"I suppose," Luna said, concealing her relief, "That we should work on hiding this."
Taylor looked at her, the wide lenses of her white helmet unwavering before she nodded.
"Yeah," she said, "Probably for the best. You want to get your Lieutenants out of here?"
Luna nodded.
"If you don't mind," she said, "Much as I'm looking forward to testing my strength against yours, they're not quite ready yet."
"Luna-"
"Believe me, Alastor, this is for the best. The two of you have a lot of potential, but the two of us…"
Alastor didn't say anything, and Luna wondered if he was thinking back to just a few moments ago, when Taylor had cowed both him and Cynthia simply by expressing her powers. Luna didn't take her eyes away from Taylor, but she heard Alastor throw his hands into the air.
"Fine," he said, "Fine. Have your fight. At least try not to die?"
"No promises. It's really more up to Taylor than me, right?"
Taylor tilted her head, a quizzical gesture, before she reached down and unhooked her sheathed sword from her belt. Luna couldn't be certain, but from the aura of power that lingered around the blade she could guess: a sword, made just for killing her. It was almost flattering, really, proof that Taylor really had been thinking about her.
"Alastor, right?" Taylor said, "Hold this for me."
She threw the sword through the air with a lazy arcing motion, the sheathed weapon turning before it slapped into Alastor's hands – Luna heard him grunt as he caught it. Partly the impact of it landing, she thought, but mostly the shock of holding a weapon made to kill an immortal. Or, at the very least, seriously inconvenience one.
"I want that back," Taylor added, "So don't lose it."
"That's very forbearing of you, Taylor," Luna said, "Throwing away your best weapon against me."
Taylor made an irritated noise.
"We've already agreed to work together, haven't we? There's no need for that sword, if that's the case."
And if Luna happened to be lying, Taylor could rip the sword away from Alastor and Cynthia and use it. Yes. A risk by Taylor, but not too severe.
"I suppose this is just a show. A mirage. A sham, right?"
"Let's not be too coy about it," Taylor said, "It's still going to be a fight. I'm curious, myself, as to how strong you really are."
"Mm," Luna murmured, "They say you don't really know someone until you fight them. Ready to know yourself, Taylor?"
Behind her, Cynthia and Alastor finally left, the door clanging shut behind them. Taylor huffed and shifted her head in a motion that Luna recognised as an eye-roll, expressed through the helmet.
"We both know we aren't really the same anymore," she said, "But it's been a while since I've had a real peer opponent. Just the two of us, no bystanders. No intervention. No threat of the city being destroyed."
"Unless we really get out of control," Luna agreed, "And you're right. It's a good chance to really test my powers. So, Taylor. Shall we dance?"
"We really do sound insufferable, don't we?" Taylor mused. Luna grinned, opened her mouth, already planning her next words.
Taylor lunged and Luna cut herself off to fight.
A right hook that Luna blocked with her left, twisting her hand around to grab Taylor's wrist, her own right hand snapping forwards in a jab that Taylor caught, ceramite crashing on ceramite as their shins met, identical kicks blocked. Luna gritted her teeth and strained against her progenitor, but Taylor was ever so slightly stronger, her augmentations surpassing Luna's. Hand to wrist, jaw locked, muscles straining, they tested their strength against one another. It was close, but Luna could feel Taylor winning.
Another approach, then.
Instead of pushing Luna pulled, dragging Taylor closer and catching her off guard. A raised foot hooked onto the top of Taylor's greave and Luna jumped, leading with her other knee. The breath exploded out of Taylor at the impact and she let Luna go, staggering back as Luna kicked off her, flipping, landing, lunging.
A leap, a spin into a kick, Taylor blocking with both hands but staggering, off balance and Luna continued the attack, holding the momentum with a barrage of punches that Taylor barely managed to hold off. Better on the offensive than the defensive in hand to hand, still off balance, Luna gained the advantage and pressed it hard.
Left hook into right jab into right jab into left uppercut, a barrage of blows raining onto Taylor's defences, a kick to the shin and a punch feinted, turned into a grab that wrenched Taylor's arm away, the other fist darting through the gap and hitting Taylor in the belly, winding her even through her armour. Taylor wheezed as Luna hit her again, but on the third she wrapped her arm around Luna's and smashed their armoured foreheads together. Luna reeled, stars breaking across her vision, but Taylor didn't let her go, instead dragging her back in and slamming their helmets together again. More stars. Taylor drew her head back a third time and Luna did the only thing she could: she headbutted in return.
Impact. More stars, ricocheting pain but Taylor let her go and stumbled back, shaking her head. Luna tried to take a step forward but her legs failed her, sending her down to one knee. Taylor, to Luna's immense regret, recovered faster. Well, fair was fair – Luna wouldn't have given Taylor a chance to recover. They weren't trying to kill each other, that didn't mean being gentle.
When Taylor's flying kick hit her raised guard and knocked her over backwards, though, she thought that she could have used a little gentleness.
No, fuck that. She was going to win this, or she was going to make Taylor work for it. Luna rolled as she landed, came to her feet, banished her headache with a spike of adrenaline and a dose of Warp power and bared her teeth at Taylor, unseen under her helmet.
"Come on then!"
Taylor was more than happy to oblige.
A blocked punch sliding off her arm, her return strike to the face, Taylor twisting just enough to bleed off most of the impact and hammering a punch to her ribs, the arm sliding up to hook under her helmet and Luna slapped it away, her arms coming down to grab Taylor by the wrists, a knee to her gut, pain, the thrill of combat, of an equal match, of knowing they both had more to give and this was just the warm-up. Luna returned the knee to the gut, let go of Taylor's right wrist to slip to her own right and drove her fist into the side of Taylor's helmet, sending her progenitor staggering. She pressed the advantage, lunging in, and a wing flared out and caught her across the front, knocking her back.
Pause.
Her attack.
Feinted lunge into spinning back kick, another feint, her kick missing enough that she could carry it into her other leg. Taylor blocked with her forearm, reached across and grabbed Luna's leg with her other hand, a boot hooking out to trip. Luna grabbed Taylor's arm with her hand and jumped, her knee catching Taylor across the side of the head, but though Taylor staggered it didn't stop her from swinging Luna into the ground. She gasped at the impact, breath driven from her lungs, but managed to jerk herself out of the way before Taylor's descending fist broke the concrete next to her head.
Luna twisted, flipped, calling on the Warp just enough to spin in the air and land on her feet. Taylor rose slowly, threateningly, and Luna beamed.
"That's it," she said, "A good start. Hand to hand, before we get serious."
"I thought it might be better to give your Lieutenants a little time to get away," Taylor admitted, calmer than Luna expected, "If we start throwing around the big stuff they'd be a bit too close."
"It's very thoughtful of you," Luna assured her, holding a hand out before her before clenching it into a fist, "Now…shall we continue?"
Taylor reached up and pressed a hand to the bottom of her helmet, at her jawline, cracking her neck left and right.
"Let's."
Luna breathed out, long and slow, and let the Warp wrap around her limbs, infuse her flesh. She flexed her fingers, feeling them turn harder, steely, and saw Taylor nod.
"Biomancy. Not bad."
"From the moment I understood the weakness of my own flesh…" Luna quoted and Taylor laughed.
"Been waiting to use that one?"
Luna shrugged, eyeing Taylor's stance.
"Nobody else would really appreciate it. Funny thing, you know – Alastor is a natural at Biomancy. It's as though his experience from his Parahuman powers has helped him learn it, even though they're completely different. It's like…destiny."
"Destiny?" Taylor mused, her head tilting just a fraction, and Luna took the moment of distraction to fling herself across the open space.
Less distracted than she appeared, Taylor blocked the leaping punch and went for a grab, her arms locking around Luna's, Luna stepping close and hooking her free hand through Taylor's arm, breaking the lock. A twist, a grab at Taylor's armour and Luna flipped Taylor over her shoulder. Taylor somersaulted in mid-air, wings spreading out, and hovered. Luna tutted, eyes narrowing.
"Pure energy, crystallised from the Immaterium," she said, "That's interesting. You're actually shaping a trickle of Warp energy around you, in order to fly."
"On the winds of dreams," Taylor said, nodding, "That sneak attack was nice, by the way. Clever."
A little too friendly, Luna thought. If they were going to make this look real, they'd have to try. Well, it wasn't as though she didn't excel at irritating people.
"Not clever enough. One of the perils of having the same mind, Mother."
Taylor's helmet tilted down – Luna imagined the unimpressed look behind the white ceramite.
"Really, Luna? Don't start with that."
Luna grinned. Sensitive subject, obviously.
"Why not? It's true, isn't it? Or is it because, technically, Noelle was the one to birth me? Do you prefer Father?"
"Luna," Taylor said, her tone warning. Luna chuckled. Definitely a sensitive subject. It was probably dangerous to tempt Taylor like this, but Luna was sure that their truce would hold. She just needed to get Taylor's blood up.
"Perhaps Progenitor will do, hmm?"
"I'd prefer you use my name."
"Tell you what, Mother," Luna said, already knowing that cockiness would get through to Taylor like few other things, "You beat me in combat, right here and now, and I'll never call you Mother again."
Taylor gazed down at her for a long, inscrutable moment, then shook her head.
"We're supposed to be fighting, you know. Enemies, and all that?"
Luna shrugged.
"Well, it's not just me who isn't taking it seriously. But you're right. We should try a little harder, go a little further - let's not kid ourselves: there's no point in playing around. We need to really go for it. Personally, I'm looking forward to taking this up a notch: I'm still frustrated by the way you priss around, avoiding killing. The way you left Stalker and Emma and Madison alive, because – what? You wanted to gloat later? You wanted to rub it in? Squeamish and sadistic is a bad combination, Mother. I've been avoiding that, and it's gone pretty well. Got me my own little group. I'm actually thinking of changing the name, you know, to something fiercer. Animalistic. Wolves, maybe. Yeah. Luna's Wo-"
Taylor sighed, cutting Luna off, before she spoke again, her voice visibly irritated.
"Alright. Don't cry later - you asked for this."
Luna squared her shoulders, braced herself for the impact. Taylor spread her wings even wider, and a grinding weight fell across Luna's shoulders, pinning her in place like a butterfly on a board.
The crushing weight of Taylor's strength, her will, her violent intent, the suffocating pressure of her presence. As Lorgar had knelt before the Emperor, Luna was frozen: strong as she was, Taylor was stronger. She could break free, if – Luna reached for the Warp, pouring power through her muscles and sinews and bones, desperate to break the lock, but she wasn't fast enough. Wasn't strong enough.
Taylor hit her like a freight train.
A right hook snapped her head around an instant before Taylor's other fist rammed into her solar plexus, bending her over. A hand pressed against her chest, fingers splayed and she hurtled through the air from the telekinetic shove, smashing into the wall, a tendril of power wrapping around her and dragging her back out, into a straight-arm clothesline. She was still midair when Taylor's hand closed on her leg and she flung her back into the wall, following close behind. Luna slumped as she tried to push off the wall, still shaking off the pressure of Taylor's attack, when Taylor hit her again.
Taylor grabbed her by the chin and smacked her head into the wall, Luna's jaw clicking shut on her tongue, blood copper and steel in her mouth and Taylor pulled her away from the wall, spun her around, smashed a fist into her helmet and grabbed her again and flung her, ceramite gauntlet and stars in her eyes and the wall and Luna's head slammed into a metal pillar, her Biomancy keeping her in the fight but her helmet cracking and she reached deep, deep inside and screamed. The Warp convulsed around her, telekinetic force exploding out of every pore, and Taylor was caught off guard, caught in the burst and hurled away. Taylor landed with a grinding of boots on concrete but no sound of her falling, and when she turned she found her progenitor standing with wings spread wide. Luna banished the pain with a wrench on the Warp, power flowing through her and mending her wounds.
"The problem with people like us," Taylor mused, "Is that we just do that. Heal. It takes a lot to start really getting through, doesn't it? That, by the way, was for that stupid 'Luna's Wolves' joke. I'd say it was for Browbeat and Regent, but it would seem hypocritical."
She looked around, at the marks she'd left in her slide and the cracks and mess of wood where storage crates had been smashed to kindling by Luna's desperate counterattack.
"You know, two separate people told me not to make a mess," she added. Luna laughed and ripped off her helmet, the ceramite finally giving way, and let the pieces crumble to the ground. Her blood boiled in her veins, her heart beat hard with effort, her soul sang with exhilaration. This was what she'd wanted.
"Do you ever do as you're told?" she asked, grinning widely at Taylor and feeling the blood on her teeth. Taylor shrugged, spreading her arms and opening her hands.
"I suppose not."
And with a wrench, everything behind her tore loose and flew at Luna.
"That's more like it!" Luna roared, plunging forwards and bulldozing through the storm of crate and metal and plastic, bashing it aside to lunge at Taylor. Taylor met her halfway, a fist smashing into Luna's mouth, Luna rolling with the blow and using it to grab Taylor by the other arm, twisting and kicking and throwing them both to the ground. She rolled across and came to her knees, locking both hands around Taylor's wrist and bringing her knee up, bracing the arm against her knee.
"You fucker-"
Taylor's arm snapped with a cracking, crunching retort and Taylor howled in pain. Luna grinned savagely, for just a moment before Taylor twisted and hit her in the mouth again, catching her collar and dragging her face down into a rising knee. Luna felt her nose shatter and reeled back, falling hard onto concrete and shoving herself away, rising. Taylor rose, her arm hanging limp before she snarled, the Warp pulsing, and the bone ground back into place with a grisly snap. Luna reached up, performing the same act on her nose and her lips, restoring her injuries.
"I won't lie," Luna said, "You put up a lot better fight than any of the other clones."
Taylor nodded.
"You too," she said, fingers flexing, "Have we had enough hand to hand?"
"Maybe for the moment," Luna admitted, "You know what that means?"
"Lesson two," Taylor murmured. Luna grinned, feeling the Warp rush through her.
"Lesson two – Warpcraft!"
Two hands thrust out, power blazing down them, and two fireballs combined into a single massive attack, hurling itself towards Taylor. She flung herself aside, feeling Taylor drawing on the Warp and knowing that the fireball wouldn't be enough.
It wasn't enough. Not even close. Taylor slashed her fist through the fire, usurping control of it, and the fireball twisted around her forearm, trailing after her fingers until she flexed her hand and the whip of flame snapped, crackled, blazing purple-white overtaking the red.
"I think I'll give this lesson," Taylor said, and Luna felt her mouth go dry.
"Oh fuck."
Taylor cracked the whip, the end of the fiery rope splitting and lashing out like striking snakes. Luna sprinted out of the way, smelling char: she threw a look over her shoulder and swore as she saw the flame gouging the concrete floor. That wasn't regular fire.
One of the snaking tendrils licked at her cloak as it streamed behind her, not catching but slicing a rent into the fabric, and Luna yelped. She needed to get Taylor down from there, stop her from swinging that whip unchallenged – she needed to do something or Taylor would win by default.
Luna took a breath and braced herself. This was probably going to hurt.
She turned as Taylor snapped the whip towards her, separated tails flicking hungrily, and reached a hand up and out, reaching out for the flames. Lightning crackled around her arm, crackling fingers stretching towards fire, and she caught the whip, wrapping it around her arm. It burned through her gauntlet, scorching her flesh without damaging the ceramite too much, it hurt but now that she had a connection Luna could set her will against Taylor's, battle for control of the flame. It was always going to be difficult: they were closely matched, but Taylor had the Emperor to back her. But Luna didn't need to win.
All she needed was a moment to thrust out her other hand. The Warp coalesced around her will and, blinding in the dim warehouse, a lightning bolt burst from her fingers and hit Taylor in the chest.
Taylor flung her head back, lightning raking across her chest and wings, and Luna gritted her teeth as the burn against her arm grew worse. Taylor clenched her fist: the fire went out, the lightning grounded, and a pillar of force descended on Luna, only barely stopped by her upwards gesture that tore the concrete floor, ripping it upwards into a wall that broke into rubble as Taylor's attack struck. Luna went down to one knee, a raised hand forming a dome of force around her.
"Don't tell me that's all you have!" Taylor shouted down, "I know you can do better!"
A fraction of a pause before Taylor spoke again, her tone now laced with mockery.
"Unless it's a performance problem? I know you managed fine with Browbeat and Vista, but if you're having trouble with me-"
They really were insufferable, weren't they? Obscured by the powers in action, Luna began to send out hundreds of needle-thin tendrils, lacing the warehouse interior and reaching out.
"Just giving you a chance!" she shouted back, reaching out, "Didn't want you to feel too obsolete!"
A gesture and two crates were pulled from their places by the wall, hurtling towards Taylor. Taylor held out her hands and they smashed on a shield of force just as Luna lunged to her feet and thrust her hands forwards with a hoarse yell, all the power of her shield converted into a single telekinetic ram. Taylor dipped a wing, flared the other and swooped out of the way, leaving the attack to crash into the roof of the warehouse. Shards of wood and metal rained down, daylight spilling through the new hole - so much for not making a mess.
"Not bad, but we've seen that before!" Taylor called down, "Try something new!"
A waving gesture, a snap of the fingers and the fireball that emerged broke apart into a hundred raining slivers of fire, burning darts falling from the skies. Luna ran as the fiery darts burst around her, flame spilling into the air, and struggled to remember why she'd done this. This was a stupid idea, she realised, trying to match strengths with Taylor.
But the thrill – this was what she'd wanted. This was what she'd craved, a chance to test her strength against Taylor. A chance to really try her powers out. She slid to a halt, warding off another bursting fireball with a gesture and a smothering shield of force and grinned up at Taylor. Taylor tilted her head.
"That's the face of someone who thinks they've got an advantage," Taylor observed. Luna grinned wider.
"Oh, there's no thinking involved!" she called back, "You're right where I want you!"
And, before Taylor could say another word, Luna reached out to all of those tendrils she'd scattered around and pulled. Every smashed piece of wood, every shard of broken concrete, every fallen scrap of metal that she could reached converged on Taylor, and Luna relished the sight of her progenitor vanishing into a storm of debris. Even Taylor's wide-spread wings were covered, and Luna could feel her attempting to push the shrapnel away: this was why she had sent those tendrils out. Debris that was thrown, Taylor could blow away. A hundred or more tiny feelers of power pressing the pieces onto her? That was a lot harder. She was still managing it – Luna could feel the strain of Taylor pushing back against her – but she'd bought time, at least a couple of seconds. She raised a hand, lightning running down her arm and collecting around her hand, intent on a single, devastating strike. Taylor exploded out of the maelstrom, crimson wings wide and red, and Luna thrust out her hand and unleashed the strongest attack she had ever used.
The lightning bolt struck Taylor in the chest, exploding into a coruscation of sparks, and she dropped like a stone. Luna stared, eyes wide – she hadn't expected that to work, but – and Taylor rolled over, dragging in a gasp of air. The air reeked of scorched ceramite and, as Taylor rose, Luna could see a sprawling tree of char marks across the white and gold of her breastplate. Taylor looked down at the mark and looked up.
Luna could see her eyes burning purple-white through her visor. Taylor coughed, smoke curling from under her helmet, and Luna winced.
"Alright, that might have been a bit far-" she started, just before Taylor snapped a hand and a wall of force projected outwards. Luna crossed her arms at the wrist, calling up her own shield, but was still swept off her feet. She landed hard, rolled, gained her feet again but Taylor was already airborne and Luna hastily parried two fireballs and a spear of flash-formed ice, yelping as the frozen projectile shattered on her vambrace and sprayed her with splinters. She looked up, just in time to appreciate the picture Taylor made against the hole in the roof, crimson and grey wings stark against the daylight.
A flare of those wings and a barrage of crystal feathers rained down, shattering and sending razor slivers raining across Luna. She brought her hands up either side of her head, blocking them with another barrier, but her concentration on that prevented her from stopping Taylor from wrapping a telekinetic tendril around her leg and tripping her.
Taylor landed, a boot planting on Luna's chest, and raised a hand, an icy spear clasped within.
"Yield," she rasped, and Luna closed her eyes.
"I yield."
Taylor took her boot away immediately, stepping to the side and bending over as she was wracked by a hacking, wheezing cough. Luna grimaced.
"Sorry," she said, genuinely contrite, "I didn't think that would actually work."
Taylor reached up and tugged off her helmet. Her hair was frizzy from the static, and smoke leaked from her mouth as she coughed again. Luna stared, fascinated.
"Where is that smoke coming from?"
Taylor pressed a hand to her chest and straightened, tucking her helmet under one arm.
"From healing," she said, her voice still raspy and hoarse, "That lightning did a number on the internals."
"I didn't know you were wearing power armour."
"Funny," Taylor said, coughing once more before swallowing and shaking her head. Luna eyed her carefully, looking for any signs of lingering injury, but Taylor just shook out her limbs and stretched, apparently over it. Well, she was used to Warp Lightning and the effects thereof.
"It'll make it look more convincing, if I look like I've taken a good hit," Taylor said, "Might even help you. If people think you're on a level like Lung, they might be less inclined to cause trouble."
"I'm the one who causes trouble, Taylor."
Taylor waved the last of the smoke away from her face and gave her a flat look. Luna shrugged.
"I must get it from you, Mo – oh. Wait, I promised, didn't I?"
"You sure did," Taylor said smugly, "If I win, you stop calling me those obnoxious names. And I did win, didn't I?"
Luna sighed.
"Well, I suppose. I'll have to come up with some other obnoxious names to call you."
A moment after she spoke part of the warehouse wall gave way, crashing to the ground with a wave of dust that they both instinctively warded away.
"But I think we should do it somewhere else," Taylor completed. Luna nodded, already hearing the noises of approaching police sirens.
"Yeah, I think you're right."
So much for not making a mess, indeed.
Taylor
Tattletale hadn't said a word about Luna, all the way. Not a word when Taylor rejoined her and Accord, bitterly complaining about her clone getting in a cheap shot before Taylor could restrain her. Not a word on the journey back to Brockton. Not a word, not until it was just the two of them in Tattletale's office.
"So," Tattletale said, sinking into her chair and looking at Taylor. It had been a while since Taylor had seen her expression that cold, although she probably deserved it. Taylor couldn't help but notice that Tattletale hadn't offered her a seat.
Taylor elected to stand. Give a little, gain a little.
"So," she echoed, waiting. Tattletale pinched her bridge of her nose and leaned forwards, eyes closed – Taylor detected the start of a headache, although it wasn't there yet. Tattletale straightened, eyes opening again and fixing on Taylor.
"You met her, then," she said, "And she isn't mad?"
"Everyone's a little mad," Taylor said, very softly, but when Tattletale didn't reply she elaborated.
"I've no proof, of course, but I think my theory might be right. Luna's more ruthless than I am, more ambitious in some ways, but she's not mad. She could be hiding it, but…"
"But?"
"We fought," Taylor said, "Wanted to make it look real, so while we didn't go all out we didn't restrain ourselves to baby attacks. Neither of us lost control. It's a good sign. I'd say that her two Lieutenants seem like sensible people too, but when it comes to cults it's not about being sane."
"I guess it isn't," Tattletale said grimly, "You'll keep an eye on her?"
Taylor nodded and Tattletale seemed to take that as good enough.
"Alright," she said, running a hand over her face, "Alright. I can't do much to support you, but what help I can provide…"
"Actually, there might be something," Taylor said. Tattletale raised an eyebrow at her and Taylor scratched at her chin, considering how to phrase it. How much to offer.
"Luna has a plan. I won't tell you too much, because I don't want to put you in danger, but it could be useful. Very useful. But before we go with it, I wanted to get rid of some people who could be a problem. Dangerous people. The Nine, Nilbog, that sort of thing, but also smaller game. Like, say, Heartbreaker?"
"Only you would consider Heartbreaker smaller game," Tattletale said, shaking her head. She sat quiet for a moment, before laughing ruefully. Taylor tilted her head.
"What is it?"
"You know," Tattletale said, "Alec – Regent – he was one of Heartbreaker's kids. Got away, although not without damage. But I think, under his mask of apathy, he wanted Heartbreaker dead. Wanted him dead more than anything. It's ironic, that we're working with his killer to fulfil his greatest wish."
"That is ironic," Taylor admitted, "So you'll help?"
"I'll help. What do you need? I'm surprised you're asking, actually, since you usually just bash your way in. Might not recommend that, though, since his powers…"
"Heartbreaker," Taylor quoted, "Powers allow him to significantly manipulate emotions, presumed to be the emotions of anyone within his line of sight. Luna will probably suggest that I find his compound and then nuke it from orbit."
"The only way to be sure. Problem with that is there's a lot of people in there. Women and children that he's brainwashed. Your powers allowed you to resist Valefor. You think they'll work the same with Heartbreaker?"
'Do you think they will?'
"They should. Fundamentally, manipulating emotion is a part of our power set. If he attempts to make us love him, we can counteract it. But why bother? We can use the Notice-Me-Not to infiltrate his base, wherever it is, and take his head off before he even knows we're there."
'I do like the sound of that a little bit more.'
"Should do. Doesn't need to. I can do invisible, and with invisibility I can stroll up to him and make his insides into his outsides before he knows what's going on. But for that, I need to find him. And he's a slippery bastard."
"You need me to find him, that's what you're saying. What about the Protectorate?"
Taylor wobbled a hand in the air, shrugging as she did so.
"Not sure how much they'll know, and they're likely to have a mole. You at least know where yours are. Besides, he hasn't got a kill order. I'm probably going to make it look like suicide, but just in case…"
"No point in burning your bridges until you have to," Tattletale agreed. Taylor tilted her head.
"Know much about burning bridges, do you?"
"Consider," Tattletale said, "My work with Coil. I stayed on his side, nice and neat, until something better came along. And now…"
"And now you're working with me, until something better comes along. If it comes along. How very Machiavellian."
"I do try. Does Luna know, that you're moving away from the Protectorate…presumably, towards her?"
Taylor noted the way Tattletale's mouth twisted around the name, but made no comment on it.
"Not yet. I'm meeting with her fairly soon – now that I've met her again I can just teleport to her. I'd prefer to keep this agreement quiet."
"Which obligingly gives me some leverage over you," Tattletale said, "Was that on purpose?"
Taylor just smiled.
"Delightful," Tattletale murmured, "I knew there was a reason I like you. I have something else for you, as well."
"Yeah?"
"Yep. You remember asking me to look into Cauldron, a while ago?"
"I remember you asking me if I'd ever heard of them, but go on."
"It's a messed up world. Well, Coil didn't have much information other than another suggestion that Cauldron sells powers – in vials, as it happens."
"Vials makes sense," Taylor agreed, "How else would you sell powers? Do you just, I dunno, get the lads together and traumatise the client until they snap?"
Tattletale laughed.
"If Coil's files are to be believed quite a few intelligence agencies have attempted to use a mixture of indoctrination and directed trauma to create, to quote one file, 'A group of loyal Parahumans'."
"Of course they did. Aren't the Yangban…"
"No, they did the indoctrination after Triggering. But either way, Cauldron don't do that. Vials, like we said. Nice and subtle. And Coil had a couple of people who he thought might have bought powers: Battery and Gallant."
"Two heroes. You think that's relevant?"
"I don't want to read too much into it," Tattletale replied, "Sure they've got two heroes, that we know of. I'm pretty sure they also empowered Coil, though, so either they've got the worst background checks in existence or they don't care. Chances are that you just get more heroes anyway, thanks to the reduced trauma."
Tattletale leaned back in her seat.
"Coil theorised that they were trying to find a parahuman who could take out an Endbringer. I think it's not impossible – if that's the case they must be sick about you – but I don't buy the altruist angle. If that's what they wanted, they'd have a much better process than just selling powers to people. If they're considering an Endbringer killer as a bonus, however…"
"Good old capitalism. Make a fortune, maybe save the world along the way."
"Hey, I'm not complaining," Tattletale said, "I don't care if Cauldron are the richest bastards after the apocalypse, so long as they unfuck the world along the way. I definitely get Illuminati vibes from it, though. If you could hand out powers like that, what'd you do?"
"Is it cliché to say world domination?"
"It would be untrue," Tattletale said reprovingly, before a glint entered her eyes.
"Although there's more than one way to dominate, isn't there? If so many major heroes and even villains owe you, so long as you know how to use it, well."
"Most of the power, barely any of the responsibilities. And if you ever wanted to take over, you just need to show everyone that you've been working in the shadows to help them. Doesn't feel quite right, though. Getting access to the higher levels of the Protectorate isn't something anyone can do, though."
"You probably could, with the whole saviour thing that you've got going on. But yeah, not going to be so easy for me. I can ask around quietly, see if I can find anyone else who's gotten their powers like that. Maybe find someone who can spill the beans on it all. You thinking it's a conspiracy?"
"I'm thinking that something's rotten in the state of Denmark, and it's worth looking into. But carefully. Very carefully."
"Yeah, if the Protectorate are involved it could get nasty," Tattletale mused with far less seriousness than the topic probably deserved, "Would prefer to avoid having Alexandria punching my head off or whatever."
"Yeah, I think that's probably best."
They both went quiet for a little while, both thinking, before Tattletale laughed softly.
"You know, that day at the bank – when you turned up and ruined my whole plan – I wouldn't have expected things to end up like this. It'll be weird, not having you in the city anymore."
"I'll still be around."
"But not nearly as much. You're getting too big for our little city. Hell, with things calming down so much we might even lose some of the Protectorate members to more dangerous postings. Although a couple of them are still injured…"
'I wonder what healing them will be worth. At the very least, Miss Militia should be good for distracting Armsmaster a little.'
Conniving, yes. But Taylor wasn't above it. Also Panacea wasn't here – Glory and her family had finally gone on holiday – so Taylor wouldn't have to deal with her whining, which might normally have kept her out of the hospital. It was all a win, as far as Taylor was concerned.
"I'll still be working on clearing part of the Bay, setting up my company," Taylor said, "I'll be around."
"Ah, yes. Your theoretical company. You know, if you want any funding-"
"And on that note," Taylor interrupted, "I'm out. I know better than to swim with sharks."
She stepped into the Warp without waiting for a reply, Tattletale's laughter chasing her. Once she was safely in the Realm of Dreams she slowed down, walking along the strangely spongy ground. She could have shortened the distance to the hospital, but she preferred to go slowly. To think.
"A funny thing. Tattletale - the name doesn't really suit her anymore, does it? Or perhaps it does. Parahumans do choose bizarre names."
'I don't think that we really have space to speak about names. Well, maybe I do, but you go by a title. Exclusively.'
"I've had nicknames before. But yes, you have a point about my name."
Taylor frowned at that, looking through her memories. They were always mixed – she could remember portions of memory from the Emperor, but many were cloudy or missing chunks. But when it came to his name – she could remember false names he'd used, but even when concentrating there was nothing but a void where his birth name should have been. It wasn't the fogginess of forgetting: something had been done to it. The Emperor noticed, of course, but let her think.
'Alright, I give. What did you do to your name?'
"What makes you think I did it?"
'If someone else had done it, you wouldn't be so placid.'
A deep sigh, and then a chuckle.
"Well, you have me there. My name, my first name…I gave it up. It was at the start of the Great Crusade, before the reconquest of Terra. The Ruinous Powers were ever present, and I knew I would have to face them. And names…"
'Names have power.'
"Yes. I had not used my given name in millennia, by then – burying it so deeply even I could not recall seemed wise, a small sacrifice. I do regret it, somewhat. I do wonder – I was born in Babylon, after all. Given the time period…well, I have wondered. Sargon, or Nebuchadnezzar, or Esarhaddon, or Ashurbanipal, or any of hundreds others. But I cannot recall. And I never will."
Taylor got the impression of a shrug through their bond.
"As I say, I had not used it in a long time."
Taylor tapped a foot as she stepped, the Warp hardening under her foot so it made a pleasing ring.
'You think I'll need to do something like that in the future? I kinda like my name…'
"I doubt it. Bear in mind, casting away my name was fuelled by a fit of paranoia and the mistaken belief that throwing away my humanity would serve me better in saving our species. Looking back, it was almost entirely unnecessary. After all, the Ruinous Powers cannot be called to heel with their names, even though they spread them with abandon."
'True names are more complex than that,' Taylor mused, 'It's a reflection of your being. And it only really applies to pure Warp beings, which we are not.'
"Yes," the Emperor agreed quietly, "Luminous beings we are not. Not at the moment, at least – if Luna's ambition comes to pass you may need to be careful. Creating a Ruinous Power, or even a normal Power in the Warp, is not simple. But better to be prepared than not, especially as I came perilously close to that Dark Ascension during my time trapped on the Golden Throne."
'Ascension. Metamorphosis into a semi sentient torrent of emotion, whirling around your own sphere – ascension is a funny way to describe it. You really – of course you did. All the worship of the Imperium, all that blood spilled in your name, all that power poured into you.'
"I directed it away from me, of course, rather than allowing it to fester. The Imperial Saints, the Legion of the Damned, Imperial miracles, all a way to get rid of that power before it could consume me. Some of the Inquisition thought that I should ascend: that I would become a great God of Order, saving them all."
'A Chaos Power of Order. Somehow I doubt that – besides, isn't there one already?'
Another shrug before he spoke again.
"There is a Ruinous Power, minor among them. Its name is Hashut, the Dark Father – God of Industry, of Fire, of Tyranny. I suspect my domain, should I ever be foolish enough to ascend, would be similar. The Corpse-Emperor…Lord of Domination."
Taylor tasted cinder-laden winds on her tongue, felt the heat of a thousand burning worlds on her face, and shook it off with a brief effort of will. Domination indeed.
'Because, of course, every person in the Imperium has a different view of you. But they all see you as Master of Mankind.'
"And that's all I would be. The shell of my human soul would be lost and the ghastly shade that took its place would rage among the stars forever. The Galaxy would be his or it would burn…and mankind would be lost."
Taylor shuddered.
'I wouldn't have thought the Saints would matter that much. Not a lot of them, even given the size of the Imperium.'
"More than you might have expected – and it takes a lot of power to preserve a soul in the Warp and then wrestle it back out. Even Celestine, with her ridiculous journey out of the Warp every time I rebuilt her, mostly used my power. And then, of course, much of the power dissipated and they frequently needed resurrected, so it was an effective sink even if some of them started to gain their own from worship. It almost made up for how irritating they were."
Taylor laughed and the Emperor sighed.
"You cannot understand. Their constant caterwauling and praying was even more grating than the usual. They made the rest of the Imperials even more fanatical, regardless of their uses. The wasted power required to bring them back to life was useful to me, yes, but some of those deaths! They would try to duel Abaddon, or stand barehanded before a rampaging Eldar Autarch, or – or leap in front of a tank to save an Imperial Guardsman! They were some of the most reckless beings I knew. And I know you."
'Rude,' Taylor said, but she was still smiling. The Emperor sighed again, deep and exhausted.
"An entire empire, filled with idiots."
'Look on the bright side – at least we get to make whole new mistakes now.'
"Yes. I suppose there's that."
He didn't sound convinced, but that was fine. Taylor stepped out of the Warp onto the sidewalk in front of the General Hospital, shading her eyes as she looked up – she'd left her helmet in her workshop.
"So what brings you here?"
'Aegis and Miss Militia. Time to get my quota of good deeds in – and more importantly, having MM owe me a favour could be pretty useful with eliminating high threat villains. Protectorate and PRT have to have some data, and as second in command of a Protectorate division she should have some access.'
"Ah, bribery."
'Something like that.'
Taylor walked into the reception, hands tucked into her pockets and relaxed. A number of people stopped and stared, but no-one interrupted her as she wandered up to the receptionist.
"Hi," Taylor said cheerfully, "Here to see Miss Militia? Maybe Aegis?"
The receptionist, a middle aged man with a greying goatee and exhausted eyes, looked up from his computer and stared at her. Taylor didn't fidget under that dead-eyed stare, although her eyebrows started to creep upwards as it continued without speaking. Finally, after almost a minute, the receptionist sighed and looked down again.
"They're both in their usual rooms in the Parahuman Ward. Doctor Tarrant is currently visiting Miss Militia, and Dauntless is on guard duty. Don't cause trouble."
Charming fellow. Taylor left him behind, taking the path she'd followed a couple of times already, up and around until she reached the distinctly reinforced door with Dauntless outside. He looked – and felt – tired. And almost depressed, which wasn't Taylor's favourite emotion to feel. Still, he smiled when he saw her.
"Circaetus. Surprised to see you here."
"You know how it is," she said, "Figured that since Panacea's away I should fill in for her."
"Something to rub in her face?" Dauntless asked, tone disapproving. Taylor shrugged.
"I'm a bitch like that," she said without shame, "But don't worry. I have an ulterior motive too, one that's not so petty."
"Really?"
Taylor shrugged again.
"Hey, the way I see it, the faster they're back in action the better it is for the city. Plus, of course, means you don't have to stand around guarding the place all the time. And I've got a favour to ask Militia."
She felt Dauntless' mind burn with guilt at the mention of Miss Militia.
"Militia," he said, slightly raggedly, "Right."
"I'm sensing a story there," Taylor said, "Anything I should know?"
Dauntless made a faint noise of disgust.
"No, it's just – well. Miss Militia was injured by my clones, and she says she doesn't blame me, but it's hard to stay around her when she flinches any time I move too fast. It's not her fault, but…you know. I'm thinking of asking for a transfer. If things are going to get quieter here, seems like it'd be the kind thing to do for both of us."
Taylor, unable to make much of a comment when she was working with her own clone, just clapped a commiserating hand on his shoulder for a moment. Dauntless just nodded, accepting the wordless platitude.
"Go on, then. There's only Militia and Aegis in there – everyone else has recovered and been discharged. And try to be polite to Doctor Tarrant, yeah?"
"Do my best," Taylor said, pushing open the door and walking into the room. Tarrant was a tall, thin woman with greying blonde hair and a glare that was almost as good as the receptionist. Taylor, unphased, waved at her.
"Hey, doc," she said, "Visiting hours aren't over, are they?"
"Would you care if they were?" Miss Militia asked, awkwardly pushing herself up in her bed. She looked better than the last time Taylor had seen her, but still thinner than before. There were dark patches under her eyes, a grimness to the set of her mouth. Aegis, from his bed, waved and croaked a hello.
"Probably not," Taylor admitted, "I've a couple of questions to ask, you know how it is. The first one – definitely the most important – is for the doctor. Is there, uh, is there a protocol for healing people? Or does Panacea just wander in and pick at random?"
Doctor Tarrant turned an intense gaze onto Taylor – Taylor could see the flash of hope in Miss Militia's face before she focused on the doctor.
"What exactly are you suggesting?" Tarrant asked, still cold, "You aren't exactly known for your healing. Especially given that you've never deigned to lend help here before."
Touchy.
"You know," Taylor said, "There are several good reasons for that."
"Please, enlighten me. What is more important than healing the sick and the injured?
'Oh, you know, just the petty things. Echidna, Lung, Leviathan, Valefor, Kaiser. Just those little problems like saving the Dockworkers, stopping a madman from taking dozens of prisoners, rescuing children, protecting the entire city from rampaging monsters, the usual nine to five. Bitch.'
"Being reasonable, it's not surprising that the hospital staff would take Panacea's side over yours. You do antagonise her, regardless of the feeling being mutual."
'Yeah, yeah.'
"Firstly," Taylor said aloud, repressing her initial response, "I don't heal from the energy of the people I'm healing, like Panacea. I heal using my own energy, and it takes a lot. Running out of energy healing isn't the best use of my powers. Secondly, Doctor, it's because my energy isn't human friendly. If I use too much it hurts me. How do you think it feels to the people being healed by it?"
Taylor saw Tarrant scowl at her tone. Personally Taylor thought she deserved it: never mind her feud with Panacea, Taylor had never done a thing to Aegis or Miss Militia. If Tarrant would prefer that Taylor didn't heal anyone at all, then she was an idiot.
In fairness, Taylor didn't think Tarrant was going to say no. Being scrupulously reasonable, it was a bit of a dick move to heal no-one until she would get something out of it. But if people thought she was a nice and wholesome girl who just wanted to help? Well, they hadn't been paying attention.
"And thirdly," Taylor added, "Well, to put it crudely, wandering around hospitals is never going to be as useful as my other skills. Those ground-breaking prosthetics Armsmaster must have talked about? They use my power cells. Any mention of 3D printed organs or limbs? That's my design. They'll help a lot of people across the world. Now, I've come here to help your patients. Do you want me to or not?"
"I want it," Miss Militia said suddenly, talking over Tarrant, "If you say it's safe. I know there are other ways, but if this is much faster – I'll take the chance."
"It'll be a lot faster," Taylor said, "But it'll hurt. It'll hurt a lot."
"I am accustomed to pain."
"We'll see," Taylor murmured. That was where Doctor Tarrant stepped in.
"While I can't prevent this," she said, "I also cannot allow you to just act without at least investigating. What are you going to do, that it will hurt?"
Well, that was fair enough. Taylor could afford an explanation.
"Alright, this is how this works," Taylor said, "I'm going to pour fundamentally caustic energy into your arm until it's saturated. Once that's done I'm going to use that energy to stimulate massive cell division, and I will then reshape your flesh like putty. It will be absolutely agonising, probably look revolting, and at the end of it you'll have a fully functioning arm again."
"How long will it take?" Militia asked. Taylor, currently mapping out the structure that she would need to replace, hummed.
"Not long," she said absently. Having a decent knowledge of what you were replacing always helped, but a lot of Psyker healing involved using the echo of the body, the shape imprinted on the soul. It was how the Emperor had been able to heal Corvus from serious injury so quickly: the soul of a Primarch remembered. It was, Taylor and the Emperor both suspected, why Angron retained the Butcher's Nails even as a Daemon Prince: his soul remembered. Militia's soul wasn't nearly as strong, of course, but Taylor knew the structure of a human arm. The rest was just variation.
"About a couple of minutes," she eventually concluded, "Maybe less."
"I can manage that," Militia said, "But before. I assume I won't be in much of a condition to do anything afterwards, so what do you want?"
Taylor didn't even try to deny it.
"Simple, really. I want access to the Protectorate files on S-Ranked threats. We both know they exist, and we both know I'm likely to end up tangling with them. And, frankly, I think you've got the right mix of rank required to get me clearance and the understanding that it's better not to poke your nose into my business."
Tarrant spluttered. Miss Militia grinned.
"Looking to do some hunting, Circaetus?"
"A girl has to have hobbies, right? So you in?"
"If I say no, would you refuse to heal me?"
Taylor rubbed her chin in thought, ignoring the weight of the silence that descended on them all. Miss Militia was still grinning, although Tarrant was glaring.
"Probably not," Taylor eventually admitted, "But can we pretend that I said yes? I have a reputation to uphold, you know?"
"Well, if you're twisting my arm," Miss Militia said, holding out her hand, "How can I, in good conscience, say no? And please – call me Hannah."
Taylor flexed her wings, gathering power as she reached forward to take Militia's hand, setting her other hand on the woman's shoulder.
"Brace yourself, Hannah," she said, settling a blanket of power around the room to contain the screaming and wrapping a second around Militia, to keep her in place, "Because I wasn't lying when I said this would hurt."
Taylor poured power into Militia, and the woman screamed. Oh she tried to keep it in, clenching her jaw and gritting her teeth, but when her blood started to boil, her flesh running like melted wax, she gave in and howled.
Taylor sympathised.
Tarrant tried to move but she was pinned in place, just like Militia and Aegis, and could only watch: Taylor felt her fury turn to revulsion and awe as Militia's injured arm lifted into the air and, in a whirl of blood, bone burst from it. The bone stretched out, rippling, twisting into the unmistakeable shape of a human arm. Muscle and sinew and fat and nerves and skin crawled after, encasing the bone until, fifty-six seconds after Taylor had begun, the fingers clenched and Miss Militia's scream trailed off.
Taylor let her go.
"How does it feel?" she asked conversationally. Militia was staring at her hand, slowly flexing her fingers. Taylor thought she could see tears in her eyes.
"It's…perfect."
Militia opened her hand and suddenly clenched it, green energy swirling and forming into a pistol, shifting through multiple makes before she spun the last gun and let go of it, letting it dissipate into a swirl of green mist. Taylor nodded.
"I do good work," she said as Militia slumped, the energy draining out of her. Taylor had expected that – that much pain was exhausting. Tarrant hurried over to her as Taylor turned to Aegis.
"You still want it, Aegis?"
Aegis lifted his chin, and Taylor could see a scar across his throat. Aesthetic. A reminder of his injury against Leviathan, maybe, because when he spoke his voice was strong.
"I want it."
Taylor laid a hand on his chest, wrapping him in binding strands of power – more than for Militia, given his strength. He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowed hard, but when he opened them again there was only determination in his gaze.
"I'm ready."
"They all say that," she said lackadaisically, before reaching to the Warp and pushing.
Four hours later, after being press-ganged into helping the rest of Intensive Care on the basis that she wasn't about to do a worse job than Panacea, Taylor stood alone in the Dockyard. It was raining again, a misty drizzle that drifted in slow waves around her shoulders, evaporating the moment before it struck her clothes.
The sun was just setting, Taylor waiting, although she wasn't completely idle: a hand reached out, gestured upwards, and a tugboat slowly dragged itself out of the mud, silvery sheets of water cascading from the sides. In better weather, Taylor thought, it would have glowed red in the setting sun. As it was, the cloudy skies left it grey.
A boot scuffed. Taylor tilted her head, felt the approaching mind, and nodded to herself. Her Dad, wrapped in a slightly battered raincoat, stopped walking to stand next to her. Taylor crooked her fingers, the tug drifting towards them.
"I'm getting stronger almost exponentially," she said, "Although this one is smaller than the last. Did you know that these weigh more than Leviathan?"
"I didn't."
"Yeah, he's got some sort of wibbly-wobbly dimensiony-wensiony bullshit going on. Weighs about nine tons total."
Nine tons really was light for something Leviathan's size. One of the Primarchs could probably pick Leviathan up and throw him around – Taylor determinedly ignored the thought that inspired, of Leman grabbing Leviathan by one arm and ragdolling him around like a cartoon. Her Dad made an affirmative noise, but didn't say anything.
"I met Luna," she said, "In Boston."
"I'd guessed."
"We didn't fight," she said, "Or not like that. We talked. She made more sense than I liked. We brawled after, worked out a bit of aggression, but we're…working together. Going after major threats, that sort of thing."
She was talking too much, she knew. But this was her Dad. If she could trust anyone, she could trust him. The silence stretched out, agonising.
"I won't pretend I'm pleased," her Dad said, heavy and slow, "But I know you won't be stopped by that. I know you…just. Why, Taylor. Can you tell me why?"
"Oh," Taylor said quietly, "That question."
"That question, Taylor."
The tug settled on the space cleared for it, creaking and groaning, and Taylor pressed her hand down, crushing it enough that it wouldn't tip over.
"It's a mixture, really," she said. Her Dad tucked his hands into his pockets, waiting, and Taylor thought over her next words.
"I know, I know. There are ways to help people that don't involve getting into fistfights with Parahumans, don't involve me risking my life. I've even got a lot in progress, with the technology. But – well, I'm hardly a perfect person. Ever since my trigger, I've been a lot more…"
"Assertive?" her Dad suggested. Taylor glanced at him and saw the faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. She smiled back, shaking her head.
"That too. But I was going to say restless. Confrontational. Violent. It's hard to explain, but there's something about combat, battle. When I was fighting Luna – even though I knew we weren't taking it seriously, not really, it was such a thrill to face an equal."
Taylor shrugged.
"I can't sit around anymore, I need to be doing something. If I tried to stay here and live a quiet life I'd go crazy. And I think we can both agree I'm crazy enough, right? And – well, I like to think that it'll do good. A lot of good. How many people did I save by stopping Echidna, stopping Lung, by stopping Valefor? How many will live, because I was there? All the two billion people on this planet, how many live in fear of someone who just so happened to win the power lottery? How many more people can I save, by going after the people who think they're beyond restraint?"
"Probably a lot," her Dad admitted. He didn't sound happy, but accepting: he understood that it wasn't really his choice, not now. Taylor nodded, reaching out and lifting another boat. This one was heavier than the last, but manageable. Her Dad cleared his throat.
"Although," he said, "I didn't want to interrupt your flow, but two billion people?"
Taylor blinked and looked over at him.
"Yes?" she said, uncertain, and he shrugged.
"Sorry, sorry. It's just that – I'm pretty sure there's more than two billion people on the planet. More like four or five billion, even, where did you hear two?"
Taylor almost dropped the boat in horror. Luna, Taylor thought, still cursing her even now.
"Uh, the Internet," she said, "I can't believe the Internet would lie to me!"
"Well, you can't believe everything you read," her Dad said reasonably. Taylor, her appearance of impeccable knowledge ruined, shrugged sadly.
"I – yeah, I guess."
Her Dad chuckled softly, watching her set the boat down.
"I hope that you won't be away all the time, though. I assume you still want to start a company, for your technology?"
"Yeah," Taylor said, "My powers are pretty useful for that. I know this place well enough that I can teleport back pretty quickly, so I'll still be here a lot. 'Course I'm not old enough to be running a company anyway. But I'll be around to help out."
"Great. Because I've had a call from a lawyer – Quinn Calle? Said one of his other clients recommended you to him, and he'd like to offer an estimate of what it'll cost to retain his services. Getting his foot in the door, he said."
Taylor snorted.
"Tattletale meddling," she said, although fondly, "Quinn Calle is an expert in Parahuman Criminal Law – emphasis on the criminal, I suspect. Very few morals, very good at what he does. He might be worth taking on, since he'll know any loopholes we might have to use. There shouldn't be any problems, since my tech can all be replicated, but there are laws that cover Parahuman tech."
"That was what I was thinking," her Dad agreed, "There are some lawyers I know through the Dockworkers Association, and we'll need people who aren't just Parahuman Law, but having him at least available would be worth the price. The PRT has offered, as part of our partnership, but…"
"But?"
"Well, maybe it's my anti-authority tendencies, but I feel like the only thing less trustworthy than a normal lawyer is a lawyer who works only for the government."
"Yeah, if we're trying out loopholes we want the most cut-throat, mercenary lawyer we can find," Taylor agreed. Her Dad shrugged.
"Something like that. I'll look into it, maybe ask this Calle for anyone he knows. You'll ask Tattletale?"
"She'll probably want to invest in return," Taylor said, "But yeah. I'll ask."
They stared out at the sea for a moment, grey and wind-swept, and Taylor's Dad put her hand on her shoulder. She felt an unexpected pang at the realisation that soon he would need to reach up to manage it.
"So, you fought Luna," he said, casual, "I have to ask. Did you win?"
Taylor barked a laugh, smiling.
"Of course I did."
She didn't need her powers to feel the pride coming from her Dad.
"That's my girl."
A little early, I know, but since I wasn't going to wait until Monday to publish this - Merry Christmas, everyone.