It was raining in Brockton Bay. That wasn't unusual, really: the city on the coast was frequently beset by thick cloud and falling water – but the strength of the storm was. Lightning cracked across slate-grey skies, rain battered at glass and metal and concrete and Taylor spread her arms, drifting on the gusting winds. She was wearing her normal coat and armour, not her powered armour, and she made the effort to keep her clothes dry by encasing them in a shell of power. Her wings she left unprotected, feeling the weather against them, tempted to take off her helmet and drop her guard, truly bask in the might of the storm. In fact…lightning cracked nearby, lunging through the rain to crash against a lightning-rod nearby, and Taylor spared it a glance as she lifted off her helmet and hooked it to her belt, pulling her protective shell away from her head and tilting her face to the sky. Water crashed against her skin, streaming from her flesh and soaking her hair, drumming against her closed eyelids and Taylor smiled, drawing in a deep breath of air thick with the smell of rain. The lighting flashed again, closer now, blinding even through her closed eyelids. Taylor opened her eyes, shaking her head to shift her drenched fringe from her eyes.

'I wonder…'

A touch of precognition, just a taste, and Taylor shifted her wings and drifted over a few feet, to a better location. She glanced up at the sky again, licking her lips as she felt the power thrashing and building in the clouds, almost ready to crash down again. Another faint touch of the Warp, just to be sure… just a flicker of precognition, warning her that the strike was about to come. Taylor tilted her head back, rain stinging across her face, arms spread and eyes closed and even through her eyelids then world lit up as the lighting crashed down upon her. There was an instant of pain, every nerve flaring before she caught the lighting, brought it under her control and let it flow along her armour, around her, sinking into her wings and cascading blinding white from the crimson. She could always do something like this with Warp Lightning, of course, but real lightning was so much more…vital. Alive. Primal. It was invigorating. Taylor opened her eyes to near blinding light, blue-white electricity crackling and popping as it rushed around her arms, wound around her torso, sparked in her breath and writhed in her blood and Taylor laughed, exhilarated by the power chasing itself through her before she corralled it, flicking out a hand and letting the lightning flash to another lightning-rod and ground itself.

"Ah, metaphors," the Emperor said dryly. Taylor snorted, shaking herself and still grinning.

'You look too deeply into things. That was just fun, before I have to go back and get complained at about Kaiser.'

"You really think anyone will care?"

'Good old Amy is going to bitch at me – not that that's any sort of difference, but still. Maybe I should have left him to die.'

The Emperor hummed, in that way that indicated probably uncomfortable wisdom was about to be dispensed. Taylor ran a hand over her hair, shoving it back from her face.

"You wouldn't have killed him. Not in front of Theo."

'You think?'

"I think that the death of your mother is still too raw for you to easily inflict that pain on another."

Taylor grunted sourly.

'Kaiser isn't nearly as good a parent as my Mom.'

"But he is a parent nonetheless, and emotion is rarely so discerning."

Taylor tutted softly, but the Emperor was speaking a sort of sense. Still. If Theo hadn't been there…but what was done was done. Kaiser was alive, but he was also crippled, and she didn't think the PRT was dumb enough to ask Panacea to heal him. There would be no real point, anyway, since he'd be going right to prison. She wondered if he'd avoid the Birdcage. She hoped so, in some ways. Kaiser was a real piece of shit, but he probably didn't quite deserve to spend the rest of his life crippled in an asylum run by the inmates. She couldn't prove that the Birdcage was that bad, of course, but she had…call it a feeling.

'You know, if he gets sentenced to the Birdcage, saving him was just an act of cruelty? Ironic.'

"We're a cruel species, aren't we? Not that any other I've ever seen has been much better, but still. Sometimes the sheer malice humanity is capable of still takes my breath away."

'In horror or in admiration?' Taylor dryly asked, twisting to turn herself towards the ground. The Emperor laughed, loud and unashamed.

"Would you believe me if I said it was often both?"

Taylor snorted, folding her wings and dropping like a stone. The wind tore past her as she fell, almost as fast as the droplets of rain, the thrill of speed and the adrenaline rush surging through her. She almost lost her helmet, snapping a hand out to snag it just as it flew off her belt, and spread her wings with a sudden jolt that ran through her whole body. Taylor laughed as the wind caught under her wings, pulling her up in a manoeuvre that no unaugmented human could have achieved, and tilted sharply to the side to avoid a skyscraper, flashing past the windows of the top floor. She raced through the city, not bothering to beat her wings, just coasting on the speed she'd built up until she reached the PRT HQ. Taylor pulled up sharply, her wings spreading and straining against the sudden pressure as she braked, sharply enough that when she landed on the roof her speed had almost entirely bled off and it only took a few steps for her to come to a halt, still laughing. She shook her head, droplets of water flying into the storm-slick night, before strolling over to the building access door.

'You know,' she said, tapping the code she'd been given into the small pad on the door, 'I don't think it's just my Mom that stopped me from killing Kaiser.'

"No?"

'Well, I try to maintain some self-awareness. My Mom died a long time ago…but Brandish didn't. And seeing Glory…'

"Ah. Yes, an emotional connection that refreshed old pain."

That was a very clinical way of putting it, Taylor thought, but she didn't phrase the thought enough for it to be heard. The Emperor probably picked it up anyway – they were all but one being, in a lot of ways – but he didn't comment, just as Taylor almost never commented on thoughts that he kept at least slightly private. She walked into the PRT HQ, squeezing most of the rainwater out of her hair with a thought and a psychic noose, a flicker of concentrated heat licking from her fingers and evaporating the spray as it fell. Normally she might not have bothered, just leaving a trail of water, but at this point the PRT HQ was being used as the Protectorate HQ as well since the Rig, the Protectorate HQ that had previously lived out in the actual harbour, had taken a hammering from Leviathan's waves. If Taylor remembered correctly, it had been blown from its moorings and ended up several miles down the coast, and she wasn't yet strong enough to carry it back even if she'd been asked. A speaker on the wall buzzed and Taylor gave it an irritated look, pausing. Dragon liked to communicate through these things, she'd found – Taylor found it slightly creepy, that the woman was apparently always watching, but she'd so far suppressed the urge to say it.

"Circaetus," Dragon said, her voice sounding slightly weary, "Back from your trip?"

Taylor shrugged.

"Wanted to make sure that I couldn't be interrogated," she admitted without shame, "How are things going?"

"Kaiser's in surgery at the General Hospital," Dragon informed her, "And Director Piggot just sighed very loudly when asked what she was going to do about it. I think you've gotten away with it, for now."

Taylor didn't bother to hide her smirk, relishing the staticky sigh that Dragon let out.

"I'll head down to the lab, then," Taylor said, "I've got a couple of things to do there. See you there?"

"Over a screen, at least," Dragon confirmed, before the speaker went silent and Taylor set off again.

'So I don't mean to be intrusive and everything-'

"A base lie and you know it."

'Shush, you. I don't mean to pry, but does Dragon seem kinda weird to you? I mean, allegedly she's an invalid, but she's, like, the greatest Tinker ever apparently. She couldn't whip up some prosthetics or something? Hell, she could take a trip over here and get Pan-Pan to heal her up. She could ask me, if she wanted. But she doesn't. You think that's kinda sketchy?'

"Some people have too much pride, Taylor. How does it go…ah. I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul."

'Invictus, William Ernest Henley. I prefer Ozymandias. Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay, of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, the lone and level sands stretch far away.'

"Percy Shelley. Melancholy, but I see your point. Ozymandias was surely the captain of his soul, yet all that remains is the broken statue amidst the endless winds. I would have thought you would have preferred Poe, with your tendency towards the dramatic."

Taylor sniffed, faintly mocking.

'I do like Poe, but I like to think I'm a little more three-dimensional than that. Either way, it might bear investigating. Carefully, of course. Dragon's not an enemy.'

"I hesitate to suggest this, but perhaps you should simply let it go, in that case? We have other things to be doing, and her support would be useful in several endeavours."

Well, that was true enough. Taylor was still inclined to be at least a little cautious, but the Emperor was right. No need to burn her bridges until she really had to.

"Knock knock," Taylor called as she strolled into the lab she'd just about claimed as her own, "Better not be anything shady going on in here."

Her Dad wasn't present – he was down on the docks, working to move the boats that were close enough to the harbour. She needed to head down there and dredge some more out soon, she'd only managed a couple before other events had intervened, but she'd need to find a time. The wide screen in the corner of the room flickered and came on, Dragon's smiling face present on it. Taylor gave her a wave, setting her helmet down on a table and shaking herself like a dog, water droplets flying from her wings. She caught them in a layer of force, the droplets catching the light and sparkling like rainbow crystals before she curled a hand and they coalesced into a single orb. Taylor dropped it onto a wad of tissue that she'd left lying around after mopping up some grease, the paper absorbing the water.

"Did you have fun in the storm?" Dragon asked. Taylor grinned.

"A lot more fun than the last rainstorm I was caught in," she said dryly, "Glad I decided not to wear my powered armour though. I don't think the systems are qualified to bear a lightning strike."

"Yes, I saw," Dragon murmured, and Taylor briefly wondered how the woman was watching her, "But your armour isn't properly hardened?"

Taylor shrugged.

"It's practically a prototype," she explained, "I need some more stuff before I bring it up to speed. And I don't want to be jamming prototype power cells into it."

Taylor drummed her fingers on the table, thinking. It probably wouldn't hurt to elaborate, she reasoned.

"It's what I've been working on – a microfusion power cell. Piggot's probably drooling over the thought of it going into weaponry, but…"

"You don't want to create better weapons?" Dragon asked, her tone mild but searching. Taylor shrugged again, sighing.

"It's…look. My pistol, my laspistol. It's basically a laser weapon, right? It burns, melts or causes thermal explosions in things it hits, and it runs on the solar cells. If I wanted to build a more advanced weapon, however…let's stick with the thermal angle. If I wanted to build a Volkite weapon, I theoretically could. Volkite weapons are a step up from lasers, they fire a concentrated ray of thermal energy. Anything it hits is vaporised, unless it's extremely tough. But to produce that power…"

"You need a much stronger source," Dragon completed. Taylor nodded, waving a hand.

"Yeah. Although it's not like it's that useful. I can do a lot more damage with my powers than I could with a death-ray."

Not that that stopped her from having a set of blueprints drawn up. She even had a theory that she might be able to reduce the size of a Volkite rifle, scaling it down to a pistol size weapon that could be wrist mounted to a set of power armour, but part of her wondered if a bolter might be more effective in that role.

"Mostly I want it for my armour. With a better power source I can actually start building in better equipment, I'll be able to run the armour for more than a few hours."

'We'll have to redesign it, though. The normal backpack design isn't going to work with our wings.'

"Yes. Unfortunate."

Taylor continued to tap, her ceramite gauntlets clicking against the table as she thought, and Dragon spoke again.

"If you don't mind…why do you call them Volkite weapons? Is there a reason?"

Taylor scrunched up her face, nose wrinkling briefly. She was fairly sure that the first Volkite weapon had been named after its creator, but she couldn't exactly say that could she? She shrugged, ceasing her tapping to rap her knuckles gently against the side of her head.

"Just what my brain tells me they are," she said, "That's all."

Dragon hummed, a neutral noise, and Taylor sighed, still clicking her fingers against the table.

"I can't really just throw together a fusion reactor, though," she mused, "It needs a more delicate touch than my previous gear. I'll need to set up a proper construction lab, just to make sure."

"Would it be dangerous?" Dragon asked, her image on the screen raising an eyebrow, "I know Tinker tech isn't usually volatile, but it's also usually not nuclear reactors."

Taylor shook her head.

"If it goes wrong, all that'll happen is a containment failure. Once that happens, the fusion reaction fizzles out. Maybe there'll be a little bit of lingering radiation, but probably not even that."

Taylor elected not to let Dragon know that it was sometimes possible for a full fusion powerplant, at least the ones used for larger ships and buildings, to enter a runaway state and act mostly like a fusion bomb. The microfusion batteries were pretty safe, she argued to herself.

'I wonder…we were talking about starting a company. You think Acquila Industries is taken?'

"I think it's a little on the nose. Are you even allowed to sell your equipment on the open market? There are protectionist laws preventing Parahumans from properly leveraging their powers, aren't there?"

'I don't think they apply to Tinkers, since Tinkers can't exactly mass produce their gear. But yeah, we should check that.'

Taylor heaved a mental sigh at the thought of setting up a company while also continuing her search for Luna. She'd been distracted recently, unable to really find the time to pursue her clone, but there was a foreboding in her soul. Luna could be up to almost anything, and if she was as much like a conscienceless Taylor as Taylor thought…well, a determination to 'save' the world, unfettered by morals, could be a dangerous thing. And Luna presumably knew at least some of what Taylor did, and there was that old saying about a little knowledge.

"How are things going with the power cells and water purifiers?" she asked, remembering that Dragon and Armsmaster were the ones testing them. Dragon hummed to herself again, the form on the screen shrugging.

"It's going well," she said, "We've done most of the testing. Mass production should be ready soon. But…"

Taylor stopped fiddling with the items on the table, her fingers and her mind briefly stilling. She blinked, slow and steady, and raised her voice just a little when she next spoke.

"But?"

Dragon sighed, deep and fuzzing through the screen. Taylor forced herself to move, to crush down her concern and avoid looking like she was walking to an execution. To seem casual, natural. What could be the matter? Had someone already weaponised the power cells? Not that it would be too impressive, but still. Humanity was creative, and Taylor knew that her knowledge wasn't the be all and end all. There were technological applications that neither she nor the Emperor had thought of or remembered, and there were some technologies that she didn't understand, even now. Maybe it would not be beyond her, but it would take years, decades, perhaps even centuries of study and experimentation to genuinely understand them – technological wonders such as the Astronomicon. The Emperor had admitted to her, once, that the Astronomicon had not been his design. He and Malcador had made the final leap to make it functional, they had overseen the construction, but it had all been from plans drafted at the very start of the Age of Strife, by some long lost genius who had realised how perilous Terra's state had been. Like Rome before it, Terra had been the capital of an empire that fed and sustained it. Terra's fall into barbarism had been due to a lack of resources arriving as much as anything else: without tribute from the other worlds of Humanity, Terra was long past the point of sustaining its immense population. Not that any of that really mattered now: the Astronomicon was unnecessary, and even if it would have had a use the current Earth didn't have anywhere near the technological base to even begin creating it.

Taylor shook the thought off: this wasn't a time for wool-gathering.

"I suppose," Dragon began, "That I should give you some context. My power – my Tinker ability – is quite unusual. It allows me, in short, to understand, copy and elaborate upon other Tinker creations. This is…well, it's not something that many can do. Tinkertech is usually impossible to replicate for anyone other than the Tinker, and often extremely difficult to even repair or maintain."

'Ah. I think I see where she's going here.'

"That given," Dragon continued, "It's not surprising that I was asked to review your power cells and desalinator, as I would probably be able to replicate them. And yet…"

Taylor could guess what would come next. On the screen, Dragon shrugged.

"And yet, I wasn't needed," she softly said, "Because they can be replicated by anyone with the ability to follow the plans."

Taylor had already sent two patents to be filed. She was pretty sure that the PRT wasn't going to try to steal her designs, and good luck to anyone trying to reverse-engineer them without a thorough understanding of the advanced technological fundamentals, but at least it would give her some legal cover in the event she had to break into someone's house and destroy a bunch of knock-off gear. Not much legal cover, but some. Taylor gestured with a single finger and a notepad drifted over to her, setting down before her. A pencil lifted with a thought, sketching more designs onto the paper, and Taylor folded her arms, chewing over her next words.

"Yes," she said, "I'd expected that."

"You'd…expected it?" Dragon asked, her voice flecked with disbelief. Taylor shrugged.

"I've seen Kid Win work," she said, "And I researched Tinkers. I saw all the theories and everything. Tinkers have passive powers that affect their equipment, right?"

Dragon nodded.

"Yes. It tends to…many Tinkers tend to enter a sort of trance when working, especially when a strong inspiration strikes. And sometimes understanding the items produced is nearly impossible. Even for me…my creations are often lesser quality than those of the original Tinker, I must admit."

"But you make up for it by combining the best aspects of a lot of things?" Taylor completed. Dragon smiled but said nothing and Taylor nodded.

"Right. Right. Well, my power doesn't work like that."

"No?" Dragon asked, sounding cautious. Taylor shrugged and waved a hand – she was considering upgrading to a real Force Glaive, but she wasn't sure if the right ingredients would be available. Yes, steel and titanium and other metals would work, but a real Force weapon like she wanted was as much a sorcerer's staff as a polearm and there was something to be said for including more supernatural elements. Maybe she could find or build a forge? Building one would probably be better, she thought, control the process completely and forge the weapon with her own hands, as the Emperor had done his sword. A cluster of pieces rose out of a corner and floated over to her, the first parts of a newer, better set of powered armour: an improved Ceramite constructor, for better Ceramite plates. Stronger and lighter, they would be an improvement to all of her armour.

"No," Taylor confirmed, "I've never gone into a trance when constructing. And it takes me a lot longer. I don't have the luxury of my power providing shortcuts, I have to do everything myself. My power just provides the…the blueprints. Intuitive leaps in technology, rather than…whatever Tinkertech is."

'Sorry for calling you 'my power''.

"I prefer it to being called a god, at least. And it isn't entirely wrong. If you are constructing a new set of powered armour, we can probably fit the power backpack into a narrower frame, so long as we carefully work to reduce the power load. Once we are past the first generation of power cells and any teething problems therein we should be able to run the armour just fine, the Astartes backpacks are larger than needed."

'Hmm. How did Sanguinius deal with it?'

"Slight gaps in his backplate – it required a re-engineering of the undersuit, to provide a gap in that as well, but the plates of the armour were jointed and placed in such a way that they did not impede his wings. I would advise against that, for now: it would be harder to armour yourself, and requires considerably more delicacy in construction."

'Fair enough.'

A smaller backpack it was, then. Taylor was pretty sure it would fit, although she'd definitely be careful to test properly before heading out with it. Catching a bad attack on her backpack and being caught in a nuclear conflagration would be a very embarrassing way to lose a fight.

"That's very interesting," Dragon said and Taylor forced herself to pay attention again. Dragon shook her head.

"If you don't go into a Tinker Fugue, then it could be that you aren't a Tinker at all. The leaps in logic, the need to build up, you could well be a Thinker, not a Tinker. And you are quite intelligent."

Taylor shrugged again.

"It's not like I started this way," she said, lying just a little in an attempt to get some of the attention off her, "Once I realised that I could alter my own body, it seemed pretty sensible to do the same to my brain. Making every muscle stronger, and all that."

'Speaking of making muscles stronger, we should properly map out the locations of extra organs. I don't want to be wandering around looking like an Astartes, that's going to be obvious, but having a second heart and so on could come in handy.'

"Agreed. At least a secondary heart is relatively minor in effect. It can wait until you find room in your chest cavity."

Taylor was pretty sure that last line was a joke, but she didn't comment on it. She studied Dragon's expression – there was something off about it, as though she was surprised but not quite certain how to fully emote it. Probably just the connection, Taylor thought, although she tucked the memory away into her mental file of 'things odd about Dragon', for later perusal.

"An interesting question, actually. While we know that improving our physical abilities can make us worthy of a Brute or Mover classification, could our brain alterations put us at the point where we could be considered a Tinker or Thinker? Presumably a Mechanicus Adept with the usual augmentations would be considered a Thinker."

'And the speed and reaction time of an Astartes would probably count as well. Maybe we should look into providing augmentations…in case we need to find some Astartes level combatants quickly, having a group we could trust who we could call on…'

A soft hum from the Emperor, laden with meaning, and Taylor clicked the last piece of the frame of her Ceramite Constructor into place. Dragon sighed.

"More and more I see why some people find you alarming. If that's the case, though, how did you come to create the desalinator?"

Taylor set her hands onto the table, sighing.

'I suppose I should tell them, then.'

"It's part of a terraforming rig," she said flatly, continuing before Dragon could interrupt, "I know you probably don't believe that I could build one – fair enough – but hear me out. This planet won't last forever. Even setting aside the Endbringers there are Parahumans all over the place who are rendering land uninhabitable. Bonesaw with the Slaughterhouse Nine, the Sleeper in Russia, Ash Beast in Africa, the effects of global warming, habitability is going to drop. So, terraforming might be needed even if we don't go into space, and drinkable water is a big part of that."

"You really think we can feasibly terraform planets?" Dragon asked. Taylor scratched her chin, thinking, before she shrugged.

"It's an enormous universe. Unending, maybe: there have to be worlds that are in the habitable zone. Of course, Terraforming will be more difficult. Venus, even, might be suitable. It's too hot because of a runaway greenhouse effect, so in theory if the atmosphere could be altered – it would take an enormous amount of resources and extremely specialised spacecraft, but it could maybe be done – and made Earth-like, then the planet could be seeded and made liveable."

"A colossal project," Dragon murmured, "And one that would probably require the Simurgh to be removed. Where would you get the gas to adjust the ratios of Venus' atmosphere?"

Taylor shrugged.

"Other planets in the solar system. Look at Titan, near Saturn – it has a mostly Methane atmosphere. That can be broken down, although it would need a lot of gas to affect Venus. But the most important thing is that Earth remains habitable until we've reached a point where we can terraform other planets, which means deploying basic terraforming here. The desalinator is one of the first steps. Next…well, I don't know if the technological grounding is in place to build some sort of climate adapter, but I'll cross that bridge when I reach it."

'Almost said Terra there.'

"It's a more sensible name. It matches the theming of the other planets."

'Wouldn't that be Gaia?'

"Gaia is Greek, successor mine. All the other planets are Latin, as is Terra."

'Oh. Yes, of course.'

"That's very ambitious," Dragon murmured, "Most Tinkers with that sort of ambition run into problems. Mostly with the Simurgh…a member of the Slaughterhouse Nine did, in fact."

Taylor blinked.

"Really?"

Dragon nodded.

"Mannequin, as he's called now. He used to be called Sphere, I'll see if I can find his information for you. And I'll…if you come up with any other plans and need someone to look them over or support you in building them, you can always come to me."

A wan smile crossed Dragon's face.

"You are correct: this is our only world, and it is dying. Piece by piece our only living place is being sucked away. If you can even begin to arrest that slide, you'll have all the help I can offer."

Taylor rubbed her hands together, suddenly a little embarrassed. She'd expected doubt, maybe condescension, not agreement and full blooded offers of help. It could make things a lot easier, but it was…jarring. Still, it would be nice to have someone at her back when she was doing things like this.

"You know, you could bring a lot more support to bear if you had a political position. I know you'd like to avoid a position of rulership, but you might need to consider taking one up until Humanity has avoided this latest crisis."

'Pretty sure that Parahumans are barred from entering politics, and I'm still one as far as anyone's concerned. And a civil war isn't exactly my speed.'

"Depending on what Luna is doing, you might not have a choice in that. If she creates a new Cult Imperial, if they bow before you and proclaim you Empress, what will you do?"

Taylor didn't offer an answer.

There was a knock on the door and Taylor snapped out of her musings, turning halfway. She didn't bother to walk across the room: an instant of concentration, a flicker of power and the door slid open. Dragon hummed behind her, but Taylor ignored it. She recognised Glory easily, even if she was in civilian gear.

"Glory," Taylor said warmly, striding across the room as Glory entered. She offered Taylor a smile, looking a little less tired and forlorn than the last time Taylor had seen her. Taylor offered a brief hug, smiling faintly as Glory hugged her back.

"Your wings are so awkward," Glory said, smiling after they broke apart, "I don't know where to put my hands."

Taylor grinned briefly and Glory rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, innuendos and stuff. I know," she said, shaking her head. Taylor shrugged.

"It's my brand."

Glory nodded, briefly biting at her lip.

"Can I have a word?"

"I'll give you some privacy," Dragon said, the screen flicking off. Glory lifted into the air between one step and the next, hovering over to a table and taking a seat on it. Taylor leaned against another table, wings folded and pressing into it, and spread her hands. She was careful not to fold her arms: this wasn't a time to appear closed off. Basic psychology. Glory rubbed her hands together, a frown wrinkling her brow.

"I think," she said, "That I'm going to be out of town for a while. I've spoken to my university and they're…they're closing for a month anyway, while things settle down, and I've got grief time, they said. So we – my family – we're going out to some other family, take some time to…you know."

"Grieve," Taylor completed quietly and Glory nodded.

"Yeah. Grieve. And I guess we're going to be looking over our future, Amy and I."

'Is it just me, or did that sound ominous?'

"A little, yes. Although I don't think she's the sort of person to just give up after one loss."

Taylor didn't think so either, but she was aware that the Emperor's view on people could be…skewed…and that it skewed hers in turn. Losing her Mom was a big blow to Glory, there was no telling how much it would affect her.

And besides, it might be best if New Wave let itself go out with at least a little grace. Start afresh, something new, without all the baggage of the old.

"So, you want to share?" Taylor asked before shrugging, "Though if you want to stay mysterious I don't mind."

Glory shook her head, smiling sadly.

"You're impossible," she said, "But yeah. Alright. It's not like it's a secret."

Glory tapped her fingers on the table, looking upwards and sighing heavily. Taylor waited patiently, assessing Glory's body language. Down but not out, she judged, tired and worn but not yet defeated.

"New Wave is pretty much done," Glory abruptly said, shrugging. Taylor tilted her head, not yet saying anything and waiting for Glory to continue.

"It's not like we were doing great to begin with," Glory said, shrugging, "I've said that before. But right now…I think that Aunt Sarah and my cousins are going to take a break, probably a long one. Losing…losing Mom hit Aunt Sarah hard, she might even retire. Amy's not a fighter. Dad's not well. I'm…I'm pretty much all that's left of New Wave, right now."

Glory laughed, a little hysterically, and Taylor shifted to get up. Glory looked at her and Taylor aborted the movement, guessing that Glory needed to get this out. Get it over with. Glory squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a long, ragged breath.

"It was supposed to be a new start, you know," she said, "New Wave. Mom and Aunt Sarah made it to encourage other Capes to reveal their identities. Accountability, that was what it was supposed to allow. But it didn't, did it? Fleur died and Lightstar left and it just all fell into ruin. And then – and then Mom died to something that didn't care who she was!"

Another choked laugh and Taylor stood paralysed, unsure of what to do. Glory sniffed, scrubbing a hand harshly across her face and shaking her head.

"It was all so meaningless, in the end," she said softly. Taylor shook her head. She knew what she wanted to say, perhaps what she should say – it wasn't meaningless. Just because something fails in the end doesn't mean it didn't have value – but she knew that it wouldn't help. Knew that it would sound like just another platitude. Glory sighed, blinking away the incipient tears and shaking her head.

"So, yeah. New Wave is…pretty much dissolved. But I don't want to lay down my cape, you know? Having a Hero team that's independent from the Protectorate, I think that was important too. So I want to…I guess I want to make my own mark. New Wave was meaningless in the end, but it doesn't mean that it can't be done right. I'll just need to find…you know, some other people who might think the same."

Glory looked directly at Taylor and raised an eyebrow. Taylor gasped dramatically and pressed a hand over her chest.

"Miss Glory," she said, "Are you propositioning me?"

Glory snorted out a laugh, weak and watery but present and Taylor smiled more genuinely.

"You're an idiot, Circ," Glory said fondly, "But yeah. If you're still around when I get back, it'd be good to keep working with you."

"If I'm still around?" Taylor asked, "I'm stunned by your faith in me."

Glory waved a hand.

"Not like that! I mean, look at the city. It's practically peaceful, now, or it will be. When we first met it was crawling with gangs, and now…who's left?"

Taylor wrinkled her nose, conceding the point.

"Lung and the ABB," she said, "Tattletale, I guess. And maybe Faultline?"

Glory nodded.

"Dunno if I'd count Faultline," she admitted, "And Tattletale – she's a bitch, but I'm pretty sure she's not going to cause much trouble. So that's just Lung and his gang. The Empire, the Merchants, Coil, the Teeth…since you've arrived the Bay's become a place where gangs go to die. And I'm pretty sure that you'd get bored in a peaceful city."

Come to think of it, wasn't Glory's university course something to do with psychology? Taylor was pretty sure she'd heard that, once, and if she wasn't doing something like that she should consider it. She was right, after all: Taylor craved action, adrenaline, the rush of battle. She hadn't made any plans yet, but taking down Lung and then moving right on to hunting Luna sounded…exactly like something she'd do.

"I didn't really have anything to do with the Merchants," she said instead, "I was just there when Hookwolf blended Skidmark and Squealer."

And what a mess that had been, Taylor thought, remembering the way the blood had sprayed and painted Hookwolf. And Hookwolf, too, was now merely history, butchered by Leviathan: just another footnote in the blood-soaked history of the Bay gangs.

"Sure," Glory murmured, "Maybe. But it's still happened since you started. Not that it's a bad thing! It's great, in fact. But I don't think you'll be around much longer. I almost miss it, you know."

"The old days?" Taylor asked, feeling her smile crinkle her eyes. Glory chuckled softly, nodding.

"A couple of months ago, yeah. The old days."

She shoved herself to her feet, landing with a faint thud.

"So, uh, yeah. I'm leaving for a couple of months, I guess. Well, so long as I can convince Amy, but I'm pretty sure it'll work out. She needs a break as much as any of us, even if she won't admit it."

Taylor was pretty sure that being a disagreeable bitch was simply in Panacea's nature and no amount of rest and relaxation would help, but she was also aware that she was sort of biased. Besides, Glory did love her sister. It was one of her flaws. Glory dusted her hands together, nodding again.

"So, I guess that – long story short – I'm going to be out of town for a few months, and won't be around to pull you out of any mess you get into. So, uh, be careful, alright?"

Taylor smiled, slighter and gentler than usual.

"Yeah," she said softly, "I'll do my best, Glory."

Taylor shifted, sighing before spreading her arms again.

"Come on then," she said, grunting as Glory squeezed her in another hug. It was impressively strong – Taylor could practically feel her ribs creaking under the strain despite her armour – but she reciprocated, a brief but firm embrace before they separated again.

"Be careful yourself, Glory," Taylor said as her friend walked out the door, "I'll see you when you get back."

She stood and stared at the door for a few minutes afterwards, just letting her mind rest and turn over what she was going to do next. Glory had made a good point: Brockton was becoming almost peaceful. She'd have to stay and help clear out the Docks, make sure the stranded boats no longer blocked the way, but after that? What then? Where would she go, what should she do? Taylor found herself…undecided. The world as her oyster – such as it was – and she didn't know where to go next? It was almost funny, Taylor thought, before she shrugged to herself. Well, she had gotten this far by simply winging it, no reason not to continue. There was a knock on the door and Taylor turned, surprised.

"Circaetus," Armsmaster greeted as he walked in, as stiff as ever. Taylor waved half-heartedly to him and slightly more enthusiastically to Clockblocker as he followed the man.

"Clock," she said, "Hey. Out of the hospital, then?"

He snorted, shaking his head.

"Light duties only," he said, a smile in his voice, "But yep. Vista was furious."

"Oh, I bet. What brings the two of you here?"

Armsmaster sighed, long and deep, and Taylor couldn't help but be just a little offended. She wasn't that bad, she thought.

"Members of a Protectorate affiliated Hero team, Haven, are visiting the city. They expressed an interest in meeting the more important members of the Protectorate, and while you aren't technically a member you may as well be."

"Aww," Taylor murmured, "That's so sweet."

She could feel Armsmaster scowling at her, but he didn't say anything about it.

"Are you coming?" he asked instead and Taylor sighed.

"Yeah," she said, "Sure. I guess, if you think it might be important."

Armsmaster nodded sharply.

"They'll be here soon, come on."

Taylor followed him, since she really didn't have much else to do – and he made a decent point about her being pretty much the best choice for muscle if the Protectorate needed it – but it didn't mean she was going to be gracious about it.

"Still don't see why you want me to tag along," Taylor complained to Armsmaster, "I should probably go see Theo, make sure that he's alright. Since when have I been included in Protectorate meet and greet sessions?"

"Normally you wouldn't be," Armsmaster said, "But in this case you are our best seek and destroy option. Haven are committed to pursuing the Fallen, and we cannot afford for the Fallen to gain a foothold here. It might be that Haven are simply visiting, but past records indicate that they are likely pursuing Fallen – a group of Endbringer cultists."

Taylor couldn't help but feel that her generous support was being misused, but since she had all but taken over one of Armsmaster's labs she supposed that she would at least hear him out. And he had a good point, she supposed – if there were Fallen in the city, she'd want to root them out as quickly as possible. Clockblocker, tagging along a step behind her, broke into the conversation once it became clear that Armsmaster wasn't going to say anything more.

Aren't Haven that really devout Christian team? Surprised they didn't try to recruit you, Tweety," Clock said, "With the whole angel thing you've got going on."

Taylor muttered an imprecation under her breath before raising her voice, irritated by the very concept of a devoutly Christian Cape group. Religion was a blight, and its adherents even more so.

"Eagle, Clock, eagle. Not an angel, it's even in my name! I know you know that."

Clockblocker feigned innocence.

"Oh, how could I possibly know?" he asked. Taylor rolled her eyes.

"The nickname is a dead giveaway, Tick-tock. Why would you have chosen it if you didn't know that Circaetus is a genus of eagle?"

Clockblocker hummed.

"Could have picked it from the eagle that you wear on all your armour," he suggested, "But yeah, okay, I looked it up. You know that the short-toed Eagle is called the Snake-Eating Eagle in some places?"

"There are more options that Circaetus gallicus," Taylor grumbled, "But yes. The Circaetus eagles are often called the snake eagles. Just a happy coincidence, though."

"Hmm."

Taylor waved a hand.

"So, Haven," she said, her mouth twisting around the world in aggravation, "They're really religious? It's not just a gimmick?"

Armsmaster sighed.

"No, it is not a…gimmick. They often recruit from the Protectorate, on the basis of offering greater freedom of religion to their members."

Taylor barked a laugh.

"Religious freedom is an oxymoron," she said, feeling her lips curl into a sharp, cruel grin, "Aren't the Fallen originally a Christian cult? Naming the Endbringers after beasts from the Bible backfired there, didn't it? Could have gone for Jormungandr, Charybdis and, well, Simurgh and avoided extant religious references."

"Isn't Simurgh-"

"Persian mythology," Armsmaster grunted, cutting Clockblocker's question off, "And Circaetus, please do not start a fight with Haven. They are our allies, regardless of your opinions on their choice of worship."

"Besides," Clockblocker said, clearly trying to play mediator, "It's not like they're hurting everyone. It's been around forever, and the world hasn't ended yet."

Taylor tutted, clicking her tongue in distaste.

'Another bloody doomsday cult in the making, probably. The Endbringer's can't have helped, and they take it so seriously.'

The Emperor laughed, dark and harsh.

"We are a little more enlightened, Taylor. After all, it is hard to take religion seriously when it is younger than you are. A God who made the earth and all things on it? Hardly. I knew the world before the Abrahamic religions, and it was just the same."

"Religions always pass," Taylor said aloud, "Time is a violent torrent; no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place."

"Marcus Aurelius," Armsmaster grunted and Taylor looked at him in delighted surprise, most of her ire evaporating.

"Oh? Didn't know if anyone would get that one. Did you know it naturally, or do you have a whole bibliography connected to your helmet?"

Armsmaster gave her a withering look.

"The second," he said, clearly irritated, "I don't have time to memorise quotes only to antagonise people."

"A boring way to think," Taylor riposted, "But have it your way. I won't start any trouble…probably."

Armsmaster maintained his glare for several seconds before deciding that he'd gotten as much as he could and it would be better to take what he could. Taylor decided to throw him a bone, or as much of one as she was willing to extend.

"I'll be nice," she said, "But if the word idolator, or heretic, or blasphemer, or Anti-Christ or whatever other religion-based insult comes my way, I'm gonna throw them into a wall so hard they explode."

Taylor considered.

"Maybe not blasphemer," she allowed, "I don't really blaspheme. Although even if I was using their god's name in vain, is it blasphemy if you don't believe?"

Armsmaster's gauntlets creaked just a little. Taylor grinned behind her helmet. For a moment she wondered if she should try to suppress her wings, make her appearance less church-angelic, but in the end she decided against it. It wasn't her job to change her appearance to try to cater to the prejudices of bible-bashing god-botherers, she concluded.

'I wonder if that was why they brought us along, to try and play on their sense of wonder and awe? That's very sneaky, if so.'

"A cunning enough plan, if indelicate," the Emperor allowed. Taylor scoffed mentally.

'Feel like we might have scuppered that plan, on account of…you know.'

"The lack of time for their pretend god?"

'That, yeah. I guess they wouldn't have known about it, would we? I hope they aren't preachy. I don't think I could be polite if they're preachy.'

"Even if they are not - you are many things, Taylor, but polite is not one of them."

'Aww, you flatterer.'

"I do try. Moving on from religions and in regards to your future plans, I believe that it might be a good idea to start your planned company with support from Dragon, if you can get it. It's entirely possible that Dragon already has contacts who sell Tinker technology, and you could supplement that. Begin with power sources and then branch out, if you intend to provide the desalinator at cost."

'That's an interesting idea. Cheap desalinators, they'll help people but also it'll help spread the word. And space travel, we'll need to work on that just in case. Perhaps introduce it a few years down the line, as a way of transporting goods via teleportation. Start crude, then work up to a basic Warp Drive for space vessels.'

"Yes," the Emperor mused, "Control it from the very start. So long as the governments of the world do not interfere…"

'And what if they do? Stage a coup?'

"If needed. The stronger you get the better you will be able to work it to your will: after all, how hard would it be to influence a city to vote the way you please? A state, a country even, and you can remain the power behind the throne while your chosen candidate carries out your will."

Taylor repressed a shiver, understanding the dystopic nature of what the Emperor suggested but unwilling to yet dismiss the pragmatism.

'I suppose that's theoretically better than just taking over a whole country, even if only just.'

The Emperor laughed.

"Bold of you to believe that you would require force. After all, is humanity not ever drawn to the strong?"

'The Great Man of History theory is discredited and you know it. Besides, that sort of empire building is always unstable.'

"Perhaps. But Alexander and Genghis were both mortal. There is no one to whisper memento mori in your ear, and even if there was they would be tragically misguided."

The Emperor spoke the truth, again. Taylor didn't make any reply. What was there to say, after all? Armsmaster paused at the door ahead of them, turning back.

"Circaetus," he said, his voice slightly strangled as though he was forcing the words out, "Please. I am asking politely – do not start a fight."

Taylor sighed deeply, pretending to think about it.

"Already told you I won't," she said, "Not like I'm going to bother trying to convert them. They want to waste time praying to a ghost, that's their prerogative."

Taylor glanced away from Armsmaster, her tongue pressing gently against one of her canines in thought. It was sharper than before – Luna's mouthful of razor fangs was a mutation, but not an entirely unexpected one. After all, Astartes could eat just about anything. Sharper and stronger teeth were every bit as important for that as an improved digestive system, and though Taylor didn't think they were important they were minor enough as a change that she'd made it anyway. Idly she wondered how Haven would take to a winged Luna, near fangs and glittering eyes and ruthless attitude. Probably poorly, Taylor supposed as Armsmaster pushed open the door and led them in. There was a scatter of Parahumans around the room, sitting or standing around a large central table – Deputy Director Rennic, Dauntless, Assault, Flechette and Weld. PRT, Protectorate and Wards, Taylor thought, with two people she didn't recognise at the head of the table. Taylor saw the way their expressions changed as they saw her, tasted their surprise and the faint echoes of awe and barely repressed a sigh.

"Be not afraid," she murmured, unconsciously and uselessly quoting. She strode across the room, electing to lean against the wall near to Dauntless and offer him a brief, terse greeting. Dauntless nodded to her, saying nothing. The two Haven Capes were dressed similarly: the woman wore a rose-pink edged in gold, and the man wore something very similar but cream, without the gold edging. The woman wore a hood and a mask that hid most of her face: the man simply wore a mask that covered the top half of his face. A ring, almost like a golden hula-hoop, hovered around the man's waist.

"Rosary," Armsmaster said, waving at the woman, "And Halo. Welcome."

They both bowed, smiling gently. Taylor smothered the flame of aggravation at the probably false humility and leaned against the wall, tucking her wings behind her and folding her arms.

"Thank you for having us," Rosary said. Her voice was soft and smooth and Taylor didn't trust it an inch. Maybe she was being paranoid. Maybe Rosary was a genuinely good and kind person – and maybe she was willing to put heretics on the pyre with the same gentle smile on her face. Impossible to tell without knowing her better. Rosary briefly touched her hands together, a flicker of prayer before continuing.

"We've come here on business, I'm afraid," Rosary said, "Two of the Fallen have come to your city."

Quiet, broken as Taylor's phone rang. She'd specifically changed the ringtone so she could know who was calling and she recognised this one very well: Toxic, Britney Spears. Oh yes, there was only one person with this ringtone. Ignoring the stares and-slash-or glares from around the room Taylor happily retrieved her phone and popped it open, hitting the speaker button.

"Hey babe," she said, grinning widely at the chance to, once again, mess with everyone in range, "How's it going?"

Tattletale laughed, a rippling chuckle that Taylor knew meant that Tattletale knew that she was on speaker.

"I'm not interrupting, am I? I'd hate to interfere in your business," she said. Taylor made eye contact with Armsmaster for just a moment before he looked up to the roof in a clear prayer for strength. That was all the permission Taylor needed, she decided.

"Always have time for you, darling. What's up?"

Tattletale hummed before answering. Taylor thought that it might be something interesting – Tattletale only really called Taylor when something really was up. Usually something they would both benefit from, so Taylor couldn't say she minded.

"I was thinking of changing my name," Tattletale started, obviously delighted to have a chance to irritate her audience other than Taylor, "Coil had his snake aesthetic, so I figured it'd be one last cheap shot to take that, too. I'd thinking Tattlesnake…or Rattletale. What do you think?"

Taylor thought that Haven's opinion of her was dropping like a stone, and the thought gave her a warm and fuzzy feeling. Still, better not to drag this out too long – Armsmaster might burst a blood vessel.

"I think I prefer Tattletale, but I applaud your pettiness. But you didn't call me just to bounce name ideas off me, did you?"

Tattletale chuckled again over the phone, the sound low and rich. Taylor rolled her eyes, aware that everyone watching could see her.

Actually, I've a favour to ask. Well, maybe not a favour…but if you could get rid of Lung, I'd be very grateful."

Taylor snorted.

"Grateful, huh?"

"Mm," Tattletale all but purred, "I thought that I should take advantage of you while you still tolerate it. I can even find a location for Lung, if you like."

"You know that we're taking advantage of each other," Taylor said, almost matching the tone, "We've always known what this relationship is like."

Tattletale laughed, the purr leaving her voice.

"Oh, yes I do. I get to rule the Brockton underground, and you get someone running the underground who I can trust not to cause too much trouble. It's…mutually exploitative."

"You make it sound so sordid."

"Oh, darling. You know it."

"Enough flirting!" Armsmaster hissed and Taylor didn't quite manage to swallow her chuckle.

"It's a good thing you rang, anyway. We've got visitors. Haven showed up, and they say there're Fallen in the city."

"Fallen?" Tattletale asked, most of the playful drawl replaced by a business-like snap, "That's interesting. They show up in the aftermath of Endbringer attacks sometimes, but Leviathan didn't exactly have a good time when he turned up. I'll keep an eye out, Circ, and let you know if I find anything. And the Lung thing?"

Taylor considered. Tattletale was right, she'd like to remove Lung from the equation before she needed to deal with anything else.

"We need to meet, personally. Your base?"

"I'll see you there, honey bunch," Tattletale drawled before the call ended and Taylor tucked her phone back into her pocket, smiling brightly.

"Well," she said cheerfully, "I think that went well, didn't it?"

Armsmaster let out the longest, deepest sigh she'd ever heard, but Dauntless spoke first.

"You know, it's pretty handy to have someone with contacts like yours," he said, grinning at her, "Though if you're gonna fistfight Lung, can you tell me first? I'd like to get a shot in – or at least have a chance to get some popcorn."

Taylor laughed, gently punching his shoulder.

"Sure thing, Dauntless," she said, "It might do you good to see how a real Hero does things."

Dauntless just made a mocking noise, refusing to rise to the bait. Taylor turned slightly, feeling the stares that the two Haven members were levelling at her.

"What?" she asked, somehow making it a genuine question rather than an aggressive demand. Rosary shook her head.

"We're just – ah – surprised," she said, "That you would willingly meet with a villain. Tattletale is a villain, isn't she?"

"Yes," Armsmaster grumbled, "Circaetus, however, has…made friends with her."

"Better the devil you know, right?" Taylor said, spreading her hands disarmingly, "Besides, she's good at her thing. She'll find your Fallen, I can assure you. Anyway – who are these guys? Fallen are doomsday cultists, right?"

Rosary took a moment before shaking her head slightly – probably shaking off the revelation that yes, Taylor was in knowing contact with a villain – and continuing.

"Yes, the Fallen are a group of Endbringer cultists. They dress as and worship the Endbringers and they often travel to sites of Endbringer attacks to preach, although they have never assisted the Endbringers."

"Wonder if they're too smart or too cowardly," Taylor muttered to Dauntless, who smothered a chuckle. Rosary continued, either having not heard the comment or having chosen to ignore it.

"There are three main branches of the Fallen," she said, "The Mathers, the Crowleys and the McVeays. It is the duty of Haven to hunt these Fallen wherever they go."

There was a strength to her last words, a whip-crack declaration and Taylor tilted her head, raising her hand.

"Question," she said – Armsmaster gave her a sharp look – "Why exactly are you so committed to hunting the Fallen?"

"They are heretics," Halo said, speaking for the first time. His voice was hoarse, deep and rumbling in a way that didn't quite fit his comparatively slight frame, but it had a strength and a power to it. A preacher's voice, Taylor thought. Halo continued, one fist clenching.

"They take the teachings of Our Lord God and debase them, twist them to fit their false idols. They are cruel and they are wicked and they must be cast down before they bring destruction upon this good earth!"

Taylor was absolutely certain that she saw Rosary mouth an 'amen', but elected not to make a comment on it.

"Question withdrawn," she drawled, returning to folding her arms.

'I wonder who the first member of Haven was? Even for religious fanatics, that sounded personal.'

"Faith and fury, more destructive than a hundred cannons."

Taylor frowned slightly.

'You know, that almost sounds like a quote, but I can't tell where…guess it doesn't matter.'

There was a thought brewing at the back of her mind, gnawing on her thoughts, but Taylor let it be for the moment. Better to let it grow, take root before she harvested the fruits of her subconscious. Rosary coughed, drawing attention back to her.

"Yes. As I said, we hunt the Fallen. The two Fallen who have come here are part of the Mathers family, as far as we can tell, although they are essentially outcasts. Still, Valefor and Eligos are dangerous and should not be underestimated."

"Are there likely to be more Fallen coming?" Dauntless asked, leaning forwards, "Or just these two?"

It was hard to tell through the mask, but Taylor thought that Rosary looked undecided. She shrugged, chewing at her lip.

"It is…unlikely. The two of them are on poor terms with the Mathers family, the Crowley family rarely acts outside their home territory and the McVeay family is…troubled, at the moment."

That little, niggling thought grew slightly.

"Troubled?" Armsmaster asked. Rosary nodded.

"A short while ago, members of the family began to turn up dead or go missing," she revealed, "They are almost fighting a war in Wichita, and it doesn't seem to be going well for them."

Wichita. Fairly far away from Brockton, away from Taylor, and…and the Fallen were a cult, weren't they? If you wanted to build your very own outlaw powerbase, what better place to start a religion that a cult whose god had just been defeated? The seed of the thought in her mind bloomed, offering a flower of realisation and Taylor leaned a little further back against the wall, sliding her phone from her pocket and accessing the internet. Armsmaster was asking another question but she tuned him out, tapping at her phone.

It didn't take long to search Wichita Fallen deaths and find a picture. She zoomed in, squinted at the pixelation, and felt her breath catch in her throat.

"I almost hesitate to say it, but this could work to our advantage. If Luna is creating a group that shares her ideals, they are not far from our own. We could potentially co-opt them, at least as long as we need to save the world."

'Save that for later,' Taylor mentally advised, 'Until we know how much of a shitshow Luna's created. And how much cleaning up we'll have to do.'

"Armsmaster," she said, her voice steadier than she'd expected as she interrupted a short conversation about the powers of the two renegade Fallen, "Could I borrow your attention for a moment?"

Armsmaster looked at her, his folded arms separating just long enough to offer a shrug. Taylor tossed him her phone and walked around the table, swiping a pad of paper and a pen, gently scooting Rosary and Halo out of the way.

"Throw that picture on the big screen, would you?"

Armsmaster was confused, Taylor could feel it, but he did as she asked. More than one person gasped as the mutilated body came up on the wall-screen. The paper nailed to his chest was darkly stained with crimson, but the word on it was clear enough. Taylor lifted the pad in one hand, scrawling the word – rapist – on it with the other before she held out the pad and lifted it with just a sliver of strength, hovering it to sit next to the picture. Armsmaster slowly moved, the photograph re-sizing to match the pad, and Taylor gestured without turning back to face the room, her eyes tracing the writing. Tracing the writing that was identical to hers.

"I suppose we know what Luna's up to, then," she said, into the deafening silence.

Heads on spikes, mutilations, tortures and the deaths of murderers, kidnappers and rapists. Taylor had to admit, in some ways she was almost proud of her clone. If only there wasn't that itching, ever-present question.

"Looks to me like she's making a play for power," Taylor continued, "Though – when she's won her war, I wonder what she'll be doing next?"

Interlude – Luna

"You know what to do?" Luna asked, looking Alastor in the eye. Her very own Fallen turncoat nodded, zipping the last few inches of his coat up to hide the complicated rig wrapped around his chest.

"Get in," he said, "Get them all into a room and then say so."

Luna grinned, ignoring the way he leaned away from her.

"That's it," she confirmed, "Perfect. And once we're done with your family, you'll get what you're after."

Alastor met her gaze, eyes shifting and sliding over her face as though he was trying to tell how genuine she was. Luna continued to smile, her Swarm shifting in the back of her mind to block out the ever louder Warp, and he nodded.

"Alright," he said and Luna reached up, pressing a hand to his head, just behind his ear. Alastor grimaced as the tiny microphone she'd managed to get her hand on glued itself into place, hidden by his hair.

"You know the code," she said, "Be careful. I don't want to have to come up with a completely new plan, after all."

Alastor offered a smile, close to the dashing grin she'd seen him don before and winked at her.

"I won't let you down," he promised, turning and heading out into the dark. Luna watched him go, her smile turning to something more like a smirk.

"You're going to trust him?" Cynthia asked. Luna glanced at her second, shaking her head.

"Trust him, personally? No. Trust his greed and his spite towards his father? Oh, I think we can trust that."

"And if it's not enough?"

Luna grinned wolfishly, her fingers playing over the detonator in her pocket.

"Well, if it's not enough then – I do have a backup plan. I'd like to take as many of them alive as I can, but if I can't there's more than one bomb hidden in that harness he's wearing."

She slid the detonator out of her pocket, her fingers crawling over it, caressing the plastic and metal with a gentle touch.

"The True Sons have reached their end, Cynthia. Trust me on that."

Perhaps not their complete end, Luna mused, but after tonight they would no longer be a power. Stephen McVeay was promised to Cynthia, but the rest? The rest, Luna had plans for. She'd thought of trying to use them as a bargaining chip – she'd heard a lot about Bonesaw of the Slaughterhouse Nine, and she'd considered that perhaps she could use them as an offer, in exchange for the insane girl cutting the fragment of the Parasite from her head. But in the end – well, Bonesaw was insane, wasn't she? Luna had heard some nasty rumours about Mouse Protector and Ravager, and she wasn't interested in becoming the latest test subject of some lunatic. No, Bonesaw would play another role in the future of humanity. But there was still a use for lives that had no value to her. After all, if she wanted to enter the Warp – if she wanted to wield the power of the Immaterium without being a Psyker, there were ways. Sorcerous ways that didn't require subservience to some false god. Luna felt her smile curdle into a snarl and controlled herself, swallowing a growl. No. Not yet. This was no time to lose control.

"Alastor must have gotten into the house by now," Cynthia muttered, shifting next to her, "Shouldn't he?"

Luna reached out an pressed a button on the communicator she'd set up, connected to the microphone Alastor wore. The device crackled for a moment before steadying, the sound of a closing door snapping out.

"Anything?" snarled the harsh voice of Stephen McVeay – Cynthia stiffened next to Luna.

"Nothing," Alastor responded, "It looks like she might have left the city completely. She must have know we were going to do something."

"The fuck are you suggesting, boy?" Stephen demanded. Luna smirked again.

"I see why Alastor wants him dead," she murmured, shifting. She had plenty of insects in the house but none on Alastor, a show of trust to assuage any doubts he might have. Cynthia didn't reply – Luna glanced at her and saw that she was gripping her gun in white-knuckled fingers. Luna drifted her thumb over the trigger of her detonator, waiting.

"I'm saying," Alastor snapped, "That either she's smarter than we thought, or someone tipped her off!"

Or both, Luna thought, but that would be telling. She closed her eyes and listened to Stephen McVeay stomp and curse.

"Now's the time, Alastor," she murmured, "Bring them together."

"Father," Alastor said, cutting off the swearing, "We need to regroup. We should get everyone together and try to work out what we're doing next. We can't afford to go out one by one, she could be trying to lure us out."

The stomping ceased and Luna imagined Stephen staring narrow eyed at his son. She held her breath for a second – the whole plan could rest on this moment. Stephen grunted sourly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose. Fuckin' – come on then. Get the rest and bring them into the centre room, in case this is some sort of trap and she's waiting for us to let our guard down."

Luna let out the breath she'd been holding, grinning. Her heart surged with triumph but she held it down, stayed crouched in this small room of this small, abandoned house that she'd chosen as her base for the moment. She picked up a walkie-talkie as she heard footsteps through the communicator, the Fallen filing in. Alastor cleared his throat.

"It's nearly time," she said into her walkie-talkie, "Get ready. Remember, I want them alive if possible. Cynthia is owed her pound of flesh, and I have plans for the rest."

A soft susurration of agreement from her people, recruited from Fallen prisoners and people down on their luck alike, the core of the new Cult Imperial. Luna cocked her head to the communicator, hearing Alastor speak.

"Well," he said, "Now that we're all here, I guess you need to be filled in."

The codewords, just as agreed, and Luna grinned more widely than ever as she pressed the trigger and detonated the sedative gas bomb.

"Go," she whispered, too softly for anyone else to hear, "And bring the New Imperium victory."

Sorry if I've gotten Halo's costume wrong, I just could not find a description of him at all. I even went and read the chapter he first appears in to try and find one, but he might as well not be there, he's practically off-screen, so I just based one off Rosary's design. Also, for anyone wondering, the next few chapters will probably be split between Luna and Taylor - as in they'll be in every chapter - since Luna's plan is becoming a bit more plot relevant, shall we say. Other than that...just the usual. Reviews are appreciated, I hope you enjoy and, as always at this time of year, I hope you all have a Merry Christmas.