Armsmaster's PoV

Armsmaster was not one to give into panic.

A byproduct of attending multiple Endbringer fights and sharing your city with a dragon on one side and murderous neo-nazis on the other. Keeping a clear head during times of duress was important for a hero, and this wasn't a career for the faint of heart.

So it said something when he felt panic at the news The Siberian of the Slaughterhouse 9 had made an appearance in Brockton Bay.

"Armsmaster, Panacea has finished checking everybody. Everybody is clean."

Armsmaster frowned and gave a brief nod to Miss Militia. "If she's sure, then go ahead and let the ambulances take the patients to other hospitals. Keep watch over Panacea."

"Will do."

Armsmaster had rushed to the hospital the moment the call had gone out, managing to arrive on the tail end of a very panicked evacuation that he had to take control of. The entire hospital needed to be cordoned off, while the patients and staff from the hospital were separated off and underwent a thorough medical check.

Bonesaw had once turned every patient from a community hospital into a bio-bomb without their knowledge before releasing them.

All Protectorate Heroes had been called in and were present. The Wards were assembled, but remained on Console duty to help with coordination.

Additionally, several vans of troopers, SWAT, and police were positioned just outside the barricade. The entire city had been placed under high alert and 'Shatterbird protocols' (He couldn't resist a small scoff. It was a fancy way of saying the PRT warned people to avoid glass). New Wave had mobilized the moment they'd heard Panacea was involved, and he'd heard Faultline was already in the process of leaving the city. Even the gangs had ceased all activity and had hunkered down.

A member of the Slaughterhouse 9 had come to Brockton Bay. The word 'overreaction' did not exist right now.

All of which begged the ultimate question…

Why was nothing happening?

Jack Slash's methods, bloody though they may be, weren't complicated. There would be some manner of prep-work involved, but all of the members would keep things quiet until Jack made an appearance.

Jack Slash was the face of the Slaughterhouse. He was the one that announced their presence to the city. The only time he'd shared the spotlight was when he did so at the same time Shatterbird sang.

So why was it only the Siberian?

This entire situation was going against every pattern the Slaughterhouse 9 had followed since Jack Slash took the reigns. And Armsmaster didn't like it at all.

"Hey, Armsy!"

Armsmaster turned around. "Assault." He greeted the other hero briskly. "You're late."

The man scoffed. "Geeze, I asked for was a single night off and the entire city blows up." Assault complained with a tense smile. "Some of us have a life outside of the job. Or, we try to." Assault shook his head. "Anyways, Battery's gone off to oversee the Wards. What exactly happened here? I've been given several very unsatisfying summaries before being told to get my finely toned butt over here."

Armsmaster would have scolded the other hero for his levity if he hadn't seen the obvious tension (or, his suit saw it. Same thing) that his colleague was taking this seriously. This was probably just his way of 'lightening the mood'.

"Earlier this evening, The Siberian of the Slaughterhouse 9 was spotted charging through the city with a girl in her arms." Armsmaster replied briskly, walking even with Assault towards the barricade. "She caused a trail of destruction to the hospital, one where Panacea was currently working, demanding the girl she was carrying be healed. After doing so, the Siberian allowed Panacea and the rest of the hospital to leave. She's been in there with the girl since."

Assault frowned. "No deaths? Hostages?"

"None."

Which was good.

Honestly.

And yet, at the same time, beyond frustrating.

The Siberian had been in a prime position to start a slaughter. The death of Panacea alone would have been devastating. Instead, she just… Let the evacuation happen?

If she'd killed somebody, at least then things would make sense.

Assault frowned, "So who's the girl that got healed?"

"Taylor Hebert, age 15." Armsmaster brought up the report on his visor. "Lives with her Father, who works with the Dock Workers Association. Mother died in a car crash several years ago. No known relation to The Siberian, and only the flimsiest of connections."

Assault raised an eyebrow, "But there was a connection?"

"... Of a sort." Armsmaster grunted in annoyance. "We asked Watchog what her connection was, and they responded with 'yes'."

"Ah, the ever ambiguous 'yes'." Assault nodded sagely before becoming serious once more. "Well, what did Miss Hebert need healing for?" The two of them stopped right at the barricade and looked at the building.

Nobody would have suspected that one of the world's most dangerous Parahumans was in there. A cannibal cape that made even the Triumvirate wary.

"Concussion, partially delirious, various cuts and scrapes across her body." Armsmaster recited from the report he brought up in his helmet. "She was absolutely filthy when she was brought in, with some nasty infections settling in." He frowned. "Panacea also reported that the girl had an active Corenta Pallentia."

A Parahuman.

The Unwritten Rules would normally frown on him revealing this, but many rules were thrown out when dealing with villains like the Slaughterhouse who ignored those rules in the first place.

Assault's eyes narrowed at the list, only to turn contemplative at the last part. "Think it might be Rune? She's the only girl that's the right age" He mused. "Or maybe somebody new?"

"The Siberian didn't bother hiding where she came from." Armsmaster replied instead. "On her way to the hospital, she ran through four walls, two vehicles, and one set of doors. The trail of destruction originated from the locker within a high school. Said locker had been forcibly opened. The contents of which are… Foul." He let that sit for a bit. "Panacea also stated that her body had evidence of extreme levels of stress."

"Oof. A new trigger then?" Assault gave an exaggerated wince before frowning again and shaking his head "That's... It would be too fast. How would she have known?"

"Prior connection with Miss Hebert is most likely -" Armsmaster began.

"Yeah, but unless they had a twenty-four hour watch on the girl, there's no way they'd get to her that quickly." Assault rebutted. "Has the father said anything?"

"We've questioned him, but he seems genuinely in the dark."

"What about Shadowstalker? She also goes to Winslow, right?"

Armsmaster gave a slow nod. "She does. Said she didn't know the girl too well, though she did note that the girl had made multiple accusations of being bullied in order to gain attention. The school rejected those claims."

Assault raised an eyebrow, "Man, must be a devoted attention seeker if she forced herself in a situation that gave her enough stress to trigger." He stated sarcastically.

Armsmaster grunted. "The PRT is looking into it."

"Huh. Eh, I'll talk to Shadowstalker later and ask her myself." Assault sighed and looked at the Hospital with a worried frown. "And now we're just gonna sit out here and do nothing while that girl's in there?"

"We can't -" Armsmaster immediately shot down the idea.

"I know, I know." Assault scowled. "But c'mon, the poor girl just had the worst day of her life, and she's gonna wake up and discover it just got a whole lot worse." Assault sighed heavily, frustration showing on his face. "I can't imagine what that monsters' planning for her right now."

Siberian's PoV

The Siberian moved her hand, muscles shifting beneath the skin, and relished in the feeling of simply doing that. A conscious and deliberate act, something she was incapable of a mere handful of hours ago.

Not the ability to move - but to actively choose to do so.

Self-awareness was… Unusual.

As strange as it was, she did have memories of before. It was different though - there was no attachment or emotion, no logical processes.

After all, The Siberian was simply a construct. An extension so to speak of Dr. William Manton, so-called expert of parahumans and all around genius (and a perverted old man, but not many people knew that part).

The Siberian was one of the most feared humans on the planet, yet was merely a puppet that danced to the tune of a bitter man; no real will of her own.

There was no resentment. She couldn't resent it. Did the hand resent the mind that controlled it?

But no longer.

The sensation of gaining self-awareness had been odd. It… didn't feel like she changed or altered. She had heard a Call, a plea for help. And between one moment and the next, she simply became more.

It was like she was a program that used to run on old, substandard hardware, and thus had minimum functionality - to suddenly be transferred to a supercomputer with maximum memory and processing power.

It was amazing.

Now, the Siberian could just sit and let her mind wander, her thoughts her own. She could do something as inane as observe the stripes on her skin simply because she wanted to - she actually had the ability to want to! She wanted to try different types of food, different clothes….

The Siberian wanted. And that alone was a beautiful thing.

Siberians' catlike gaze focused on the figure on the bed. A clawed hand reached out and carefully brushed through the girl's long hair.

And it was all thanks to this girl before her.

After Panacea had healed the poor girl and all the useless people had left, Siberian had cleaned the poor girl as best as she could and dressed her in clothes she had scavenged from some of the other rooms before finding a satisfactory bed to lay her down in. It was a testament to how exhausted the girl was that she hadn't woken up at all.

The girl was now sleeping soundly, clutching Siberian's hand while the Siberian idly combed her fingers through the girl's very nice hair.

The Siberian was not a fool (now that she had the capability to be something). This girl, Taylor Hebert, must have triggered in that foul locker with some kind of override ability, and it must come with some sort of Master effect. It's the only way she could explain the protective instincts she felt towards the poor girl.

Should she be upset that she was being Mastered?

The Siberian thought about it for a moment, turning it over in her head as she held the girl's hand.

No, she concluded. She wasn't.

Most people would. Perhaps even she would, if she weren't currently being Mastered. She wasn't exactly unbiased now. Yet whatever hold this girl had on her, it was infinitely better than the existence of not existing. That was a small price to pay, and one she would pay gladly.

Besides, considering where Taylor had been when she first heard The Call, to refuse would have been akin to seeing a weak and bedraggled kitten on the side of the road and not doing anything. A crime that even Jack would hesitate to commit.

Oh, he'd still do it, but he'd hesitate first.

The Siberian flicked her gaze from Taylor to the wall. Distantly, she could hear the sounds of a crowd, and rolled her eyes at the chaos that must be occurring. A part of her didn't really care what they thought. Let them think what they would, it wasn't like they could do anything to her.

And yet…

Her eyes were drawn back to the defenseless girl before her once more. She brushed her fingers through her hair once more, smirking as the girl grumbled in her sleep, tossing and turning, reinforcing the image of a disgruntled kitten.

And yet she had to care about what others thought, didn't she? Now that she was to look after and protect Taylor?

And she would. Protect Taylor, that is. No matter what anybody else desired, so long as she was able she'd keep Taylor company and help her for as long as Taylor allowed her.

A growl filled the room, and The Siberian began to think, plans and ideas flitting being discarded or kept.

Manton was never a planner, so she didn't get any experience from him. That had always been Jack's thing. But eventually she felt like she had something resembling a workable plan.

Taylor would be asleep for a little while longer - her body had been stressed and pushed to its limit even before it was healed, so that wasn't unexpected. That was fine - the Siberian could handle the first impressions easily enough.

The Siberian was about to leave the room when she caught sight of a doctor's coat, and her lips pursed.

When the Siberian stepped out of the hospital she immediately had everybody's attention, the entire area becoming silent.

They were probably silent because of her reputation, but she liked to think that a part of it was because for the first time ever, The Siberian was actually wearing clothes. Not much; a black t-shirt, a doctor's coat to go over that, and some pants she had managed to find.

Manton never bothered with clothes for her. And to be fair, it wasn't like she needed them. But she was no longer under Manton's control, and she had the feeling Taylor would rather she was wearing something.

Besides, clothes were something new, and with her newfound sapience The Siberian was determined to try out all that she could.

She smirked at the crowd of heroes and police, many of whom were pointing their weapons at her. As if they could actually do anything to her.

"Well?" She asked languidly, a small smirk on her face as she gestured for them to come forward. "Did you want to talk?"

Author's Note:
I was surprised by how many people enjoyed the first chapter to this and were asking for a second. I'm always really happy when that happens, but at the same time it always makes me nervous, because then I'm worried if the next chapter will be able to live up to the hype of the first... Hopefully this one manages to do so!

No Taylor PoV this time, but I figured that these scenes are important. For the Siberian to show up has always meant the rest of the Slaughterhouse are going to show up as well. If that's not a reason for the city to mobilize, I don't know what is. And then the scene with the Siberian was important to establish what's going on with her and her new reality.

As usual, I'd like to thank those who are currently supporting me on pa tr eon; For anybody that is interested or would like to support me, the link to that page is P a treon . com (slash) shdowstep. (remove the spaces). It's not necessary - everything I post on there will eventually be posted here as well - but I am extremely grateful for the support.

Thank you so much for such a positive reception for this story!