Disclaimer: the usual.
Here it is, Chapter 12.
Taylor waited for the convoy containing Hookwolf near the PRT HQ. She had no illusions about her ability to keep up with the convoy, but the drivers would know their route. She reasoned that; therefore, she could glean the route from the driver and use that to stay roughly abreast of the column. In theory. In practice she suspected that she would get left behind and arrive late to any breakout attempt, but better late than never. For a moment she was glad for the fog: although she had returned to using her notice-me-not field - something she now realised was extremely close to the ability that Corvus Corax had possessed and called his 'wraith-slip', albeit not quite the same- that psyker ability would not hide her from cameras. That was where the fog and her position, flat on a rooftop, came in. She lay still, resting her head on her arms and letting her thoughts drift mindlessly until she heard the noise of engines and roused herself.
'Two cars? You think one is a decoy?'
"Potentially."
Taylor stretched out her powers, feather light, brushing over the minds of the people below. Two armoured cars, each with two others as escort. The escorts contained several PRT troopers and a Hero, the armoured cars each holding a driver and a second PRT trooper along with their contents. One car contained Oni Lee. The other held Hookwolf…and the convicted Parahuman Canary.
'Why would Canary be here? She wasn't convicted here; I had no idea she would be involved.' Taylor thought. She frowned even as she brushed the mind of the drivers and pulled their intended routes- and backup routes- from them.
"If their path leads them through Brockton Bay, perhaps it is merely coincidence."
'I suppose. Just makes it more important that the Empire doesn't free them. The last thing we want is Nazis with a brainwasher on tap.'
Taylor shuffled backwards and rose to her feet, moving away from the PRT HQ and towards the alley. She made it in a single leap from the rooftop, slowing herself with a simple application of telekinetic levitation and glorying in the feel of her powers, returned once more. She would still have to be careful, of course; the quartz she had been forced to use as a base for the Psychic Dampener wasn't nearly as good a material as she would have liked and would be far too easy to shatter, simply by forcing too much power through it. But so long as she was careful, there would be no danger.
The decision to follow the route that would be taken by Hookwolf and Canary was an easy one. While Taylor suspected that Lung would have by now realised that the shards of glass embedded in his flesh were the reason for his weakness and had someone dig them out, he still hadn't made a return to public. That, she reasoned, meant that he was still weakened. And besides, even if Oni Lee was freed the change in overall power in the Bay would be minimal. If Hookwolf was returned to the Empire and Canary recruited then the Empire, already the strongest organisation in Brockton, would become even stronger. It wouldn't take much for a snowball effect to begin and by the time the greater Protectorate got their collective rears in gear the city could be an entirely Empire stronghold. Taylor mentally mapped out the Protectorate route, trying to guess where an ambush would be likely to occur. Best to stage it at a place where the cars would struggle to go forwards or back, she reasoned, which meant that she needed to identify such chokepoints.
"The PRT and the Empire will know that that is the case, though." The Emperor commented. Taylor paused, chewing at her lip. That was true.
'How would you attack the convoy?'
A thoughtful hum.
"Perhaps…somewhere more open, where the PRT feel safe. It would have to be carefully done, because the Empire is obsessed with PR to a point that even the PRT might be envious-"
'Makes me wonder how they manage it. How do people not see what they are?'
"For all their faults, they do provide protection to those who pay, and they at least attempt to keep civilian casualties low. In a city without the Merchants or the ABB it probably wouldn't work, but in a city where the two other gangs were, somewhat infamously, led by an Asian and a black man? People frighten easily."
Taylor grunted in sour agreement before the Emperor resumed his planning.
"Were I intending to break out the prisoners, I would do it in two stages. I would perform an attack at an area that is supposedly open, but also close to the poorer sections of the city. This attack, however, would be a diversion, planned to draw off at least some of the escort. I would then have others waiting further along: if the prisoner transport fled it would be vulnerable. If it did not then I could use those reserves as a spear, driving through the fighting as a unified group to reach, free and escort the prisoners. It would have to be fast, but done correctly we could free the prisoner and then retreat into the poorer sections, with the PRT and Protectorate forced to make the choice of pursuing my forces into our own ground and possibly causing a great deal of collateral damage or accepting defeat and retreating."
Taylor thought it over before nodding.
'Alright, makes sense to me. There're a couple of places that seem pretty good for a plan like that, we'll cut through to the nearest one and hope we're close enough when it all hit the fan.'
Not her favourite plan, but it should do. It wasn't like she had many other options, short of maybe trying to cloak herself and hitch a ride on the actual convoy. But there was no way that she was going to trust that the convoy wouldn't have cameras that could spot her.
She moved quickly through the city towards the first point that she had identified as a likely ambush point, trying to stay somewhat abreast of the convoy, though she would admit that that was a doomed attempt. She had reined in her powers, keeping as much as she could in reserve, but now she paused long enough to scale a building and stretch her thoughts out around her. She closed her eyes, concentrated her powers, found the convoy. It was moving at a fair clip, she estimated, probably due to the roads being empty so early. She gently brushed the minds of the Heroes and PRT troopers, assuring herself that there was little concern before she turned her attention to sweeping the area. There was a surprising number of people nearby, most of them asleep and dreaming. Taylor caught the faintest echoes of their dreams and their thoughts as she brushed past their minds, smiling faintly as she caught the whisper of a child's pleasant dream. She hoped that it wouldn't be disturbed, although-
"Taylor."
'I hear it.' She responded, heartbeat quickening and straightening from her crouch as she felt a familiar mind. Stormtiger, close ahead. Taylor was already moving towards the roof when she heard the crashing smash of metal on metal and asphalt and she abandoned her plan to climb down the building, instead leaping off the side and catching herself with her powers before she sprinted in the direction of the noise, using Stormtiger's mind as a reference point. She slid to a halt before she crashed into the action, taking a moment to survey the scene and formulate a plan of action.
Three armoured cars were trapped in the crossroad. The way ahead had been blocked by a car and one of the armoured cars, tipped onto its side, while the way back was closed off by several skips. Rune, Taylor thought. The truck actually being escorted was pinned against the lead truck, and the last PRT vehicle was slewed across the road, tyres burst and immobile. Taylor could just about see the PRT trooper squads, pinned behind the fallen lead car and scattered behind several other cars respectively. The second squad also contained Miss Militia, Taylor could recognise the uniform, distinct against the matt black of the PRT troopers. The other Hero, dragging himself free of the first truck, was a large man in white and gold- Triumph, maybe? The Empire Capes, on the other hand, were present in numbers. Rune floated above the field, shielding herself with a large chunk of torn up asphalt as smaller pieces of debris tore themselves from the ground and flung themselves, one by one, at Miss Militia. Cricket and Stormtiger were on the ground together, moving towards the truck that contained Hookwolf, while the presence of mass numbers of ghostly, armoured figures carrying spears gave away the presence of Crusader. Just behind Rune there was a figure in stark white and, stretching out her powers, Taylor could feel two more minds. One wasn't familiar but one was: Kaiser. The back-up team in case it all went wrong, she presumed.
"Those aren't the only ones watching and waiting."
Taylor tilted her head down, raising an eyebrow as she caught sight of a familiar set of costumes. Tattletale, Grue and Regent were all hiding in the alleyway beneath her, crouched behind a dumpster and clearly scoping out the situation. Taylor frowned slightly.
'Guess they aren't here to help the PRT.'
"Freeing Canary would be a considerable boost to the strength of their team, and her powers synergise well with a group mainly focused upon fleeing rather than fighting."
Taylor hated conundrums. Really, she knew, she should take down the Undersiders. In theory, her duty to the law meant that she should oppose them freeing Canary. And yet- and yet, as far as she was concerned Canary had been hard done by. More than hard done by. The Emperor made no remark, leaving her to sort it through on her own, but she knew she didn't have time.
'They can have their chance. If it works, it works. If they fail, then they fail.' She eventually compromised. She didn't wait any longer, striding towards the edge of the building, picking up speed with every stride. Her eyes locked onto Rune as she hit a sprint, feeling power well up inside her as she ran before she leapt from the edge of the roof, boosting herself and carrying herself through the air.
She caught Rune completely off guard, her right hand coiling into a fist and driving into the telekinetic's kidney with shattering force. Rune arched, breath exploding from her at the sudden pain before Taylor slid behind her, staff coming up until it closed across Rune's throat and she could grip it in both hands, pressing it and dragging Rune against her, cutting off air before a psychic touch rendered Rune unconscious. Taylor rode the platform of road that Rune had been stood on down, keeping Rune against her with her staff arm while the other shifted, flexed, taking hold of the shield piece in a psychic grip and slamming it into Alabaster before he even knew she was there. No throwing for her: a simple matter of directing it and smashing it down upon him. A giant newspaper for a large and annoying fly.
Taylor slipped her arm away from Rune, grabbing the Empire Cape by the collar of her cloak and jumping free before the platform hit the ground. She landed with a whisper of power that blew the dust away from her and let Rune's body collapse to the ground.
A smile came unbidden to her lips as the combatants stared.
"Well hi there, everyone. I hope I haven't missed out on all the fun."
A momentary pause before Taylor threw Rune away and spun on her heel, hearing Miss Militia shout even as she turned.
"Circaetus behind you!"
Alabaster was just as fast as she remembered, knife in each hand and an insane grin on his face as he plunged towards her. Taylor shifted, planted her feet, blocked his left hand knife with her forearm and let his right hand thrust scrape uselessly off her armour before ramming the butt of her staff into his face. He fell back with a screech of pain and she followed him, staff snapping down and across his face. Right to left, cracking across his jaw and staggering him. Left to right, across his temple, right before she drove a boot into his knee. Something gave with a popping crack and Alabaster yelped.
Taylor planted her hand against his chest and dumped a telekinetic burst into him., She heard ribs crack and shatter, flesh pulverise as Alabaster flew, his scream choking with blood. It would keep him down but-
Phantom pains of blades in her back, a vision and Taylor whirled, staff slipping into both hands and used like a quarterstaff to fend of the swirling assault that Cricket unleashed upon her, twin kama slicing and spinning in the air, cutting through the quickly shredding mist. Block, block, block, steel on wood, Cricket spinning and dancing as Taylor stayed grounded, waiting for a chance to counterattack or even bring her powers to bear. Cricket wasn't Alabaster. The sort of psychic smite she had used against him was meaningless to the regenerator, but it would kill Cricket in an instant.
Part of her was tempted anyway, but she kept that voice quiet for the moment.
Cricket spun, kicked out, boot snapping towards Taylors knee. Taylor shifted, caught it on her greave, the kama locked around her staff and held it still just long enough, Cricket pulling herself closer. Taylor realised what she was about to do, let go of the staff-
Cricket's cry sent a wave of nausea roiling through her, eyes ringing, ears bubbling. Suddenly unfocused, Taylor let go of her staff and lurched back, hands moving towards her ears. Through blurred eyes she saw Cricket throw away her staff and come in again, kama angling and plunging towards her throat, aiming to hook the slender blades into the gap between her helmet and breastplate. Taylor brought her hands up, somehow catching Cricket's right hand in her left and forcing the left kama off course with her right. Despite her disorientation, Taylor managed a grin.
"Don't quite now, Cricket, this fight's about to get even more electrifying!"
Invisible skeins of power ran down her arms, feeding into her gauntlets, picking up on the electricity already in there and amplifying it. Taylor's grin turned vicious as the power did exactly what it was supposed to do: convert the energy in her gauntlets into something more malleable.
A corona of purplish, Warp tainted lightning burst from the gauntlets, leaping between her armour and Crickets flesh. Cricket jerked and twisted, throwing herself back in a jerky, spasming jump as Taylor pushed through the lingering effects of the sonic scream and lunged forwards. A hand thrown out, her staff slamming into her fingers before she swung with swift precision, reinforced wood cracking into Cricket's cage-helmet and sending her stumbling. Taylor let her smile stay as she took careful aim with her staff, deciding that it would be best to make sure to bring down Cricket before moving on. She didn't want to kill Cricket, but a broken leg should slow the Nazi Cape down just plenty.
She had only taken a single step before the cracking barks of gunfire started up behind her. Taylor swore, pulling a shield around her and shooting a glance towards her assailant. Alabaster was shooting with both hands, with frightening accuracy, and a horde of shadow figures were sweeping behind him.
'Shit' Taylor thought, already realising that she wasn't going to be able to fight all of those. Maybe it was time to regroup with the PRT, she concluded as Cricket regained her feet and started back towards her. Taylor took off towards Cricket at a dead sprint, hearing and feeling bullets slam into the ground around her and the telekinetic shield she had erected at her back. As she got near to Cricket she pushed her power through her gauntlets again, lowering the energy cost of producing lightning by using the electricity that already thrummed in them and brandished a crackling whip of electrical power, snapping it towards Cricket. Cricket flinched, almost despite herself, and Taylor seized her chance. She lunged, her staff catching Cricket in the stomach before snapping up to take her under the chin. Taylor snatched a kama from Cricket, turning and smashing her elbow into the smaller woman even as she hurled the kama, spinning end over end, at Alabaster. Distraction done she caught Cricket with another blow to the ribs, the stun end of her staff still not getting through the capes costume but the force enough to wind her and ran. She made it to the PRT truck but her instinct warned, briefest flash of a vision caused her to turn even as she moved to boost herself over the truck with a psyker assisted leap.
The claws of wind came ravening towards her, aerokinetic talons shrieking as they carved through the air with enough force to tear through her armour and render flesh a welter of shredded flesh and torn sinew. Taylor did the only thing she could: she twisted in mid-air to face the oncoming attack, gripped her staff in both hands and focused her power into a shield in front of her.
The attack hit her shield with a grating, screeching squeal, nails on a chalkboard amplified to an unbearable degree before Stormtiger's attack lost coherency, far smaller blades of air whipping out to either side. Taylor was not unharmed, however; without an anchor point the impact was enough to hurl her over the PRT truck and send her crashing to the ground, cursing as she landed hard on her side. That would leave a bruise, she sourly reflected, even as Miss Militia darted out of cover just long enough to drag her behind the dubious protection of the truck.
"Normally, Heroes learn not to do incredibly risky things after their first or second fight." Miss Militia remarked. Taylor levered herself into a sitting position, mentally checking that the worst of her injuries were only bruises and that her staff and dampener were intact. The staff was fine, but the dampener was starting to darken in colour slightly. Not the best sign, but it would hold.
"I've always thought my best attribute was not being normal." Taylor said in response to Miss Militia. She shook her head.
"I expected Alabaster to be out for longer, given the rock that I dropped on him."
Miss Militia glanced at her.
"Stormtiger broke the rock and freed him almost immediately." She explained. Taylor frowned.
"Well, bugger." She muttered. She'd missed that in her little scuffle with Cricket. That was annoying- though at least she had gotten Rune. Miss Militia didn't say anything, simply leaning out of cover and firing her gun. Taylor peered at it, but it didn't look like anything special. Except for the slight wisps of green-black energy around it, of course. Miss Militia leaned back into cover, the gun in her hand twisting and breaking apart into a swirl of the strangely coloured mist before reforming.
"So, what exactly are they after? Because I'm guessing that those cars aren't filled with bank money." Taylor asked, briefly keeping up the pretence. Miss Militia didn't even glance at her as she replied.
"Hookwolf and Canary are in the car that's jammed against the lead. We can't let them be freed." She said. Taylor muttered an agreement, peeking around the car for a moment before a dozen blades of wind tore into the ground and forced her to duck back. The PRT troopers were shooting as well, she noticed, but they used mainly non-lethal rounds. Taylor guessed that Cricket was simply sheltering behind the protective bursts of wind from Stormtiger, while Alabaster was entirely immune.
Although she had to admit that using lethal ammunition wouldn't exactly help with that. Maybe she should get to work on selling lasguns to the PRT? After she had toned them down, naturally.
"I don't think that what we're trying is working very well." She noted. Miss Militia gave her a dour look.
"Do you have a better idea?"
Taylor took another quick peek.
"Can you take down Alabaster and give me support against Cricket and Stormtiger if I close in on them?" She asked. She saw Miss Militia frown, brow wrinkling above the oh-so patriotic American flag bandana that the older Hero wore.
"If you get in close, we mostly won't be able to shoot at you."
"Then get back into the prisoner car and run for it while I distract them. Or don't. But I'm not going to stay crouching here while they break Hookwolf out." Taylor snapped. Miss Militia eyed her thoughtfully, the gun in her hand shifting between pistols in a steady blur of green-black mist. The gun shifted one last time and settled as something bigger. Some sort of light machine gun, though Taylor was surprised that the relatively slight Miss Militia could carry it. Maybe her power lightened it, she thought. Regardless…
"If you think that you can get to them, I can give you covering fire. Triumph will help you." Miss Militia said. Her eyes had hardened.
"We'll get to the car once you've entirely distracted them and use the alternate route. Once we move away, escape yourself. Do not attempt to stay and fight them all. You're powerful, but not that powerful."
Taylor came very close to rolling her eyes at the admonishment but accepted that it was reasonable. She doubted that the plan would work, though.
"What if the Empire have already planned for you to attempt a different escape route and are waiting for you?" she asked. Miss Militia shook her head. Taylor got the impression that the hero had already thought of it.
"In that case we continue to hold off the Empire and wait for reinforcements. They should be here soon, and the Empire will retreat once they arrive." She said. Taylor nodded in acknowledgement.
"Alright." She said, gathering her powers. Miss Militia shifted to a crouch.
"When you're ready, tell me and I'll cover you." She said, very calm. Taylor licked her lips and tightened her grip on her staff, mentally planning. She would have to make this fast.
"Now!" she snapped, bursting from cover and sprinting with the heavy pounding of bullets filling her ears from her right. Cricket spun and twisted, flinging herself into cover. Stormtiger threw his hands forwards, a wall of air deflecting the bullets, rushing towards Taylor.
Taylor gathered her power into a wedge around her and burst straight through it.
For a moment, just a moment, she savoured the shock that showed in Stormtiger's body language. Only for a moment, though, because the shock turned to readiness with lamentable speed. Stormtiger dropped into a crouch, hands coming up and clawing strangely in a manner that- a manner that…
For just a moment Taylor saw Corvus, saw Konrad, even saw Horus in the man before her, a pang of loss and regret piercing her heart before she pushed away the Emperor's feelings and focused. Stormtiger's stance was not quite the same as the type used by lightning claw wielding transhumans she noted, but it was close enough for her to know something about countering it. Or at least, that was what she hoped. Taylor scanned the area, noted that Cricket was moving out of cover while Alabaster was pinned by bullets, felt that Triumph was moving as well. Maybe she'd even get a one on one she thought, seconds before Stormtiger lunged and she had no more time for thinking.
Taylor spun her staff, two-handed, cracking it against Stormtiger's hands but he was fast, angling his arms, a protective sheath of cutting air shrieking every time it made contact with her reinforced staff, sparks showering as the electricity running through the weapon failed to pass the air. She kept striking, certain that the claws Stormtiger was using would be less effective on defence, running her power through her staff so that the sparks were controlled, were hers to command. She just needed an opening and she spun her staff, trying to find an opening but even if Stormtiger wasn't as fast as Cricket he was strong, his defence backed by solid muscle and swirling winds. Taylor kept up her offence, seeing the way he was forced to twist his arms and wrists to keep the crackling electricity in the staff away from him.
"Give it up, Stormtiger. I only need to get lucky once!" she snarled, staff sliding through her hands so easily as she snapped it up towards his chin. Stormtiger caught it on his wrists before the butt was past his chest, grunting at the impact and snapping a boot towards her leg. Taylor caught it on her greave without so much as a flinch.
"You're forgetting my backup." He hissed in response, a blade of wind flicking out from his hands as he heaved her staff up and away. Taylor skittered back, the blade slicing past the side of her mask and her staff spun in her hands, almost off balance as Stormtiger snarled in triumph and launched half a dozen more, curving spikes of wind shrieking towards her. Taylor drew her staff back, tilting it across her body before sweeping it out, her power flowing through it in a wave of telekinetic force that broke the air blades, though it spent itself. She eyed Stormtiger, mentally keeping tabs on Cricket- close and gaining. She needed an edge and, luckily, she had just the idea.
Taylor darted back in, lunging her staff towards Stormtiger's stomach. He brought a hand down, batted it away, swung the other towards her. Taylor drove her free fist into his wrist, seeing the way he recoiled at the blow and the snap of painful electricity even as she spun the staff, one handed, brought it whipping towards his face.
He caught it, the staff smacking against his wrist. Taylor grinned and tripped the next stage of her plan.
The sparks, the electricity in the staff, already infused with her power, were easy to manipulate. All it took was a brief moment of concentration and they burst into blinding light, mere inches from Stormtiger's face. He reeled back, a cry of pain and surprise tearing from his lips as he threw his arms up in an attempt to protect his face from the sudden, spiking radiance. Taylor twisted, her arm snapping out, seeing Cricket and flung her staff, a blunt javelin carried through the air by a burst of telekinetic force. She saw it smash into Cricket, saw her stagger backwards but Taylor was already turning, fists curling, and Stormtiger still couldn't see her. Taylor drove her right fist into his stomach, followed it with her left, cracked her fist across his jaw as he doubled over. Stormtiger staggered back, still blinded, throwing his hands out. Taylor tilted, let the blades of wind pass harmlessly past or glance off her armour, moved in again, hitting hard at the torso before she wrapped a hand around Stormtiger's arm and flung him into the armoured car with a meaty thud. She followed close behind, moving fast, putting the weight of her movement into her fist with the intention of burying it in Stormtiger's stomach.
Stormtiger dodged.
Taylor managed to react just in time, flicking her gauntlet up to armour-melting levels so that it went through the metal instead of her shattering most of the bones in her hand, but that left her with her hand halfway through the armoured car wall and Stormtiger right in her face.
'Shit.'
"Move!"
Stormtiger swung his arm, fingers hooked and slashing towards her, sheathed in razor winds. Taylor brought her hand up, grabbing his wrist and slamming it into the metal, kicking at him as she wrenched her stuck fist free. Stormtiger brought his other hand in, smashing against her shoulder-guard, the claws grinding against ceramite and slowly forcing a way through the armour. Taylor swore, out of position, turned side-on to Stormtiger. She let go of his trapped arm, twisted, slapped his arm away from her shoulder and slashed her left fist towards him. Stormtiger knocked the blow aside with his elbow and drove his forehead against hers, though her helmet easily withstood the blow, as did his own metal mask. Taylor staggered back from the impact, gaining distance, Stormtiger shaking off the blow and lunging for her, claws ready, sharpened far more than the ones that had cut into her shoulder armour, ready to rend the plate and the flesh beneath.
Taylor threw out a hand and heard the breath rush from lungs as a fist of telekinetic force buried itself in Stormtiger's stomach. The cape doubled over, muscle a poor armour against her blow, and Taylor seized his skull and rammed it into the armoured car.
Stormtiger wobbled away, staggered and collapsed. Taylor turned to Cricket, fingers flexing, power burning in her veins as the Empire cape lunged at her, miniature scythes hooked and razor sharp in her hands, what showed of her face under the mesh mask distorted with fury, right hand sweeping up to hook the blade under armour and into soft flesh. Taylor, blazing with the fire of battle, met her halfway, arm dropping down to meet steel with ceramite, screeching discordance in the block as her right fist drew back for just an instant before it smashed into Cricket's mask. Cricket staggered, wounded, Taylor crooking her hand so that her staff whipped through the air from the ground where it lay and cracked into Crickets back with a painful crunch. Taylor added to the attack without hesitation, a brief uppercut dazing Cricket further before fingers closed around Crickets arm, painfully tight, throwing her against the truck. Taylor closed in, knee rising to deliver a brutal blow to Crickets stomach, fist drawing back again before-
Cricket screamed. Taylor reeled back, vision blurring, ears ringing in agony, tears springing into her eyes but her hand moved, instinct, closing over Crickets throat in an attempt to silence the sonic assault, fingers grasping and closing and the surprised gurgle of pain coming vaguely to her ears.
The knife scraped on her breastplate for a mere instant before it drove into the flesh under her arm, slicing upwards, parting skin and muscle until it reached the tangle of veins and arteries at the heart, sudden and sharp pain and the spray of crimson blood-
Taylor dropped Cricket and whirled, just in time for Alabasters lunge to hit the front of her breastplate and scrape away rather than strike a killing blow. Her fist came up, fully powered in shock and rage, an uppercut that started under the chin and went up, crackling energy pulverising flesh and bone in a crackling, snapping vortex that took Alabasters whole face off-
The scythe hooked around her leg, pulling and ripping, slicing through tendons as cleanly as through paper and Taylor fell to one knee, eyes wide until a louder sonic attack than before forced them to close-
Taylor abandoned her attack on Alabaster, striking out with her right fist, feeling it smash into the side of Crickets neck, a dull crunch and Cricket fell away, head twisted at an awful angle, neck shattered, a scream of rage and denial and a hurricane of glass-sharp wind shards struck her and Alabaster both, shredding skin in gruesome display-
Taylor threw her arms out, an expanding sphere of force billowing out from her and hurling both Alabaster and Cricket away, her head suddenly pounding with the influx of futures, the copper and iron taste of blood filling her mouth, phantom taste and sensation. Stormtiger rose slowly to his feet, still unsteady but moving more easily every step, Cricket and Alabaster joining him, spreading out around her. From the corner of her eye she saw Triumph rising to his feet, a red splotch clear on his white uniform as he turned to face Crusader and his ghosts, but they were too far away to be of any use to each other. Taylor flicked her eyes between the approaching capes, the taste in her mouth sickening her, eyes still blurred. The presence of the Emperor wrapped around her, comforting and indomitable.
"Taylor."
'I know.' She replied. They had discussed a situation like this. Planned for it, somewhat, although she was far from comfortable with the action they would have to take. Taylor crooked her fingers, a twist of power dragging her staff to her hand with a dull smack. Cricket and Alabaster charged and Taylor drew on her precognitive powers, sinking into the consuming rush of the future.
A breath.
She felt the Immaterium shudder, the paths to the future laying themselves out, blazoning across her mind, scoring themselves into her consciousness, the air suddenly harsh in her lungs and a shiver in her bones. This was no mere fortune telling, not her usual brand of precognition: this was the art the Eldar Farseers practiced centuries to master, a mastery that the Emperor had learned over years of study and now passed down to her: every facet of the future laid bare to her, every action mapped and planned to lead to victory. She strode forwards, staff turning in her hands, body moving with a grace and precision that she could never normally match. Step for step and blow for blow she matched Cricket and Alabaster, diverting blades by the merest sliver of an inch, striking back with swift venom and punishing force.
Every second that passed she grew closer to death. Every second that passed, every blow that she barely avoided, every keen edge that passed her flesh by a fingernail scraping of space, she grew more intoxicated, dancing on the edge of oblivion, held back only by the anchoring weight of the Emperor. Without him she would have been lost, she knew, lost in the endless paths of the future. But even with that risk put off, she couldn't keep this up for long. Even the most practiced Farseer would make a mistake eventually and, as the Emperor had learned in his own practice, normal humans were less suited for this than Eldar. Space Marines and Primarchs, with their unnaturally fast reflexes, fared better, but she was far too slow to keep it up for long.
Taylor bent her knee, dropping a shoulder just enough that Alabaster's knife passed over it, a boot lashing behind her and catching Cricket in the leg. She spun her staff and struck Alabaster in the ribs, sliding the butt across his chest to crack painfully into his hand. Crickets scythes from behind, her staff shifting, blocking without even looking, her hand swiping across. Sizzling energy took Alabasters hand off at the wrist and she snatched his knife from the air as it fell, plunging it into his knee. A turn to her left, tilting her staff, scythes sliding off it and scraping off her armour as she drove her elbow into Crickets chin, staff catching Alabaster as she spun around. Cricket whirled her scythe, Taylor seeing it and she almost laughed at how simple it all was, striking at just the right time to send the scythe skittering away. An arm wrapped around her throat from behind, Taylor jerking her body so that Cricket's next blow sank the scythe into the arm at just the right angle, tendons severed, Taylor kicking Alabaster away from her even as she darted a punch into Crickets momentarily unguarded throat, scream dying in a gurgle before it could start an instant before Taylor brought her fist into the hinge of Cricket's jaw in a sledging blow.
The dull crack as Crickets jawbone broke barely penetrated the ringing in Taylor's ears, the blood taste strengthening, her vision becoming muzzy, sounds bubbling and ringing inside her skull, her ears. She couldn't keep this up much longer, but-
Taylor turned again, Alabaster regenerated and coming at her. Block, block, block, moving almost before he did, easily besting his quick and strong assault, knocking him away just far enough, Stormtiger shouting and hurling a long blade of wind at her. She reached out, Alabaster still in arms reach, grabbing him by the collar and flipping him in front of the blast, ignoring the spray of blood and the gurgling cry of shock. A tilt of the head, another wind-blade so close that she felt it on the briefly exposed skin of her neck. She darted forwards, stepping and dodging every blast, closing in faster than Stormtiger could retreat. He loosed one final, brutal blast and she went low, sliding along the ground, her fist coming up just under his ribcage. He choked, the breath knocked out of him, and she felled him with a hard blow to the jaw, colours too bright and flecked with imaginary starbursts, the harshness of her breath turning to acid, phantom pains cutting through her limbs, before the Emperor caught her, saved her, dragged her from the stupor of futures that had nearly consumed her.
Taylor fell to her knees, dragging in rasping breaths, dropping her staff.
'Fuck that was a rush.'
"It's not an easy power to master. But stand, Taylor, you aren't done yet."
Taylor planted her hands on the ground and rose, staff whipping into her hand. No, it wasn't over yet. Cricket and Stormtiger were down but there was still Crusader, still Alabaster. An engine roared, Taylor glancing across to see that Miss Militia had made it to the prison transport. She was riding shotgun, a PRT trooper in the drivers seat and revving the engine. Taylor let a grin cross her face as she turned to Alabaster. He was good, but she was better. She wouldn't need precognition to hold him off.
"Looks like you're all out of advantages, Alabaster." She taunted as she walked towards the man. Alabaster sneered at her, knife back in his left hand, walking to stand opposite her. His right arm hung limply by his side, almost as though the elbow was broken.
"Yeah, yeah. You say that like you think you can stop me."
Taylor planted the butt of her staff on the ground, waiting for him. Alabaster drew his handgun in a blur, swinging up in a lightning draw, the gun barking in staccato bursts. Taylor raised a hand, a shield of force forming before her. The bullets brought up dust as they slammed into the ground. Alabaster grunted, shoving his gun back into its holster and producing his second knife. Taylor shook her head.
"Oh, Alabaster. It's not a matter of thinking."
She crossed the open space in a single springing leap, staff held like a spear. Alabaster grunted as the butt crunched into his sternum, her boot slamming into his leg. A knife came at her, batted away with her vambrace, the second held away with her knife, her head snapping forwards and cracking the brow of her helmet into his nose. Alabaster lurched back, spitting, blood pouring from his nose, the knives wind milling in a motion that looked panicked but Taylor saw the pattern, stepped in. The counterattack came, lunging towards her throat, she met it by slamming her fist into his wrist, energy incinerating flesh, elbow of the same arm blocking the second knife, a second headbutt. She skipped back, Alabasters wounds vanishing an instant before she slid, feinted, brought her staff ramming up into his groin. Alabaster doubled over but his hand shot out, knife thrusting at the inside of her thigh and the major arteries there. Taylor darted back, avoiding the blow.
"That was nice, Alabaster. Real quick. I bet all the people you try that on reckon you're pretty fly…for-"
"For a white guy, yeah. Get some new fucking material you hack." Alabaster spat, his voice still pained as he straightened. Taylor laughed aloud.
"Touched a nerve? It seems to have put you in quite a Nazi temper." She said, grinning. Alabaster snarled, his patience clearly gone. Taylor risked a glance towards the now moving prisoner transport and sighed. Triumph was clearly having some trouble with Crusader, too. She needed to get away from this pointless fight.
"Well, seems like I can't play with you much longer. Shame. Now, Alabaster- you really should regret being so tough. It means I can be a lot…rougher."
"What the-"
Taylor lunged forwards, her staff smashing into Alabasters face. Alabaster cried out, blinded by the blow, and Taylor planted her hand against his chest. The telepathic push, just like the first she had used, flung him through the air like a broken ragdoll. Taylor watched him smash into the building opposite and shifted her hand. Slowly, one of the cars the Empire had used as a makeshift barricade screeched and rose into the air, her hand stretched out to it.
With a flick of her wrist she brought the car down upon Alabaster and turned towards Crusader, a cold smile settling across her features as the moving PRT van sped towards the exit. She started towards the fight between Crusader and Triumph with purposeful tread.
She barely saw the ghostly figure that plunged through the front of the PRT van, for it was masked far too well by the billowing wall of darkness that rolled from the alleyway and consumed the van in a choking blanket.
"Oh." Taylor noted blankly, picking up her pace to run towards the darkness. Noises within were muffled, but that didn't mean she didn't hear the smashing crunch of an impact. She bolted across the open space, moving as fast as she could for the truck but a pale ghost came at her, long spear lunging. Taylor met it with her staff, the wood meeting the immaterial weapon and pushing it away. The ghost reached out towards her face, fingers curling.
The hand went through her helmet and pressed against her skin, groping for her eyes. Taylor cried out in shock and threw herself backwards, away from the attack, slipping and landing on her back. The ghost moved across to her, a floating form made horrible by the speed with which it moved. She parried the spear with her staff, the translucent weapon sinking into the ground, but it closed its fingers around her throat as she beat ineffectually at it with her free hand. The spear dropped, the second hand joining its first, cold and clammy digits passing through cloth and squeezing unmercifully at the pliable flesh of her neck, closing her windpipe. Taylor choked, breath being crushed out of her, spots beginning to flash in front of her eyes, reaching for the Warp. She touched it, felt the thing before her, a ghost, an echo of Crusader, infused with the darkest parts of his personality, a puppet motivated by malice and dim, half felt orders.
She reached out with the Warp and snuffed its fledgling mind without a hint of hesitation, dragging an agonising breath into her throat as it vanished from existence and the choking fingers ceased to exist. Taylor rolled over, coughing harshly, every barking hack sending daggers of pain through her throat. She soothed it with a burst of power, forcibly healing herself enough to get back into the fight. She moved quickly towards the darkness, sliding to a halt as Miss Militia burst out, moving at a dead run with one hand held out behind her, gun firing into the black.
"Hookwolf got free!" she shouted, bolting towards Taylor.
"Oh for fucks sake." Taylor whispered, her voice coming out rasping and painful despite her scratch healing. She took a deep breath, wincing as it scoured her raw throat, widened her stance and took her staff in both hands. She was getting tired, she had to admit. It would have been nice if Hookwolf had been knocked unconscious in the crash, but no. Of course he was too tough for that.
"Be honest, Taylor. You would have been disappointed if he had simply been knocked unconscious."
'It would be no way for a warrior like him to go out.' She admitted, pushing her power out to her gauntlets and drawing it back, crackling with lightning charged force. She stepped past Miss Militia, gathering her strength, raising her staff above her head in both hands.
Hookwolf came out of the darkness fully formed, mouth gaping with jagged fangs, claws tearing at the ground.
Taylor brought her staff down and unleashed a lightning bolt of devastating proportions at him. The air shuddered and crackled, the smell of ozone and charred tar rising from the ground as stray fingers of lighting burned across it. The bolt slammed into Hookwolf with all the fury of a storm, winding around his frame and lighting him in blinding, incandescent white. Hookwolf threw back his head and roared, the noise both pain and defiance as the electricity ran over and around and through but it wasn't enough. Taylor could already see that it wasn't enough, conducted through his body and grounding where his claws were dug into the ground. It had hurt him, but not nearly badly enough, his form staggering for a moment before he firmed his stance and shook himself, a rippling motion that dislodged a cloud of char. Taylor tilted her head left, right, cracking the tension out of her neck as she gathered her power once again. It wouldn't be subtle, this time. No lightning, no vacuum, no fire, she thought, letting her staff rest in her left hand as she held her right out to her side and slowly curled the fingers into fists. A simple telekinetic strike, the precursor to the favourite technique of many a Librarian in the fortieth Millennium, the Hammer of the Emperor. Taylor smiled thinly. Hookwolf had been her match and quite possibly more when she tried to take him on hand to hand. Time to see if he fared as well when she simply flung him around like a particularly spiky ball.
Hookwolf burst into motion, feet churning up the ground, flanks heaving with the run so like a real wolf, jaw open, eyes clearly fixed on her. Miss Militia stepped to her side; Taylor didn't spare her a glance.
"I have this." She snapped, as loudly as her battered throat would allow. She stepped forwards, bringing her right fist back in, curling her arm as though ready to throw a punch.
Hookwolf leaped.
Taylor swung her fist and drove a piledriver of force into his chest. Metal crumpled and tore, shattered by the sheer impact, Hookwolfs momentum reversing and flinging him away. Taylor gritted her teeth, throwing her hand out and catching him with a web of invisible strands of force, pulling back and swinging him, spinning him around and into the parked cars the Empire had used for their ambush, cheap metal shrieking and tearing under Hookwolfs blades as he flailed for purchase. She swung him on, crashing him into a wall before she reversed her hand, face screwed up with the effort of fighting against his bulk and his struggling, dragging him back into the air. Miss Militia ran past her, a strangely bulky gun in her hands.
"Keep him airborne!" she barked. Taylor, sweat running down her face, yanked Hookwolf into the air, directly in front of Miss Militia. The gun barked, a deep and booming cough. The silvery projectile that spat forth struck Hookwolf in the chest and hurled him back into the darkness in a silvery blossom of an explosion. Taylor let him go, dropping her hand to her side and leaning heavily on her staff. Her head was beginning to pound, the metallic taste back in her mouth, a distant roaring filling her ears: a glance at her chest showed that the eye of the Acquila that marked her dampener was glowing darkly, close to failing. She grimaced at the sight.
"Do you think you got him?" she asked, straining to be loud enough to hear. Miss Militia remained still, staring into the darkness that Grue's powers generated, as though she hadn't heard. Taylor narrowed her eyes, tempted to ask again, but then Miss Militia shook her head.
"No." she said with grim finality, as Hookwolf emerged from the smoke once again. He was injured, that much was clear, many blades missing and his steely hide scorched and pitted, much like in her own fight with him. But, just like that fight, he was mobile and functional. Taylor carefully reached down, pulling the power cords from her gauntlets and starting to jury-rig them into her staff. She didn't really want to repeat her staff discharge trick, especially as her staff hadn't fully recharged from the last and she was certain that trying again would overload the power storage cell in it, but she didn't see a choice.
The distant roaring became much louder and Taylor suddenly realised that it wasn't just in her head, just as Hookwolf began to shamble forwards, his steps quickly smoothing out and speeding up, becoming more of a charge. Taylor pressed the power cable into her staff and prepared to trigger the discharge.
Armsmaster made his entrance with blazing speed and brutal efficiency, riding his bike across the ground towards Hookwolf at a frightening pace. Hookwolf moved to meet him, rearing up with razor claws spread and Armsmaster pushed off his bike, sending it careering away from Hookwolf as he landed before the Empire cape, halberd already in his hands. The claws came down and the halberd sliced, spun with an elegance that caught Taylor's eye and sent a wave of something like nostalgia through her. The keen blade sliced through claws and metal, Armsmaster spinning the blade and opening rents in steel fur and flesh. Hookwolf tried to fall back, howling, but Armsmaster was too swift: the halberd continued its spin, the butt end jabbing into the gaping rents in Hookwolfs protection. The howl ended as Hookwolf collapsed, though Taylor could tell he wasn't dead, merely unconscious. Sedated by whatever Armsmaster had injected into him.
'That was pretty impressive. Some nice acrobatics for being in power armour.' She said. The Emperor grunted in agreement and she knew what was on his mind- what had sparked a flash of nostalgia in her for something she had never known. Slower, weaker, less precise, but Armsmasters movement had, just for a moment, reminded the Emperor of his Custodes. Of Constantin Valdor and his men, ever loyal. Ever ferocious. The Emperor made no mention of it, but she knew that he regretted that he had never been able to tell them that he was sorry. That they had not failed him when he fought Horus. That, if anything, he had failed them.
She looked past Armsmaster, to the road beyond. Armsmaster was standing still, his halberd planted on the ground and firmly grasped in his hand. From behind her she heard a thud of boots on ground, though she didn't turn around. Dauntless' mind was recognisable enough that she knew who it was even before he stepped to stand at her side, Miss Militia moving to her other side. Crusader and Triumph broke off their fighting, both moving away from each other and returning to their fellows: Triumph to Taylor and the Protectorate and Crusader moving to stand next to Alabaster, ghosts trailing behind him, carrying Stormtiger and Cricket. Rune lay on the ground next to Alabaster, still unconscious, but that was not what held Taylor's attention. No, her attention was focused entirely upon the figures walking down the road in a chevron, following their leader at a slow, almost stately pace.
Kaiser strode along the street like a conquering king, his armour spiked and bladed, plate given a fantastical turn. He was tall, his shoulders broad, and on his head he wore a crown of blades. Fenja and Menja, the blonde twins, walked at his shoulders, an honour guard for a king. It was all very impressive: it was no wonder he led the Empire. It was no wonder that so many rallied to his speeches and proclaimed him a saviour. A visionary.
Taylor smiled a little at his presumption. Imposing though it was, it had little effect on her. He should have saved his posturing for someone more easily awed, she thought. She drifted her gaze along the line. Fenja and Menja, she thought, able to change size and become tougher accordingly. Priority targets. Behind them, lurking somewhere on the street, she could feel Victor. Sniper. That would be annoying, she thought, although if she could pin down his location she could deal with him. And, of course, Kaiser himself. Able to generate metal from any location near him, an ability he was now showing off, she realised: as he walked, a trail of blades followed him. Ah, a showman. Taylor grinned inside her helmet as Kaiser reached Alabaster and Crusader: though Fenja and Menja held back Kaiser continued his advance, stopping several paces closer to the Protectorate team than his fellows. His helmeted head turned, slowly raking a gaze over their line before it came to a halt, resting upon her. When he spoke his voice was as strong and rich as she expected. Taylor could hear more than an echo of Max Anders in the vibrant tones, although this was stronger. The tone of a man used to speeches. The tone of a man used to using his charisma as a weapon.
"Circaetus. I must congratulate you."
Taylor planted her staff on the ground, leaning on it a little to give off an insouciant air. Kaiser seemed unruffled.
"Congratulate me?"
"Yes, of course. After your last, unsuccessful encounter with Cricket and Stormtiger I believed that they would be entirely able to defeat you once more. It would seem I grievously miscalculated."
Taylor would admit, Kaiser had his delivery down pat. The tone was just right, the body language controlled, the cadence natural. As a public speaker, he had talent. Kaiser moved a hand, a slow wave.
"And yet, look at them. Felled with speed and a brutal efficiency that quite impresses me, all to keep my valued Lieutenant a prisoner. Tell me, Circaetus, is it all for the sake of revenge? Is it all because they defeated you?"
Taylors grin faded, eyes blinking.
'Is this- because, you know, this sounds like…you know.'
"A job offer?"
The Emperor sounded amused. Taylor blinked again before she spoke.
"If I said no, what then? If I said I did it for justice, would it derail the job offer you're clearly leading up to?" she asked. Kaiser chuckled.
"I shall be truthful, Circaetus, as I trust you will be, and say that it will only strengthen my resolve. Vengeance, as human as it may be, as understandable as it may be, should not be a part of the Empire. It cannot be a part of the Empire for, human nature as it is, is darkens our purpose. Our purpose, to save white men, white women, and white children. Not to oppress but to uplift, to guide and to guard. You have seen the depredations that the Merchants and the…Azyn Bad Boys have inflicted upon this city, the depths they would and will sink to. You understand that, though we do not hate them, we must chastise them. We must be the hand of the parent that steers them from protection, and offers kindness, stern though it may be."
"He certainly has a way with words."
Kaiser continued his speech, his voice becoming earnest, as though they were the only two people present. For all that his declaiming was pitched to carry as though he spoke to a crowd, Taylor felt as though this was an intimate conversation. A cold and clinical part of her admired that skill in him, though she abhorred his words and the philosophy behind them.
"You are a seeker of justice, Circaetus, a brave warrior seeking to right the wrongs that have been done to the people of this city. I applaud you, for your goal, a goal I understand. But alone, you cannot save this city. With the untrusting Protectorate at your back, you cannot save this city. Look at them, Circaetus, cast your eyes upon the way they step away from you, the way they watch you. Do you truly believe that they are the strongest allies you can have? Can you truly believe that they will back you to the end, and never leave your side?"
Kaiser extended a hand, reaching out to her, as though inviting her to take his gauntlet and step to his side.
"Join me, Circaetus. Be our eagle of victory, of justice. Stand with us, and the Empire shall stand with you forever, joined by our oaths. Together we can bring justice, bring peace. Join your might to that of my warriors, my brothers and sisters, and we will bring into being an age of peace and enlightenment such has not been seen since the ancient ages of this Earth. Join me, Circaetus, and together we will work miracles."
It was a masterful speech, delivered by a masterful orator. Every line rang with sincerity, with honesty, with a genuine pleading. Every line sang of truth, of belief, every word announced that this man- this brave, humble man- was not as he was painted, no villain. No, he was a man of honour, of courage, fighting to do what was right in a world that set its hand against him and his, a true, valiant underdog.
And yet, the Emperor had heard many great speeches. He had heard many masterful orators. He had heard many grand words and grander ambitions and, though Taylor did not quite share the memories, it was enough.
Taylor was unmoved.
Armsmaster cleared his throat. His voice was not nearly as steady as Kaiser, as harsh as the croaking of a raven after the smoothness of Kaisers speech.
"No hero here will be moved by your speech, Kaiser. No hero would be."
Kaiser curled his fingers, his helmeted head not turning to Armsmaster. His eyes, Taylor knew, remained fixed upon her, that startlingly blue gaze that Max Anders had turned upon her just days ago.
"Perhaps you would not, Armsmaster, but Circaetus is of an entirely different breed. She is a wolf, not a guard dog, and she does not need you to bark in her defence. Or perhaps it is not in her defence? Perhaps you are offended, that I pay more attention to her? That, when I plan, I give more thought to her than to you?"
Armsmaster was a man, Taylor knew, of little social grace and monstrous pride. Kaiser had planted his barb with terrible precision, but Armsmaster was a veteran hero. For all his pride, he knew when he was being baited.
"Words spoken by a posturing villain mean little to a true hero, Kaiser. They will mean little to Circaetus, and less to me."
Kaiser chuckled again but made no reply to Armsmaster. Instead he spoke, again, to Taylor.
"This, Circaetus, is the ally you have chosen. This is the finest defender of law, and order, and justice that stands in this city. Do you truly think he is better suited than you, than I? Do you truly think that his justice, and the justice of those he serves, is fair? Can you truly say that the fate of the second prisoner in that car was justice?"
Taylor stirred herself, straightening to her full height and stepping forwards. She ignored the way Armsmaster stiffened, the way Miss Militia tightened her grip on her weapon.
"I believe, Kaiser, that justice is just that. It may not be fair, but it must be just. And while the Protectorate and the PRT may not be fair…they are more even handed than you, I would say."
Kaiser, to her mild surprise, took no offence.
"Ah, such fine words. I can see we have more in common than I thought. You repudiate me- and yet, I expect nothing less while these…'heroes'…stand at your back. I shall allow you to consider, my friend, and hope you come to the right decision. Two weeks, Circaetus, two weeks of truce. Join us if you wish to soar higher than ever before. But if not, then…though I will truly regret it, we shall be enemies."
Kaiser glanced down, his gaze directing itself to Hookwolf.
"Again, Circaetus, I congratulate you. It was well fought, to hold my brothers and sisters at bay until these others arrived. But rest assured, Armsmaster, my Lieutenant shall be free. He shall be free."
Slowly, Kaiser turned his back and began to walk away. Armsmaster stirred himself, raising his voice in threat.
"Kaiser! Do you think you can just walk away?"
Kaiser turned, making the motion seem stately. There was a smile in his voice as he spoke.
"Of course I do, Armsmaster. You may fight me if you wish but, as I am sure you are aware, you have far larger problems than me."
None of the other heroes moved as Kaiser walked away, a rear-guard to his fellows as they carried away their wounded, armoured in spiked plate and impenetrable calm. Baffled, Taylor turned to Armsmaster, ignoring the look of slight distrust that he shot her.
"Why are you letting him walk away?" she demanded. Armsmaster looked at her. His lips were thin with displeasure, but his voice was as brusquely calm as always.
"Oni Lee has been freed by two Parahumans, one of whom was unknown to us. Assault has been badly injured, and Lung has returned."
Director Piggot looked, in Taylors expert opinion, like she was about to burst a blood vessel. Not that her ire was directed at Taylor, admittedly: it seemed that their unspoken agreement to keep things professional was still holding up. Still, Piggot was absolutely furious that both of the prison transports had been attacked. Personally, Taylor could relate. The thought of a mole in the PRT was not unexpected. A mole who could find out the routes of both prison transports and leak said info to practically all major gangs in the city without the PRT having a clue? Considerable problem.
Didn't help the two of three Birdcage bound prisoners had escaped.
Piggot turned her glare upon Taylor.
"Why were you in the area?" she barked. Taylor briefly considered making the point that she wasn't one of Piggots goons who could be ordered around but chose not to. Goading Piggot into actually having a stroke wouldn't be as funny as it might sound.
"I was patrolling and heard the noise. If you really want to know, I'd guessed the rough area and took a big guess, then followed my ears." She replied, after a pause. Just to let Piggot know that she wasn't going to snap to. Piggot scowled at her before shaking her head.
"Of course you were." She growled. The woman closed her eyes for a moment- Taylor could practically see her counting to ten- before opening them again.
"You know that Canary escaped."
"Did she? Good for her." Taylor replied easily. Piggot gazed at her, temper mostly reined in.
"Good for her?" she said, her voice flat and dangerous. Taylor shrugged.
"As I'm sure Armsmaster will tell you in his briefing, I believe that justice should be just. It might not be fair, it probably won't be fair, but it should be just. Canary getting a long prison sentence for accidentally making her dickhead boyfriend mutilate himself? Might not really be fair, but it's just. Canary being railroaded into the Birdcage with all the mass murderers, serial killers, career rapists and so on? That ain't fair or just, Director. She's a criminal and I'll bring her in if I have to, but don't expect me to like it."
The other heroes in the room seemed to hold their breath. Taylor herself half expected Piggot to blow up at her but, instead, the woman merely grunted.
"At least you're smart enough to let your head control your principals. Alright, Circaetus, we don't need you anymore. You can leave."
Taylor threw a lazy, half mocking salute and headed for the door, pausing at the entrance.
"Director. Permission to visit Assault at the hospital."
Piggot didn't seem surprised to hear it.
"If you want, Circaetus. Although, do me a favour if you can."
Taylor half turned, head cocked quizzically. Piggot eyed her sourly.
"See if you can pull your little trick on Lung again. Just be sure to bring him in this time."
Taylor smiled slightly.
"Why Director, I didn't know you had a such a sense of humour."
She was gone before any reply could be made.
Assault had looked bad. He was stable, the doctors had said, but there were a lot of burns and slashes. Not all of them looked like they were from fire, Taylor thought, though she was assured that Panacea would have Assault back on his feet in no time. For the moment, they were keeping him sedated. Taylor took to the rooftops to think, drifting over alleyways. The sight of the man who was quickly becoming her friend had reminded her of how easily people could be lost. If even a man such as Assault could be reduced to such a state, what of a normal man? What of her father? She had wanted to wait a little longer before working to restore him to normal, waiting for her powers to properly stabilise, to test the dampener properly, to-
To be able to make use of his obliviousness, to postpone the inevitable confrontation when he realised who she was-
Taylor shook her head forcibly, dispelling the unwelcome doubt that had suddenly lodged there. She came to a halt on a rooftop.
'Can I break the block on his mind tonight, after the exertion and the amount I used the dampener today?' she asked. The Emperor was not slow in replying.
"No." he said, calm. Before she could reply in anger he continued.
"The block upon his mind is not a weak one, and it grows stronger day by day. Your father is not a psyker, nor is his mind- in its current state- flexible. To tear away the block in a single move would be to suddenly expose him to all that he has repressed and ignored. It would shatter his psyche as surely as a calculated attack would."
Taylor felt her heartbeat speed up, her jaw tighten as the anger washed through her in a sudden torrent.
'So-'
"So we will be patient. We will strip the block piece by piece, layer by layer and, if you are amenable, I will aid you in working on his mind. He has become closed off, ossified. If we loosen those bonds, restore his mind, the block will fall on its own soon enough."
'You're talking about manipulating his mind. Changing who he is.'
"Changing who he is for the better, Taylor. It would be for his own good- but if you are opposed, we will simply break the block away. It will simply take more time."
Taylor gritted her teeth, pacing restlessly. She knew that the Emperor might be right, but…she didn't want to be that sort of person. Didn't want to be the type of person who could justify anything by telling themselves that it was 'for their own good'. That way lay the nightmare of the fortieth millennium Imperium and yet…in this case…Taylor bit her lip.
'I…Maybe we should see him first, see how much we can do, and then I'll decide if-'
The explosion consumed the rest of her sentence, rocking the building she was standing on and throwing her mind away from those thoughts. Taylor caught off balance, stumbled.
It would not have been a problem had she not been stood on the edge of the building.
Taylor twisted, flipped in mid-air, landed on her feet by cushioning the impact. She snapped her gaze around the street, seeing the panicked people around her, seeing-
Her gaze was drawn to the building next to the one she had been stood upon. A full half of the bottom floor was consumed by a sphere of force, a darkling void in which stars twinkled for a mere instant, air rushing past her. The void blinked out of existence between breaths, but the building was too long gone. It fell with a rumbling groan, directly towards her and the terrified civilians on the street. Taylor swore, arms rising, a shield of force snapping into being above her. Tendrils of power snaked away from her form, snagging civilians who were too far away and dragging them closer, under the protective canopy. The bricks rained down, falling, falling.
Pain lanced through her skull and she fell to one knee, but the barrier held. Against weight of rock and the impact of the building, it held. Against her doubt and her fear and her pain, it held. Taylor held it, arms shaking, throat stinging, until it was needed no more and she could slump, hands falling to the ground, civilians crowding around her. Anxious questions, frightened minds, hands wanting to offer help but afraid and she fumbled, found her staff, forced herself to rise. She snapped orders, but she knew she couldn't remain. A brief moment of organisation, to move the civilians out of the danger zone and she was gone, moving towards the spark of pain she could feel, hoping against hope that she was not too late.
She had been too late. The bombs that had gone off had been some of the last planted, and half of them had been in the process of disarmament when they had triggered. Twenty-five PRT troopers and bomb squad members had died, the one Taylor had felt amongst them. She had found the woman just in time for her to breathe her last, her legs taken by the consuming void. Just in time for the woman to bleed to death in her arms.
Oni Lee had killed Bakuda. That was indisputable. Whether he had known about the dead-man switch, whether he had known about the bombs, no-one knew. To Taylor, it didn't matter. He had been the cause of it all- or rather, she had been the cause of it all. Had she killed Oni Lee that day so long ago, none of this would have happened. Part of her knew that it wasn't her fault. The rest of her didn't care, just as she didn't care who had given the order to Oni Lee. Not at the moment.
If Lung had given the order, then…later. That was for later.
Taylor lurked in an alleyway, her normal attire discarded for a slightly too-large hoody and a pair of tattered jeans. The hood was pulled up, a bandanna drawn across her face, her aura of hiding drawn tight about her. She was invisible to any mortal and unremarkable to any camera. It was all that mattered.
"Are you sure of this choice?" The Emperor asked, his voice more solemn that normal. Taylor flexed her fingers, a compulsive motion.
'Some of those bombs were originally planted in schools, in hospitals, in busy malls. The number of people that could have- yes, I'm sure.' She snapped in return, even her thoughts cold and sharp. The Emperor said nothing, but she felt his support. A faint warmth that cut through even the cold that seemed to lie in her flesh and blood, though it did not extend to the chill that coated her bones like a layer of fine frost. She slid from the alleyway and walked across the street, furtive and quick. There were no cameras here, but she was cautious.
The house was small, dark. The lock was unimpressive. The windows were dirty, the door worn, with paint peeling, brick showing in some places. The curtains that she could see were tattered, and only one had a faint yellow light coming from behind it.
An inhospitable and unwelcoming place, bereft of personality, practically a ruin. For just an instant Taylor mused upon the similarity to Oni Lee himself as she picked the lock and entered, footsteps silent, her shroud still tight around her. For any mortal she was less than a ghost. Less than a whisper.
She climbed the stairs, her heart beating loud, a slow thump in her chest that filled her ears and pulsed behind her eyes. With every step her fingers flexed, closing and opening in slow rhythm. The door at the top of the stairs was easy to find: yellow light spilled from it, the only lit room in the house, door open. Oni Lee must have felt safe in this, his refuge.
Taylor had ripped this location from his mind, along with the locations of all the others, when she had interrogated him for Lung's location. It seemed a lifetime ago as she reached the entrance of the room.
Oni Lee sat with his back to her. He still wore his suit, his costume, but his knives and grenades lay on the table before him, next to the leering demon mask he donned to hide his face. He was sharpening a knife, a faint rasp accompanying the movement of his arm. Music drifted quietly from a radio, something Taylor didn't recognise. Her shroud held true and he took no notice of her as she walked across the room.
Her fingers tightened around the knife.
The blade entered Oni Lees skull at the base, severing the spinal cord and plunging up into the brain. It was a quick death. Merciful. In retrospect, it was easy. She wasn't sure why she had hesitated so long.
'Oni Lee. Parahuman. Villain. Serial killer, mass murderer. The first.' Taylor thought, dim and distant, a brief epitaph for a man who was barely a man as she reached out, pulling the thoughts she sought from his mind even as it faded. A single, fleeting memory, tainted by Lee's lack of person but enough. The fleeting image of the man who had given him his orders.
Not Lung. Not directly, but…it was enough. A thread to follow to the source.
Taylor stepped back, her hand reaching into her hoody and coming out with a grenade. It was one of the last she had stolen from Bakuda, an incendiary device. Hide all evidence, she thought as she walked back to the door. A hand reached out behind her, the knife pulling free in a spray of blood that spattered the floor and left her untouched.
She left the house unknown, unseen. She cast the knife aside in an anonymous alley, triggering the incendiary device she had left in the house at the same time. She didn't look back, throwing the trigger device into the Bay before she returned to her lair.
It was only once she was there, safe in the comforting darkness, that she allowed herself to feel. Only there that she allowed the sobs to wrack her frame.
Not for Oni Lee, but for his victims. And, selfish though it might be, most of all she wept for the innocent little girl called Taylor Hebert, who she knew she would never truly be again.
Slightly longer than normal, but the action took longer than I expected. This has been planned for a long time, though, and I just couldn't chop the chapter at 10,000 words like I normally would and deny you the ending. If you're wondering why Lung would give an order like that, well...I don't want to give anything away, but all is, perhaps, not as it seems. And that's all I'll say.
If anybody is wondering yes, the man who helped Lung free Oni Lee and gave him the order is an original character. If you have any "Original character, Donut Steel" jokes then make them now. I wonder...if I were to sort this fic into arcs, would you say this was the end of one? I don't really think of it that way, but I'm curious as to what others do.
Other than that, since it's late here and I'm kinda tired, I'll just say that I hope you enjoyed and, as usual, all reviews are deeply appreciated.