17/04/2021- This was supposed to release with the last Taylor chapter, and then I intended to release it with the next, but it's long enough and been enough time since the last update that I thought I would put it out anyway. Almost four months...hopefully the next update won't take so long, but I make no promises. As always, I hope you enjoy it.

The Warp clawed at the inside of her skull like skeletal fingers, bone scraping on bone.

Luna tilted her head down, chin resting on her chest and eyes closing against the whispering, crackling pain. Her swarm buzzed and chittered at the edges of her conscious, but it was muted by distance and dispersal, unable to follow her onto the train en masse. Without the comforting, blanketing noise the Warp filled the silence, writhing and whispering.

It was no wonder the other clones were mad, Luna thought, when they had only this as a constant companion. It was already wearing on her nerves, and she was far more stable than they. Still, she shouldn't have to endure for much longer. Just until the train halted, and then she could leave and draw her swarm back to her. If she had stayed in the Bay she could have kept her swarm with her the whole time, of course, but she had decided that that course of action was…ill-advised. The end of her battle with Mother had been a fairly…emphatic…indicator that she would not be able to defeat Mother. Not even hold her own against her, in all likelihood. Not that Luna was surprised. Mother's power was that of the Emperor, the Master of all Mankind. Mother herself was as close to a God as this pathetic world would ever see, the worship and obedience of all who beheld her her given right. Luna's power was the hand-me-down of some xenos shard, some alien thing that desecrated the holy ground of Earth in its hunger. Even the thought made her grind her teeth, regardless of her appreciation of the power. Such a violation of the cradle of humanity…

Luna gave in to the urge to clench her fist, letting her nails dig into her palm until the pain centred her again, the Warp still scraping jarringly in her skull but her thoughts clearing. No, to try and fight Mother was a fool's game, so she had fled. It was a pity that she couldn't get her hands on Madison, or make sure that Sophia was dead, but it would have to be enough. She had stolen whatever clothes would fit her, taken as much money as she could find in the Barnes house and ran, taking the midnight train, going anywhere.

She rose as the train pulled to a halt, walking out without meeting anyone's eyes or glancing around. She was fairly non-descript in appearance usually- while she was tall and strong, it wasn't so much so that she would particularly stand out in a crowd, and her blonde hair and blue eyes were hardly worth commenting on. She made sure to keep her mouth closed. The razor sharp, predatory teeth that were the legacy of- of something she wasn't quite sure of- would draw attention, and she'd prefer to stay unremarked. Her clothing caught some glances, since she'd had to replace the torn and bloodied PRT uniform with whatever she could, but the train had carried her south. It wasn't too cold here. If anyone asked, she'd just tell them that the man's shirt and short skirt made her feel like a woman.

Hopefully she could escape while they were still trying to puzzle out the sheer oddity of the quote. And if not, then- well, it wasn't like it would be her first murder. She stepped off the train and wandered quickly along the platform, making her way out of the crowds and onto the nearest street. She didn't really know where she was going, but it had to be better than where she'd been- and besides, she was a big girl with big ambitions. She could make whatever she wanted of this city, she was sure of it. She just needed to scope the place out, find somewhere to lie low and safe and start planning her way to the top. And once she hit the top…she would have to see. But every city had poor, had hungry, had desperate. Where better than to begin recruiting for the loyal army Mother would need to rule the world than in the underbelly of America? Even the underbelly of Wichita should be good enough.

Wichita. What a horrible place, Luna decided. It could be worse- it wasn't quite as bad as The Bay- but seriously. What kind of loser would come here voluntarily?

Oh. Right, she had come here voluntarily. Never mind. Still, there had to be something to do out here in the sticks, had to be someone with a ready-built gang and business who she could usurp. It couldn't all be incest, rednecks and far too much enthusiasm about guns, right? Or…wait. That might be somewhere else. Maybe Kansas was into bestiality? She'd always had suspicions about how attached Dorothy had been to her dog…

Luna was rudely dragged out of her musing about the negative stereotypes of various American States by a wolf whistle to her side. She blinked and swivelled her head to see whoever had made the noise, a lock of hair falling carelessly across her face and slightly obstructing her vision.

"Whoa-ho-ho, hey baby!"

The words were a little slurred, coming from the alleyway to her right, and Luna smiled. She was careful not to show teeth to the two men- well, teenagers really- but her lips curved invitingly and she put a little more sashay in her walk as she slinked over to them. They whistled and waved as she approached, none of the few other people on the street seeming to pay any attention. How very unheroic of them, Luna thought, and it took most of her willpower to keep her smile from widening into a grin of razor teeth and murderous intent.

"Heya, darlin'," one of the teenagers slurred, his tone lowered to something that he probably thought was seductive. Luna didn't think it was out of the question entirely, per se, his Southern accent was smooth and his voice a rich, dark purr. If only he wasn't staggeringly drunk.

If only he had tried this on some other poor, innocent girl.

Luna smiled right up until she broke his nose with her forehead and kicked him into the alley. His friend barely managed to open his mouth before her fist lashed into his throat and she dragged the kicking, choking boy into the alley, overpowering him with muscles far stronger than his own and ramming his head into the wall, not enough to kill him, just enough to leave him in a collapsed, half-conscious pile. She patted through the jacket of the first as he tried to regain his senses, found the switchblade in a pocket, pulled it out, flicked it open.

The blade was a little dull, but that just meant it hurt more as she drove it into his shoulder, careful not to hit any important blood vessels.

"Hey there, darlin'. I don't suppose you could answer a few questions for little ol' me, could you?" she asked, her voice lilting with her own exaggerated mockery of his accent. She pressed her free hand over his mouth to muffle his first scream of pain, pressing her body against his to force him into the brick, her razor-fanged smile close to his face.

"Well, it's not like you really have a lot of choices. Generally, though, I'd advise answering. Oh- and don't scream. You don't look like you've got the cash to pay for a doctor who can save you from being eviscerated."

The fear in his eyes was a glorious thing. He didn't make a noise as she pulled her hand away, still grinning.

"There we go, honey. Just a couple of questions, you know? Nice and easy."

Lower lip trembling and eyes wet with tears the kid nodded. Luna patted him on the cheek.

"I knew you were clever. Now, this city…you seem like someone who'd know, who're the big cheeses in this city? The gangs and such? Especially the Parahumans."

To his credit, the boy seemed to realise what she wanted fairly quickly.

"The-the, the, the the Families! They run all the parahumans here! There aren't any other gangs!"

"The Families? And who might those be, my darling?"

"The- the Families, the Mathers and McVeays, the Fallen!"

Luna cut off his panicked babbling by leaning her arm across his throat, choking the words from him.

"The Fallen. Those Endbringer cultists, right?"

The boy nodded frantically, head bobbing like a balloon. Luna looked into his eyes, seeing nothing but panicked honesty.

"You wouldn't happen to know where they might be, would you?" she asked. The boy shook his head, eyes still dripping with tears and lips trembling. She eased off his throat just in case, shaking her head.

"But you know where we can't go, right? Places that the cops don't visit?"

He had a list- a long list, too. Plenty of places for her to look, and even if she didn't find the Fallen there she'd be able to pick up some stragglers, probably. Somewhere to base herself, for the moment. That was all she needed, so she slid the knife out of his shoulder and moved back a fraction. The relief in his expression was sickening.

"Thank you, thank you. Is- is that it? Can I go now?"

"Go now?" Luna mused, the tip of her left index finger just brushing the point of the switchblade. She met his gaze, her lips pursing in thought, saw the relief blossom into terror and felt her heart beat with exultation. Letting him go wasn't part of the deal, was it? And yet…was there really any need to kill him? It didn't serve any real purpose beyond bloodshed.

And yet, wasn't that purpose enough?

He wasn't nearly fast enough to move as she stepped forwards and drove the short blade in, three quick, vicious stabs, carefully placed. He keeled over with a muffled cry of agony and she carelessly tossed the blade next to him.

"Sorry, honey. That wasn't part of the deal. But here's the thing…you might survive those injuries. If you're strong, you'll live. If you're weak, you'll die. Can't say fairer than that, can you?"

And with that she strolled off down the alleyway, her steps rejuvenated, the path before her clear once again. Or at least, she had a vague idea of where to go next. She still didn't really know anything about Wichita, so she would need to find a map of some sort. Maybe a tourist centre? Assuming there was anything like that here. Personally a city whose big attraction was the Cape scene answer to ultra-Catholic cults wouldn't rank highly as a tourist destination, but some people had strange tastes. She glanced down to make sure that she didn't have any blood on her, pocketed the wallet she'd stolen from the kid, pulled a smile onto her face and emerged onto the street.

"Hey, mister?"

She let her voice change, exaggerating her accent for extra 'dumb blonde' points. The man she had accosted- a man just entering middle age, by her estimation- blinked in confusion but seemed willing to indulge her.

"Yes, Miss?"

Luna fluttered a bit, really trying to sell the image. It probably looked ridiculous on her, but she didn't really mind.

"Um, I'm really new here? And I don't know where I'm going so, is there some kind of, like, tourist information centre around here that I can visit?"

Her Swarm buzzed in the back of her head, letting her know that the kid she had left in the alleyway was trying to rise to his feet. She thought that she could hear his sobs, distorted and crackling, but dismissed it. Perhaps some feedback from her swarm.

Perhaps the influence of the Warp, although she hoped it wasn't the case. Her sanity was something she'd really need to pull off- well, almost anything really.

"Of course, miss. There's one not far away. Are you travelling with your parents?"

Luna smiled and made small talk, indulging the friendly man. She made it all up, of course, but it was still…pleasant. This one would live, she decided. Or at least she wouldn't hurt him. The pleasant man walked to her a tourist information centre, leaving her there after she persuaded him that she could find her own way from there. He seemed genuinely concerned about a young girl wandering in the city. She wondered if there was some story to that as she found herself a few maps of the city and set off, striding briskly through the streets towards the area of the city that her informant had informed her was owned by the Fallen. She noticed that the city didn't change much as she went: a little more dilapidation, maybe, but for the most part it was still in better condition than the worse parts of the Bay. That was interesting- although she supposed that if the Fallen had a strong presence, it made sense. A lot of the damage to Brockton Bay came from the loss of shipping hacking down the budget while four gangs continued to swing at each other. Here it might be more civilised.

"For the moment, at least," she murmured, speaking aloud in her anticipation. She kept walking, looking around herself and taking in the sights. Her Swarm moved in the shadows, tracking and finding, her senses stretching out to encompass more. Her stomach rumbled quietly and she glanced down at her midsection in annoyance.

"Once we've found somewhere to stay," she promised her gut, "Shouldn't take long."

Her Swarm found something, an abandoned looking house that was in fact occupied, and her head tilted up as she considered it. She would need a base, after all, and there were only two people in the house…Luna made her decision and slipped across to the house, creeping around to the back. No need to risk discovery by kicking the front door down she told herself, flattening herself against the back wall and breathing in the cool, damp air of the back streets. A peek through a dirty window revealed a grimy mattress on the floor in a room that was clearly uncared for and she smirked. Squatters. That would do. Slowly she looked the back wall of the house up and down before she reached up, fingers latching onto the top of the window and hauling herself up. One of the upper windows was clearly insecure, and offered a tempting way in.

She began to climb.

The window was open, just as she had thought, the lock long since given way. She balanced on the upper lip of the lower window, squirming her fingers into the gap and forcing the upper window open, inch by inch, slow and careful to avoid noise until it was open far enough and she could squeeze through, slithering through the gap to land on dusty carpet with the faintest thud. She stayed still once she landed, limbs splayed like some terrible spider, ears pricked for any suggestion that she might have been heard.

There was none.

She rose to her feet, eyes raking across the room and absently noting the drug paraphernalia that was littered in the corners. Her lips turned into a faint sneer, fingers flexing, her Swarm moving with her mind and finding the two occupants of the house. She had enough venomous spiders under her control that she could dispose of them easily enough, but there was no fun in that. No, she would dispatch them in a more…personal…fashion.

The floor, creaking gently under her tread. The air, stale against her nose, musty in her mouth. The beat of her heart, steady, heavy with excitement. Luna gloried in it all as she stalked through the dimly lit house, fingers twitching with the hunger of the hunt. A soft step around a corner, through a doorway whose door was long gone and she could see the back of her first target, a short and scrawny man hovering over a sink in a dirty kitchen. Her tongue darted out, moistened her lips, her hands coming up. She took her time, approaching with almost supernatural stealth, making sure she was right behind him before her hands reached out and wrapped around his neck.

She dragged him back into her, his struggles making her heartbeat speed, her grin widen, fingers clenching tighter, one arm closing around his neck and the other clamping around his mouth. His fingers clawed at her as she dragged him back, leveraging her greater height to heave his onto the tips of his toes, denying him the solid footing he would need to throw her off. Her hand clenched across his mouth, fingers digging into the skin, pressing in, her forearm crushing his throat, choking away his air. His fingers scrabbled at her arm, nails scoring skin and she revelled in the stinging pain, her grin growing wider as she pressed, pressed, pressed until the body jerked one last time and went limp, his struggles over. She let him slump down, letting her arm off his throat and mouth to take a grip on his jaw, settling one hand on his chin and the other on the crown of his head.

It wasn't easy to twist someone's neck around until it broke, but Luna was strong enough. She left the body where it lay and went after the second, her blood fired, her grin wide.

The second was in the living room, slumped on the couch. She entered with brazen confidence, flinging the door open and strolling in. The man was taller than the last, broader across the shoulder, heavier in build and her grin widened even more. Perfect. He saw her, his eyes widening. He was fairly quick, she would give him that: he came to his feet in a single motion, arms spreading out. She was even faster, leaping across the open space and driving her elbow into his chest. He gagged and fell back and Luna grabbed him by the front of his shirt, hauling him around and flinging him into the ground. He skidded across the dirty carpet, rolling once before he came to his feet with a raw-throated bellow of rage, swinging a massive haymaker with his right hand. She caught it with her left, her forearm meeting his wrist to kill the momentum before her right fist smashed into his nose, dragging the punch across as cartilage snapped, bending his nose across his face. His roar heightened in pain and she slipped her left arm free, slamming another blow into his nose, a third with her right and he swung wildly, his right fist clipping her ribs as she skipped back.

"Come on," she breathlessly taunted, "Put up a better fight than your friend did!"

"You bitch!" he howled, voice distorted by his shattered nose as he lunged forwards, hands reaching. Luna skipped away from the grab, whipping her fists into his ribs as she danced with him, drawing him in, the slightest overextension and his fingers closed around her wrist. He dragged himself forwards, hammering his free fist forwards and pain lanced up her arm as she deflected it, a bright sunburst of sensation that brought a giddy laugh to her lips.

"That's more like it!" she sang, stamping on his foot. His grip on her arm loosened and she pulled free, stepping into him, dragging his left arm over her shoulder and lacing both hands around the wrist. A downwards wrench, a crunch, a scream. Luna ducked away, expecting a blow but he was flailing, his broken arm useless and her lips twisted into a pout. He was retreating, clutching at his broken bone, the fight gone out of him as he wailed. Over already, she lamented, meeting his eyes as he looked at her, gaze filled with horror and fear.

"Who- who the fuck are you?"

"I'm a lot of things, honey. But I'm afraid merciful isn't one of them."

A single leaping stride and Luna rammed the palm of her hand against the already broken bridge of the mans nose. Bone crunched back into brain and he slowly keeled over. She looked down at him for a moment before making sure of it with a dozen spider bites, already turning away. Her stomach growled again and she glanced at the kitchen, wondering if there would be anything worth eating in there. Probably worth a look, she supposed, and then she could get to work on moving the bodies. After all, didn't want her new home to stink of corpse. Not anymore than it already did, anyway.

Memories. Ah, memory. Memory was a thing of the soul, of course, as well as the mind, and even Taylor's memories were a scattered thing, uncertain and unknown in many places. Taylor was a being of impossibility, so fragile and yet utterly unmoveable, her very being laced with things older than understanding. Luna wasn't even sure if her Mother understood how much she didn't remember. How much she had suppressed…perhaps she knew, in the deepest corners of her soul, only to thrust it aside to protect herself, ignoring how the memories the Emperor spoke of were so clear, yet so opaque. Forty thousand years of memory, of course, would have driven Taylor mad if they had become hers so clearly…the first act of her Perpetual nature, perhaps, leveraging the vast if latent strength of her Psyker prowess to obfuscate those memories from Taylor. Or perhaps she just didn't want to remember them? Who could know, save a Psyker strong enough to peer into Taylor's mind and soul. And how many of those were there? How many could even look into the unbridled nova that the Empress unrestrained was in the Warp and not be blinded or driven to gibbering insanity by the terrible, awful majesty of it?

Few enough.

But to return to the point at hand, Luna thought, memory was a funny thing. She knew, logically, that she should have all the memories that Taylor possessed. And yet, her mind was filled with jumbled snippets and strange things. She knew the important parts, the things that really mattered to Taylor, but so many things were missing. Taylor's favourite colour. Mother's favourite food. The pain Mother had felt when Annette Hebert had died. Missing, missing, missing. But in place of those useless memories was knowledge. Information. How to build power cells and weapons, taken from Taylor. How to turn a cult to her own ends, memories that Taylor had never used and yet there they were, clear as daylight in her mind and Luna smiled. Mother was strong, that could never be denied. She was fierce, powerful, intelligent, but even the Emperor had not built his kingdom alone. Even He had needed aid, support. And the Fallen…these worshippers of false Gods…they could learn the truth. See the light. Under her guiding hand, they could understand the folly of their ways and step upon the righteous path. The path that would guide them to their Empress…to Mother. All in good time, of course, there was no need to push them. Their faith would be all the stronger for them believing they had come to it honestly. But a little push here, a little nudge there, leading them to understand that a saviour would arrive in time…something like that would outlive any of the founding members. Even her, should it come to that- and she suspected that it would, once she drew Taylor's attention. As Alexander had once said, to the strongest. Maybe Luna would prove stronger, but…something for another time. For the moment she needed to get a start, and haunting Wichita was her chosen method for that beginning. If she wanted to usurp the Fallen she would need to know her enemy. Fortunately, the Fallen who controlled the underworld of the city seemed ill prepared to be challenged from within. Their focus was upon the PRT and Protectorate and other large gangs moving in. They lacked skill when it came to protecting themselves from infiltrators.

To be fair, it probably didn't cross their minds that they needed to be careful of their gatherings being noticed by insects. But Luna was rarely inclined to be fair, so she just counted their naivety as another win as she pried away another roof tile and squirmed through the gap she had made. The house she had broken into was derelict, so a gap in the roof would concern very few people. What she needed, however, was access to the house next door: it was heavily occupied, enough that she suspected it was a Fallen base. And if it wasn't, then…she would still learn something, she supposed. She Made sure to infiltrate her insects into the house next door, ensuring that there was no-one in place to see her as she carefully made a hole in the wall separating the two loft spaces. It wasn't particularly well built, but the need for silence still forced her to spend hours carefully removing bricks before she could cram herself through the hole and into the loft space of the occupied house, balancing carefully on exposed beams. One of them creaked under her feet and she froze in place, waiting for a cry of alarm. When no such cry came she sighed softly, moving further in and settling into place. Lying among the dust of the roof space she let her breathing become shallow and listened, the dust before her stirring softly. Her swarm scuttled through gaps and wormed their way into the cracks of the house, looking for some useful targets to spy on as Luna relaxed her muscles and flirted with the idea of sleep. A deep voice came from below her, slightly muffled by the space and structure of the house but still intelligible.

"Didya hear 'bout the new girl?"

The voice had a slow Southern drawl, heavy and husky. It dripped with vitality, with lazy confidence. It made Luna want to reach into the man's throat and pull his vocal cords like violin strings.

"Naw. What new girl? Father tell you sumthin'?"

The other voice was a woman. Nasal and slightly whining. It incited less creativity in her soul, but slightly more violent intent. Luna breathed deep of the dusty air, letting the steady flow of oxygen in her lungs suppress the brutality she craved.

The warp whispered and giggled at the corners of her skull, but her hive managed to drown it out.

"Yeah. Mama Mathers was pleased as punch with Eligos, reckons he's a real big help to her boys. She's sendin' over another girl as thanks. One of those Wards they grabbed a while ago, some girl who's got pyrokinesis or sumthin'."

"Another pyro, uh? We got a coupla those already, but one more ain't no trouble. Father'll be sendin' some boys to get her, then?"

"Oh, yeah. Jake and Gabe are leavin' in a couple of minutes. They're pretty enthused about it, I guess you'd say."

The woman laughed shrilly and Luna entertained the thought of pulling her eyes from her skull as the noise drilled at her skull. She contained her bloodlust with a slow huff of breath, slowly tensing and relaxing muscles to keep herself limber. She didn't want to stiffen up, just in case something went wrong.

"They'll be awful disappointed if they're hopin' for a taste. Father and the True Sons will 'ave first claim on her, assumin' she's good enough to carry children."

The man laughed along, the two Fallen apparently finding much hilarity in the thought. Luna curled her lip in disgust. From what research she had been able to conduct in an internet café before leaving to do this more hands on work she had learned that the McVeay family, the most powerful group in Wichita, were brutish and religiously crazed. And apparently they had hit another box on the cult checklist with a bit of sexual slavery.

Maybe murder would be the best solution. Hard to build a cult of dead bodies, but harder still to gain a great deal of legitimacy when half your members were rapists. Kaiser had demonstrated that quite well: a little bit of discipline went a long way. Luna mentally revised her estimate of how many cult members she might be able to convert to her Imperial Cult. Kidnapping Wards and Independent Capes to add to their number…presumably it was so they didn't end up looking like fishmen or whatever from brothers fucking sisters and sisters fucking fathers, but Luna didn't really care for their reasoning. She had no patience for it. It was an opportunity, however, a good chance to appear as a saviour and messiah. It would make her message all the stronger, though even she found the thought of using the experiences of the kidnapped people like that distasteful.

She rose from her prone position, slowly levering herself to her feet and retreating to the unoccupied house. Fortunately she was better dressed for combat than she had been before: after dumping the bodies of her two victims in the cellar of her new house to serve as breeding grounds for her swarm she had gone through the house and found clothes that fitted her well enough. A pair of boots, jeans, two t-shirts and a hoody served her needs well enough for the moment. And if the somewhat dilapidated condition of the clothes gave her a look somewhat reminiscent of a homeless person then, well, so much the better. Easier to hide like that. She climbed out of the derelict house, wandering onto the sidewalk and slumping against the wall like a lost drunk, her swarm moving slowly around her, eyes fixed on the doorway. It shouldn't take long for her prey to emerge. Once they came out she gave it a minute before stumbling to her feet and weaving her way down the street, pretending to be lost as she trailed the Fallen.

She took to the rooftops once she was sure that she was far enough away from the Fallen house. The two she was tailing didn't look up once.

Their mistake, she supposed. She followed them until they reached a dingy alleyway, broad enough for maybe three people, and then went flat on the rooftop in case the Mathers Fallen were more alert. The rooftop was damp, the air tasting of rain leavened with the acrid touch of pollution, gas fumes and the stench of rotting trash. Luna leaned on her elbows and let the smell of a city wash over her as she waited, half dozing until her swarm alerted her to the presence of the other Fallen.

They'd brought two people. Two McVeays, two Mathers, one prisoner-bride. Four on one wasn't the worst odds, especially if she got the drop on them. Luna shuffled slightly, squirming back on the roof and relying on her swarm and her hearing to map out the alleyway. She'd need to take out the Mathers first, she decided. From what she'd heard the McVeays liked to pretend they were Behemoth, which meant mostly direct attacks, manipulating energy. The Mathers liked to dress like the Simurgh, and presumably had powers matching that, just like the other Fallen did. Getting hypnotised wasn't on her bucket list. She heard the other Fallen come into the alley, felt them with her flies. She imagined the rustling of many legs and the clicking of many mandibles all around her as spiders moved, swaying with her thoughts, but it could have been her imagination. It must have been her imagination, even her hearing wasn't so keen as to hear a spiders' footsteps. She waited a little longer, just in case any of the Fallen decided to check the rooftops, and then rose, hunkering down at the edge. The McVeays were dressed in leather and spikes, studs and combat boots: probably a relatively low-key attempt at looking like the Endbringer Behemoth. One of the Mathers Fallen was dressed similarly, with a carefully stylised mask hiding her features: her male compatriot wore a dirty tuxedo. Luna had no idea what that was about. She eyed the girl in the middle of the two Mathers: a slender girl, in a dress. Long red-brown hair peeked from under the mask she wore: her body language screamed of resignation.

She had made a good choice for the first member of her new Imperial Cult, she decided as she rose to her feet. The Fallen were saying something, but she didn't even bother to listen. Instead she took one last look, judged her distances, and jumped.

Luna landed on the Mathers woman feet first, boots driving her into the ground with a sickening crack of bones and snapping of tendons, rolling from the body. Screams rose behind her as her spiders fell onto the male and began to bite but she ignored them, coming out of the roll in a lunge towards the two McVeays. No hesitation, no pause. No banter this time.

Her knuckles crunched into the throat of the Fallen to her right, his gagging barely beginning before she put three more punches into his torso and rammed her heel against his kneecap, kicking it out. He wasn't dead but he was down and she turned on the second, elbow catching him across the jaw with a satisfyingly heavy impact. He staggered away and she spent a moment to wish that she might actually get a fight. She was taking this seriously, but if it was just an easy killing then it would be boring.

The second man shook his head like a bull beset by hounds, a snarl curling his lips. He wore a shaped mask that covered his face, jagged eyeholes revealing dark eyes, his bare chest and arms covered in tattoos. He was heavy with muscle and Luna licked her lips as he bunched a fist and lunged at her. She swayed right, darted to her left, feeling the punch slice above her head as she drove her fists into his stomach. It was like hitting a wooden plank, but she felt the muscle move under her blows and knew that she was hurting him, a breath bursting from his lungs as he jumped back, all his weight on one leg to leap forwards. Luna spun out of the way, contorting her tall frame to dodge his and watched as his fist crashed into and through the wall.

Freeing cold closed around her ankle and she glanced down to see the other McVeay, hand outstretched to her leg from where he lay on the ground. Ice stretched from the Fallens' fingers, wrapping around Luna's foot up to the ankle. Apparently, they would make a fight of it.

She looked up just in time to catch a smashing blow on her crossed forearms, ice snapping and shattering as the impact knocked her from her feet. She landed with a grunt, breath forced out of her lungs by the impact as she rolled and came back to her feet, mind spinning. That punch hadn't hit as hard as the first, but why? What made the difference? She regained her feet, a grin creeping over her lips without thinking.

"Yeah, that's it. Maybe this'll be fun after all."

Luna didn't call her swarm yet, intent on testing the two men before her alone. She rushed in, aiming for the bog one: the ice manipulator was still staggering. Luna ignored the pain in her forearms from the blow she had blocked, raining punches onto the bigger Fallen as he brought his arms up, sneaking blows around his guard. He was big but he didn't know how to fight: his clumsy return haymaker was easy to dodge for all that it shattered brick on impact. She let the jab from his left fist through out of interest, let it catch her in the chest and frowned as it barely hurt her. In fact, she was fairly certain that her fused ribcage hurt him more than he hurt her.

"Some kind of retaliation?" she mused, leaning away from his flailing. Her heart beat fast, blood thundering in her ears, excitement chilling every breath she took. The fight was getting her all worked up, she mused.

"Don't forget about me!" yelled the iceman, his hand outstretched. Luna blinked as ice closed around her left fist, the air suddenly turning cold as the iceman leapt forwards with frozen gauntlets coalesced around his hands. She stepped back, twisted, jumped to her left, bouncing off the wall to the right and springing forwards, her left arm wrapping around the skull of the big Fallen and taking him to the ground. He landed with stunning force and she hit the ground in a crouch, felt the caress of freeing air above her head and turned, putting all her weight and momentum into the swinging blow. Her fist caught the iceman in the ribs, ice shattering. At least one rib cracked and he lurched back with a pained cry. Luna laughed and leapt in, using her size and strength to overwhelm him, her fists meeting his face and sending him staggering. He thrust his left hand forwards, icy blade forming in his grasp and she leaned out of the way, letting his arm pass before she turned into him. Her left forearm braced across the inside of his, her right hand curled around his wrist, his scream of anticipation and fright and she snapped his arm across hers, blood splashing the wall as bone tore through skin. He reeled away, sobbing and howling and Luna turned back to the bigger man, breaking into a sprint towards him. He was still rising, still on one knee when she jumped into him, her knee meeting his temple where his mask didn't cover. The impact should have shattered his skull, but all it did was send him back to the ground. Luna hit the ground shoulder first, rolling, coming to her feet and the ice manipulator screamed behind her. She turned in time to see him holding out a hand, his mouth distorted with his howl as a dozen frozen spikes formed in the air before him and launched forwards.

Luna reached down and dragged the bog man to his feet before he could regain his senses.

The sharp smell of blood filled the air, a choking, gasping struggle for breath accompanying it. Luna giggled, her giggling turning into full blown laughter, wracking and howling as she bent double, dropping her impromptu shield to the ground, discarding the dying man without a second thought. The iceman was shaking, hand quivering, whole body shuddering as she brought her laughter under control and advanced, shaking her head.

"Well, you tried. Not very well, but I enjoyed it. But now…now it's your turn."

The Fallen screamed at her, his voice raw with desperation. Luna broke into a run, weaving through the ice projectiles that launched at her until she was close, too close for him to aim, too close for him to fight. A single step carried her outside the line of his arm and her fingers closed over his wrist.

"No!"

"Yes," she whispered, her fist smashing into his elbow and dislocating it. The Fallen opened his mouth to scream again but she struck once more before the noise came out, her foot ramming into his knee. Wounded earlier, the joint gave way and he collapsed to one knee, a keening shriek drooling from his gaping mouth. She let go of his arm and moved to his other side, disgust curdling in her stomach as he wept and slobbered, snot trailing from his nose to join the streaming tears. His mouth moved, burbling words at her. Begging, pleading for mercy.

The disgust turned to blind rage.

"Die with some dignity!" she bellowed, driving his skull into the wall. Consumed by a fiery, boiling rage she drew back her right fist, keeping his head in place with her left, and drove her knuckles into his temple.

One blow. Two. Three. Four and she lost count, taken by the fury and she hit and hit, driving bone into bone and flesh into flesh until the crimson haze cleared from her vision and she was left panting, right arm bloodied to the elbow, brain and blood and bone flecking her. She let the body slide soggily to the ground, panting, before she turned to the only other living person in the alleyway. The bride.

"Who are you?" the bride asked, her eyes wide. There was a flicker of something in those eyes, some satisfaction under the fear and Luna felt an ugly, acid glee begin to coil in her chest. It was a good feeling.

"Me? I'm Luna. And I'm going to take this city from the Fallen."

The bride smiled wanly, her eyes crinkling at the corners even though they remained dull.

"Plenty of people have said that."

Luna stepped closer, until she was just inches away. Until the bride could probably smell the death that lingered around her.

"Those people weren't me, sweetheart. I'm going to take the Fallen, and I'm going to teach them that the Endbringers aren't gods. I've seen a god, and she wasn't destroying a city."

The bride looked placidly at her. Luna smirked.

"But maybe you don't want to join a cult. Maybe you just want revenge, hmm? Well, I can get you that too. I can get you plenty of it."

The wan smile remained, but it turned a little sharper at the edges.

"And if I want to just leave?"

Luna shrugged and stepped away.

"Then you can leave. I'll find plenty more. But before you go, I have to ask- you think these would cause more of a stir if I dump the whole bodies, or if I leave just the heads on spikes?"

She took a step away and heard the bride hum, heard her breath quicken and smiled to herself. She had her first convert, she was sure. All she needed was confirmation.

"My name is Cynthia June. When I was a Ward, they called me Pyrodancer. And I think the heads would cause more of a stir."

Luna grinned.

So it begins.

Unfun fact: Canonically, the Fallen did in fact kidnap thirteen Wards or Independent Capes over seven years with the intent of marrying them into the family. Three stayed, three died, seven escaped somehow. You'd think that sort of thing would invite an orbital bombardment from Legend or something, but I guess it was somehow just below the attention of the Triumvirate. Or Mama Mathers weirded them out too much. Oh well.

As always, reviews are appreciated.