Taylor drummed her fingers against the wall of her cell, fully aware that it was annoying Armsmaster. Really, a little annoyance shouldn't be his concern: she was here out of the goodness of her own heart. The PRT Master Containment Cells just weren't designed to contain something like her.
In fairness, she wasn't sure there were any cells designed to contain something like her. Not in this universe.
"Do you have to do that?" Dragon asked, her voice coming over the speakers integrated into the cell. Taylor shrugged.
"Nah," she said, "But Armsmaster didn't have to drop me in this cell, so it's only fair."
"If we're being pedantic you walked into the cell yourself."
"Yeah, because I assumed that you'd take my gesture of goodwill as proof that I'm not being mind-controlled. Who'd even mind-control me anyway? Valefor had a heart attack after he tried."
Taylor wondered if Armsmaster had his lie detector active. And, come to think of it, how it actually worked. Was it just a very small, very sensitive polygraph? She hoped not, because relying on something so basic and unreliable would be very much against the image Armsmaster gave off. It would be easy for her to fool, though, so there was always a silver lining.
"Valefor could have given you an order before he died," Armsmaster abruptly told her, "And we don't know if it would stay in place."
Taylor rolled her eyes, scoffing.
"Seriously? Why would I have admitted that he gave me an order then?"
"You could be fighting it."
"You're infuriating, you know that? Being on this side of the smartass replies sucks."
Taylor turned away from the transparent plastic front wall of the cell, wandering around. It wasn't very large or private, the toilet fixed into the wall – she would have made a comment about it, but Armsmaster would probably just say something about needing to keep potentially compromised people in place. He wasn't wrong, she supposed.
"So," she said, "These nozzles in the wall. Containment foam, right?"
She spread her wings and drifted a few feet into the air, putting her spread hand over the nozzle thoughtfully. Not hard to block and given the speed that the foam hardened they'd clog quickly if the foam couldn't pour out of them.
"And in the ceiling, I guess that these holes are for sedative gas? I'm gonna guess that this is some kind of standard template, right?"
"If you're trying to convince us that you're not a danger, looking for flaws in the cell might not be the best way." Dragon told her. Taylor shrugged.
"It's too late to convince you that I'm harmless, I'd say. I'm very dangerous, just not controlled. Besides, sitting quietly on the bed would be a lot more out of character."
Taylor briefly considered pointing out that if she wanted to escape she wouldn't need to look for flaws, she would just teleport, but decided not to bring that up. They knew about it, but if they wanted to overlook one of her strengths then she was happy to let sleeping dogs lie.
"If you want to prove that you aren't controlled, then you'll have to be questioned," Armsmaster said, "I assume you agree?"
Taylor stretched her arms, her wings spreading behind them, and shrugged.
"Yeah, sure. Come on then, if you've got questions."
Armsmaster straightened from checking the door, clearing his throat. Taylor folded her arms and took a seat on the bed, leaning against the wall as best she could with her wings behind her.
"To begin with," Armsmaster said, "Tell us what happened, from your point of view. From before you fought Lung."
"Alright," Taylor agreed, "That's fair. So there I was, talking to Tattletale, living la Vida loca-"
"After your argument with Panacea?" Armsmaster interrupted, fairly rudely in Taylor's opinion.
"After my argument with Panacea, yes," she said, "How did you know about that? There weren't any cameras around."
"Halo informed us that the two of you seemed at odds," Dragon chipped in, "And your past interactions have been hostile."
"Mean," Taylor murmured, "But sure, yeah. I argued with Panacea, I left, I went to speak with Tattletale. Can I keep going, or are you going to interrupt again?"
Armsmaster shrugged. Taylor frowned at him, but reluctantly supposed that that was the best she was likely to get.
"Anyway, while I was talking to Tattletale that little broadcast came on, with Lung making threats and all. I'm guessing that he was mind-controlled at that point, because taking hostages is in his wheelhouse but he'd be more likely to just call me out, if he had the balls to do it. I used my big old brain and realised this, but also I realised that if I didn't show Lung would start killing people and that's just not cool, is it?"
Neither Armsmaster or Dragon responded. Taylor sighed.
"It's like talking to a brick wall," she grumbled, "Fine. I arrived and distracted Lung. The hostages ran, Lung and I threw down. I won. Eligos was hanging around, so I ended up fighting him too: I won, again, but before I could actually knock him out Valefor turned up with my brainwashed Dad as a hostage."
She'd made sure that her Dad was getting proper care before she'd allowed herself to be taken into custody, but last she'd seen he'd still been asleep from her psychic command. He should be fine once he woke, but still. She worried.
'Honestly, it's making me feel like Luna's doing the right thing. You think we could get away with just sitting back and waiting until she's exterminated the Fallen before we go after her?'
"It would at least save us some trouble, and we could deal with some other potential problems while we wait."
'Hmm.'
Well, something to keep in mind at least. A gamble, regarding whether she could let Luna have more or less free rein long enough to destroy the Fallen. Maybe it would be fine, maybe it wouldn't.
"Waiting would also allow Luna to build up her cult of personality further, which would give us a stronger power base in the event we decide to co-opt it."
'Assuming we co-opt it,' Taylor added, although she felt a strong sense of cynicism coming from the Emperor that she did her best to ignore. Actually taking control of Luna's cult would put a cramp in her plan to disappear, unless she was very careful. Something to only do if she had no other choice.
"Anyway," she said aloud, "Valefor. I had a hostage with Eligos, he had one with my Dad. We talked, he had some lunatic plan to take over my mind and use me as some sort of enforcer, I wasn't paying that much attention to the supervillain rambling, you know how it goes."
"Did he use his power on you?" Armsmaster asked. Taylor shrugged.
"Yeah, eventually," she said, "I'd let go of Eligos so I had my hands free, since he was threatening to kill my Dad. He used his power on me, it didn't work. I killed Eligos before he could attack my Dad, got my Dad away from Valefor, Valefor had a sudden case of heart failure. Dauntless showed up, end of story."
Armsmaster nodded slowly, his eyes hidden but almost certainly locked onto her. Taylor kept her arms folded, her expression neutral, though her mind worked. Armsmaster was probably going to ask more questions, in which case the lie detector questions she had became increasingly important. To avoid the truth without actually lying, that was the name of the game: she focused a sliver of power, keeping her bodily rhythms steady in case it was a polygraph.
"Do you know why Valefor's power didn't work on you?" Armsmaster asked. Taylor wrinkled her nose.
"Couldn't tell you," she said airily, "Could have been a whole bunch of things."
She took a secret delight in seeing the corners of Armsmaster's mouth turn down. What she'd said wasn't a lie, of course, and he wasn't likely to interrogate her more harshly: they were still allies, after all.
"I guess that Halo and Rosary will be heading out, now that I've dealt with their problem for them," she mused, "Wonder what they'll do after. Maybe they'll go find Luna, since she's doing their anti-Fallen job for them."
'I wonder how Luna feels about religion. I still can't tell if that cult she's setting up is supposed to be religious or if it's just a run of the mill, follow the leader group.'
"Hard to say, we haven't encountered her enough. She did seem simply like a psychopathic version of you, though, so I would assume she would feel similarly about religion."
The Emperor paused thoughtfully.
"Unless she's of the opinion that the best way to deal with religion is to set one up. I know that Malcador was of that school of thought."
Taylor shrugged inwardly. It wasn't too much of a concern at the moment, with the Warp quiescent and humanity devoid of Psykers. How long had religions existed in the Emperor's home universe, without spawning some nightmare? Tens of thousands of years. She had more than enough time to deal with it.
"Haven probably will be leaving, yes," Dragon said, "Although they might want to thank you beforehand. Can we get back to the questions?"
Taylor shrugged.
"Fire away."
Armsmaster tapped at the pad he was holding, tipping his head down to look at it.
"Valefor's power didn't work on you, allegedly," he said, "What order did he give?"
Taylor tilted her head back, thinking.
"Hmm. Let's see…"
She chewed her lip for a moment, getting the words right, and nodded. She looked forwards again, pitching her voice higher to mimic Valefor.
"Circaetus," she said, almost a perfect copy, "Serve me. Obey me."
She saw Armsmaster look sharply in her direction, head lifting from his pad, and smiled wryly.
"He was very confident that it would work," she added, "Obviously he wasn't right. Seemed to be a terrible shock to him, especially since he died soon after."
"But why didn't it work?" Dragon asked musingly. Taylor didn't bother to reply: she'd already given Armsmaster an evasive answer, best not to dig herself into a hole. Armsmaster didn't look up, but he spoke.
"Could be her abnormal brain structure," he said, "Valefor's power seemed to rely on hypnosis. Circaetus, you can confirm that he gave no other orders?"
"None."
"And you don't have any lingering compulsions?"
"Not a one," Taylor happily confirmed. Armsmaster looked up at her – she saw his lips thin, felt the thoughts swirling around in his brain, but she hadn't told a lie.
"No lies detected," he said, "Protocol dictates that you have to remain in custody for at least a day, however."
"A whole day?" Taylor asked, aghast, "In this cell?"
"I know it'll be hard for your attention span, but yes," Armsmaster said, demonstrating an actual sense of humour so suddenly that Taylor was silenced with shock.
'He just sassed me.'
"He is human, after all. Remarkable, I had assumed him to be like a Mechanicum Magos, replacing the emotional centres of his brain with machines. Apparently I can still be wrong, after all these years."
Taylor sagged dramatically on the small bed , ignoring the way it creaked under her weight in her stupor.
"Wow," she said aloud, "Didn't think you had it in you, Armsmaster. How long have you been waiting for that chance?"
"If I said 'since I met you', would you believe me?"
Taylor was fairly sure that he was reading off a script for that one, but she credited him with the attempt anyway.
"You know what? Yeah, I would."
Taylor sighed and ran a hand through her hair, free now from the short ponytail she wore under her helmet.
"So, a day?"
"A day," Armsmaster agreed, "You'll be allowed visitors. One more question, however."
Taylor shrugged, spreading her hands wide.
"I'm not going anywhere. What is it?"
Armsmaster paused, seemingly looking for words before he spoke again.
"You can copy powers, even if not quite as assumed earlier in your career. Did you copy anything from Valefor?"
"Ah," Taylor murmured, "You want to know if I can mind control people?"
She leaned back, her wings pressing against the blank concrete wall of the cell, and looked up.
"I didn't gain any powers from Valefor," she said, "That good enough for you?"
Armsmaster stared at her for a few heartbeats, eyes hidden by his helmet, before he nodded.
"Yes," he said, "Thank you."
Taylor watched him walk away, and wondered. That had been a very specific question, hadn't it? And she'd given a very specific answer in response. She wondered if he'd noticed just how specific.
'I think it might be time to skip town for a while.'
"I suspect you may be correct."
An hour later Taylor had to admit that Armsmaster was right: she was bored. She'd wandered around the cell, poking at anything she came across – it turned out that she'd been slightly harsh on the design, since the toilet was actually out of sight of the cameras and had a sliding panel that could hide it from the front wall, hurray for privacy – but that had only killed about thirty minutes and she wasn't meant for sitting around doing nothing. Unable to sit comfortably in the single chair the room offered, since it was attached to the wall and her wings would get in the way, she was pacing and contemplating teleporting out anyway when salvation finally arrived.
"Theo," Taylor greeted, waving, "Come to break me out of this prison?"
Theo gave her a brief smile, quick and nervous, but he replied gamely enough.
"Sorry, Circaetus. I think the PRT might not like that."
"Ah well, back to planning a daring escape on my own. How're you doing?"
Theo looked around, finding the low bench that sat opposite the clear front wall on the cell and sitting down on it. From the way he winced it wasn't particularly comfortable: Taylor couldn't help but mentally compare it to the higher levels of the building, where everything was comfortable. She wondered if people actually keeping an eye on prisoners would be allowed to bring their own plush chairs down.
"I wanted to check on you," Theo explained quietly, "Since I haven't seen you since…"
"Since the mess at Somers Rock," Taylor completed, nodding, "How's Kaiser doing? He was unconscious the last time I checked up on him."
Theo rubbed his hands together, glancing down at the ground and frowning.
"He's not pleased," he admitted, "He isn't dealing too well with, um, not being able to walk. A lot of shouting, but it's not as bad now. Director Piggot spoke to him and I think he's realised that he's lucky, in a way. The Director said that they won't send someone with his injuries to the Birdcage even if they have enough evidence, and he'll have a chance of being released from a normal prison even if it'll take decades."
Taylor wouldn't have given good odds on that, but who knew – stranger things had happened. Besides, that was what prisons were for, really. Rehabilitation. Take in a power-hungry, white supremacist, sneering son of a bitch and, twenty years later, pop out someone who met the basic requirements of a human being possessing basic, common decency. Again her primary problem with the Birdcage came up: why bother putting someone into prison if there was no hope of release? Might as well take them out the back of the house and give them the Old Yeller treatment, metaphorically speaking.
"What about Purity?" Taylor asked. Theo shrugged.
"She's agreed to take me in," he said, "I'm glad, you know? Aster's my little sister, I don't want to leave her. It's nice of Kayden – um, Purity."
It would keep Theo out of the orphanage at least, out of the system. Taylor was going to guess that there was a price for that, though, given that Purity wasn't exactly squeaky clean in terms of history.
"She made a deal with the PRT and Protectorate, then?" Taylor asked. Theo nodded slowly, but there was a frown wrinkling his brow.
"Yeah," he said quietly, "Observation. Visits from the CPS, that sort of thing, she has to be on reserve with the Protectorate team. I don't know if we're staying here or going somewhere else yet. And I, I'm joining the Wards. I think."
Joining the Wards, he thought? Not as certain as Taylor might have expected, although she could take a guess as to why. Taylor tilted her head back and eyeballed the nearest camera on the wall, studying it and wondering how much attention her watcher was paying. Not that it would make a difference, Theo hadn't said anything wrong.
"I'm gonna take a wild guess here," she said, "And assume that it was part of the deal, right? Purity doesn't get thrown into prison, you stay with her, and in exchange you become a Ward and she takes the first steps towards joining a Protectorate team."
Someone less gracious than Taylor might have wondered aloud who the real gang was, but that was just petty. Sneaking and underhanded as recruiting Theo like that was, Taylor doubted Piggot would have stooped to outright blackmail in this case. No need, after all: a suggestion would do just as well.
"It wasn't really part of the deal," he said, "Just, you know. A suggestion that Kayden's case would go better if she had a Ward to vouch for her. And I wanted to join up anyway, be a Hero, so it's not too bad. It's just that…"
"That?" Taylor prompted, walking back across the cell and taking a seat on the bed, angling herself so that her wings were pressed against the wall. It wasn't entirely comfortable, her wings slightly squashed, but it was alright. Theo looked up at her before glancing down again, back to his hands.
"I'm nervous," he admitted, hands twisting together. Sat on the bed, Taylor waited patiently as Theo chewed his lip.
"I don't really want to impose," he said. Taylor shrugged, spreading her hands.
"Right now, I'm quite literally a captive audience. So vent away – the other option is that I lie here and try not to die of boredom."
He let out a quiet chuckle, still bent over his hands before sighing.
"It's just – it's the villain thing, you know? Everybody will know my parents are villains, even if one's reformed. It'll be weird."
Taylor blinked slowly, letting a breath hiss between her teeth before she stood up again and walked over to the clear front wall, leaning against the wall to the left of it in a studiously relaxed pose, arms folded nonchalantly across her chest. It was so annoying, this cell. Nothing was comfortable. It clearly hadn't been designed with non-standard human anatomy in mind.
"Well," she said, "Given how pressed for manpower the Protectorate are, I daresay they'll be a lot more pleased to have help than they'll be bothered about a villain's kid. Sins of the father shouldn't reflect on the son, and all that. Besides, if the other Protectorate departments are anything like the one here you might not be alone."
Theo looked up sharply – Taylor saw the movement from the corner of her eye.
"What do you mean?" he asked. Taylor shrugged, unfolding her arms to give it extra oomph.
"Sure. You don't know about Shadow Stalker?"
Before Theo could answer the door to the detention block hissed open again and several more people walked through – Vista, Clockblocker and Weld. Taylor raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on their group composition.
"Oh. Hey, kiddos. We're just talking about the sins of the Brockton Protectorate."
"Hey, Tweety. The sins?" Clockblocker asked. Taylor nodded.
"Sure thing. Thought that Theo should know what he's getting into if he decides to join up, and since I've got so much goodwill to go around I reckoned I'd do it."
Clockblocker made a sarcastic noise, although not mocking.
"Goodwill? You?"
Taylor smiled.
"Yup, as demonstrated by the way that I'm obligingly in this cell and not sitting on one of those uncomfortable looking chairs outside."
Weld came up to the clear front wall, knocking gently on it and frowning.
"You could really escape?" he asked doubtfully. A loudspeaker on the wall crackled before Armsmaster's voice came through, clipped as ever.
"Current estimations are that there is a seventy-four percent chance that Circaetus could break down the front wall before being sedated. Estimation that Circaetus could successfully teleport out of the cell are ninety-eight point seven percent."
Felt like she was being undersold there, but Taylor didn't make a fuss. Instead she kept smiling and shrugged.
"You're watching me? That's sweet, if a little invasive."
Clockblocker wandered over to the wall as well, tapping against it.
"So if she can escape," he said, "Why not just sedate her the whole time? That'd prevent any escape, right? Uh, no offence Tweety."
Taylor shrugged.
"None taken. It's a fair question."
"It was considered," Armsmaster continued, "But ultimately it was concluded that it would prevent behavioural analysis that would detect any lingering Master control and increase Circaetus' hostility in a manner detrimental to continued good relations."
"In other words, she'd go apeshit once she woke up?" Clockblocker surmised. There was a pause – Taylor imagined she could hear Armsmaster grinding his teeth – before the answer.
"Essentially."
"Fond as I am of being spoken about like I'm not here," Taylor said, "I was going to cause trouble by revealing a bunch of semi-secrets, can we get back to that? I'm trying to be a good friend here."
Armsmaster didn't reply and Taylor took that as permission, no matter how grudging.
"Alright. Sophia – that is, Shadow Stalker – is pretty fun, assuming you have a very twisted definition of fun. Now I don't know if the other Wards know this, but the story of how baby Sophia was recruited is pretty worth knowing."
"I'd assumed you would tell them about your Trigger," Armsmaster said, evidently still spying on them. Taylor waved a finger chidingly at the camera.
"Well, I was gonna. But then I realised that it doesn't really make my point, since spying on her while she was at school is a bit much so the Protectorate wouldn't know about it. Also, my Trigger feels weak these days. I mean, look at Theo."
Taylor did actually look at Theo then, waving a hand at him.
"You mind if I talk about your Trigger?"
He shrugged.
"I think a lot of people know anyway," he said. Taylor nodded.
"Alright, cool. Theo's Trigger: protecting his baby sister from a murderous Parahuman. Mine? I got thrown into a locker by my bullies and snapped."
Taylor put both hands out in front of her, raising her right hand higher and lowering her left.
"Theo's Trigger: heroic. Mine? School kid shit, and I'm pretty sure most people have a worse Trigger than mine so it sounds like whining. Also, it's not dramatic enough to suit me. When I write my biography you can be sure I'm changing that up."
"A biography?" Weld asked, "Planning on needing one?"
Taylor shrugged.
"One of the perils of being a myth in the making. Anyway, Shadow Stalker – incredibly edgy name, by the way, who OK-ed that? These things happen, I guess. Now, Shadow Stalker didn't join the Wards of her own free will, unless you're being very picky about definitions. PRT and Protectorate don't talk much about it, but I've heard plenty: she was strong-armed in because she was brutalising criminals. From what Tattletale said, and Tatts isn't likely to lie about something like this, good old Sophia was out and out crucifying drug dealers."
Taylor paused, thinking.
"Well, that's what people called it. I don't think it was an actual, full on crucifixion, because even if it's a great deterrent it would take forever and need some way of keeping the victim still. Even I'd find it hard, materials are difficult to get hold of even if I can pretty easily put a stake through someone's wrist…um, what was I talking about?"
Silence, only mildly horrified. Taylor blinked and refocused.
"Oh. Right. Anyway, everybody says 'crucified' but I think it was more pinned to a wall by a crossbow bolt, which Sophia was capable of doing: phase the bolt until it's in, unphase, screaming, generally unpleasant. So the Protectorate brought her in and cut her a deal: Wards or Juvie. Am I right, Armsmaster?"
Armsmaster said nothing. Taylor nodded.
"I'm right," she agreed, "So here we have Sophia. Generally unpleasant, clearly unstable, tendencies to go out hunting on her own – Tattletale was pretty annoyed that she shot Grue with a crossbow bolt, since he bled all over a white couch – I'm pretty sure that your parentage won't mean a thing."
"While Circaetus is, as ever, quite dramatic about it," Dragon said, "The Wards program does accept former villains. Your situation is far less troublesome than it could have been."
'Dragon listening in, too? This place just doesn't understand privacy.'
"To be completely fair, we are in a cell. Privacy is generally not a concern for prisoners."
Well, Taylor had to concede that point.
"So if Sophia was press-ganged because she was maiming people," Clockblocker said aloud, "How come, you know, Circ hasn't been drafted? I mean – again, no offence Tweety – but she's kinda killed people. Several people."
'Well, I guess someone was going to bring it up.'
"When do we teleport?"
'You're such a pessimist. But, uh, the moment either gas or foam starts coming out of those nozzles we bounce, let Tattletale know we're out and, I dunno, go kill Heartbreaker or some shit. Make a statement, let Luna distract everyone. You think we could get a new identity?'
"The wings will make it difficult, but yes. It should be quite possible."
'Alright, cool. Cool cool cool. Let's do that.'
"Who's the pessimist now?"
"In order," Armsmaster said, "Circaetus has been responsible for the deaths of a number of Echidna clones, Vex and now Eligos. Vex and Eligos were both in combat and any attempt to convince the DA to prosecute over the deaths of psychotic clones is doomed."
A pause then, very dryly,
"Director Piggot has tried."
"Wow, what a bitch," Taylor said aloud. There was something in Armsmaster's voice, though, something that made her think there was something he wasn't saying. In the interest of not starting any trouble she couldn't deal with, however, she didn't ask. Not yet, at least.
"I suspect she thought of it as carrot and stick," Dragon interceded. Taylor didn't comment, on the basis that she'd probably say something impolitic and she was already in a cell. Clockblocker nodded thoughtfully, shrugging at her in a manner she guessed was meant to be apologetic.
"Sorry, Tweety. Someone had to ask."
"Gonna be real with you, Clock, someone didn't, but at least we know I'm not on the hook for anything."
Yeah, that silence from Armsmaster was telling. Still, Taylor ignored it for the moment, even if she absently primed herself to teleport.
"So yeah, going back to the whole starting point, Sophia's a real bitch and you'll probably be a lot more popular than she is, Theo. Uh…Sophia hasn't died while I've been busy, has she?"
"Still in a coma," Vista confirmed and Taylor barely fought down the urge to whistle admiringly. She had to say, from a purely professional level, that Luna did good work. Heads on spikes, hearts cut out, people in comas that they probably wouldn't wake from – psychotic or not, Luna had class. Then again, she was Taylor's clone. It was only to be expected.
"Tragic," Taylor said, spectacularly failing to sound convincing, "Well, I…uh…can we just pretend that I expressed concern and hope that she'll recover?"
"It would be less painful," Weld solemnly agreed. Taylor made a high-five motion from behind the wall.
"You're a real hero, Weld. You know, while we're here, are you staying in Brockton for much longer? Things have settled down a lot now."
"Honestly, I don't know," Weld said, "I know that the plans for a completely Case 53 team are still in progress, and it looks like Aegis won't be recovered for a while so I think I'm going to be kept on as Wards leader. Flechette's definitely staying, though."
"Brockton's getting popular," Taylor mused, "Lot's of people coming here."
Not so many leaving, though. Taylor mentally gave herself a medal for being the main driving force behind that.
"Yeah I heard about that," Clockblocker agreed, "They want to test how my powers work with Flechette, since she managed to put a crossbow bolt through Leviathan."
"Makes sense," Taylor said before anyone else could speak, "Armsmaster was wondering about it, right? I know someone said they didn't know how it would work."
Vista frowned at her.
"How can you not remember something like that?"
Taylor shrugged.
"We were halfway through the Leviathan fight, I was pretty busy. I guess they're worried that the way your powers both break reality across their knee will interact weirdly?"
"Yeah basically," Clockblocker said, "It's a sort of immovable object and unstoppable force thing, from what I know: maybe Flechette's shot'll go right through. Maybe it'll bounce off. Maybe they'll both break and somehow go off like a nuke, we don't know. Complicated compared to what you do, Circ."
"The power of raw brute force," Taylor said, mildly amused, "Plus if Flechette stays here you'll both be around as a team, if it works. Can't guarantee that I can do the same."
There was a pause which Taylor studiously didn't break, looking around her cell as though she found it suddenly very interesting. She hadn't really meant to give the game away like that, but she supposed it was better to get it over with.
"You're leaving?" Clockblocker said, "The city, you mean?"
Taylor shrugged.
"Yeah," she said, "Think so. Not that it hasn't been fun – s'where I was born and everything – but there's a big world out there and I don't want to stay at home my whole life."
The Wards outside her cell exchanged glances that Taylor was fairly sure were significant – out of politeness she reeled her powers in and refrained from taking a peek into their heads. She wondered if, maybe, they were thinking about her age compared to theirs. The same age, but she was considering leaving her home, possibly forever.
Well, hopefully not forever. That would suck. But she didn't think she'd be based here for much longer.
"I guess there's not much action here anymore," Clockblocker said slowly, "Not unless the Slaughterhouse Nine show up or something."
Silence fell like a choking blanket, Clockblocker's hands flying up to his mouth in an instinctively horrified motion. Taylor stared at him before she slowly, agonisingly slowly, looked over to the nearest camera.
"Dragon?"
"The Nine were last sighted in Missouri, near the city of Joplin."
There was a collective sigh of relief.
"Pretty far away, then," Taylor said, raising a chiding eyebrow at Clockblocker, "Looks like we're not cursed yet."
"I'm so sorry."
"Yeah, you should be. If the Siberian had come crashing through the wall you were gonna be an entrée as a distraction," Taylor said, before eyeing the wall, "Well, assuming I reached you before she reached me. They're in Missouri, you say?"
There was a brief silence as multiple people tried to work out what to say. Taylor waited patiently – she had no intention of going after the Nine, not right now, but there was no reason not to tease. Really, the best way to deal with the Nine was probably the Aliens method. No point going nine on one when you could wipe out most of them and then crush what was left, even if it would be a little boring. Maybe tailor – pun intended – the attack so that it would leave the tougher members just intact enough that she could get a decent fight out of it? For the future.
"Not that I don't have faith in you," Vista said, "But the Nine are. You know. They nearly killed Alexandria and she's invulnerable."
"Not quite invulnerable," Taylor murmured, thinking of Leviathan almost drowning the woman, "But close, yes. I wonder how the Siberian's claws actually work?"
Taylor shook herself, free of the web of thought.
"I'm not going to actually go after them," she said, "Too many of them. And Jack Slash is smart, from what I've heard. The worst kind of monster are the clever ones."
"That's true," Weld gloomily agreed, before changing the subject.
"So if you're leaving the city, where are you going?" he asked. Taylor shrugged, a broad motion of uncertainty.
"Not sure yet," she allowed, "I know that Luna is somewhere near Wichita, so I might need to head there and deal with that. But afterwards, or if she gives me the slip? There's a lot of villains who've settled in nice and comfortable that I could probably get rid of. A knight errant, if you like."
"Wandering the land, slaying metaphorical dragons and saving princesses?" Clockblocker asked. Taylor looked up, a whimsical smile playing over her lips.
"Hadn't thought of it like that," she said, "But yeah, if you like. I do like rescuing Princesses. Or Princes, I'm not too picky. So long as I get that sweet, sweet rush of heroism."
"I feel like you're just trying to be misheard now," Vista said. Taylor grinned lazily at her, lifting herself off the floor with a slow flap of her wings and reclining in mid air for a moment.
"Show-off," Clockblocker accused, although he sounded amused. Taylor devoted a tiny portion of her focus to remaining in the air without beating her wings too much, spreading her hands.
"All the time," she amiably replied. Theo was watching her, eyed narrowed, and she wondered what he was thinking. He'd been quiet since the others had arrived.
"Theo," she said, pointing at him, "You've got a question?"
He looked surprised to be asked, but found his footing quickly.
"Um, yes. Actually. How do you do that? The flying, I mean. Your wings aren't actually large enough to keep you aloft normally, never mind staying in the air in that room."
Taylor leaned slightly further back, showing off, but then straightened and folded her wings. She remained in the air, wings closed on her back.
"I'm not actually using my wings, that's why," she said. Theo frowned for a moment, but Vista spoke first.
"Wait. Does that mean your wings are just for show? You don't use them?"
Taylor held up a hand, scratching her chin.
"Oh. No. No, no, no. Okay so usually, when I'm flying around, I can't do it without my wings: my powers just enhance the amount of lift they provide. I'm pretty sure you've all noticed that I do fly like I have wings, right?"
Taylor paused, reconsidering that statement.
"Uh, I mean I fly like my wings are actually carrying me."
"She means that she has to turn and dip her wings to move, that kind of thing," Vista piped up and Taylor nodded, pointing at her.
"Right, what Vista said. I have to move my wings in the right way to manoeuvre: my powers just provide the extra juice. Right now, though, I'm just levitating myself, I'm lifting myself up with telekinesis."
Taylor drifted slightly, moving a lot more slowly than if she'd been using her wings.
"A lot less useful, though. I'm just showing off."
"It seems like you do that quite a lot, Taylor," her Dad said, entering the corridor and speaking before anyone else could. Taylor cut her power, dropping directly to the ground with a thud – she saw Weld look at her, eyes narrowed. Taylor guessed that he'd realised that her landing was heavier than it should be for someone her size. Maybe because he himself was denser than a normal human? Hard to say, and she had something more important to deal with.
"Dad," she said warmly, a smile spreading broad across her face, "You're alright."
Her Dad made his way through the Wards, a slightly sad smile settling on his lips as he saw her in the cell. Taylor leaned against the wall, fighting back the temptation to teleport through and check that he was alright: she settled, reluctantly, for raking her gaze over him and satisfying herself that he wasn't visibly injured.
"Yeah," he said, "Just a few bumps and bruises, and they don't seem too worried about me. I guess it's because I can't do much damage if I really am mind-controlled?"
Dauntless wandered in behind her Dad, catching Taylor's eye and waving. Her Dad gestured behind himself.
"My minder," he said, "He's been very patient. Are you alright, Taylor?"
He leaned against the wall, his hand pressed against the clear plastic. Taylor settled her own hand opposite his, only the dividing wall between them. Metaphorical, she thought: the wall separating them, just as her powers already did.
"I'm good," she said, "Just, you know. Bored. Hungry. Still playing nice for the moment. Hey, Dauntless. How's it going?"
Dauntless threaded his way through the Wards as well, nodding at her.
"You know how it goes," he said, "Not too bad. Brought you some lunch."
He was carrying a bag, marked with the logo of a fast-food restaurant. Taylor huffed out a laugh, amused.
"Can't believe they're already open."
Dauntless shrugged.
"You know how it is, people gotta eat. There's a sliding hatch somewhere around here – can you see it?"
Taylor pointed.
"It's down there," she said, tapping a finger against the plastic on her side before splaying her hand. The tray built into the cell wall quivered under her power, the latches that held the door on Dauntless' side snapping open before the tray slid out. Dauntless eyed the clear plastic.
"Huh," he said, "Well, that answers my questions about whether you can escape. You can just do that through walls, then?"
"So long as I can see," Taylor said, shrugging, "You're really alright, Dad?"
He nodded, meeting her eyes levelly. A faint, self-deprecating smile pulled at the corners of his lips.
"Yes," he said, "It was just a bit of a surprise, you know? It's been a long time since anyone bothered to do anything other than threaten us a bit."
Taylor nodded silently.
"Well, shouldn't be too much of a problem after this," she said, "We're sort of out of villains in the Bay. Well, except for Tattletale I guess, but she's reasonable. And also, you know. We're kinda friends."
"I would say that it's weird, but honestly? You're pretty alike, aren't you?" Dauntless said. Taylor beamed.
"I'll take that as a compliment to us both. But even if we weren't friends, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't cause trouble. She's smart enough not to push me like that."
"She is smart," Dauntless mused, "You're sure she's not too smart?"
Taylor, briefly distracted by the food tray opening on her side, hummed in response before remembering to use her words.
"Oh, Tattletale's real smart. Dangerously smart, yeah? But it has limits. There's a point where her smartness doesn't cover for my ability to teleport to her and…well, uh, let's just say 'take her down'. Besides, there's no profit in it for her."
Taylor felt like Dauntless was somewhat underestimating her capacity for violence and Tattletale's understanding of said capacity, but that was fine. She had faith that Tattletale knew that she was better off like this. She took her burger and settled herself on the bed again, wings shifting for a moment before the squeezed into place behind her. She chomped enthusiastically at her burger, surprised by how hungry she was. Her Dad briefly ducked out of the room, returning with a hard plastic chair that he carried to the front wall, settling himself right in front of her cell.
"Hungry?" her Dad asked once she'd swallowed. Taylor waved the hand with the burger in it, gesturing broadly.
"Always," she said dryly, "I'm a growing girl, after all."
She leaned back, as much as she could – her wings made it awkward – and studied her Dad, thinking. The Wards, behind her Dad, talked quietly amongst themselves but kept glancing over at her. Nosy, Taylor thought fondly.
"So," her Dad said quietly, folding his hands together and leaning over them, "What are you going to do next, Taylor? I heard you mention that you're – you're leaving?"
Oh. Right. Taylor swallowed the last bite of her burger, brushing her hands together to get rid of any crumbs and nodding.
"I…yeah. I was going to."
Taylor glanced up at the roof, mouth opening before she found the words.
"Hear me out," she said, "It's not that I want to leave. Well, maybe a bit – I'm not made for sitting around anymore – but I have a reason as well. If I sit back and wait, I know that trouble's going to come to me. Especially Luna, given what she said. If I stay here, I'm reacting to her. I need to take the initiative if I want to deal with this, and the same goes for others."
"Luna…your clone," her Dad said, his tone cautious. Taylor nodded and he frowned, continuing carefully.
"Since she's your clone, you can tell what she's going to do next? You think she might come after the city – after me?"
Taylor sighed, rubbing a thumb across her lower lip in thought and standing again. She paced across the cell, to the wall and back. She ended up next to the bed, standing next to it, raking a hand through her hair.
"The problem is that she's me, in almost every way," Taylor said, "Just without the conscience. If I want to get into her head, I have to look critically at myself. It's bad for the ego."
Taylor brushed a thoughtful hand over the sheet on the bed, feeling the rough and almost papery texture under her fingers. Cheap and nasty, very Government issue. She thought wistfully of the comfortable chairs in the Wards common room before shaking it off.
"The clones were mostly completely psychotic," Taylor said, "They wanted to maim, rape, torture and murder, and not necessarily in that order. The three Dauntless clones that got hold of Miss Militia were taking her apart piece by piece, just for their own amusement. I don't think Luna is exactly like that."
Taylor rubbed at her chin, thinking hard and trying to be certain that her own preconceptions weren't colouring what she said – that she wasn't putting Luna in a better light in an attempt to make herself look better. Well, she could never be sure, she supposed.
"From what Tattletale said Luna must have encountered a PRT Trooper soon after being, uh, born. She killed them, took their uniforms and moved on, meeting Grue, Tattletale and Regent. She killed Regent, badly injured Grue and injured Tattletale."
"Right, she made Tattletale run and broke a finger every time she caught her," Vista interrupted, pale but determined, "That's torture, right?"
"More playing with her food," Taylor – who wasn't exactly innocent of doing that herself – muttered, before raising her voice, "Yes, torture. But I think that wasn't the main point. Tattletale's powers led her to safety: she used her power to locate the nearest group of friendly parahumans. Which means…"
"Are you saying that Luna used Tattletale as a guide?" Clockblocker asked. Taylor shrugged.
"It makes sense," she said, "And once she found you she became a lot less interested in Tattletale, right?"
"She enjoyed it, hurting us," Vista said, whisper-quiet, "But she was fighting us. I – she might have tortured Sophia."
"And she tortured Emma, a bit," Taylor said, "Both were personal. Browbeat's death was horrific, that's an outlier, but when she went after the Barnes family she killed Alan quickly, crippled Zoe, took her time with Emma. If she was going after you, Dad, it would be because she wants to make a point. And I don't think she wants to, anymore."
Even Emma, when Taylor thought about it, had been done for fairly quick. Nasty, but cutting someone's heart out wasn't exactly a slow death. Taylor knew enough to be careful, make it last, but what were the odds of that happening in a real situation? Most likely Emma had quickly gone into shock and Luna had sliced an important artery. Taylor hoped so, at least: she didn't like Emma, but the girl hadn't done enough to earn a slow and agonising death.
"You'll still have to be careful, very careful," she said to her Dad, "But I think you'll be safe enough. If Luna was going to come after you she'd have done it already."
And, just as likely, Luna wouldn't hurt her Dad until Taylor was present, so she could make whatever point she felt like making. That would put Luna and Taylor in the same building, in the same room, and only one of them was going to walk away from that. That wasn't as reassuring as the rest, though, so Taylor didn't mention it.
"Even if I can't find her and stop her," she continued, "I'll be there, around, so I can at least do something to interrupt her plans. While I'm doing that, though, I need someone here, to oversee everything else."
"Your company," her Dad said, nodding slightly, "I don't know if I'm really qualified for that, Taylor."
Taylor waved a hand.
"I mean, I'm fifteen," she said, "You're probably more qualified than I am. Besides, a mean enough lawyer and all things are possible."
She would have said something about it being a pity that Alan Barnes was dead, but the man had been a divorce lawyer if Taylor remembered correctly. Besides, her Dad had been friends with him: it would have been in poor taste even by her standards.
"A mean enough lawyer, huh?" her Dad said, "I'm sure the Association had some of those, back in the day. Almost before my time."
Oh yes, Taylor had heard something like that. There'd been some rumours of what the Dockworker's Association had been like, back in the day. Before the stronger capes came around, maybe even before the Golden Age of Parahumans. Taylor wouldn't be too surprised to learn that there were a couple of corpses down in the Bay, dropped in with four broken limbs. She wouldn't be surprised to learn that her Dad knew about them. He was high enough in the Association to know about some of the skeletons in the closets.
She had a bit of a temper, Taylor did, and she knew it didn't all come from the Emperor. Most of it, she came by honestly. Her Dad shook his head.
"Sometimes I can barely believe it," he said, "It's been, what, thirty years since the first Parahuman? Something like that, right?"
"Vikare died in '89," Taylor provided. Her Dad lifted an eyebrow in her direction.
"We did a module on the Golden Age in school, just before I left," she explained, "Never thought it was that useful, really. Half of it was taken up by theories on where Parahumans came from, but there's pretty much no proof so it was just mindless speculation."
Funny, because Taylor knew where powers came from. She didn't think she'd bet on people believing her, however.
"I remember that, when he died," her Dad said, "It was a real shock. He'd become famous, you know, like a comic book came to life, and then he…he got hit on the head, right?"
Taylor nodded.
"Trying to break up a riot, yeah. You were, uh, about twenty then?"
Her Dad nodded.
"Twenty-two, I think. I wasn't obsessed with superheroes, but I heard about it. I'd say that everything seemed to get worse after that, but really – well, Heroes hadn't had that much effect on my life."
He looked thoughtful for a moment.
"Changed a bit when villains became a thing. I guess there were always gangs, even if Al Capone had gone out of style, but when one guy can pull swords out of thin air and kill twenty people at a time it's a bit more impactful."
"That reminds me," Taylor said, "I know that Coil was into the whole protection racket thing, at least a bit. What about Tattletale?"
"She hasn't contacted us," her Dad said. Taylor thought about that for a moment before realising that it probably made sense. After all, which would be more profitable: extorting a tiny amount of cash from the Dockworkers, or setting up a nice, profitable smuggling operation? Even if some of the profits were used to keep the Dockworkers sweet, the overall income would leave everyone pleased.
"Guess she's not into protection rackets," Taylor said instead. Behind her Dad Dauntless had been speaking with Weld: now that he was finished the Wards said their goodbyes and filed out, leaving Taylor and her Dad with Dauntless. Dauntless himself looked around and shrugged.
"Well," he said, "I know that I'm supposed to keep my eyes on the two of you, but I'm pretty sure you can manage alone. Right?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the five cameras in the room are good enough," Taylor said. Dauntless paused, his head tilting.
"Five?"
"Sure," Taylor said, "One in those three corners, one by the doorway and one hidden behind a pane of one-way glass made to look like part of the wall."
She pointed them out as she went, Dauntless following her movement. She could feel Armsmaster scowling down at her. She felt no remorse.
"Uh…right," Dauntless said, "Well, I'll leave you two to catch up."
They both watched him go, politely baffled. Once he'd left the room Taylor's Dad turned back to her, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
"This is almost familiar, you know," he said. Taylor cocked her head in question and he continued.
"Oh, back in the day…your Mom was a bit of a hellraiser, when we first met. She ran with Lustrum's crowd for a while, and I had to bail her out a couple of times when we first started dating."
Taylor, who remembered her Mom as quiet if intense, couldn't help but be intrigued.
"Really?" she said, "I mean, I'm gonna guess this is before things got really weird, but still. Mom? Arrested?"
Her Dad nodded, his smile widening into something nostalgic. Taylor leaned against the glass wall of her cell, fascinated.
"Come on, Dad. You can't leave me hanging like that, I need details now."
Her Dad laughed, soft and wistful, and leaned forwards in his chair.
"Well," he started, "There was this one time…"
A few hours later, after her Dad had left, Taylor sat down on the bed and tested it. Hard and uncomfortable, of course, but no worse than the little camp bed in her workshop. She didn't lie down yet: much as she loved her wings, they did prevent her from sleeping on her back and she always felt a little vulnerable lying on her front. She'd experimented with ways to phase them through the material or even disperse them completely, but the first time she'd woken up, sleepily called on the Warp and catapulted herself onto the ground as her wings formed behind her she'd sourly resigned herself to sleeping on her front or side.
"So, that whole killing thing," she said aloud, "I'm thinking that there was something you didn't say."
Silence before the faint crackle of the speaker cut across. Armsmaster was a lot of things, but he wasn't particularly devious.
"Yes."
Taylor waited for a few heartbeats, sighing aloud when he didn't elaborate.
"Do I need to guess, or?"
Silence again, before Armsmaster eventually broke it.
"The deaths of Vex and Eligos, as well as the clones, have been considered self-defence. The deaths of Oni Lee, Coil and Valefor are less certain."
Taylor didn't flinch, or sit upright, or choke on thin air. Rather, she suppressed the concern that clawed icily at her insides and raised a languid eyebrow.
"Oni Lee died forever ago," she mildly pointed out. There was no scoff or hum, just the clinical voice that spoke again.
"Yes. After killing Bakuda, which caused her remaining bombs to go off. You were the first responder to one of the events. You have demonstrated vengeful tendencies, as shown by your attack on Lung when Glory Girl was kidnapped, and Oni Lee conveniently suffered an accident which left his body destroyed shortly afterwards. There is no evidence to support an accusation."
But that didn't mean there weren't theories, Taylor understood. Well, who was to say? Armsmaster continued.
"However, while they were a long time ago the death of Oni Lee, followed by Coil, followed by Vex, followed by Eligos and Valefor demonstrate an escalation that would theoretically be in line with known serial killers. The decrease in time between deaths is a regular pattern, even if several were during combat."
"Interesting theory," Taylor said, "I'm going to guess that it doesn't have much support?"
She imagined Armsmaster scowling.
"My crimes or lack thereof notwithstanding," she said, "How is Miss Militia? She's still recovering from Echidna, right?"
"Yes," Armsmaster said, keeping up with the change of topic with admirable skill, "She's beginning the process of acclimating to a prosthetic."
There was a moment when he paused, as though not sure how to continue.
"However, her initial results are not promising. It's likely that she will need Tinkertech prosthetics in order to continue operating as a Hero."
"And those aren't good because they need constant Tinker maintenance," Taylor said, nodding along. Taylor mulled over choices. She could regenerate Militia's limbs, of course, but she couldn't be there for everyone. Better to establish something that could continue to benefit humanity even if she wasn't around.
"What about cloning?"
"I'm not a Bio-Tinker," Armsmaster said dryly, "But you have some suggestions?"
"Mm," Taylor said, leaning back and pulling a slight face as her wings crushed against the wall, "A couple. Cloning limbs is a bit harder than organs, though. With organs you just need a way to revert a cell sample to stem cells, then you can dip them in a nutrient solution, provoke specialisation into the organs you need and wait. Limbs have a bunch of things in them, so it's harder."
"Hmm," Armsmaster agreed, although he sounded interested now, "The bone structure first, I imagine?"
Taylor nodded. The Imperium had, of course, preferred bionics – usually cheap and dirty ones at that – after Horus' fall had taken an axe to much of the Imperium technology base but organ cloning hadn't been unknown among the upper echelon. Of course that upper echelon, from what she understood, had quickly taken to just cloning mindless bodies and then cutting them apart. Extremely wasteful, sacrificing efficiency for a certain end result. Very much in line with the Imperium, unfortunately.
"The bone first, yeah. Then you use a sort of 3D-printer to build the rest of the limb up. It takes a while, but it's a lot less likely to be rejected than other grafts and doesn't have the same psychological impact as a bionic."
The Emperor had known more than a few people who had become stricken by crippling body dysphoria after extensive cybernetic implants. It was why one of the first things the Mechanicum did when altering Adepts was brain surgery, to cut out as much of the emotion as possible. Taylor didn't really like to consider how many people had probably been needed as guinea pigs before they'd gotten it right: why bother with careful research, after all, when there were plenty of subjects to dissect?
"Interesting," Armsmaster commented, "I don't suppose you would like to add that to the list of items you will be providing to the PRT?"
"You know how it is, tit for tat. You scratch my back, etc etc."
Armsmaster's pause was thoughtful, this time, rather than irritated.
"What do you want?" he asked. Taylor considered: not that it took too long.
"I need to make some things myself," she said, "So materials for a weapon and armour, and access to a forge. A proper one."
Armsmaster didn't hesitate for even a moment.
"Deal," he said and Taylor nodded to herself.
"Deal," she murmured in agreement. Armsmaster didn't speak again and Taylor stood up, wandering once more through the room. There was a notepad left on the desk moulded into one of the walls, with a marker pen next to it, carefully blunt enough to be useless as a weapon. Taylor snorted faintly but took the items with her as she paced, flipping thoughtfully through the pad. A sword, she decided, a Force weapon: her glaive was all well and good for the moment but the easily carried nature of a sword had advantages. She sketched the possibilities, muttering to herself at the thick lines the pen left, and let her mind work away at her future. She hadn't thought of the cloning technology before now, but it was a good idea. Helpful, but not easy to weaponise.
'I hate making big decisions like this. It feels like there's so much riding on what I do, on me making the right decision.'
"Everyone does," the Emperor said, "Unless they are particularly self-confident. While we push the border of arrogance frequently, I don't think we're beyond doubt. We do as we always have done. We cannot know what is the best choice, the right choice, so we choose the one we think is right and we endure the consequences."
'As we always do,' Taylor conceded, 'As we always have done.'
She left unspoken that the best choice, sometimes, was not a good one. The Imperium had not been a good choice. It had been a monstrous tyranny, destructive and hateful, and under its terrible rule Humanity had spent ten thousand years as one of the greatest powers in the galaxy. The Emperor, she knew, was beset with doubts. Sometimes, although he never let it show, he wondered what the future would have looked like without the Imperium. Would have the other human states have survived? Would they have thrived? Would a future under the rule of the Mechanicum, or the Interex, or the Auretian Technocracy have been a utopia as they united the scions of man under peace and justice, as they destroyed the Orcs, withstood the Tyranids, formed pacts with Eldar and Necron and whatever else came along? Or would they have had their defences broken by a mighty Waagh and their population ravaged by predatory Dark Eldar? Would they have been a tyranny as awful as the Imperium? What would their legacy have been?
Impossible to know. The future was ever uncertain. But, just as much, those doubts and regrets shouldn't stop her from doing what she had to, to save her people. She'd still prefer - greatly prefer – to avoid having to take over the entire world, but she might have to be a little more pro-active.
"If we're coming to that conclusion, what must Luna be thinking?"
'Speaking of legacies," Taylor grumbled, 'She could be doing anything. For all we know she'll turn up with half a company of Astartes one day.'
The Emperor snorted indelicately.
"I think you may be giving her a little too much credit there."
'I mean, I wouldn't have expected her to live after, you know, I quite literally broke her heart. But here we are.'
The Emperor made a vaguely mocking noise that Taylor ignored, instead thinking.
'That said, you're probably right. Astartes aren't the most difficult to create, but they aren't simple either. Especially not with current technology.'
"Even if she was somehow capable of creating Astartes, they would be few in number. Without Primarchs it takes a lot of time to build up a stock of geneseed, and she does not have the correct alterations to sub in for a Primarch."
'The Primarchs. Right. Could do with a couple of those around here right now, so long as they could act like grown-ups. Although, I suppose…well, whatever. I'd almost forgotten that the Astartes project, as a whole, slightly predates the Primarchs. I'm remembering that correctly, right?'
"In a way. The Thunder Warriors were the prototype and they do predate the Primarchs: the actual Legiones Astartes were created after the Primarchs. But yes, the Primarchs were not the beginning of the…hmm, shall we say the advanced super-soldier project? I had begun to create proto-Astartes as an extension of the Thunder Warriors – less capable, but also less prone to madness. Longer lasting. Individually inferior, yes, but as a whole superior. However, it took time. So much time – and so I came to the idea of the Primarchs. A source of geneseed, of course, to increase the amount of Astartes that could be created by an unimaginable degree, but also generals. Statesmen, governors, admirals, inventors, peers who I could trust with any task. Clones seemed like the best option."
'But you couldn't create them with human science only. Whatever made you what you are, it can't be recreated in a lab.'
"No," the Emperor admitted, "It cannot. Whatever those ancient Psykers did, even I do not know. It had repercussions lasting far into the future, the rate of Psyker births decreased precipitously, and I could not attempt it again. Not without an entire empire to experiment with. So, Molech."
'Molech,' Taylor echoed, 'The planet. With a Warp Gate on it?'
"Yes. An enormous gate, leading into an area of the Warp that was somehow sealed away. I had been dreaming of it, dark dreams. I travelled there, consuming the strength of the lingering Old Ones, but there was more than strength there. Among the ruins, in the swirling mists, the seeds of souls. The last, faded remnants of the Old Ones, the most fundamental aspects of their being lingering on…twenty of them."
Taylor's breath caught in her throat. The Emperor made a noise of amusement.
"Yes. The Ruinous Powers are dramatic about such things, of course…they considered the last remnants of the Old Ones 'theirs', and were infuriated when I took them. I walked into the depths of that final fortress, that place still sealed from the Ruinous Powers, and I opened myself to it. Every shred of strength, every scrap of power, all that remained of the Old Ones…I drank it in, consumed it, took it into myself and made it my own. It made me stronger, so much stronger, but it was not without cost. The Old Ones, after all, were a ruthless species, caring little for any but their own. It cost me more of my humanity than I was ever willing to admit, before it was too late."
'Doesn't seem to have affected me, though.'
"No," the Emperor said, "For good reason. Ten thousand years of human strength passing through me has…counteracted the effect. Were I still in that universe, bound to the Throne, my psyche would be far too scattered to tell. But coming here, combining with you…"
'Ah,' Taylor murmured, 'Because you're bound to me, you're functionally human again.'
"For a given value of human, yes."
'Encouraging. Regardless, we can be pretty sure that if Luna wants to create Astartes she'll have a pretty hard time. And so will we, unfortunately.'
There was a thoughtful hum.
"Well, perhaps not. Creating our own geneseed might be more difficult, as it will inevitably make the subjects powerful Psykers and therefore be more likely to be rejected, but it should be possible. And Astartes geneseeds can be extracted without killing the host, they just need time to mature. It wouldn't be as fast as having a Primarch on hand, but not impossible. But that is for the future. We must speak of Luna, and what she intends to do."
'Right,' Taylor agreed, 'Okay, let's use our brain – which I know we have – and try to put ourselves in Luna's shoes. What is it, exactly, that she wants?'
"If she really is you without the conscience, as it seems to be, then she should theoretically have the same eventual goal as you do: the salvation of humanity and the destruction of the Parasite."
'A few assumptions there.'
"If we refuse to make assumptions, we may as well give up any planning. Her ranting during the Noelle incident seems to bear out that theory, however."
Taylor thought back, past Leviathan and the Butcher and Lung and the Fallen and the Empire Eighty-Eight and sighed. A lot of action in a short time, but she thought that the Emperor was right.
'Okay. Yeah, assume that she wants the Parasite dead. She doesn't have our powers, as far as we know, so our plan of growing strong enough and then breaking the Parasite in half isn't feasible for her. How would she deal with it?'
"Flesh of our flesh, blood of our blood. She has Psyker potential."
Taylor paused in her pacing, thinking about that. She had to admit, she didn't really like the conclusion she came to.
'Hmm. You think she knows that? Because that could be bad. Like, really bad.'
"She is probably aware, as you would have been had you thought about it. Whether or not she has acted on it, hard to tell. She would know enough to hide from us. That said, you can stop panicking – the odds of her being as strong as we are are vanishingly low. You are unlikely to find a peer Psyker standing over you one night."
'Not as encouraging as you think, but alright. But turning herself Psyker is our plan, and I think we've worked out pretty well that Luna isn't as subtle and patient as we are. We want to vanish into the background, give Humanity a chance. She thinks they can't be trusted, she wants to take over. She's building a power base among the Fallen, so what's next?'
Taylor resumed her pacing, eyes closed in thought. Step, step, step, stop. Turn. Step, step and so on, until she reached the other side of the cell and had to turn again. Take a step back, she thought, and reconsider. Put aside what you want and think of it from Luna's perspective, from the perspective of someone who wants to unite Humanity under a single leader. Alright.
'Trying to work through the political system in place would be slow, and the Government has lost a lot of power anyway. Scion destroying nuclear stockpiles cut deeply into the government's ability to drop a really damaging bomb, and the PRT and Protectorate have taken up a lot of slack, especially with the Endbringers. Besides that, Luna doesn't strike me as having the patience. If she wants power, assuming her consolidation will be here, she needs to, what, take over a city? Make herself more appealing as a protector, while the nations slides into chaos?'
"It would be easier for her to establish a warlord state in another country, yes. Africa remains in turmoil, much of Europe is shaky, South America has always been unstable. But if she comes to power here, she is in command of a superpower. She has industry prepared and ready."
Taylor thought some more, chewing her lip.
'The Government is weak, now, with the PRT all but taking over - no matter how they deny it, if Alexandria decided she was going to be President who's going to stop her?' she repeated, 'But that's is an opportunity for Luna, as well. If she can establish herself, destroy threats that the PRT has failed to eliminate, then she can worm her way into politics. Once she's in, a coup isn't too far away.'
"Ah, thinking like a schemer now. Yes, there's that, assuming the Government doesn't collapse."
'You think that's likely?'
"I think that it's closer than we'd like to think. The Endbringer attacks are revealing weakness after weakness, strong men are already beginning to emerge, the United States are very much on the edge of splintering into pseudo-feudal nations. A strike on the centre of Government…"
'I think you're exaggerating a little, but you make a point. There've been instances of cities that've taken heavy damage in Endbringer attacks essentially falling into warlord mini-states, and the only reason they haven't all but seceded is the warlords being criminals who war amongst themselves. With a strong underground power-base Luna could gain political position and leverage that into a dictatorship. With Imperium technology…'
"The carrot and the stick, as Dragon so charmingly alluded to earlier. Luna needs legitimacy. As such, she needs to win a victory against something that the PRT and Protectorate have failed against. Nilbog, or the Slaughterhouse Nine, or an Enbringer, or some such. Having Psyker powers herself would be useful, but you cannot build an empire alone."
'Genetics and weapons technology. Become a power in her own right, use that to become part of the system, take over from there. Or, of course, establish a strong power base and then simply take independence.'
Taylor ceased pacing again, staring blankly out at the corridor of her cell with thoughts swirling through her mind.
'She can make herself a Psyker. Can she do it to others?'
There was a silence, one that Taylor recognised as concerned, as the Emperor thought it through.
"Usually," he said contemplatively, "Psykers come into existence naturally, through minor exposure to the Warp throughout millennia. Indeed, it's very likely that our use of the Immaterium has started this humanity down that evolution path. Artificially increasing the speed…hmm. We have the Psyker gene, and so does Luna."
'In theory,' Taylor added, thinking it through, 'Gene therapy to insert those genes into current human genetic make-up would skip thousands of years of evolution, thanks to our Psyker genes being fully realised. After that, she'd only need some way to activate them.'
"Exposure to the Warp would probably accomplish that. She'd need some sort of retro-virus or at least the facilities to make it. Perhaps a Bio-Tinker, if she wants to save some time."
Taylor nodded to herself.
'Right. We don't know if this is what she's going for, but just in case we should check the most famous Bio-Tinkers, see what their gene therapy options are. And…well, I don't want to get ahead of myself, but if humanity is already evolving towards being Psykers…'
"We might want to consider it ourselves?"
Taylor chewed her lip, a grimace stealing across her features.
'I don't want to. But it's a big and nasty galaxy out there, and if it helps the species survive?'
Taylor looked up at the camera in the corner of the room, wondering if anyone was watching her.
"Hey, if you're watching up there," she said, "Can I get Armsmaster or Dragon on the line? Have to ask them about some people in their line of work."
A bit of a slower chapter, but I wanted to mop up some things regarding Brockton before moving on. Next chapter, I think, will be purely Luna and then we'll go back to shared chapters as the storylines start to converge.
Also, the thing with Molech - that's my headcanon. As far as I know the Horus Heresy series haven't given any actual solid description of what went down there, and even if it has, well, we're long past the point of sticking to GW canon.
Either way, I hope you enjoyed. As ever, reviews are welcome - and I'll see you all in the next chapter.