what Regent needed to do for those: drop the goods inside waterproof bags down the sewer grate which the water would bring to where the sewer met the sea and then close the grate and then evacuate the building and fucking scatter.

Duchess tasted iron and honey in her mouth.

Trying not to cough she attempted to swallow what was in her mouth despite knowing drinking blood brought several health problems of the intestinal kind but she didn't want to cough up more DNA in the middle of a cape fight. She was already turning around to see where she landed when she was hit by Laserdream's blast to see if anything was there. But nope, what she coughed out she had done so on her costume.

Duchess tasted her own blood again.

Duchess ignored the pain in her side and jumped down from the building but not before taking one last look to the heroes who were busy fighting each other.

This… what a fucking disaster.

She added another mental note: make countermeasures for flyers.

Hitting the road with a roll she moved quickly to where she left Tatts and the motorbike.

As soon as she rounded a corner to an alley she found Tattletale looking very not amused. Ignoring her for now she mounted the bike with Tatts siting behind her.

Getting back to base took a bit of work. They had to enter an abandoned garage and chang to their civies and then go by foot to the depot that wasn't hit and then move on to the Last Drop. All this while Lisa gave Taylor the silent treatment.

When they finally arrived, Lisa went straight to Taylor's office and sat down on one of the sofas.

"You're mad."

"A bit yes." Said Lisa with a nod.

Before they could converse further, Regent entered the office with a lazy gait and immediately dropped onto the biggest sofa, belly down, seemingly utterly spent.

"The rookies already went to get the goods that we sent by the sewer."

"Thank you, Alec."

"Hmhm, better get hazard pay for this."

"Do you take Aleph exclusive videogames?"

"Yes. Yes I do."

A moment of silent later and the only noise in the room is Alec's soft snores as he naps.

"When Aisha gets here we are gonna have a talk about your newfound recklessness."

"… I am already dreading it."

Notes:

I AM ALIVE!

There you have it: the plot moves forward!

And what the f*ck is New Wave doing being so proactive out of nowhere?

Just to really tell you guys that the 3rd person POV was still with Taylor's perspective in mind so not all the info of what actually happened is there.

The reason this past month I was silent is beacause I got infected by COVID and then when I finally recuperated I got shit thrown at me that kept me pretty busy.

Life really threw me a fucking boomerang, as in: it quickly got out of hand, swifly left my line of sight and then hit me in the back of the head out of nowhere.

All comments are welcome!

Please do leave a kudos and remember to subscribe to be aware whenever a chapter comes out!

Love ya'll 3

Chapter 20: Sidestory: Licking your wounds

Summary:

A curious development...

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Amy looked up from her phone as she popped the bubble-gum she was chewing. The minty taste masquerading the taste of the cigarettes she smoked before going outside with the rest of her family in costume.

Mark was standing near her as Flashbang, somewhat more alert than his usual self, and looking in the direction of where the rest of the family went to survey the area that Carol's informant had told her was located one of the drug depot of the new gang of the Bay.

She mused on how rare it was to see her father in costume nowadays. Aunt Sarah and Carol had practically hanged the spandex a long time ago in favour of a more civilian type of life, focusing on their day jobs instead of heroics. Mark had stopped even before that, falling into a depressive state that he had yet to pull himself from. Some days he wasn't even there mentally when he forgot to take the prescribed medication. Crystal was dedicating herself fully to college while Eric was still being a bit too young for the family to let him patrol without an escort forcing him to wait for an adult to unstick themselves from the daily routine to go with him, which was usually Neil who had an open working schedule for most of his month. But besides those times Neil didn't get out that much either. New Wave had been running half-steam for almost half a decade, and only half of the younger generation of New Wave kept going out caping with enough regularity to actually call the outings patrols.

Only her Victoria was still patrolling with the same enthusiasm that she usually has for everything cape related, and damn if Amy didn't know that what with the last four midnight calls to heal someone who Glory Girl was bit too rough with.

Of course, then there was her but what she did was hardly a hero patrol and more like a glorified videogame medkit being passed around the Carol-approved hospitals in the Bay.

It had been something like 10 minutes since the group had left her, with Flashbang as her bodyguard, on the roof of a random building near the target when she finally got a hint of what was happening.

The growing spot on her line of sight revealed two people flying towards them. One being held up by the other…

Ah shit.

It was quickly shown that it was Glory Girl mostly holding Brandish up while both tried to fly together towards them.

"Amy." Said Mark in a warning tone of voice.

"Yeah, I see them." She replied, trying not to show her worry.

As soon as they got near the roof, the pair descended from the skies and fell to the floor as soon as their feet touched ground.

"Injuries?" Amy asked already moving towards Vicky to start fixing her.

"I got shot on the shoulder." Glory Girl, winced as she spoke. "I think it went through. Mom got a sword through the stomach."

"Amy, take care of Vicky first." Rasped Carol, now lying down on the roof, one hand on her husband's knee and the other on top of Mark's, who was putting pressure on the wound.

"Yeah, let me see." Amy immediately put a hand on top of Vicky's outstretched palm and took the protective glove off to get to the skin below. As soon as she got skin contact, she started diagnosing and fixing the problem. Bullet wounds were shit to deal with, especially when they hit bone and break it to tiny little pieces or worse when the bullets themselves are fragmentary rounds. It's either a low velocity or medium velocity gunshot wound. It hit the bone, shit. But it didn't break it, only grazed by but there's still a big fracture on the wound that she needs to patch. Let's see, speed up the production of blood, deal with any possible infections in the meantime, start patching the cracks in the bone, healing ruptured blood vessels, healing the muscle, skin layers…

"Ok, I'm done. There's a bit of food on the bag over there, eat it, you'll need it."

"Sure, thanks Ames." Her Vicky said, although she gave no indication of actually going there and instead started to fly upwards. "I'm going back."

"Not yet." Mark said in a surprising show of seriousness.

"But-"

"Not. Yet. Eat the energy bar and wait for your mother."

"Your turn." Amy told Carol, trying to keep herself from telling Vicky just to stay put instead of throwing herself to danger.

Putting her hand directly on the wound, Amy started to diagnose Carol's injuries. A clean cut through the belly, rupturing the small intestines, cleaving through several lower back muscles while sufficiently away from the spine to not be too onerous a task to heal but a bit too near the pelvic girdle to be comfortable. Some sort of substance coated her wound… Something her power seemed rather keen on exploring. She saw no harm in it for she was curious as well of the liquid coating Carol's wound and spreading through her insides. A quick tinge of her power removed the vast majority of it and cleansing the veins through which it was spreading. But a small, miniscule really, part she refrained from annihilating for her to study.

She felt her own eyes widen from the sight before her, her bubble-gum utterly forgotten in between chewing.

The liquids chemical formula was astounding. The sheer potential versatility in its applications was almost too many to count. What was left of the formula was swiftly eating away Carol's flesh and it would've spread slowly like an acidic poison, using the body's circulatory system to spread its corruption. This version, in itself, was amazing in a terrifying away. But with a simple alteration of the current compound to change it to a healing drug, both as an agent in accelerating the body's natural repairing process and as a nutritional fuel for the body to use. The process could be reverted and-

She was broken out of her train of thought by Vicky who, in her impatience, ate the energy bar like a ravenous puppy and was already starting to fly away.

Amy quickly finished healing Carol, destroying the chemical, but now only paying half an ear to her surroundings.

What in the world? She thought, nevertheless memorizing the chemical formula with her power.

She could ponder it later, she decided, as she saw Brandish trying to catch up to Glory Girl, high in the sky.

Notes:

I spent the this week going through something akin to caffeine withdrawl, I think. I have a very busy next month and I have been preparing for it and suddenly I ran out of coffee... all my tiredness came rushing in at the same time.

Today I had a cup of coffee and milk and my creativity came back and in an afternoon I wrote two things I'll post. This and another chapter.

Love you all!

All comments are welcomed! Pls remember to kudos this fic if you liked it and subscribe to be aware of new updates!

Chapter 21: A Night to Celebrate

Summary:

How Spitfire met Duchess.

Notes:

CONTENT WARNING: Disturbing connotations relating to Spitfire's Trigger Event that I imply in this chapter.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"Look you don't need to drink. Just be with us! You can dance and party for a while with just us! C'mon! You'll be safe."

Emily wasn't so sure of that.

Not since that night did, she feel entirely safe out at night.

As they went up the Boardwalk towards its end, Emily tried to relax and get into the teenage mindset that her peers were currently sporting but no matter what she tried she just couldn't get in the mood. The taste of cooking oil and sugar wasn't leaving her mouth and Emily had to keep twisting her tongue, swallowing and spiting so the vile taste wouldn't further intensify and the substance accumulate in her mouth.

In truth, getting out drinking was something she thought she might need to. So she could not think about her life for a few hours.

However, on top of her current discomfort, she wasn't exactly the outgoing type and she always ended up anxious around new people and couldn't really just go to people and start socialising. She always preferred books and the TV and videogames, even as a child, although that last one was a bit of guilty pleasure that she kept secret since it didn't exactly fit with the type of image her parents and acquaintances had of her.

But, ultimately, what this all actually meant for this precise moment was that she found a relaxing night out not relaxing at all. She had a social battery and it needed to recharge in between outings and she already spent the entire charge with today's classes which involved a terrifying amount of group assignments.

Therefore, going home, procrastinate and trying to figure out the direction her life was heading was what she originally had scheduled for a Saturday night.

But life isn't fair. Her best friend's sister had entered in college on another state and today would probably be the last time that they would be together again until, at least, December. Because of that she was invited and couldn't really, in good consciousness, deny the invitation. So, she did what she usually did when faced with social obligations that she disliked: she prepared to go nonetheless… but just because she was going it didn't mean she was going quietly! She will complain the whole freaking way! Believe it!

But first she got a small unobtrusive and quite handy shoulder bag where she put water bottles for everyone, a small assortment of candies and two bags of snacks either for the road or to quell whatever drunk craving they would end up having during the party.

"Here! This is the new place that opened up!"

Emily looks carefully at the renovated warehouse. The big green and yellow sign displaying a large beer tankard being emptied and the words The Last Drop emblazoned in a circle around it. She doesn't even have the time to voice her judgement of the club before slender manicured hands grab her wrists and start pushing her cheerfully towards the line of people waiting to go inside.

After 10 minutes of waiting, they were finally at the beginning of the line. The checking of ID's was a quick event though and they were given a card to keep their expenses on track. They were warned that there was a minimum of 7 bucks to spend inside and, after leaving their jackets and large bags at the vestiary, located in the hallway entrance, they finally entered the club properly.

The misty air, filled with a honeyed scent, gave a dark quality to the environment despite the strobing colourful lights that showed how large the warehouse was. The music was also a dark electro style with a strong ominous baseline whose soundwaves pressured her ribcage and tighten her heart. The environment was brooding, certainly, but also seemingly cheerful. Of the people inside some were clustered around the bar drinking to their hearts content and others that were dancing were carefree and wild in their disposition. Loud sounds of people enjoying their time could still be heard above the music, although barely.

The entire ambience was a study in contrasts. It occurred to Emily the thought that it mostly displayed the difference between sadly saying that oh…, nothing matters and cheerfully saying fuck yes, nothing matters.

The warehouse was large enough to be divided into sections on the ground floor and have more floors.

She dismissed a further study into her surroundings, however, when her best friend grabbed her hand and started leading her towards the bar. She concentrated, instead, on not bumping into anyone while she and her friend travelled to their destination.

When they arrived, Jane was quick to call a bartender and order.

"4 shots of tequila, please."

"Salt and lemons, as well?"

"Yes, please."

One of their companions interjected then to ask the price of a rum and coke, so Emily went back to look at her surroundings.

To her regret she immediately locked eyes with the last person she wanted to see right then.

"Emily! What a sight for sore eyes. You don't call, you don't write. A shame, really. But hey, I am sure you've been too busy to little old me. How are you?"

In all of its unfortunate loud glory, there stood her ex, the jackass, Andrew. His muscled tattooed form stood tall among the throng of people. She felt the taste in her mouth increase and the notion of burning the fucker to cinders was in the tip of her tongue but, before she could do just that, Jane put herself in front of her and a waved a finger at him.

"The fact she didn't call or write probably should have given you a hint that she wants nothing to do with little old you!"

Andrew frowned angrily.

"I wasn't talking with you."

"Yeah, well. She definitely won't talk with you if I have a say on the matter."

"Look Jane." Andrew says in a condescending tone of voice. "I don't know what she has been saying to you, but I wasn't the one who ran away after a single bump on the road in our relationship."

Jane immediately let out an incredulous sound.

"A bump! You call what you did to her a bump on the road?! You are lucky she didn't bite yo-"

"I know what I said! It's not my fault she decided to act like a victim afterwards!"

"You were the one who made her a victim! Can't your thick head understand that no means No?"

Emily had to forcefully swallow the contents in her mouth that came forwards unbidden brought from the memories that were pouring from the back of her mind. Instead of spitting the content like every muscle in her body and neuron in her brain wanted to do she forced the fiery liquid down; the taste so different than the one from what that night had left in her mouth but oh so similar in her need to spit it out.

When she regained awareness of her surroundings, Andrew looked like he was one step away from manhandling Jane and Emily was slowly losing her composure to hold back when suddenly-

"My apologies but what is happening here?"

-a leaden voice cut down the conversion.

The girl that appeared was stocky but lean with long flowing black hair framing her figure. Her mouth was wide and her lips plump, that combined with the rest of her facial features, gave her a slightly disproportionate visage that was common to someone who was still growing into their looks. She had her thick eyebrows set on a disapproving frown and her eyes… her eyes were strange… If Emily had to guess she was wearing coloured contact lenses, by the way the light was reflected from her eyes, so she had no clue of their true colour. She looked between them and repeated herself:

"I apologize for interrupting, but I ask you to stop or resolve this outside. You are upsetting the rest of the customers."

That was true it seemed, as Emily suddenly got conscious of her surroundings. Her other companions were behind them holding their forgotten shot glasses with wary looks and the rest of the people around them looked both wary and interested but had given the scene a wide berth.

The girl looked at Emily and she couldn't stop the sudden urge to fidget under the girl's stare.

"Look, this isn't any of your business, girl. Besides, we were only having a talk. No harm in it."

The girl simply raised an eyebrow at Andrew's blasé response.

"Really?" The girl snapped her fingers twice and suddenly three burley men showed up from behind the crowd and surrounded them. They were wearing all black, looked even more muscled than Andrew and their t-shirts said Security in big white blocky letters. "Then you wouldn't mind continuing the conversation with these helpful men. They are quite the gossipers, I assure you, they won't mind talking with you outside." She casted her stare from Andrew, to Jane, then to Emily, to the rest of her companions and finally back to Andrew. "Unless the conversation is over?"

Andrew knew when he was on the backfoot and, with a last sneer at Emily, left with quick strides.

"Everything alright?"

The voice previously heavy with authority was now soft and Emily turned her head to see the girl who just saved her from spending the rest of her days in prison for murder.

"The name's Sera. I am a manager here and well, you seemed rather distressed, so I decided to come and see what was happening."

"Thanks… My name's Emily." She quickly cleaned the few tears of frustration that managed to escape her eyes. Then she turned to her best friend. "And she's Jane. Thank you, for coming to our rescue."

The gi- Sera smiled softly.

"Come, I'll get you a free drink, on the house, for the trouble. And, if you want to, you can tell me what exactly was happening here."

Notes:

Here it is!

And also, yes, if you got the implications, Spifire's Trigger is disgusting and was inspired by a PJO fic I read on that disturbed me a bit and I stopped reading... I completely forgot to continue reading it. Anyway, I ended up thinking of it while writing and that her power, in the horrifying ironic way powers exist, could be formed from such a traumatic event.

Edit: The fic in question is The Unrelenting Frozen Seas Series by Engineer4Ever and its a HP/PJO crossover with a Fem!Harry and, despite everything, I still recommend it; just be prepared for mature themes.

Please do comment and tell me what you think of the fanfic so far! I am having doubts over my writting and I welcome some constructive criticism.

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