A bit early, but I'm sure none of you mind.

Taylor wasn't equipped to fight Lung, not really. She wasn't wearing her power armour, and therefore lacked the bolstering strength of the psychic circuits embedded in it. She didn't have her staff, the focusing tool that sharpened her powers. She didn't even have her helmet: in her fury she'd left it in her lair, her frustration with Panacea making her sloppy.

Come to think of it, it was similar to her first fight with Lung, all those months ago, when she'd confronted him armoured in only righteous anger. Well. She didn't claim to have matured all that much – but the power? That was different. And she fully intended on demonstrating that.

The Warp cracked open in front of her and Taylor leapt through. She didn't boast, she didn't posture, she didn't quip: she burst into reality, wings flaring to slow her fall, and thrust out a single hand, putting her will into the gesture. A battering ram of force spread from her fingers, racing across the open space, and Taylor heard bone snap and crack under the impact the moment before Lung was flung back, to smash through the wall of the warehouse behind him. She heard the second impact as he struck the opposite wall and gestured, a thousand ethereal tendrils reaching out and pulling away support, the building groaning and collapsing atop Lung as she landed.

The rain, just starting, drizzled around her face and pattered gentle fingers against her shoulders, her boots splashing just a little. The harsh, tar thick smoke of the fires Lung had set clawed at her throat as she flicked her other hand, a lashing wave of force swatting the scatter of ABB footsoldiers present from their feet. A wave of frigid air washed out behind the force, extinguishing the flames.

Symbolic.

"Run," Taylor snapped, not taking her eyes off the hole Lung had left. The hostages hesitated – she felt them following her gaze towards Lung, felt them turn and she stepped back, pivoted, tucking her wings close to her body to avoid the downswinging sword as Raijin made his predictable attack from behind. Her left hand closed over his wrist, her right slapped against his temple. A ripple of force followed the impact: for a heartbeat Taylor was tempted to take the final step, to simply pulverise Raijin's head, but she restrained herself at the last second and the attack was only enough to knock him unconscious. She shoved his body to the side, pulling the katana from his limp fingers, and slashed it through the drizzling mist.

"I said run!"

She infused this second order with power, soaking command into the words so that they lodged themselves into the minds of the hostages, sparking primal instincts and sending them fleeing. The rubble that had been a warehouse rumbled, flames licking through the gaps, and Taylor switched the sword to her right hand, rolling her shoulder. The rain around her began to fall harder, the colder air produced by her gathering power turning the drizzle into a stinging sleet.

'Should maybe try the void prison again, but there's no guarantee he can't just break out before it takes effect. We need to wear him down.'

"Why not hurl him into the Bay? It would certainly cool him off."

'It doesn't solve our problem with him being here, does it? We'd still have to fight him later, unless we fly out after him and hold him under the water until he drowns.'

Hmm. Tempting, that. Some potential issues, depending on if Lung could burn hot enough to evaporate the water and how strong his flight became, since she'd need to hold him down, but maybe wise to keep it in mind. Before that, however…Taylor had a more direct means of weakening him in mind.

"That blade won't cut him, not for long. It's well enough made, I suppose, but not well made enough. You'll need to strengthen it with something."

'With something,' Taylor echoed, widening her stance. She called on the Warp, connecting her strength to the sword – it wouldn't last, not with the power flowing through it, but it would hold long enough. Now she just needed something that would work. Fire was a classic, the Emperor's choice, but given Lung's own pyrokinesis and heat resistance it seemed counter-intuitive.

There was always her own preferred lightning, of course, but the echoes of Raijin's electricity would fight hers in the blade and…well, Lung was fire, wasn't he? She had a more symbolic strength in mind. Taylor poured her power into the blade, the air seeming to thicken with it, and brick and wood cascaded as Lung shifted underneath the ruins of the building. Taylor heard the snarl he let out, rumbling and thick with spittle, and spared an instant to glance at the sword. Just a glance, to see the frost forming on the metal, crawling from the guard towards the tip, the drizzle solidifying into flakes of snow around the sword. Her breath came out as vapour, her wings shedding frost and ice as she beat them.

Lung hauled himself free, scales lacing into place across his heavily muscled torso, tattoos subsumed by the glittering plates. He snarled again, his mask falling away as his face reshaped itself into a leering snout, crammed with razor fangs.

"A battle against a Dragon, in the rising rain," the Emperor said, almost whimsically, "Something nostalgic, at least."

Taylor ignored him, all of her focus turned onto Lung as he prowled forwards, shouldering through the remains of the warehouse. A breath, fluttering with excitement, her blood chilled in her veins and she smiled.

"Come then, Dragon," Taylor said, seeming to hear the echoing howl of a wolf as she lifted her frost-rimed blade in part salute, part guard, "Let's see if you can be slain."

And with a reverberating, roaring howl Lung charged.

Lung came in roaring, frothing, his left hand sweeping across in a massive raking blow. Taylor went in to meet him, leaning under the blow and the ice-edge of her stolen blade sank into his side, cutting through scales and into tough flesh. Lung bellowed in pain as Taylor slid past him, ripping the sword free and turning with a beat of her wings, using them to reverse her momentum and lunge back in. She swung hard, over the shoulder, a hacking motion that would have cut Lung from shoulder to hip and he twisted around, whip-fast, and caught the blade in a taloned hand, the other hooking up towards her belly.

"Nice try," Taylor snarled, her left hand flicking out to stop the talons with a plate of force, "But not good enough!"

She wrenched the sword down, fingers spilling crimson as the metal carved flesh, her left hand mimicking a slap. Lung staggered as the tendril of invisible force that whipped from her fingers caught him across the face and Taylor followed up, the sword slashing up, turning, across, two bloody canyons gouged into silver scales, a beat of her wings propelling her into the air. Lung reeled as her knee connected with his chin, the butt of the katana smashing into his temple, her boots against his chest and Taylor pushed back, adding enough juice with the Warp that Lung went sailing through the air, slamming into a beached tug with a tremendous crunch, the metal folding around him. Taylor gestured, straining just a little, her wings beating harder to keep her in the air and Lung was just climbing out of the tug when the second one ploughed into him and the whole mess toppled sideways, falling into the Bay.

"This is pathetic," Taylor said aloud, flicking her stolen sword to loosen up her arm. Ice crystals rained from the metal, falling the six feet or so to the ground, and Taylor chanced a look at the weapon: it was already starting to crack, the steel nowhere near strong enough to hold in the face of the power she was pumping through it. Taylor frowned and added a sliver more, to keep the metal together, but that would never be more than a short-term solution. She needed a properly forged blade of her own, really.

"He's barely in control of himself," the Emperor observed, the two of them watching the water begin to froth and boil, "However Valefor's control functions, it must be digging into him. His own rage at losing to you the first time must be pushing him out of control."

'It only helps us. But it's a little unsatisfying to just beat on a mindless beast.'

"Come on, Lung," Taylor called, "I get that Valefor must have scrambled your brains, but he can't have done it that badly. You can't beat me like this, you've gotta know it."

Lung breached the surface of the water with a bubbling roar, steam clouding around massive shoulders and billowing from the boiling froth. Taylor tilted her head, her breath turning to vapour in front of her as she concentrated, directing the overspill of her power into cold. She flexed her left hand in an absent motion, wishing there was something in there even if her gauntleted hand would do.

"A little better, I suppose," she admitted, "But nothing I haven't seen before."

Taylor concentrated, calling on the cold, and a glove of freezing ice formed around her left hand, clinging to her gauntlet and thickening under the falling rain, hard as steel and harsh with jagged, splintered edges. An ugly weapon – Taylor wondered if it would even prove effective. Lung hauled himself out of the water, steam rising from his scales, flames dripping from the lamprey maw that now stretched across his mouth, distending his features into something hideously draconic. He was hunching, back twisting as the protrusions that would become his wings bulged and tore free of confining flesh, arms lengthening. Taylor leaned back, cricking her neck, her own wings spreading broad behind her and for a whimsical moment she wondered what it must look like.

"You," Lung gurgled, barely coherent, "Talk too much!"

Fire rippled down his arms and collected in the claws, fire raked through the ground before he flung the orbs at her, thick and viscous with collected, melting tar. Taylor slapped the first aside with an effort of will, the second with her frozen gauntlet; a third, bereft of tar, hurtled at her face and she cut it in half with her sword and plunged through the billowing conflagration, flames licking weakly at her. Lung bellowed, his rush hard on the heels of the fire, and Taylor slammed her left fist into the ground.

The ground cracked under the impact, the ice racing from her arm and spiking into a line of ragged spikes that raced towards Lung. He let out a hissing, shrieking cry and barrelled through them, sharp points shattering on his scales and Taylor ran forwards, one step up the ice, two and then she was jumping, twisting in the air to vault over Lung as he crashed blindly through the ice. Her feet had barely touched the ground before she bounded forwards, her sword cutting deeply into his forming wing. Lung spun, one massively muscled arm swinging around to sweep her away and Taylor met it, catching his wrist, gritting her teeth at the shock but her warp-reinforced muscles held and Lung was just starting to pull away when she lifted the sword and brought it down again, a vicious hacking blow onto the elbow.

Lung bellowed louder than ever as the sword half-severed his arm – Taylor thought she caught something that sounded like 'bitch', but her head was ringing from the noise and his four-part mouth mangled words – and swung in the opposite direction. Berserk, blinded to the pain that must have been surging from the limb, Lung hurled his weight in the other way and blood fountained as his arm tore, leaving Taylor with a handful of limb as Lung spun completely around, his other hand swinging at her chest.

'Shit!'

Taylor barely got her arm up in time, Lung's massive limb crunching her protecting arm against her chest even as Taylor beat her wings hard, sending herself back in something more like a leap than a dodge. She landed hard, her boots skidding on the ground as she distanced herself and Lung snarled, more beast than man. She could feel the command Valefor had laid upon him, pulsing in his mind: kill Circaetus. Reinforced by his own hatred, yes, but still stronger than Taylor had expected, threading through Lung's consciousness. Taylor cast aside the severed limb, the rain growing ever heavier, and lightning cracked across the sky behind Lung as he lifted his face to bellow defiance at the storm.

"As dramatic as ever," the Emperor caustically noted, "But he's bleeding, and bleeding badly."

Taylor shook out her right arm, sealing the cracks Lung had left in the bone with a thought and a carefully disguised wince.

'That does tend to happen when you lose a limb, you know. It's slowing, though.'

"I suppose that completely negating regeneration is a lot to ask of any blade, especially one not forged for the purpose. It's having an effect, though, so that's enough."

'It'll help wear him down, if nothing else. Now then. I was hoping to take him on with Armsmaster, since Armsmaster has that tranquiliser, but since he's not here…'

"Head trauma. Enough to make him woozy, and then we can finish him off with our usual. Unless you would prefer to kill him?"

If Taylor was to be perfectly honest, she considered it. But it stung her pride, somehow, to kill Lung when she'd left Kaiser alive.

"Pity. It would be comparatively easy to keep him still long enough to take his head, even using this inferior blade."

'I'll bear that in mind.'

Lung brought his head down, his roar thickening and becoming liquid a moment before a gout of flame issued from his gaping maw, searing across the air between them. Taylor flung herself right, a beat of her wings carrying her out of the way as her left hand flicked, the strike hitting Lung in the stomach with the force of a speeding car. Lung doubled over, the stream of liquid flame splashing across the ground and Taylor kicked off, flying towards him. She hit him hard as he straightened, her knee crashing into his head before she followed it with a hard blow of the katana butt, dropping back just a fraction at the recoil and slicing a long, shallow cut down his chest as she dropped. Lung bellowed with outrage, clubbing at her with his stump, boiling hot blood splashing her side as he hammered uselessly at her shoulder and Taylor twisted the sword, ripping it across Lung's thigh, the jagged blade catching on scales. Lung seized her wing with his remaining hand, claws digging into the glass-like feathers but they held under the pressure.

"Get off me!" Taylor snarled, following her words with a short uppercut, pulling her hand back from the blow to press both her fists against Lung's chest and hurl him away with a heave of power. Lung's wings had grown, just enough to flare and stop him from crashing, but he was still sent tumbling and Taylor gritted her teeth, wings flexing. A quick glance over her shoulder – her left wing was scratched but effectively undamaged, already healing.

Lung fell onto all fours – well, technically all threes - burning eyes directing a poisonous glare at her and Taylor bared her teeth in return, a mirthless grin that lasted as she raised her sword before her. It was in bad shape now, the edge ragged and the spine cracked, but it was still there, more frost than steel now. Lung kept his eyes on her, that snakelike head pointed in her direction, but he started to pace to the side, as though trying to flank her. Taylor matched the motion, slow strides.

"How does it feel, Lung," she asked, "Everything you hoped for? Where's all that confidence gone? Where's those 'little Hero' cracks?"

Lung didn't reply, his mouth no longer suited to speech, but the mandibles flared in a way that Taylor could easily read as a sneer. Taylor felt someone moving behind her – Valefor, maybe, or more likely Eligos. She pinned their location in her mind, just in case, but they weren't moving to attack and Lung was far more dangerous right now.

"You should have run, Lung," Taylor said, "Gotten far, far away and hoped I never cared enough to come after you. But now? You threatened my family, Lung. There's only one way this ends."

Lung tilted his head to the side, a rasping, coughing noise coming from his mouth – laughter, distorted and twisted. Taylor shook her head, diverting just a little of her focus. She needed to keep Lung's eyes on her, just while she dismantled the tugs behind him, gave herself ammunition. She needed to keep talking.

"I did wonder why I should leave you alive," she continued – the boat started to separate, slow to be silent. Lung's laughter ceased, the man himself rising back to a bipedal stance, hunched over. He'd grown, almost ten feet tall now, but he wasn't getting any larger. Taylor guessed that it was a result of his injuries, his powers prioritising regeneration. She could work with that.

"Why do you deserve to live?" Taylor said, "What have you done to earn mercy? Nothing. But then, what has Kaiser done? What have Stormtiger, Cricket, Rune ever done to deserve life? Nothing. I'm sure there's a justification somewhere, isn't there? But…"

"But you're past justifications," Lung said, his voice thick, liquid but intelligible and Taylor's eyes widened, surprised. Lung let out another racking, hacking chuckle, his mandibles twisting strangely. It must have been painful, but he showed no sign.

"Justification," Lung said, "For the weak."

He lifted his severed hand, flexing regrown fingers, and rose to his full height. Taylor drew in a slow, deep breath.

"Show me strength!" Lung roared, and the fight was on again.

Lung was fast for his size, terribly fast. Not Astartes or Primarch fast but he covered the ground between them in the blink of an eye, jaws gaping wide. Taylor sprang to her left to avoid the downward smash of one hand, pushed back right to dodge the second, saw the jaws coming right for her and stuck a hand out behind her, a plate of metal crashing into her forearm and bending around the limb with a shriek of tortured steel. Taylor brought her arm around and in front of her, the metal unbending with another agonised squeal and Lung smashed into it, the metal deforming under the impact as Taylor brought her sword down hard on his left arm.

The blade broke on the scales, finally pushed beyond its limits and Taylor swore, pushing at the metal plate to shove it forwards, wrapping it around Lung's head as she beat her wings and threw herself back, gaining more room. She threw aside the useless sword hilt, focusing as Lung tore the metal from his face with a noise of inarticulate fury.

'Fun, fun, fun. Bloody sword.'

Taylor tapped a fraction deeper into the Warp, pulling lengths of steel from the wreckage of the boats behind Lung and keeping them in the air. Lung was strong and smarter than he looked but he tended to be linear in combat – not that Taylor was really going to criticise him for that. When you were genuinely superior, crushing your foes with direct assault was always a viable option. Lung flexed his wings, fire dripping from his mouth, and charged once more.

"He's pushing you back against the buildings. Force him back, before you have to contest his strength with nothing behind you."

'Agreed!'

Taylor ducked a backhand swipe, driving two blows into Lung's torso as she moved, slipping a grab and landing a third, the shockwaves from her blows tenderising meat and bone. Lung snarled, a third swipe coming faster than Taylor expected and she bent her knees and braced herself, meeting it with her forearm, power surging through her flesh and bone to turn it to something more like steel before she continued the motion, bringing her other fist slamming into Lung's knee. Power rippled and pushed, a massive blow that ruptured flesh and bone, sending shards of dull bone and gleaming scales and bright blood showering into the sleeting rain as Lung staggered, his footing lost. He fell to one knee, supporting himself with the other knee, his head swinging at hers and Taylor couldn't dodge in time, chose to meet his headbutt with her own skull, reinforced with twisting Biomancy. Steel met steel, the impact rang out and Taylor staggered as much as Lung did, her head spinning for a crucial second, face burning from the boiling liquid Lung spewed onto her face at the impact, points of burning fire dotting her cheeks. She recovered quickly, but just a fraction slower than Lung and two massive hands clamped around her torso, squeezing. Taylor threw her head back, an instinctive cocoon of force saving her from being crushed, and gestured with her hands, still free.

Even on his knees Lung was massive, taller than her and Taylor couldn't see past his wide shoulders and spread wings, but she didn't need to. She knew what she was looking for, and the lengths of steel that she pulled hit Lung with terrible force, one behind each shoulder blade. They punched through scale and flesh, scraping against bone to tear bloodily and blunted from the front of Lung's shoulders, just in front of her. Taylor gritted her teeth, closed her fingers around the metal spikes and abandoned ice in favour of lightning.

Taylor threw her head back, a shout ripping itself from her throat as the lightning raced through them, the circuit formed from her arms and the metal and Lungs body. The warp-born lightning filled her veins, raced through her bones, sparked in her breath, exhilarating and energising. To Lung, however, it was agonising. His howl drowned out her shout, leaving her ears ringing as his muscles contracted, bones cracking under the strain of his spasming limbs, smoke rising from his scales. His fingers tightened around her, seeking instinctively to crush the life from her, but Taylor just reinforced the shell of power holding him back and clung on to the metal rods despite the heat rising in them. A test of strength, of endurance, of will and Taylor won, as she was always going to, the heat in her gloved hands nothing compared to the electricity surging through Lung and he threw her away, reeling back. His mouth gaped wider, wider and a jet of flame, white-hot and blistering, speared forth.

Taylor batted it away with an effort of will and a wave of her hand, letting it fly past her. It almost struck their lurking observer, but that was no concern of hers – let them see to themselves. Taylor gestured sharply, a hand pulling and half the tugboat hit Lung in the back, nearly burying him under a wall of steel. Lung thrashed, newly-grown tail whipping back and forth, the metal rods snapping off under his wild twisting and Taylor reached out with her other hand, the other half of the tugboat separating and encircling the two of them, a swirling storm of steel. Lung struggled free of the mass of metal that had hit him, feet sinking into the softening metal and asphalt as he burned hotter and hotter, the flames that had dripped from his mouth spreading over his body like oil.

"We need to put the fire out. Perhaps it is time?"

Taylor narrowed one eye, sizing Lung up.

'Almost. Just a little more.'

Lung looked up at her, those burning eyes fixing into place. Taylor wondered, briefly, what he saw. Did he think he could win? Was he driven against her by pride, by arrogance, by anger? Or, like Stormtiger and Cricket, did he simply seek a glorious defeat?

It didn't matter, she decided. Lung reached down, clawing at the ground, and Taylor tilted her head in surprise.

The first fireball very nearly took her by surprise, the sudden change to ranged combat a shift she hadn't expected, a fistful of asphalt torn from the ground and flung at her, thick tar made thicker with flame. Taylor dropped a wing, dipping sharply to avoid it, felt the heat of the second as it scorched past her face and was forced to put up a shield, the balls splattering glutinously on the thickened air before her.

'This seems familiar.'

"It's not a bad method of attack. Best not leave him with the initiative, though."

'No, I suppose not.'

Taylor spread her arms wide and pulled them in, a storm of metal plates torn from the wrecked boats and fallen building sweeping through the air to surround her, a couple of them splitting away to swat away more fireballs. Taylor let her right hand fall to her waist, gritting her teeth and pouring strength into an attack. Lung clawed up another fireball, hurled it, and this time Taylor matched the attack. The purple-white blaze of warpfire met the oily red-black, consuming and smothering it, rocketing towards Lung but he leapt aside with surprising agility. Taylor flexed the fingers of her other hand, diverting power into building an attack.

"Come on, Lung," she called, a simple distraction, "You know you can't win this! We both know you won't get strong enough in time, just give up!"

Her answer was a defiant roar and another volley of fireballs, but that what Taylor had been waiting for. She hammered her wings against the air, soaring upwards as the storm of metal around her sprang into action, plates rocketing towards Lung. He moved just as she'd hoped, taking to the skies to avoid the metal as it whipped low and Taylor saw his eyes widen in horror as she punched her right fist in his direction. The attack that followed was perhaps the strongest she'd used so far, a battering ram of force that struck Lung in the chest and crushed him back down to earth, cracking the ground with a terrible impact. Taylor gestured, her hair whipping in the wind and the metal that had trailed her instead of striking at Lung followed the path of her fingers, a hail of fragments. Lung, struggling from the crater he had made, crossed his arms over his head: the metal rang upon his scales like hail upon an iron roof.

"You're bleeding, Lung. Not feeling so invincible now?" Taylor called down. Her answer was another spearlike jet of flame that she avoided with a tilt of her wings, replying with another punching motion and a second battering ram of force that threw Lung back down as he tried to rise.

'I think it's time.'

Taylor drew in a deep breath, tasting the air thick with smoke and burning tar, and sighed it out.

"You know," she called down to Lung, watching him heave himself out of the crater once more, "I reckon it's pretty clear that I've come a long way since we first fought. A lot of new stuff. But I gotta admit, I'm feeling nostalgic!"

She saw Lung's eyes widen, felt the horror in him and grinned widely, wildly. He pushed himself up, wings flaring, and Taylor gestured. Metal slammed into Lung, crushing his wings against his back and moulding itself to his burning form, wrapping around his legs like heavy shackles to pin him down.

"It's still pretty breath-taking!"

Taylor held her left hand out towards Lung as he struggled, spitting fire.

"No!" he roared, a fraction before Taylor splayed her fingers and the air rushed away from him. The fire went out, bereft of oxygen, Lung's scream of defiance fizzling out in the airless space. Taylor gritted her teeth, sweat beading on her brow – she was stronger now, so much stronger, but this was still difficult to maintain especially with Lung struggling on, trying to force his way out of the vacuum. Taylor clenched her free hand, focusing on keeping Lung pressed into the ground despite his struggling. He couldn't last long, she thought, not without oxygen even despite his formidable regeneration. Lung took a single, dragging step forwards, the shallow cuts she'd left in his armoured hide beginning to weep crimson as his regeneration diverted itself from repairing them to fending off the lack of oxygen, his straining against her power tearing muscles and pressing against bone.

"His pain tolerance is truly remarkable," the Emperor remarked, cool and collected, "But even he cannot remain suffocating for long. There are some injuries you simply cannot ignore by force of will."

Another step from Lung, heaving, muscles fighting and Taylor narrowed her eyes, redoubled the force she was pressing on him with. Lung wavered, shoulders hunching under their cloak of distended metal, the force bowing him. One more step, closer to the edge of the sphere of airlessness she was maintaining. Taylor split her focus again, multi-tasking, and a chunk of metal tore itself free from the wreckage the two of them had left. It wasn't as fast as the others, her power not as concentrated, but it was fast enough that Lung didn't see it coming before it connected with his skull.

Blood sprayed into the vacuum, not a serious injury but enough and Lung finally, finally stumbled, his might deserting him, thick-muscled legs finally crumbling and sending him toppling to his knees. Taylor let the vacuum fall, stepping into the Warp.

'Weaken, and then the final blow.'

She reappeared behind Lung, just slightly to his right. He swung at her, but a whip of force deflected the clumsy blow and both her hands latched onto his head, gauntleted fingers digging into metallic plates and Taylor drove her will forth, pouring it into Lung with a single command.

Sleep.

And the Dragon, at last, fell before her.

"So," Taylor said aloud, gesturing so that the remaining metal folded itself over Lung, cocooning his body in a steel sheath, "Have you seen enough to make your own appearance?"

Silence. Taylor rolled her eyes.

"Come on, I know you're there. Eligos, right? I doubt Valefor would be hanging around alone, although I've been wrong before."

No response. Taylor shook her head, smiling slightly.

"Well, alright," she said, clenching a fist so that the sleet collected around it, "Be that way."

She spun on her heel, pivoting sharply around and thrusting out her clenched fist, a spear of frozen water leaping from the ice collected around her gauntlet and piercing the air, flashing towards her stalker. They moved, shock sparking quickly in them – they must not have believed she knew where they were – and the spear shattered on brick, sending tiny splinters of ice whistling through the air. Her stalker landed heavily, thrusting a hand in her direction and the space between them distorted, rippling as a curving blade of condensed air rushed towards Taylor, growing as it did so. A twitch of her hand and metal interposed itself, meeting the blade with a shrieking, screeching din of torn steel. Taylor let it drop, idly noting the damage.

Less than Stormtiger could have managed. She wasn't impressed.

"Eligos, then," she said, "How nice to meet you."

Eligos was a very dramatic personage, and Taylor said that with the experience of people like Horus, Vulkan and the rest of the Primarchs – people whose sense of style was…well, interesting. She didn't know if she'd call what Eligos was wearing interesting, though – she wasn't really a fan of cosplay.

"I'm gonna guess," she said, gesturing at him, "The black. The spikes. The whole craggy rock looking thing – you're trying to look like Behemoth? I understand wanting to look like your idol but dude. C'mon. Also, why only one gap for your eye? You, uh, you got something against depth perception?"

She glanced down at his hands, noting the claws. Heavy armour, claws, dramatically silent – this guy would fit right in with the nutcases back in the Emperor's home universe. Probably just before he and his similarly outfitted chums were trampled by a mob of Astartes, if it were Great Crusade era. The thought made her smile a little.

"Or is the mask one way and the clear weak point is just for fashion? I don't want to tell you how to do your stuff, but I don't really recommend that sort of thing. Just cover it up, my man."

Eligos lowered his head – Taylor briefly wondered if he intended to charge her and try to gore her with the long horns fashioned onto his helmet. Honestly she hoped he would, now. It would probably be hilarious, but surely he wasn't that stupid. He still didn't say anything, though, which was…boring. There was someone else, moving through the alleyways by the warehouses at the edge of her senses. Valefor, maybe, although Taylor suspected that they hadn't quite planned for her to defeat Lung so comprehensively.

"Not much of a talker, huh?" Taylor continued, wondering now where the rest of the Protectorate were. She could maybe understand them not wanting to get into the middle of a brawl between her and Lung, but they should at least be nearby. Well, whatever. Made things slightly easier, given Tattletale's request regarding Valefor.

"It's just kinda ironic," she said, "Given that Valefor is, you know, a Master based around speaking. Well, as far as I know, anyway. I'm gonna take it that he's on his way? Maybe with hostages?"

Eligos remained stubbornly silent. Taylor scratched her chin, the scrape of her gauntlets pleasingly rough against cold skin, and sighed again.

"Alright, look. I'm gonna level with you. There's two ways this can go. Either you indulge me and we banter back and forth for a little while, trade quips, that sort of thing until Valefor gets here, assuming that he does get here. Alternately, you can keep doing the strong and silent type thing, and I can break both of your legs and go looking for your boss. So…it's your choice."

Eligos tilted his head. Taylor was pretty sure that he could actually speak – if he was mute she'd feel a little bad about this whole thing later – and waited, meeting his eyes. Eligos nodded, slowly.

"I choose the fight," he said, voice gruff and low, and thrust out both hands.

"You really want broken legs, huh?" Taylor remarked, twisting so that the two blades of air that curved from Eligos' hands passed either side of her and gesturing as though she was cracking a whip, ice crystals in the air twisting themselves into a line and lashing across Eligo's torso. He grunted at the impact, crossing his hands to launch two more attacks, these horizontal and aimed at her chest and stomach. Taylor brought her left hand up in a motion that was almost a fist-pump, metal rearing up from the ground to protect her. She felt the air move behind her, a glance over her shoulder revealing the blades Eligos had first launched careering towards her, now much larger. Taylor hummed.

"Well, that's a neat trick," she said. A wave of her left hand and a wall of flame conjured itself into the chill drizzle, steadily thickening into real rain now. The flame ate up the attacks with ease, consuming them in an instant.

"Not neat enough, though."

Eligos threw three more quick punches at the air, more attacks coming towards her before he punched downwards, the ground at his feet exploding in a shower of dust. Taylor cocked an eyebrow as she weaved through the blades, stepping around them and hearing them detonate behind her. A smokescreen, maybe? Eligos wasn't precise enough to keep in around her, though. At least, not from what she'd seen.

"Honestly, it's kinda sad!" Taylor called. The dust rushed around her and she beat her wings, keeping a circle around herself clear. There were two more people drawing closer now, although one had the indistinct muffle of someone barely conscious. They were familiar, though – Taylor just needed a moment more to concentrate on them. Eligos first.

"I mean, you're doing all this – I'm telekinetic! I can do everything you can, but better!"

Taylor lifted a hand into the air, bringing it down in a slapping motion. A semi-sphere of power expanded out from her, pushing the dust away, clearing the air just in time to reveal the air blades coming at her from every side. Push met blades and both shattered, dispersing into nothing, two more blades coming from in front of her and Taylor snapped her fingers, a shield breaking them. Eligos came from behind her, just as she expected.

He was leaping, right fist forward to skewer her with the claws and Taylor simply twisted, stepping back. She reached out, the fingers of her right hand closing around his before her left slammed into his jaw, sending him staggering. Release the right hand, a second heavy blow before she clamped a hand onto the back of his head, put a foot in front of his and threw him hard to the ground. Eligos rolled, somehow still aware enough to fight and Taylor rammed a boot into his ribs. Even through his armour she felt bone flex and creak, a wheeze of pain spilling from his lips as he rolled away.

"Embarrassingly predictable," she said, "Although I admire your gumption. Now. Where's Valefor? Tell me, and maybe I'll let you keep your kneecaps."

Eligos rolled one last time before coming to his feet in a lurching leap, hurling himself at her. Taylor sheathed her arm in a layer of force-fields, batting aside the air claws he thrust at her with a screeching din before her other fist hit him in the ribs again, same place. This time at least one broke and Eligos warbled in pain, cut off as her Biomancy reinforced skull smashed into his helmet, the impact sending him to his knees. Taylor stepped around him, pulling his right arm straight with her left hand on his wrist and planting her forearm against his elbow.

"Not a leg," she said, "But a good start."

She was bracing herself to snap his arm in two when the two people she'd noticed finally got close enough for Taylor to identify them, and a flush of fury displaced her cold intent. She released Eligos' arm, instead gripping him by the scruff of the neck, a thousand tendrils of force winding around his throat and tilting his head back, almost choking him.

"Now, now," called a soft voice, surprisingly high pitched, "We shouldn't do anything hasty."

Taylor directed a sulphurous glare towards the speaker, watching with vicious intensity as the man walked out. Well, she said man – perhaps boy would be more accurate. Valefor, because Taylor was sure it was Valefor, was young, maybe only a year or two older than she was, and small. Short and thin, he had fine-boned cheeks only just visible under his feathered mask and a delicate jawline. In someone else it might have been pretty: on Valefor, combined with the fanglike tattoos that patterned his smirking lips, it made him look feral. Rabid, almost.

Taylor knew what to do with rabid dogs.

As though reading her mind, Valefor leaned to the side, half a step, just enough to put the majority of his skinny body behind the slightly larger frame of his companion, his hostage. Her Dad.

"Valefor," Taylor said, her voice somehow coming out steady instead of a snarl, the collected cool of the Emperor fortifying her and chilling her anger, "I presume."

Valefor maintained his smile, his left arm draped across her Dad's shoulders with a knife in his hand, pressed close to the throat. Taylor didn't move a muscle, but she directed her will into the Warp and tendrils of force began to exude from her frame, snaking through the air. Just a handful of seconds and Taylor could wrap one of the tentacles around Valefor's arm, wrench the knife away from her Dad and beat the Fallen to death. Just a handful of seconds, Taylor thought, her fingers digging into the back of Eligos' helmet.

"Why is it," she rhetorically asked, "That every fucking villain these days goes right to hostages? You would think, by now, it would be pretty clear what I do to people who try to use my family and friends against me."

Valefor, that sickening smirk still in place, just rocked his head back and forth in a quizzical motion.

"Would you?" he asked, "Because it seems that the only real example is Lung, and he very noticeably survived. I've heard the stories, you know, and your bark is a lot worse than your bite. How many people do you think you can spare before people stop believing that you're too soft to carry out your threats?"

Too soft, Taylor thought incredulously. Too soft? Kaiser was crippled for life, Coil and Oni Lee were dead, all those clones that she had killed – but then, what would Valefor know of those? What would the general public? Maybe she did seem too soft, inasmuch as not killing every enemy she ever made could be seen as soft.

"Maybe I should make you an object lesson, then," she said, "Once you stop hiding behind my Dad."

Her Dad seemed physically well, but he was swaying gently in place, his eyes half closed and his mind felt almost like he was sleeping. Some sort of stunning effect. Valefor, in response, held his position.

"Funny you say that," he called, "When you hide behind my friend."

"Hardly hiding," Taylor said, glancing down at Eligos as he stirred, still shaking off the impact of their brawl, "But if you're so concerned then I'll make you a deal. You let my Dad go, I let your buddy go and we have it out, man to – well, not man to man. But Queensbury rules, old fashioned like."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Valefor asked musingly. Taylor noticed that he still wasn't quite looking at her, his mask blank over his eyes – one way glass, or something else? Maybe it was just part of his costume. From what she could see there was a lot of feathers and a lot of white, a pretence of the Simurgh. Was the Simurgh blind? Taylor couldn't remember.

"Yeah, obviously I'd like that," she drawled, "That's why I offered."

"And if I say no?" Valefor asked, still sounding almost musing. Taylor shrugged.

"Then I guess it gets complicated, doesn't it? Let's not play word games here. You've got my Dad as a hostage, but we both know that's not going to last. The moment you hurt him, all bets are off – and what I'll do to you will be agonising."

Valefor laughed and the knife trembled on her Dad's throat, drawing a slender line of red across pale skin before it was washed away by the rain. Taylor gritted her teeth, bracing herself against a throb of fury – not yet – and for a moment she touched the Warp more deeply, seeing something further, harsher, and future yet unwritten. Her Dad, throat slashed, lifeblood pouring onto the soaking ground. Valefor, torn limb from limb: Eligos, gutted and left to die: Lung, decapitated. Kaiser, Stormtiger, Cricket, their gore spread across rooms and cells made charnel houses by her rage, her hands thick with blood both crimson fresh and congealed brown and Taylor blinked, forced herself out of a future where her mercy, such as it was, ceased to be.

No.

Valefor and Eligos would die, certainly. It was impossible for any other end, now, but the rest? The rest, Taylor would have mercy on. For the rest, Taylor would be the bigger person. She was close, now, close to catching Valefor. A thousand tendrils, ready to tear his arm away – and once that was done, breaking his neck and Eligos' would be simple.

"Strong words, as always," Valefor said, "But I know you. You love your father too much to put him in danger. So. Daniel?"

Taylor watched as her Dad lifted his head, eyes blinking muzzily, unfocused.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice thready and his mind weak, malleable. Valefor smiled.

"Take this knife," he said, "And put it to your throat. And if your daughter attacks me, or Eligos, kill yourself. Take two steps away from me."

Taylor watched, eyes unblinking, as her Dad shuffled away from Valefor, his hand unwavering at his throat and his movements slack. Horror at his enslavement turned to anger, the anger crystallising swiftly into hate in her heart. Valefor, still smiling, drew a gun from behind him and levelled it at her Dad.

"Now," he said, pleasantly, "Three ways to die. A bullet, a knife, or Eligos. You can stop one, brave Circaetus, but can you stop all three?"

Could she? Yes, very likely. But it would be harder, always harder. Taylor narrowed her eyes, reaching out to the ground around her.

"What do you want, then?" she asked, still stalling. Valefor's smirk widened even more, until it looked like his lips would tear at the corners.

"Let Eligos go," he said, "And I'll tell you."

Taylor glanced at Eligos – battered, bruised, defeated. He wasn't dead yet, but he wouldn't prove much of a fight. A moment of thought before she shoved him away, sending him sprawling onto the ground: he picked himself up slowly and moved to flank her, standing front on to her right. Taylor glanced back at Valefor.

"Well?" she asked, mockingly, "Or did you think you wouldn't get this far?"

Valefor shrugged.

"It makes it easier," Valefor said, not immediately answering her question, "That you aren't wearing your helmet. I can still affect people, so long as they look me in the eyes, but it's harder to make eye contact through obstructions. You were in a rush to stop Lung, though. It all worked out in the end."

"Did it?" Taylor said, "You're overestimating the strength of your position, here. Lung's down and Eligos' already caught a beating. Relying completely on a hostage isn't gonna carry you for long."

Valefor laughed, high-pitched and eerie, shaking his head.

"You think so?" he asked, voice breathy with excitement, "I don't. I think, once you're mine, I can do what I want. You're strong, Circaetus, so strong. It'll be perfect, Circaetus, you and me, you and I."

Valefor trailed off, a giggle shaking his narrow shoulders before he continued. Taylor narrowed her eyes.

"Think of it," he implored, "The two of us, against the world. All we see, ours. Everything we could ever want…"

"The Dark Prince would adore this one," the Emperor rumbled, "You should kill him."

'Yeah, probably.'

"Not that I don't want to address how creepy that whole monologue was – because it really was, and if you weren't already a weirdo supervillain I'd be looking into a restraining order – but it's not gonna happen, Valefor. The Heartbreaker thing isn't gonna fly, so just let my Dad go and give yourself up. Who knows, maybe you'll even avoid the Birdcage."

Valefor laughed again. Taylor eyed the gun in his hand, measuring her distances. Eligos had brought his hands up, but his stance was tight with pain, his broken ribs hindering him. Her Dad was just there, loose-limbed, almost slack. Taylor reached out to him, a connection following the one she'd accidentally created all those months ago, and braced herself. Valefor pushed his mask up slightly, Taylor catching a glimpse of wide eyes before he turned his head a little, off to her left.

"I doubt that," he said, "But like I say, it isn't going to matter. Not once I have you to protect me. But it's more than your power I want."

"You know I'm underage, right? And I ain't one of your cousins, redneck. My family tree has branches."

Valefor shook his head, still looking slightly away from her.

"That's not it," he said, "I want to see. I want to see what makes you, you. I might not be Heartbreaker, but I'm sure I can convince you. Come. Look into my eyes."

Taylor took one single step forwards and Valefor turned his head back, looking at her with wide, haunting eyes. The force of them struck Taylor like a hammer-blow: she stumbled in her stride, his power reverberating through her like the beat of some terrible drum. Not a psyker, but potent all the same – hypnotic, she realised, putting her into a suggestible state before Valefor spoke.

"Circaetus," he said, snakelike, his soft voice echoing inside her mind, "Serve me. Obey me."

It twisted in her neural pathways, curling through her mind. Taylor couldn't say how, exactly, but it deformed her mind itself, she realised. Fighting him shouldn't be possible. Struggling free of the hypnotic command should have been out of reach, impossible.

But she was master of her flesh, not Valefor. And she was never alone. Taylor reached for the Warp, the Emperor reaching beside her and power flooded every inch of their soul, burning out Valefor's slick influence and casting it away. His pale eyes bulged as her stride firmed again, finishing her last step towards him.

"No," Taylor said, and made her move. Eligos lurched forwards and Taylor gestured, the steel length of her broken and discarded sword striking like a whip, piercing his chest and heart. Two blades of air sputtered out as he fell.

Valefor's finger tightened on the trigger of his gun and a tendril of force wrapped around his wrist, another around his elbow, wrenching his arm back and snapping it in three places, blood slashing bright through the rain as bone pierced skin, the bullet fired uselessly behind him.

Her Dad turned his knife and Taylor spoke.

"Dad," she said, her voice laden with power, "Stop. Sleep."

He stopped.

Valefor's mouth opened, maybe to give another command and she gestured, tendrils of strength winding around his jaw and forcing it closed, muffling him. He still made noise, of course, choked cries and yells, but nothing intelligible. A second gesture and Valefor's broken arm was wrenched even further back, the gun torn from his fingers before Valefor was sent slamming back into the wall, pinned like a butterfly in a collection. Taylor caught her Dad as he toppled, gently setting him down on the wet ground – unconscious but alive, and he'd keep for the moment although she still took a few seconds to pull a plate of metal across, bending it above him like some crude tent. Her fingers dusted over his brow, reinforcing his sleep, before she turned again to Valefor. She took the few steps towards him, eyes locking on his, his power battering at her to no avail, now that she had thrown it off. Taylor took his jaw in an iron grip, meeting his eyes.

"I told you, you were overestimating yourself. Now," Taylor said, "Let's see what's in that mind of yours."

An instant, barely a heartbeat of recognition before Taylor poured her will into Valefor, overwhelming what resistance he put up. She was searching, looking, but for a moment his fear was stronger and she saw herself as he did: a dark figure, towering over him, his short stature and slender build dwarfed by her height, her armour and coat only adding to her bulk. Wings stretched broad behind her, crimson fading at the edges into something more like grey or silver, steel and blood. He met her eyes still, her visage perhaps most terrible of all: her features obscured by the shuddering, gyrating fires burning in her eye sockets, the white-blue blaze of warp-light devouring natural brown and casting the rest of her face into shadow.

To Valefor Taylor was almost demonic in nature, and his fear was like a thick and heady perfume around them. He fought her will, trying to keep her out of his thoughts, but it was futile: Taylor crushed his resistance, laying his mind open to her.

"The other hostages," Taylor said, "What about them? What did you do to them?"

Against Valefor's will the memories poured forth: he had taken control of several of them, programming them to obey his orders. He'd thought to use them as hostages, ready to order them to kill themselves if it meant saving himself, but the suddenness of Taylor's arrival had scattered his plans. Taylor suspected that at least part of it had been her command to run: her own power had overwhelmed his, in that moment. Still. It left the workers who'd been affected vulnerable.

"You could tell them to kill themselves at any moment, and they would," Taylor mused – Valefor was limp in his restraints, unable to fight further, but he averted his eyes as soon as he could. Taylor sighed.

'What to do? We can't just leave him. We could order him to release them, but how do we guarantee it? And he knows…'

"He's seen us," the Emperor echoed, "He has to be dealt with."

Taylor looked back to Valefor, speaking aloud again.

"If I let you go to the PRT," she said, "What would you do with your hostages?"

She didn't let go of his jaw, she didn't need him to speak aloud. Maybe, if he'd let it go, she'd wipe this memory from him, let him live. The lie drew itself broadly across his mind, a protestation of innocence underlined by a burning need for vengeance and Taylor felt a pulse of anger stir in her chest.

"So be it," she said, her fingers tightening. Valefor thought – he thought he was oppressed, didn't he? He didn't understand what it was like, to truly suffer. To truly know failure.

"You want to see what made me what I am?" Taylor asked, "Then look me in the eye."

A flash of cruelty in Taylor's soul and she forced Valefor's head up, tendrils of power snaking out and prying his eyelids apart. Now then…

"Allow me," the Emperor said as Valefor met her gaze and Taylor gave him control. Just for a moment, a few seconds before he relinquished it, but it was enough. They looked into Valefor's eyes and they connected to his soul and they poured into him experience. The untold trillions of prayers. The death screams of uncountable beings. The last, desperate whispers of a million – million Guardsmen, dying alone and far from home. Mere seconds of exposure and Valefor's mind shattered like a glass pane, splintered into thousands of shards that would never come together again. For a moment Taylor contemplated leaving him like that, lost in eternal agony, before remembering what Panacea had said about suffering. Panacea was insufferable, but she hadn't been wrong about that.

Taylor took her hand from Valefor's jaw and placed it gently against his chest, a reaching needle of strength passing through flesh and bone and muscle and squeezing, squeezing. It was only a matter of seconds before Valefor slumped in her arms, his stopped heart ceasing to struggle, and Taylor let the corpse slide to the ground. A gift, she thought darkly, of the Emperor's Peace. Perhaps it would have been kinder to simply kill him on the spot, but…well, he had wanted to know.

The burden of knowledge was a terrible thing.

Taylor stood still for a minute, the no longer freezing rain pattering across her shoulders and tapping gentle fingers against her head before she shook herself, heading quickly back over to her Dad.

'That's it,' she noted as she walked, 'They're all gone. The only criminal power left in the Bay is Tattletale.'

"A first conquest, if you choose to look at it that way."

Taylor glanced at the iron sarcophagus that contained Lung as she walked, not replying. For a moment she wondered if she should finish Lung off – peel the metal away, drive a stake through his heart like some primitive vampire hunter. It was almost tempting. But…well, Lung could have use in the future, so Taylor left him there. She crouched next to her Dad, reaching out to gently touch his brow: he wasn't really hurt, so far as she could tell, although she took the moment to heal the scratch left on his neck anyway. Better to let him wake up on his own, she thought.

'Well, that's Brockton. Next…Luna's next, isn't she? Whatever she's doing.'

Taylor didn't want to overestimate herself, but even without powers her grasp of advanced technology could make her dangerous, and Luna had a sort of charisma that could find followers. The longer Taylor left it, therefore, the more dangerous it could be. She just hoped that she wasn't going to go search and find that Luna had created Astartes, or something.

"Astartes are unlikely," the Emperor said after a moment of contemplation, "While they could potentially be created without Biomancy, they are very difficult and it would require a highly advanced lab. We could skip most of that, of course, by creating an initial cohort with Biomancy. Once those are created the geneseed will sustain itself, two per Astartes."

'A lot slower than with Primarchs, though. Not that we could just create a Primarch, right?'

"Perhaps we should talk of this later, when we're less likely to be interrupted?"

Taylor glanced upwards, feeling the presence of a Protectorate member at last.

'Alright.'

"Dauntless," she said aloud, "How nice of you to finally arrive."

Dauntless landed with a soft thud, boots on concrete and Taylor rose to her feet. She was as tall as Dauntless now, she noticed.

"Circ," Dauntless said – his tone was purposefully light but there was a tenseness to his stance, his knuckles clenched hard around the haft of his lance, "Where's Valefor?"

Taylor gestured at the wall, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu. When was it, that they'd looked at her like that? Noelle, maybe, when they hadn't been sure that she wasn't a clone. Dauntless paced across to the body, not taking his eyes off her, and leaned down to check Valefor's pulse.

"He's dead," he said. Taylor nodded.

"He had a heart attack, I think," she lied easily, "Just as he tried to use his power on me. Guess all the inbreeding caught up with him, right? I mean, those redneck Fallen – his Dad was probably his Grandad as well. Should've called himself Spectacular Sandwich."

"Sandwich? Oh, right. Because he's in bread."

Dauntless glanced down.

"Or, uh, he was. You alright?"

Taylor shrugged.

"Pretty good, yeah. You bring anyone else along, or…?"

Dauntless relaxed against the wall, very carefully, and shrugged.

"They're, uh, they're getting prepared. Standard protocol for someone engaged by a Master like Valefor is at least three days observation, usually in solitary confinement, to make sure that they weren't affected or made a sleeper agent. So…"

Ah. Taylor could see where this was going.

"So…you're telling me that they delayed in case I decide that I don't want to be put in a cell with some gruel?" she asked, a flicker of danger entering her tone. Dauntless, remarkably composed, shrugged again.

"Yeah, basically. If you want to avoid that, uh, you could head out now. I don't think anyone would really expect me to stop you, though it's gonna burn your bridges, so to speak. Usually people have a harder time, look at Shadow Stalker – once she was in the Wards, where was she going to go if she ran? You've got Tattletale on your side, though, so you're considered a higher flight risk. Personally, I think Armsmaster's being paranoid. Right?"

Taylor considered it, standing silent in the rain. She could leave, she allowed. Her Dad should be fine, and Tattletale would certainly take her in. But then what? She'd make an enemy of the Protectorate, and even if she could take any of them it would be a nuisance. Was it really worth it, just to avoid a couple of days being watched?

"It might not be entirely bad," the Emperor suggested, "If we intend to pursue Luna, we should take a few days to prepare regardless. Upgrade our armour, forge a blade that is properly imbued to reduce or prevent her healing, make sure that your glaive is completely sound. If we can negotiate concessions in exchange for going willingly…"

'Hmm. Yeah, you have a point. A few more days probably – actually, I'm not going to finish that.'

"Afraid to tempt fate, Taylor?" the Emperor asked. Taylor scoffed mentally.

'Aren't you?'

"Say I co-operate," Taylor said, "We still talking solitary in a cell with four walls, concrete floor, a single mattress? Or are we talking solitary in a nice lab, where I can get some work done – or a nice forge, more specifically?"

Dauntless set his lance against his leg, folding his arms.

"Probably the second," he admitted, "No point making enemies, right? Armsmaster can be talked around."

Well, fair enough. Taylor gave a broad shrug.

"I'll wait, then. You have anything else to ask, or we going to stand here in awkward silence?"

Dauntless brought a hand up from its folded position, propping his chin on it as he thought.

"So, Valefor's dead. Lung?"

"Unconscious," Taylor said, gesturing. The broad motion also encapsulated Eligos' body, lying still and dark and Taylor continued.

"Eligos was about to kill my Dad, so…I know which life I care about most."

Dauntless nodded silently, helmet turning as he looked around. After looking over the entire dock turned battleground he jerked his chin at her.

"I have to ask, what's with the wings? They're going…grey. Silver?"

Taylor shrugged.

"Not sure," she admitted, "Something to do with my mental state? Just natural fading over time?"

Or, and Taylor thought this might be more likely, her power unconsciously reacting to her distaste for the Red Angel moniker. She wondered what they'd call her, if her wings turned completely grey. The Steel Angel, maybe? Still sounded odd, but better than the previous. And it would work fine. The roar of engines split the night, something Taylor recognised as Armsmaster's bike, and Dauntless sighed.

"Well," he said, "Here we go."

"Don't worry," Taylor said, smiling, "Negotiations are my specialty."

Luna

She couldn't delay any longer. Luna hated to admit it, but the decay was accelerating: she'd predicted three weeks before she became incapable of functioning. Now? That had reduced to more like two weeks in total, and she'd used up three of those days already. Her control over her Swarm was slipping more and more, visions barrelling through her mind without rhyme or reason, and she hadn't slept in thirty-six hours.

She was going to go mad, she recognised, unless she acted and acted now. Fortunately, she was prepared.

"Run me through it again," Alastor said, "Just to be clear. You're losing your powers, and your response is…"

Luna sighed, but humoured him willingly enough. He had made himself useful, and the visions that showed him turning on her were comparatively few. Treated well Alastor would be loyal, and that was worth preserving.

"My Mother – Circaetus – draws her powers from a parallel dimension of pure energy, which she refers to as the Immaterium. I can use the power of the Immaterium, but I cannot access it like she can. Therefore, I have built a machine which will tear open the barrier, allowing me to reach into the Immaterium itself and fully awaken my latent powers."

"Or die," Cynthia added, "You said there was a chance of that."

"There is a chance that I'll die," Luna conceded, "But it's a very small one. If I do – Alastor, there's blueprints for the weapons and armour that you've been selling in my room. Do what you want with them. You too, Cynthia."

Alastor shook his head.

"You're far too calm about this. This machine, it runs on…people?"

Well, Luna didn't know if the members of the True Sons could really be considered people. But yes, she supposed, that was the case.

"Not runs on," she delicately corrected, "It…uses their combined life force, you could say. They're unlikely to survive, yes, so if there are any of them you want removed, say so now."

Alastor reached up, pushing the sunglasses that he was for some reason wearing up to his forehead.

"Nah," he said, after considering for a moment, "They're all assholes. I've got some family I like, but none of the True Sons or those other bastards. Let 'em die."

"Knew I liked you for a reason," Cynthia muttered, clapping him on the shoulder, "So you're going to do it, Luna?"

Luna nodded decisively.

"No point waiting," she said, "Don't know how long it'll take. If I'm not out in about two hours, let's say – well, come on in and throw my body out."

She ignored the way they both winced at that, pursing her lips.

"I prefer cremation, just so you know."

"Cremation, aye aye boss," Alastor said, hesitating just a sliver before continuing, "Good luck in there."

Cynthia echoed the sentiment, both of them settling back, and Luna nodded to them before making her way down to her lair. It was already set up: all the runes were in place, two generators in the middle of the room hooked up to a mess of parts and pieces. It was ugly, looked like it had been made by a madman, but she knew it would work: a bastardised teleporter. All she needed was something to rip open the way, and something to hold it. The teleporter she'd altered would do all of that. If she'd had access to the proper resources she wouldn't have needed the True Sons, but she had crude material to work with and that left her with only one recourse.

A sacrifice.

She had been careful to keep it from the more squeamish members of her group…she couldn't see why they would be squeamish about it, but she was smart enough to know that they might protest. No. Only the ones who were ready. Only the ones who were…truly faithful.

Fifteen Fallen. Fifteen worshippers of false gods, blasphemers, heathens. Fifteen weaklings. Fifteen lives, to be given for her cause. They were all sedated, of course, no need to make it difficult, and hooked up to the teleporter she had built. In theory, when the switch was flipped, their torn out energy and the teleporter would crack open the veil, exposing her to the raw power of the Warp. From there…from there, she should be able to guide it, shape it, re-mould her fragile soul into something worthy of a daughter of the Empress. In theory.

Luna smiled, anticipatory, and flipped the switch.

The Fifteen screamed as one, woken from their sleep by the agonies as electricity surged through them, the Warp opening up. A tear opened in the world, a swirling rip in reality filled with dizzying colours. Corroding, twisting energies stretched forth, consuming the Fifteen, ripping the souls from their fleshly prisons, their lives spent to keep the tear open and Luna stepped into the vortex and let the might of the Immaterium flood through her. Her head bent back, mouth opening, a scream of pain and triumph mingling as it left her throat.

It was agony, pure and absolute. Every nerve sang, her blood seemed to boil, ever muscle tearing and every tendon straining, her very bones quaking under the power. Her head pulsed and throbbed, beating in time with the heavy thud of her heart: her mouth filled with the taste of copper and ozone. Luna doubled over, breath failing to come, her scream gone but her mouth still open in silence. The Warp was not a kind mistress: Luna brought her will to bear against the power ripping through her, focusing on it. She could feel the runes around her, glowing as they hid her, feel the death agonies of the Fifteen. It was beyond so minor a thing as pain: it was transcendent.

Luna fell to her knees as she put forth all of her strength, her fingers clawing at the ground, fingernails breaking, teeth grinding. Her head seemed squeezed in a vice, something clinging to her, clutching and Luna took the Warp as it surged through her and forced it to obey her. Her vision clouded red as blood vessels in her eyes burst under the strain, the clinging slick of the Parasite still staining her like oil, pressing, pressing until the dam burst. Pain splintered through her skull for a moment, pain greater than anything she'd ever felt and Luna bit her tongue at the sudden agony of it and then it was gone. Luna drew in a deep, ragged breath and felt the Warp come with it, still pouring into her, but without the muffling, dulling presence of the Parasite…

Luna laughed, thick and savage as she felt her very being twist and change, her soul filling in the gaps, welling with newfound power. She stretched out her hands, the constant scraping call of the Warp quieting, becoming more soothing, and she felt strength pour through her, felt the people the city around her and she opened her eyes, knowing that they had taken on an eldritch glow. The Warp portal closed, the souls of the Fifteen burning to ash and smoke and unable to maintain the gap, and her powers didn't fade.

"It worked," Luna said, her voice low and satisfied, "It worked."

She lifted a hand, still trembling with residual pain and power, and gazed upon the torn and bloodied fingertips. A frown creased her brow as she concentrated and before her very eyes the ripped skin grew back, the fingernails sealing themselves back to perfection, her vision losing the crimson tint. Luna laughed again, giddy with success, ignoring the smell of scorched flesh and burning metal that filled her workshop: it had worked. She gauged her strength: as much as Taylor when Luna had been born, she estimated, more than sufficient to finish stabilising her powerbase. And then…and then?

Luna lifted her hands and flame, dark as blood, ran like clinging oil around her forearms.

"And then," she said aloud, "This world will find destiny."

Initially the line that says "She didn't have her helmet: in her fury she'd left it in her lair," said "In her majesty," but while editing I realised there's a good chance that hardly anyone would understand that particular Britishism and had to sadly take it out. Well, I say Britishism - I checked and it's not just British, it's regional British and definitely would be incomprehensible.

Next update - I'm going to stick with the bimonthly schedule for my planning, which puts the next update at June 10th, shall we say? It could come earlier, but that's my deadline.

And finally - as always, I hope you enjoyed, reviews are appreciated and, as ever, I'll see you in the next chapter.