Brockton's Celestial Forge

by Lord Roustabout

The Celestial Forge is the greatest combination of crafting powers in Jumpchain, meaning it is the greatest combination of crafting abilities in all of fiction. In Brockton Bay a forgotten side character's trigger event ends with him linked to the Celestial Forge rather than his intended shard. His expanding collection of tinker abilities drag him into the city's cape conflicts.

40. 34 Little Talks - Addendum Ethan

34 Little Talks

The sobering effect of the phone call had dragged me out of the euphoric excitement of the sparing match. The prospect of the upcoming conversation combined with the drop in energy from separating from life fibers, and now an even more intense appetite than I had become accustomed to, all added up to make me feel ridiculous. The arena that had been so engaging now felt like a frivolous and wasteful indulgence.

"Hey, it's alright." The first duplicate approached me while the second worked to restore the arena. Garment was striding towards me while cradling Tetra in a tangled bundle and Fleet and Survey dismissed their holographic audience. "We've got time to prep for this. We'll get through it."

"And we're doing this again." The second called as he deconstructed the remains of the alchemically generated hand. "I know you're getting in a mood, but this was awesome and you know it. More than that, there's more combat stuff we need to nail down before we try it in the field."

That was true. Looking at this like an actual training exercise rather than an exercise of messing around made it a lot easier to justify to myself. The duplicates had tried out elemental combinations I'd only theorized about, and there was a lot more that was possible on that front. Additionally we barely touched ranged combat, and I had a huge amount of unarmed techniques from that Skills: Combat power.

Some of it was really fascinating stuff. The other martial arts I'd gained had been mostly mundane, setting aside T'ai Chi Chuan's unexpected utility once chi actually became a thing. Skills: Combat covered a huge amount of armed and unarmed techniques for use against both conventional and exotic opponents. Some of the maneuvers were just mystifying in how effective they could be.

As I understood it, the double axe handle was seen as impractical even in the context of professional wrestling. The fact that I could now actually use it to amplify my full strength and take down tougher opponents was legitimately incredible.

I missed a connection to the Clothing constellation as I worked out what my next step should be. I had a few hours before the meeting with Taylor, but I wasn't leaving things to chance. A network search showed some of the reading rooms could be booked out. There were a handful on the upper level that could be reserved for academic purposes.

My university enrollment would have allowed me to set something up, but that wasn't exactly valid anymore. Of course, I'd never heard about this, so I'm guessing it was to facilitate research projects or something like that.

Well, I wasn't going to roll the dice on this. A little bit of aggressive computer access got me into the system, and a room easily booked.

Actually, I didn't even need to commit computer fraud. They weren't exactly rushing to keep college students from studying at the Library. From the look of things, they updated their access lists annually. I still had booking rights until the end of the academic year, so oddly this was entirely on the level.

It meant I wouldn't need to sit around staking out a free reading room or have an unusually busy library day completely ruin this meeting.

So that was one point of stress removed. Now I just had every other aspect of this conversation to deal with. How was I planning to manage this again? I mean, outside of an apology what could I really do? I couldn't change the minds of idiots on the internet, and somehow they had been able to set the narrative on this.

Right. 'Somehow'. It was a mystery how this had gotten away from me and had absolutely nothing to do with me feeling so wretched over my performance on Saturday night that I had actively avoided any online interaction that could have reframed things. This was my fucking mess, I just had to figure out how to manage it.

I guess that was up to Taylor. I mean, this was primarily an apology after all. What, if anything I did from this point on depended on her.

Was that a cop out? I had no idea. I was probably over thinking things anyway.

"Hey?" The first duplicate called out to me. "We're pretty much wrapped up here. Do you need any help with the meeting stuff?"

It was a nice show of support from… well from myself I guess. Still, it was nice as a gesture, and probably from a psychological perspective as well.

"I mean the next guys will be around to help as well, but you know…" The second made a vague gesture, but I shook my head.

"No, it's fine." I replied as my stomach rumbled. "I've got to eat something and get Tetra squared away. You guys take your twenty percent time." I checked the countdown. "Or seventeen percent time, whatever."

They gave me an encouraging nod, then darted off. It reminded me that while I might have had the advantage in our spar that was due to Tetra's enhancement. They could manage Aura much better than I could and practically fled down the side of the volcano thanks to its assistance.

Looking around the restored arena I briefly marveled at how quickly it had been pulled together. Then I noticed the set of statues. Mantic conductors had been set up in the arena, using the skills from my Build That Wall power. It had arrived in the middle of my rush to rescue Aisha, so I had barely thought about it since.

The power allowed the use of energy currents within buildings and technology to enhance the properties of the underlining structure or allow fairly incredible effects from very basic equipment. The problem was the material requirements. Properly implementing this technology would require large amounts of burstone, shards, and cores. The only equipment I received with that power was a rather high-quality phonograph.

The alternative was using conductors. A cluster of four statues could circulate mantic energy through a structure, allowing enhancement without relying on yet to be transmuted materials. Normally these would be fairly bulky, but my Gadget Master power let me shrink them down to a reasonable size.

The effect of the circulated energy held the arena together in the face of our energetic training match and made its restoration fairly trivial. I wondered if this was something of a test bed before this kind of technology was tried in the rest of the workshop, or even in the outside world.

That was something to worry about later. I retrieved Tetra from Garment and took a more sedate pace down to the workshop. Survey maintained a hologram to mime walking beside us, but Fleet seemed to consider even faking the act of walking to be an admission of failure. He did deploy a tiny ATV to meet us half way up the mountainside, and I had to seriously wonder just how large Fleet's fleet had become when I wasn't looking.

I should probably take a serious review of the 20% time projects, but the 80% time projects were a lot more important. I could review them mentally, but Survey seemed to enjoy the act of verbally discussing them with me as we walked. I'm not sure if that was a consequence of working with Garment and having limited ability to communicate or some kind of recent development from Aisha's influence.

It a weird coincidence that I was trying to get better at digital processing data while Survey was trying to develop her speech skills. I knew which was more important so listened to her present reports as we walked back to the workshop.

"Preliminary Veritech analysis has been complete. Duplication of fold carbon is reported as the main obstacle to widespread deployment of 'OverTechnology'. Fabrication strategies and potential applications have been compiled in detail." The hologram explained as we walked. Survey had greatly improved in her ability to emote and convey convincing body language. "Also, there have been seventeen additional requests for the identity of the Veritech's knightly house."

I took a brief moment to skim over the report she was summarizing. Fold carbon was a complicated multidimensional material that was required for just about every super-dimensional application of OverTechnology. Those applications were even broader than I had first estimated. In addition to being able to perform what was basically a mass to energy reaction in the jet turbines there was the potential for artificial gravity, internal controls, and even advanced stealth systems. In fact, any active scanners that relied on monitoring the three-dimensional universe could be completely fooled.

The problem was that fold carbon wasn't just a super material like adamantium or celestial bronze. There was a structure to it that extended beyond the physical universe. That meant that I had to account for additional invisible dimensions in any work I did. As a result, my usual duplication process of just bashing something together and letting Workaholic do its thing wouldn't cut it. I would end up with a jumbled extradimensional mess that would be more work to sort out than it was worth.

"We'll have to commit resources to developing management techniques for working with that material. I'll make it a priority going forward." Survey's hologram nodded at my words and made a note on a projected clipboard. It was just a representation of internal processes, but it was nice to see her embrace that kind of expression.

"Design work has begun for Aisha's armor and equipment. As directed, I have not shared any of the concepts with her, though she has provided a list of requested features." Survey continued. Reviewing the list, I guessed it was more along the lines of a conversation Aisha had with the A.I. that was transcribed into a feature list, at least based on the number of items that were prefaced with 'It would be cool if…" and similar phrases. It really had the feel of a thirteen-year-old girl rattling off ideas to a friend, which made seeing it categorized like this feel a little intrusive.

"I'll see what I can do." I skimmed over the duplicates' notes again. "The main priority is going to be getting her some decent ceramite."

Ceramite was one of the best defensive materials that had come from the mental database of my Armourer power. It was absolutely incredible, and completely unnecessary for any of my own application.

Ceramite was a super hard advanced ceramic that provided some of the best heat shielding imaginable. At higher grades it could block lasers, plasma exposure, or even the thermal load from repeated reentry. The two reasons I hadn't bothered with it was its complicated fabrication process, basically plasma bombardment of precise mixes of elements conducted under high pressure and extended timeframes, and because I just didn't need it.

My Fashion power reinforced me with the defensive properties of whatever equipment I was wearing. That meant heat bothered me as much as it bothered the adamantium in my armor plating. I didn't need to keep heat away from my body because, with reinforcement, my flesh could reach white hot temperatures without impairing me in the least.

Aisha wouldn't have that advantage. I would actually need to design a suit that would protect the wearer rather than just hold itself together. Fortunately, Armourer had thousands of years of experience in that field, even if it was heavy on mechanics and light on the principles of what was being designed. Still, with a little work my duplicates had been able to stretch principles from various design and technology powers into a broad outline of a hard suit that would work for Aisha.

"I will begin fabrication outlines based on provided parameters." Survey replied. It was a little odd to remember that I was working with more information than she was, despite her nature as a computer program. Even with multiple duplicates trying to continuously bring her up to speed there was a limit to how much information could be conveyed, and that was not even getting into the effects of my powers on the design process. With the rate I was getting powers Survey was playing catch up and constantly trying to stay on top of the capacities of myself and the workshop.

I didn't get the sense that she resented the situation in any way. If anything, there was an excitement about learning new things. It turned work with her into a collaborative effort, rather than making me feel like I was exploiting a computer intelligence for my own goals.

"Additionally, a new variant of Dust has been successfully synthesized. The theorized 'Gravity Dust' has been formed successfully, primarily from a base of rock Dust modified with three secondary Dust variants and recrystallized." Survey displayed the results of the work, a pitch-black crystal that glowed faintly purple when activated with Aura. The reaction caused it to float in the air, and advanced sensor readings confirmed that it was suspending normal gravitational effects.

I watched the display with interest while also accessing lab data with my neural implant. The Magic constellation passed by as I considered the implications of the discovery. I could manage similar things with the use of element zero and mass effect fields, but there were subtle differences in the application. Dust had its own character and nuances. There were a lot of subtle variations I could manage with something like this.

I was jarred out of my musings by Garment pulling on my arm. I looked over to see her frantically gesturing at the screen.

"What is it?" I really didn't expect her to get this excited about gravitational metamaterials. Maybe if it was particularly striking or well-designed I could see that happening, but it was just a floating black crystal.

At Garment's insistence Survey pulled up more test records and then documentation of other variations of Dust. Garment was absolutely entranced by the entire display. I couldn't understand her fascination. Had she seen Dust before? She must have encountered it somewhere, but this might be her first in-depth look at the mechanics of the material.

Whatever she saw it had her incredible excited. At her insistence we doubled our pace down the mountain, barely pausing to grab some snacks before heading for the Alchemist's Laboratory.

I ate on the move while juggling Tetra with the other hand. The life fibers seemed to be able to pick up the effects of nourishment entering my body, probably because of the properties being enhanced by Elven Enchantment. There was a regular pulsing of red light that flared from the fibers in time with my chewing and swallowing of the food.

The whole thing felt a little silly, basically walking through the halls half dragged by Garment while casting pulses of red light and trailed by a hologram and two drones. Still, whatever had Garment so interested was obviously important to her, so I pushed through.

Once we reached the Alchemist's Laboratory Garment tore into the place looking for the Dust reserves. I felt a seed of dread in my gut as I remembered how volatile some of those could be, but that settled when Garment actually found the cases of crystals and powder. I watched in amazement as she handled the material with the exact deference and care necessary to manage it in a stable manner.

It was incredible. She was displaying aptitude for an unknown metamaterial that hadn't even existed a few days ago. Incredible aptitude. Peak aptitude.

The same level of skill she exercised in her crafting.

Things fell into place as she retrieved a scarf from the dyeing stations in the laboratory. With precise care she lifted a vial of Burn Dust and proceeded to infuse it into a thread. I could see the tiny particles of energetic material leap from the vial to embed themselves between the fibers of the thread. It was the precise control that Garment only exerted during crafting, and it was playing out in front of me.

The bright red thread rose and started to dart through the blue silk scarf. Slowly an elaborate pattern began to form along the length of cloth. It was fascinating to watch. Complex interactions of energy were effectively being coded into the fabric, allowing the creation of a controlled expression of Dust without any skill necessary from the wielder. It was the kind of thing that I could just barely manage thanks to my power granting me mastery of elemental weapons, but designed in a way that required minimal skill and allowed rapid deployment.

There was a whole world of possibility here and I had completely overlooked it. Well, it was more that I had never considered it in the first place. This was probably a shortcut for people who had difficulty controlling the elemental material that was expanded into a precise artform. There was an entire field of applications here I would never have thought to consider.

But Garment considered them. Whatever part of her power allowed her mastery of her skills apparently applied to anything that could be defined as such. It didn't matter that this material didn't exist before now, or that it probably originated in another universe or something like that. Just by being presented with the existence of Dust she could use it to the peak level of skill possible. She was sewing Dust patterns with the skill and mastery of a lifetime of training in an art that was developed over generations.

And I could do it better.

That wasn't in any way meant to diminish Garment's skill. It was just a consequence of my own powers. I could, at minimum, produce masterwork workmanship in everything I did. I hadn't known that this kind of crafting was possible, but now that I did I could do it to a master level.

At minimum.

That master level was before my other powers were taken into account. Dust sewing was affected by a staggering number of my powers. It was fundamentally a weapon, so every weapon customization and design power applied. It was based on the mechanical interactions of energy patterns in the sewn design, meaning everything that affected technology and machinery applied. It was also an art, meaning there was a skill and quality component that was influenced by even more powers.

My style powers would also affect it, but only from an aesthetic side. Unlike runes this didn't get better with more detailed workmanship, only better design and materials.

Oh, and since it was a weapon, even if one with a limited number of shots, rune smithing could also affect it. As could my other enchanting powers, and anything that allowed general improvements. And all my time powers that were specific to technology and machinery applied. This was basically an eccentric form of printed circuitry, after all.

From the way Garment watched my reaction I knew she understood the implications. This was effectively a way to layer varied elemental weaponry on top of my costume. She trailed a gloved finger across the design on the scarf causing it to glow orange before launching a set of burning motes across the lab to detonate in the hall outside. The blast was strong enough that it cast the entire room into harsh shadows for a moment and drove home the potential of this power.

That was just from manual activation. Using Aura, the process could be tuned and controlled to a much greater degree. My control of Aura was not the best, but the potential of this really drove home the need to deal with that.

That was because this wasn't just blind offence. I could manage that from my omni-tool or Evermore Alchemy. Dust included elemental representations of lightning, fire, and ice, all of which my omni-tool could manage, but also stone, water, wind, steam, and now gravity. What I could manage with a master designed, customized, and enhanced dust pattern dwarfed what my omni-tool could put out, and eclipsed even the stronger formulas of my alchemy.

From Garment's excitement she obviously realized the most significant implication of this discovery, at least as far as she was concerned. Dust sewing would require bright patterns to be added to my costume. This mean a complete redesign to incorporate the additional color palette.

I don't remember the last time I'd seen her this excited.

"Thank you Garment." She preened slightly as I spoke. "Right, uh, big project, so we'll have to prepare…"

She was already scrambling to her notebook and settling in to work on new designes. My mind jumped back to the unseen sketch she'd been working on when she saw my Aura shield and my stomach flipped at the idea.

"Designs. Prepare designs together." She made a vaguely affirmative gesture and went back to her work. "There are a lot of ways this can be expressed and that will affect the types of Dust used and their application. If we're not careful we might end up having to completely redesign the costume multiple times…"

And from her behavior I could see she was completely okay with that. I let out a slow breath and nodded. "Alright. Can you at least spare some time to help me get ready for the meeting?"

I took her gesture to mean of course that she would. With that settled I noted the durations of my last duplicates had expired, so moved to down another potion.

"So…" I started lamely.

"Right." The first assured me. "Don't worry about it. We can handle most of this." Though from the way he looked at Garment I doubted he'd be able to do much to restrain her design impulses. "You get Tetra squared away and prep for the meeting."

"Oh, and eat something else." The second chimed in. "That walking snack wasn't nearly enough. I'm not a fan of spending a limited experience with that pre-lunch feeling."

My stomach grumbled again and I conceded his point. Just basic levels of exposure to life fibers had me eating like a cartoon character. Whatever effect being a demigod had was ramping things up for some reason. Maybe it was that 'force of evolution' thing the fibers did to their host being applied to someone who didn't have a conventional genetic structure. Whatever the cause I felt like I had skipped breakfast and the clock was showing 11:50, heading in for the longest ten minutes of a person's life.

I hurried back to the Laboratorium with Tetra in my arms. This was the first time I had returned her without Garment's help, but also the first time I didn't feel like I needed that security. The life fibers own senses combined with my expanded awareness of the Dragon's Pulse meant that we at least had a sense of each other's mood. There was no concern over a sudden, unseen risk because I had an inherent connection to her mood and status.

The Laboratorium was still busy with the remnants of my earlier tinker tech analysis and continued work on the Veritech. A large display showed a blueprint of the fighter in robot mode, highlighting all the places where there was a lack of weaponry in what the machine spirits seemed to regard as an affront to decent design practices.

I acknowledged the deficiency and, at the prompting of an eager skull, handed over my sidearm for analysis. I had integrated Leet's plasma sword into it using Hybridization Theory and had repaired the technology with my other powers. That guaranteed that it would work, but didn't give me a full breakdown of the effects at play.

I was rather proud of the end result of that exercise. It added a long range hard light rifle and shapable plasma blade to my sidearm. The plasma projector allowed the omni-blade to be coated in a shapable high energy field that both negated my HF blade's weakness to forcefields and acted as a wonderful medium for shockwave runes. The combination let me throw out focused miniaturized versions of the attack that ended Bakuda's barrage at the storage facility without needing my Energize formula.

If I actually manifested the plasma sheeting with an oversized blade enhanced by the Energize formula… Well, that was the kind of thing better reserved for use outside urban environments. Far outside. Lagrange point two seems like a safe distance.

The skulls accepted the pistol with an electronic trill that I could now just vaguely understand, then moved it to the nearest scanning bay. I left them too it as I took Tetra to the stasis bay and gently settled her into the suspension field before activating the stasis program.

I was less concerned with containment than the effects an extended period without nourishment could have on her. I really didn't want her to end up slipping back into stasis and losing some of the progress she had made. I was actually proud of her. She had started as something completely destructive and managed to change herself, not just to a form that was tougher and more likely to survive, but to a form that was healthier, more positive, and with better support and connections. I was happy that I had been able to facilitate that.

I turned from the bay to find a skull waiting with an elaborate scroll held out to me. It was a masterpiece of calligraphy and illumination with multiple attached medals, wax seals, and certifications of intent. It was written in an extremely formal version of the gothic language of the Laboratorium and I struggled to make out its meaning.

After a few minutes of effort I was able to determine the document's purpose. I was looking at an official writ of request, to be delivered to the sector authorities, with multiple administrative codes and requirements attached to ensure correct and prompt filing of the request.

The request to know the Veritech's knightly house.

I did not have the heart to dissuade the skulls and machine spirits, so I assured them I would see it filed at the earliest possible time, leaving out that such as action would require an entire new addition to be added to my workshop.

Okay, I really hoped I didn't jinx myself on that one. I took the scroll and slipped out of the back entrance as the Forge missed a connection to the Magic constellation. I moved through the secret lab that came with my Hidden Hideaway house before emerging back into the living areas.

I ended up taking the immaculate document to my office and finding a place to store it properly. I didn't know if there was anything I could actually do with this thing, but it was important to the Laboratorium so I at least wanted to treat it with respect.

With that done I moved to raid my pantry. Said pantry had grown substantially more impressive thanks to various super science home improvements. At least grocery shopping was unlikely to be an issue in the future.

That left my only real expense as rent and utilities, something my payment from the Undersiders should be able to cover for the immediate future. It might get suspicious as to where the money was coming from, but I'm betting in a city with a police force as overstressed as Brockton's there wouldn't be a big push to chase down someone who, from appearances, was probably just working under the table jobs.

Also, elven food was still incredible. I don't know if I was eating more because of it, or if the enhanced nutrition meant I was actually eating less than I otherwise would. It's not like I had a demigod control group to compare my observations to.

I was also seeing the effects of Lack of Material's secondary power. There was an enhancement effect as long as I provided all the necessary ingredients. More than the quality boost from One Thing at a Time, this actually expanded the result beyond its original parameters. I was getting completed meals with evidence of cooking steps and ingredients that I never added to them. It was an amazing power, just from doing what I did before I got better results and bonus features automatically.

It made the process of stuffing my face all the more enjoyable. I decided to count this particular binge as lunch, though structured meal plans were kind of meaningless when combined with life fiber training. A full day of that kind of workout would have you going through enough square meals to form an eleven-dimensional hyper-cube.

I was briefly entertained by the fact that I was indeed working with multidimensional materials thanks to that fold carbon, so the idea of a tesseract sandwich was a good deal more possible than it had previously been.

I pushed that thought aside. It was on the same level as the elven club sandwich, something so ridiculous that it seemed idiotic until the moment it didn't. I wasn't going to tempt the Forge lest I actually end up with some ability that makes everything I craft exist simultaneously in multiple dimensions.

The same way March's striker power does.

And just like that my good mood came crashing down. It didn't stop my appetite, but I was digging into the tray of food with a little less enthusiasm.

Dealing with Taylor was something I needed to do, but it was a stepping stone to larger issues. I needed to try to salvage my reputation from whatever twisted form it had mutated into. That meant getting a handle on the rumors I had inadvertently caused, which meant finding out how Taylor wanted to deal with them.

After that, what was my plan? I had been taking refuge in the idea of building up until I could counter March, but that was an annihilator power. There was no way to be 100% certain about my safety. My only option was to strike first and strike hard, but I needed a target for that to work. That left me waiting around for something to go wrong and then hoping I could jump in and make a difference.

Though, that was kind of the modus operandi for superheroes. I just felt like I should be able to do better than that.

Maybe I could, but thinking on later issues wouldn't help me with the upcoming 'talk'. God, I was dreading this. I received a notice that my duplicates were entering 20% time and packed things up before heading back to the Alchemist's Laboratory.

Garment had moved back down to the textiles area, but had apparently taken a large amount of Dust samples with her. Given the literal rainbow that was possible with Dust sewing and her knowledge of how I'd be able to miniaturize and modify designs I was more than a little nervous concerning the direction her designs might take.

That apprehension was shared by the next pair of duplicates, who gave me an uneasy glance after they formed.

"Alright." The first said. "Not hungry anymore, but this isn't exactly better"

I just gave a tired shrug. "I know I have to do this, for a lot of reasons. That doesn't mean I'm looking forward to it, or that I know how to handle something like this."

The second stepped forward. "Look, I guarantee you are overthinking this. Whatever mess you think this issue will cause it's not going to be that bad. You heard Taylor on the phone. Did that sound like someone who has some horrible misconception or suspicion about this, or did it sound like she was in exactly the same position as we are?"

He had a point, which meant I had a point. Or I would have a point if I was looking at this from an outside perspective and not as someone who would have to deal with it and thus was running every nightmare scenario through my head.

Did I mention dealing with my duplicates can be confusing?

"Hey," The first offered. "It's still probably good if you get there early. Just take some time to wrap up anything you need to personally review, then head out. Killing time at the library is probably going to be less stressful that running around here trying to figure out the perfect way of handling this."

I gave a weak nod. That actually sounded kind of nice. I hadn't done that since I got my Not A Stupid Grunt power and decided to check how I retained information. My abilities had expanded significantly since then, so it might be nice to see how some regular studying would go. At worst it would be a couple of hours to get my mind on something else before I tried to get through this talk with Taylor.

Having a goal, even a vague goal, made a lot of difference. I spent the next duplicate duration reviewing research, checking in with Fleet and Survey, and even reviewing things with Garment.

Her sketch book had a lot more color in it than I was used to seeing, but thankfully she put that aside to help me get ready. She was always happy to make sure my clothes were properly fitted and I had an appropriate outfit for the occasion.

Additionally, I confirmed she didn't mind being cut off from the internet while I was at the Library. My guess was after being stuck outside the workshop on Saturday night she had decided a few hours without Twitter was worth the guarantee of that not happening again.

I had more than an hour to spare when I generated my last set of duplicates and sealed the workshop. It locked me out of other potions, but it gave an extra half hour of project work while I was in transit.

If I wanted to be really cheeky I could find a place to access the workshop at the library and renew the potion there, but it was probably better to leave things and not overstress. I was working faster than I ever imagined, I could spare a couple of hours to deal with this mess.

I texted the details of the booked room to Taylor before retrieving my Pinto from the gym's parking lot and heading downtown. Shortly after I received a confirmation text from Taylor of the location and time, relayed through the latest addition to the car.

I had made one concession to Fleet's requests. Despite the car not exactly being a high-end model, I got the sense he regretted not being able to work with it. I still wasn't willing to modify it beyond standard parameters, but there were some things that could be installed without rousing suspicion. Like a GPS unit that looked completely identical to regular commercial models both in appearance and to any conventional scanning system and completely disguised the fact that it housed an A.I. with full sensor feeds of the car and surrounding environment.

It wasn't the drive assist Fleet enjoyed, but I didn't really need that anymore. My demigod powers had given me a sense for the operation of machines that exceeded what could be accomplished through any level of training. Between my innate understanding of the mechanics of the vehicle and an almost instinctive knowledge of its operation I was probably one of the best drivers on the planet.

Surprisingly Fleet didn't resent the lack of control and just seemed to enjoy the chance to be in a full-sized car and receive more operational data for modeling purposes. The copies of Fleet and Survey running on the GPS and my omni-tool were shadows of their full programs in the computer core, but these smaller iterations were essential for supplying information for their development.

The fact that they couldn't copy to another device without my assistance was one of the harshest limitations they were under. So far it hadn't caused any grievances given that they were regularly installed in new equipment, their requests were being taken seriously, and both had accepted the benefits of tiered development with assistance in optimization. If I had just let them run freely I doubt I would even recognize the programs at this point. Staying active in how the A.I.s developed both accelerated the emergence of complex mental functions while also ensuring stability of their operation. It was more complicated and time consuming than just sticking an A.I. in a box and letting it develop, but I think the results were worth it.

I found a place to park in the general area of the library and walked the rest of the way. The Brockton Central Library was a building that had delusions of being a major city library, but didn't quite measure up. You could see the architectural influence of someone who wanted to draw parallels to New York or Chicago, but didn't have the budget, skill, or environment to pull it off. It came across as baby's first civic library.

Actually, could you see that, or was it my aesthetic powers acting up again? Honestly I had never actually paid attention to the design of the building before, beyond noting that there seemed to be a lot of stairs to get to the front doors. Maybe this was something I needed to keep an eye on before I started critiquing every design I saw, like if Garment was trapped in a discount clothing store.

The Vehicles constellation passed by as I entered the building. A quick check at the desk confirmed the reading room I had booked, despite it technically being too short notice. Still, the computer didn't say anything was wrong and with Garment helping with my wardrobe the Librarian didn't give me a second glance.

Well, she actually did give me a second glance, but not a suspicious one. More vague interest, some questions about what I was studying, and some assistance finding the book I was looking for. I thanked her for her help and settled into the reading room with a copy of Euclid's Elements, original Greek text with translation and notes.

The translation was absolute garbage. This was probably a consequence of being a native speaker of ancient Greek, but seeing how they butchered it into English was honestly painful. The dissonance was probably due to my Old Traditions power giving me cultural understanding along with language skills. There were a lot of nuances to how the Greek people expressed things that didn't translate perfectly.

Actually, considering how many times these books had been copied and translated over the centuries that reaction wasn't surprising. You have to consider the intent. There's a difference between trying to convey the concepts in a manner that can be understood by English speakers and trying to maintain the exact tone of the original text. Plus, this was based on a 1908 translation, so there would have been some cultural dissonance just from the fact that I'm not familiar with turn of the century British academia.

Eventually I just ignored the English portions and worked through the Greek text while enjoying the quiet reading room. It was a fairly modest space, a table and six chairs plus a few shelves. It was on one of the upper floors of the library and nestled away from the open area with its computers and help desks. This part of the library was closer to closed collections and the administrative offices than the general public. There was a window that looked out onto a row of shelves filled with books on tax law, but a venetian blind provided some privacy. It was about the best location I could manage for a discussion with Taylor.

I had transitioned from detailed study to light skimming of the text when there was finally a knock from outside the room. I felt the presence of someone through the Dragon Pulse, but I hadn't had the power long enough to tell if it was Taylor or not. I quickly shifted the book aside and called out to the visitor.

"Come in?"

The door slowly creaked open and a girl with long hair and glasses peaked through, almost like she was convinced she had the wrong place and was attempting to avoid intrusion.

No intrusion, this room was fully legally booked, and there would be no record of me ever having been here the second I was out of the building. Computer fault, old system, what can you say? Oh, a handful of booking records got corrupted? Tragedy of tragedies, however will we go on?

Yeah, it was excessive, but systems like this were basically kindergarten toys to me. I could probably have rewritten the entire system in the time it took me to climb the stairs. Covering my tracks was the pettiest of exercises.

"Hi Taylor." I greeted her as well as I could, putting on a warm face that I didn't really feel. It always struck me just how different her cape and civilian personas were. It was either a masterful display of acting or she had some serious issues with how she presented herself. I knew personally how putting on a mask could change the way you behaved. Half the stuff I did as Apeiron would have caused me to die of embarrassment in my civilian life.

"Hi…" She dropped off as she saw me, freezing like a deer in the headlights. I immediately felt self-conscious about my… well about my everything. I had relented to Garment's advice on what to wear and was immediately second guessing everything. What Divine Child had done to my upper body wouldn't be hidden by anything less than a poncho, so Garment didn't even try. Instead she had gone for situation appropriate clothing, which may have helped with the librarian but was obvious standing out now.

I was wearing a particular combination of subtle fashion and utilitarian clothing you found in university environments. Basically, I was dressed like a grad student. Well, a particularly ripped grad student, but that was the general theme. From the way Taylor was looking at me I could tell how ludicrous the ensemble must have looked.

I bit my tongue and forced a smile to stay on my face as Taylor processed things. "…Joe?" She finally half asked.

"Yes." I responded lamely. "Please, come in."

Taylor shuffled slowly into the room. She was wearing a different look from the last time I had seen her in civilian wear. Less baggy and drab. Not exactly high fashion, but the kind of thing you'd see at surplus stalls at the market. She didn't look that comfortable in the outfit, so I'm guessing it was a recent fashion change. Possibly a post-felony shopping spree.

Oh, God. I desperately hoped it had nothing to do with me. I didn't even know how to process that.

So I didn't. I let Taylor settle into a chair across from mine and made sure the door was shut before pulling a small device out of my jacket.

"What's that?" Taylor asked, leaning forward.

"It generates a charged EM partial field. It should block all transmissions as well as any attempts to listen in on our conversation through mundane or technical measures." It would also hold the door shut and resist small arms fire, but neither of those was its primary purpose.

"Are you expecting someone to spy on us?" Taylor asked in concern. "Is there anyone I should be looking for?"

There was a sense of movement and a kind of hazy web like feeling of chi through the building. Whatever effect Taylor used to connect with her bugs brought her very close to them as far as the Dragon's Pulse was concerned. It was a fascinating sensation and I would really like to get a better look at the effect.

Later. Now I had an awkward conversation to bumble through.

I quickly shook my head. "No, it's just a precaution. I had some extra time this morning and thought it would be a good idea. You know, to give some extra security?"

It felt like I was stumbling over my words, but Taylor nodded at me and I felt myself relax. I activated the projector and there was a slight shimmer at the edges of the room before the field settled into transparency.

Rather than prove to be a launching point I found myself sitting uncomfortably across from a teenage girl that half the internet seemed to believe I was in love with. I didn't even know how to start this, and Taylor seemed even less inclined to begin the conversation.

When it became clear that we weren't getting anywhere I took a deep breath and pressed forward.

"Taylor," She looked up at me through a curtain of hair. I swallowed and did my best to press on. "About the stuff online." God, come on. You can do better than that. "About Khepeiron." She almost flinched at the word and I had to steel myself to avoid losing my nerve. "Uh, I want you to know, I didn't mean for any of that to happen. And, uh, I'm sorry about that mess."

There was a period of empty silence in the room while we both processed my attempt at an apology. I had the fun experience of replaying every word of it back to myself and cringing at the obtuseness of it. I also had the horrible realization that this level of performance was with the benefit of Do One Thing at a Time, meaning my attempts would normally have been so much worse.

Of course, that might be a case of doubling my skill not having much to work with. Zero times two isn't an impressive number.

"It's okay." Taylor responded. "Well, not okay, but I mean, I understand. Not that, but, like it's, um, alright…" She petered off and seemed to retreat further into her hair.

The copy of Survey on my watch contacted my neural implant to request clarification on the sentence structure of Taylor's statement. I was suddenly very glad I didn't have a direct link to the Workshop's computer core at the moment. I did not need that kind of input and distraction right now.

I took a moment to pull myself together and remind myself that I was the adult in this situation and as such had a responsibility for sorting this out. I may have been as awkward as a teenage girl, and wasn't that a bleak situation to be in, but I had caused this mess and I had a responsibility to resolve it. I could hate myself later, but I needed to get this cleared up.

"Taylor." I spoke as calmly as I could while my stomach twisted into knots. "I'm sorry about the way things came across online. I didn't mean for them to be interpreted like that, and at the time I wasn't even considering how things would look. I should have stepped in to clear thing up sooner, but I was tied up with other projects and didn't prioritize the public reaction until it had already established itself." I took another breath and pressed on. "I'm sorry about how all this played out. I want to try to fix it, but I needed to talk to you first before I tried anything."

I watched as she processed things, and they seemed to be going a little better than from my first attempt. At least she wasn't shrinking into herself even further as she considered the situation, which I was taking as a win.

Finally, she sagged slightly and leaned back in her chair. "I mean, I understand." She sighed. "After the bank, the stuff online got crazy." Her voice had a bitter edge to it. "All the stuff they were saying about me, drawing about me…" She scowled. "I get it, the internet is crazy. I don't think I realized how big this stuff could get. I guess I always figured I'd stay beneath the radar, like out of notice. There are loads of capes you barely hear about. I guess I didn't realize how big this stuff could get."

I nodded blankly. From the way she acted in costume I wouldn't have pegged her as a low-profile cape. Even when she was running for her life the girl had a presence in the field. That was probably the insect control thing. With no visible control method and her bugs providing sense and location data she could act calm and focused while actually frantically monitoring and micromanaging everything. Of course, if people didn't know about that aspect of her power she just came across as cool and detached.

Then there was the effect of my weapons on the situation. Taylor probably would have been an imposing figure just by virtue of how intimidating her power could be. Add in a real threat like my wind knife and baton and suddenly she was locked into the public consciousness.

I tried a weak smile. "I think it's a bit late for low profile."

That got a dry laugh from the girl. "Yeah." She muttered. "Can't believe I was going for that. Seriously thought I'd be able to keep it."

From her tone there seemed to be something else she was talking about, but when she didn't elaborate I let it go. I wasn't in a position where I wanted to press her for information she didn't want to share.

I took another breath. "So, do you have any idea how you want to manage this?" I asked.

She just shrugged. "I mean, what can we do? It's already on news sites. We're beyond shipping theories now."

I sighed. Time to be the adult again. I couldn't just sit around lamenting how unfair the world is. I had to actually deal with it.

"I think," I started. "That the important thing is to have a plan." That got her to look up. "Even if the plan is to do nothing, to ignore the issue and let people come to their own decisions, the important thing is that we decide."

Taylor took a moment to process that as I felt the Celestial Forge connect to a mote from the Resources and Durability constellation. It was called Scrapper, and probably would have been a lot more valuable earlier in my career. It let me strip down anything that was technically possible to deconstruct and salvage any working parts for later use. Even the most complicated items would only take a few days to strip.

Well, a few days if you had no other skills and were working like a normal human. I could probably manage disassembly mid combat without too much trouble. Also, this would let me retrieve parts from tinker tech, some seriously advanced. It would make repurposing tinker tech much easier, and when combined with powers like Rationing would probably let me recover nearly everything that went into a device.

The power also came with a lab coat, laser pistol, and for some reason a bag of 100 bottlecaps. Mystery of the Forge I suppose.

I turned back to Taylor as she looked up at me. "So, seriously, what are our options here?"

The fact that she was turning to me for public relations advice was a good sign of just how screwed we were. Still, needed to be the adult here. Time to adult.

I cleared my throat. "Well, just laying them out?" Taylor nodded. "Okay, first I guess is ignore everything. Just don't comment on it, avoid any displays that can be mistaken for that kind of thing in the future and eventually it should die down."

From Taylor's expression I could tell she knew how good an idea that would be. 'Eventually' could be a hell of a long time, on the order of months to years depending on how these cycles went. If nothing else caught the public's eye there could be holdouts for the rest of our time as capes.

The plan to avoid displays that could be mistaken for a confirmation of this disaster was equally unlikely. Now that people had this in their heads confirmation bias would take over and every time we were in the same general area someone would swear they were picking up on hidden chemistry.

Full face masks really weren't our friend there.

"What are the other options?" Taylor asked in an almost pleading voice.

"I guess we make a statement clarifying things, confirm that there is no personal connection and that our relationship is professional." And that wasn't much better. Even publicly speaking on the matter would be enough to convince some people that we were together. Then there was the possibility that they would misinterpret this as a break up, or assume it was an attempt to divert attention or a hundred other things.

We were effectively trying to change public opinion that had grown organically in people's minds by making statements of facts. That wasn't going to be enough for people. We were their entertainment now, and they weren't going to accept a less engrossing narrative after they had become invested in a more engrossing one. Basically, we were stuck in a high school nightmare where the population had decided what was happening and they couldn't be dissuaded.

Taylor's head sank, and for some reason I got the feeling she had made the same high school connection I had. "Please tell me there's another option." She half begged.

I let out a slow breath and shook my head. "They've already drawn links between us. Really, at this point the only thing we could do is present another reason for the connection."

Taylor slowly lifted her head and looked at me. "You mean," Her voice had a frightening edge to it. "Like the real reason you came charging in on Saturday night."

I felt my stomach twist against my will. Taylor was looking at me with an intensity I had never seen from the girl. I tried to crack a smile at her comment, but could tell the effort was getting me nowhere.

"Taylor, I had a contract with Tattletale…" Her expression told me she wasn't buying it. "And I needed to stop Bakuda."

Taylor's expression didn't change as she drew out the silence following my statement. Those were the eyes of someone who had seen a mountain of bullshit flung at them and wasn't going to accept any more. I didn't insult her by trying to push this any further.

"…and I wanted to make sure you were safe." The admission caused a well of fear to bubble up inside me. This was the fate of the world, the fate of everything. I didn't want to think about this, talk about this, or expose any detail of this to the world. How did you explain something like that to a teenage girl?

"Why?" She asked in a flat voice. "Why is it so important I stay safe?"

I took a long breath while I tried to figure out how to approach this. Finally, I found a route that seemed like it could be navigated.

"Taylor, what did Lisa tell you about this?" I asked. "She said something about it when she talked to you earlier, right?"

Taylor nodded. "She said it was your thinker power, the one that gives you hunches? She said it told you to do it." She scowled. "At first she said you were doing whatever it told you, that we wouldn't need to worry because you leaned too much on your power, that it told you what to feel."

Okay, that hurt. It wasn't exactly wrong. My passenger had basically helped me stay functional during the aftermath of my trigger. It wasn't until I started seriously gaining powers and seeing how badly things could go from following his lead that I was able to distance myself.

Taylor continued. "She said she could read what your power was telling you really clearly, like it wanted her to hear it. That's why she wasn't worried about things until after Saturday night." There was a bitter tone to Taylor's voice and I got the feeling she resented how wrong Tattletale had been.

The statement raised all sorts of concerns on my end. Tattletale could apparently read my passenger, or thought she could. The idea that my passenger wanted Tattletale to read him was perfectly in line with his attitude about the thinker. I would have felt betrayed, but all it had done was create a false sense of security from her. I didn't like the idea, but in all honesty Tattletale was going to read something from me. Knowing she had been getting my passenger's reactions was a lot better than having her pull the details of my trigger event or family situation from thin air.

"She.." I began, paused to collect myself, then continued. "She was right. It was my thinker power, and it did tell me to protect you."

Taylor let out a long breath. "That's what this was all about? The knives, the special technology, the rescue and healing?" I nodded slowly. Taylor swallowed. "Why?"

It was such a simple question with such a loaded answer. I didn't want to answer it, but Taylor deserved to know the truth. At this point I couldn't justify keeping it from her any longer, not with this much information already in the open.

"My power…" I began. "It can give me hints about things. Some things that have happened, people's histories, or details about them, but also, rarely, things that are going to happen." Taylor nodded blankly and I continued. "There's… something. Something you're doing, or going to do, or working on, or involved with. I don't have the details, but it's important. Really, really important. Probably more important than anything else. That's the sense I got. That's why I've been trying to keep you safe."

I watched as the news rained down on the girl. I felt awful about it. It was more pressure than should be put on anyone, and I had just dumped it onto the shoulders of a teenage girl. How did someone even respond to that?

The way Taylor responded when she swallowed and looked up at me was just able the last thing I could have expected.

"I… think I know what it's talking about."

To say I was stunned would be the understatement of the century. I could only stare blankly at the girl as she looked at me with complete confidence in her statement.

"Taylor," I tried. "I'm pretty sure you don't." That was about the most polite way I could say it. Whatever she was thinking it was almost entirely 100% certainly not the problem my power had warned me about.

Instead she just shook her head. "No, there's something. I kind of suspected it earlier, but it makes sense now. I'm pretty sure it's what your power was reading."

"Taylor," I tried to keep my voice level. "I'm really, really sure that whatever you are thinking about, this isn't it. I can't exactly explain the scale of this, not without getting really deep into how my power works, but I can pretty much assure you it's bigger than whatever you are thinking of."

I watched in horror as the girl shook her head in complete confidence. "Look, I can't talk about it. If it's as important as you say then I need to keep the information secure."

"No, you don't." I was practically shouting. "Taylor, if this is anything like what I think it is you need to tell me. And once again, I don't think we're talking about the same thing."

"I really can't tell you." She assured me in an infuriatingly calm tone. "And how can you be so sure this isn't it?"

Because you aren't screaming and weeping on the floor? Because the shear existential dread at the scope of the future of all existence resting on your actions hasn't crushed your spirit and mind? Because there is no way I can conceive of whatever you are dealing with having the fate of the cosmos in the balance?

"Because I'm pretty sure." Was the best I could manage.

She just smiled softly while I swore I could feel an ulcer form in my stomach, despite the fact that my entire gastrointestinal system was reinforced with magical adamantium mithril. "So am I. You can trust me."

I swear I would have bitten off my tongue if not for the aforementioned reinforcement. The Dragon's Pulse let me feel the calm, the reassurance she was under. That was not the reaction a sane person would have to a threat of this scale. Whatever she was dealing with it was nowhere near the fate of the world.

Then the real horror of it hit me. Of course, it wasn't near the fate of the world. But it must still be significant if she was equating it to what I had warned her about. That meant that not only was Taylor vital to the survival of existence, but she had also gotten herself caught up in something else, and by the sound of it that was about as dangerous as anything in this city could be.

Oh my God, this girl was going to be the death of me. Seriously, didn't I have some plan about throwing her in a stasis field until the end of the world crisis hit? I glanced at the door to the room and wondered if I could open the workshop and get her into one of the Laboratorium scanning bays before she realized what was happening.

I let out a sigh and slumped onto the table. No, that was probably a horrible idea, for like, ethical reasons and stuff. If I wasn't willing to do it to Aisha I wouldn't do it to Taylor. So, the only option I had was to deal with whatever nightmare of danger, crime, and probably dismemberment she had gotten herself caught up in.

The Magitech constellation passed by as I considered how to handle this. To be somewhat glib the first thing that jumped to mind when I asked myself how I was going to handle this was 'badly'. That was it really. The girl who the entire fate of the creation rested upon was involved in something that was serious enough that when I warned her about the worst thing imaginable her response was basically 'Oh, that thing'.

Fuck my life.

I took a deep breath and put aside my frustrations. Grousing about this wouldn't help. Pressing Taylor for details on her super-secret deadly entanglement was unlikely to have any positive results. Really there was only one option to me.

I sat up, looked directly a Taylor and spoke in the most sympathetic voice I could manage.

"Alright. How can I help?"

That was clearly not the response Taylor was expecting. Her mouth did a goldfish impersonation for a few second before she replied.

"Sorry, what?"

"How can I help?" I repeated. "Even if we're not talking about the same thing you're obviously dealing with something bad. What can I do to help you with it?"

She seemed at a loss. "Like help how?" She asked.

"What do you need?" She looked blankly at my question. "You said you can't talk about it. So, what do you need?"

"I..." she stuttered before pressing forward. "I can just ask for anything? Like, technology, weapons, whatever?"

I held back my reaction at what Taylor could manage if more heavily armed. "If you need firepower I'm going to have to insist on helping directly, but technology sure. Defensive, surveillance, transportation, whatever. If you just need someone to help I can do that too. If this is bad you shouldn't have to deal with it on your own."

Taylor reviewed my statement with an intensity that suggested she was translating it from a foreign language. It was a harrowingly familiar sight. Blanket offers of help weren't a common thing in my own experience, and usually came from people with strict stipulation on what would be offered and an implied obligation in return. Half the time the question was just a way to judge you based on what you requested.

I did everything I could to convey that wasn't the case here. Rather than be reassured Taylor seemed to be put more off balance every second. Eventually she let out a sigh and sank onto the table. When I leaned forward to check on her she waved me off.

"Sorry, it's just…" She petered out without finishing the sentence.

"It's okay." I assured her. "I get it."

Taylor shot me a skeptical glare, then slowly nodded her head. "Right." She sighed. "Sorry, I've been dealing with a lot. This… thing. It's kind of gotten away from me. I'm not sure how to really manage it anymore."

I buried the foreboding feeling in my gut and maintained a supportive face. "It's fine. Look, if things are bad I'll help out however I can. It doesn't have to be specific to this."

I mean, fate of the multiverse. That was worth making sure her life wasn't falling apart due to all this cape insanity.

Taylor gave me a long look before nodding slowly. "Yeah, I guess." She let out a long breath. "Things haven't been good. I mean for a long time."

I nodded and let her continue.

"Okay." She rallied herself slightly. "When I was talking to the Undersiders they said people didn't talk about how they got their powers, that it was because that only happened on the worst day of their life."

My mind jumped back to my own trigger event, the implications of it, and my recent revisiting of everything thanks to my sister's phone call. Taylor's eyes widened, telling me I clearly hadn't been schooling my expression as carefully as I intended.

I gave her grim smile before I replied. "That should probably be 'worst day of your life so far'."

There was a moment while Taylor processed it, then she cracked and let out a dry laugh. "Alright, I can see that." She took a breath. "When I had my trigger event…" She paused as I held up my hand.

"Taylor, I appreciate you sharing, but that kind of thing is usually both really personal and very traumatic." I explained. "If you want to talk about it I'm here, but you don't have to tell me to give context or explain yourself. It's okay if you want to keep that to yourself."

She paused for a moment, then nodded. "When… that happened," She took a breath. "It happened at my school, and it was bad. The situation, it had been building for a long time, then afterwards it didn't really get better."

I was getting all kinds of reactions from my passenger and it was frankly hard to pace the individual feelings. There was a lot tied up in this and he was seriously invested in it. What's more I could tell he was restraining his reactions, meaning there was a serious storm of emotions behind this. Whatever this incident was, it was very bad.

I nodded and did what I could to reassure her. "I'm not saying I know what happened to you, but I get that High School can be terrible."

She looked up at me. Specifically, up at my height, then across at my shoulders and even at my arms. I felt kind of objectified by the end of it. "YOU had a hard time?"

I was mildly resentful of her skepticism, but I pushed forward. "Okay, first off, major growth spurt that decided to drag its heels. I didn't full level out until two years after I graduated." She gave an understanding nod. "And yeah, high school can be terrible. I think the accepted idea is anyone who considered it the best years of their life ended up making it hell for someone else." That seemed to particularly resonate with her. "Really the only thing that kept me going was focusing on college and well…"

I trailed off when I realized where the conversation had taken me. Taylor gave me a sympathetic look. "Uh, Lisa said you dropped out?"

I gave a faint nod. "Made it two years before things piled up more than I could handle. Since then I spent a year trying to get back on track, and another trying to get my life together." I sighed. "Look, a lot of times you think your problems are tied to one place or one thing, but if you don't know how to deal with them they tend to follow you."

That seemed to make her uncomfortable, so I backed off while she broke eye contact. She glanced over at my book and raised an eyebrow.

"Were you taking math? Greek?"

I smiled. This was a marginally more comfortable topic. "Engineering, actually." I replied. "Brockton University has a co-op program with the PRT. Fourth years get to work with tinker tech. I always regretted missing out on that."

"Right." Taylor smiled. "I mean, how else are you ever going to get that chance."

I grinned back. "You given any thought to college? I mean, I wouldn't recommend focusing on it as a way to get through high school, but…"

"Yeah." She nodded. "I actually wanted to take English. Haven't given it much thought since high school started, but that used to be the plan."

"Brockton U actually had a really good English department." I offered.

Taylor looked up at me and seemed to be doing some calculation in her head. Suddenly her eyes widened and her mouth took on a soft smile. "Really?" She asked. "What was it like."

"Well, it wasn't my major, so I just took the required courses." Taylor nodded. "I had a really good professor for both years I was there." I smiled slightly and Taylor returned the expression. "She was actually my faculty advisor."

Taylor's face froze, but her expression didn't change. "Really?" Her voice sounded a little strained as she asked.

"You can pick someone outside your department if you want, and she was one of the best professors on campus. I was actually lucky to get her." No matter what my parents said on the matter.

Taylor nodded a little robotically. "She was a good professor?"

"One of the best." I replied. "Really cared about her students, the material, everything. She was great." Talking about it was bringing back some less than pleasant memories. Taylor must have picked up on my reaction.

"Was?" She asked. I dropped my head. I don't know how I'd let that slip, but I had gone over this enough that I could manage it here.

"She, uh, she passed away during my second year. Car accident." It had come out of nowhere, wake up one day in late November and hear about the memorial service.

"Was…" I looked up at Taylor. It looked like she hadn't moved a muscle in her face since I started talking about this. "Was that why you dropped out?"

I sighed. This was very well trodden ground. While I considered how to respond I felt the Forge connect to a mote from the Alchemy constellation. It was the last small mote from the cluster that had provided Simplified Formulae and Alkahestry. This was called Advanced Formulae and, like the name implied, greatly advanced my understanding of transmutation. This took it from a bulk construction tool to a method of delicate creation with immense combat applications.

It also meant the only mote left in that cluster was the giant one, the one larger than any amount of reach I had ever built. It was an intimidating prospect, and the advantages of this power were immense, but I didn't have time to ruminate on them now. I pushed the questions aside and focused on my reply.

"It contributed." I admitted. "The associate professor who replaced her didn't know what he was doing. It made it harder to get support when things started slipping." I sighed. "I used to think it was just bad luck, you know, a bunch of things piling up at once and leading to me dropping out, but that's not really it."

"What do you mean?" Taylor was holding the table and leaning forward. I didn't know why she was so engaged in this, but I felt an obligation to see it through, no matter how uncomfortable.

"It's like I said about problems following you? I still had all the issues that made high school hard, I was just getting support so the fact that I couldn't deal with them wasn't apparent." I took a breath. "My professor was great, but looking back she was a lot better at helping hold people up than making sure they could stand on their own. I dropped out because of my own problems and mistakes, not because of anyone else."

I looked up to check on Taylor and froze. She hadn't moved, but there were lines of tears flowing down her cheeks. I sat there like an idiot, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. When I tried to say something she waved me off and fished a tissue out of her bag. I watch dumbly as she cleaned herself up, took a deep breath and turned towards me.

"I just realized we never actually introduced ourselves." There was a gleam in her eyes, even more than the tears would account for. I nodded at her. At this point my full name wasn't really a secret, not with this much information in the open and a thinker like Tattletale on her side.

"Right." I smiled at her as optimistically as I could manage. "I'm Jozef Duris."

She gave me a smile in return. "Taylor Hebert."

My mind froze. My mind froze, shattered, and was reassembled into a licensed Lego kit. I opened my mouth and said the first words I could manage.

"You're Professor Hebert's daughter?"

---

Addendum Ethan

Ethan made his way through the PRT headquarters, ignoring the pain that followed his every movement. He was supposed to be resting, but there was nothing restful about staying at home while his wife was out there risking her life.

Shawn may have gotten the front-page picture, but that was because the Protectorate was in no hurry to advertise how badly they had been trounced by Lung. The man was a terror at the best of times, but now he was fully on the warpath. There would have been reprisal attacks just from escaping Protectorate custody, but the exact circumstances of his capture and breakout meant that the dragon man was trying to prove something.

That was something that still burned at him, and he appreciated the irony of using that term. They'd called him 'lucky' after the attack on the rig. 'Lucky' that he didn't need skin grafts. 'Lucky' that he didn't inhale enough superheated air to damage his lungs. 'Lucky' that things weren't worse.

'Lucky' would have been stopping Lung from escaping. 'Lucky' would have been actually being able to tag Oni Lee without finding out you were three clones behind. 'Lucky' was supposed to be a measure of success, not just gratitude that things weren't worse.

He wasn't technically supposed to be back at work, though to be fair this didn't count as active duty. It was just something that needed a Protectorate official to be present for. Even with his medical status he could handle walking through the PRT building, and no matter how overblown the accusations might be it wasn't like this was actually a prisoner escort.

"Hey boys." He called out. "One to pick up."

The agent on duty gave him a faint grin before entering a command on his terminal. Within a few seconds the door behind him slid open to reveal an absolutely livid teenage girl.

She stomped out of the room, shooting the agent on duty a dirty look before turning to him and freezing. He gave his best professional grin, feeling the bandages pull at his face as he did.

"Hello Amy. It's good to see you."

"I'll bet it is." She muttered, but a lot of the fury seemed to have left her. This was probably a calculated play by the Director. Most people who had issues with the Protectorate or PRT didn't naturally transfer them to him. It was an advantage of the endearing persona he had built up over the years of his parole.

"So, let me guess." She continued. "Everything happened exactly the way the tinker said it would, you did nothing to prepare for it, and I've been stuck in the tank the entire time."

The agent spoke up from his terminal. "Revealing details of that nature would violate Master/Stranger protocols."

The man was covering his ass, but Panacea gave him another dirty look. Ethan shot her another smile. "He's right you know. And besides, things didn't happen exactly the way the tinker predicted. They're actually a lot worse."

The girl let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, I can see that."

And she hit the nail on the head insofar as the other reason the Director had assigned him to this role. You couldn't request healing from a cape under Master/Stranger protocols, but if someone just happened to receive some treatment during an escort operation, and they immediately received a clean bill of health then they could be back at their wife's side that very night.

Of course, the Director might be blunt as a hammer, but Ethan knew how to play these things. Namely, don't ask for anything you're not going to get. Amy was in no mood to be charitable. There was a possibility she might be in better spirits by the end of this, but that was a long shot. All he could do was play things as friendly as he could manage and maybe try to make sure the girl was alright as well.

You know, the thing he was actually here to do.

When she received no response but his winning smile Amy sighed in defeat and spoke up. "So, what's this about? They finally testing me out?"

"I'm afraid not." He answered. "We've got something else lined up." She gave him a confused look. "Your uncle is here to see you."

The girl froze. "Not Uncle Neil?" She asked.

"Nope. Lightstar is back in Brockton Bay, just for you." He watched as Amy cycled through a dozen emotions, half looking like she might run back into the stranger tank.

"Hey," He assured her. "It'll be alright."

"They're going to record this, aren't they?" She muttered. "It's going to be like the last time."

"No, it's not." He assured her. "They'll have a camera, and I'll be there. They'll have a rep from the Youth Guard watching, but that's for oversight and they won't be in the room. The tape is related to your case, nobody is going to be releasing it or calling anyone about what's said. If it's not connected to master allegations or an admission of crime then it counts as a private conversation. You have every right to lock it down if you want."

The girl swallowed and took some slow breaths. Ethan kind of hated himself in that moment. Everything he said was true, but the chances of this place keeping a lid on anything juicy was next to zero. At the very least the Director would review the conversation. She had a dozen protocols she could use to get access. There would be liability if it leaked any further, but that brought lawyers into it. Of course that 'master allegation' thing could be stretched to cover a lot.

Still, it was calming Amy down enough that she was able to follow him. He wished he could assure her the policies he quoted would actually be followed, but that was beyond his control. All he could do was try to help her now.

Thankfully they didn't decide to have the talk in one of the interrogation rooms. Ethan almost had a fit when he saw that. Steel table, uncomfortable chairs, glaring overhead light, and obvious two-way glass. Sure, that would have gone over great.

Instead they were talking in one of the conference rooms. There was actually coffee and drinks on the sideboard and chairs with padding around a table that at least looked like wood. There was natural light from a frosted window and the 'surveillance' was being conducted through an obvious camcorder set up on a tripod.

Any tech who complained about not being able to read pupil dilation or the lack of multiple angles could go screw themselves. He remembered his own capture, and all the times he'd spent in the M/S tank. If they wanted anything but obstinance they would have to treat girl like an actual person.

When they entered a tall man with red blond hair and a star logo on his shirt rose to greet them.

"Amy!" He watched the girl take a moment to recall the figure standing in front of her before rushing in for a hug. "It's been too long. I'm sorry for not visiting."

"No." She replied. "I understand. Believe me." She muttered the last portion. "Thank you for coming."

"It's no trouble." He broke the hug and they settled into opposite chairs while Ethan took a chair by the camera. He wasn't playing cinematographer. One glance to confirm it was recording was enough. The lady from the Youth Guard could be happy with the live feed and anyone else who wanted access could go through her.

God help their souls if they tried.

"I'm sorry for all of this." Lightstar continued. "I wish it could be under better circumstances."

"It's alright." Amy glanced straight at the camera. "At least you're here."

The man cleared his throat. "Amy, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you all this. I really thought your mother would have let you know everything by now." He sighed. "Anything you want to ask, go ahead."

Amy looked at the camera again, then steeled herself and turned to her uncle. "I… I want to know about my father." She swallowed. "I need to know if what people told me was true. I need to know what happened, what the tinker was talking about."

Lightstar nodded. "The tinker…" He turned to Ethan. "Can I tell her his name, or will that be a breach?"

Technically they wouldn't want anything shared, but this was so minor he could afford the slip. If they wanted things perfectly by the book they should have sent his wife. "That's fine, it's not locally relevant."

"Right," He turned back to Amy. "The tinker is going by Apeiron."

"Apearon?" She asked.

"Apeiron. It's Greek." He answered. "Means boundless."

And it also had a whole pile of terrifying mythological implications that had analysts browning their pants. Everyone was really hoping it was the math term and not the primal chaos definition.

Amy nodded and her uncle continued. "I don't know how he knows about it, but Apeiron was right. There was something between New Wave and your father, and it was particularly bad with Carol."

He could see a shudder go through the girl. He desperately hoped that it wouldn't end up fodder for some new crazy theory that would have her locked away for another week.

"He was a villain, wasn't he?" Amy looked up as her uncle nodded.

"Amy, we can go into as much or as little detail as you want here. I don't want to make this harder on you." The man was speaking carefully, and Ethan had the sense he was on unfamiliar ground. If he remembered what Battery had told him Lightstar had two young children, not exactly something that prepares you for a distraught teen. At least he was treading lightly, which is better than what Colin had done in the initial interview.

"No," she replied. "I have to know this. It isn't going to get better. Just… Just tell me what happened. Please."

"Right." He paused. "Before we start, do you know who your father was? Or at least suspect?"

Amy's eyes dropped to the table. "I think I know. I mean, I have… theories." Theories that kept her awake at night by the sound of things. Ethan knew raising kids was hard, but keeping them in the dark about something this big seemed cruel. "Can you just tell me?"

Lightstar nodded. "Amy, your father was Marquis."

The words caused the girl to deflate like a balloon. Ethan could swear he even heard the little squeak of air escaping as she sank into the chair. Lightstar let her sit there without saying anything, just letting the silence draw out.

Finally her breathing steadied and she lifted her head. It looked like the light had gone out of her eyes. In a haunted voice she asked. "What happened with New Wave? What happened with Mom?"

The man opposite her took a deep breath. "We weren't New Wave back then. We were still the Brockton Bay Brigade. It was your mom and dad, Aunt Sarah and Uncle Neil, and me and Aunt Jess."

Brandish, Flashbang, Lady Photon, Manpower, Lightstar, and Fleur. A crazy amount of firepower for an independent team, and one of the top powers in the city. At least until Fleur's death and Lightstar's retirement.

"Marquis was one of the big powers in the city. We had fought him a lot, but he always got away. He was the kind of person who could take on an entire team and make it look easy."

Amy watched dead eyed as her uncle explained. To Ethan the description was bringing up uncomfortable associations with the city's latest tinker. He wasn't the first person to make that connection, particularly the lack of territory, independent nature, high power, and particular code, or at least commitment to contracts.

People would say that the last thing the city needed was another Marquis, but given the alternatives presenting themselves more than a few people were open to the idea. Just none who would voice it within earshot of the Director.

"We got a lead on him, but it was risky. We had a team meeting and decided it was probably the best shot we'd ever have, so we took it." He explained.

"What was it?" Amy was at least becoming more engaged, if not more enthusiastic.

The older man sighed. "We found out where he lived and decided to go after him there. While he was out of costume."

Ethan grit his teeth at the confession. That was bad. Sure, the unwritten rules were unwritten and ten years ago they weren't that well established, but there were reasons to keep cape business out of homes.

Dread crept up his spine and his eyes shifted to Amy. Ten years ago. Amy adopted by New Wave. Something bad. He could see where this was going and he wished he couldn't.

"That was what Apeiron was talking about?" She asked. "You broke the unwritten rules?"

Lightstar nodded. "It wasn't as bad back than as it would be now. We talked about it and decided it was worth the risk."

"And you caught him?" Her uncle nodded. "He's dead? In the Birdcage?"

"Birdcage." Lightstar clarified. "He was one of the earlier prisoners. The hundred and fiftieth, or somewhere around there."

The Birdcage. The Baumann Parahuman Containment Center. Just the name of the place made Ethan's body tense and cold sweat drip down his back. He didn't show any reaction, he had trained himself not to. When they captured him and he offered to join the Protectorate they had laughed. A man who had devoted his life to breaking out criminals before they could be sent to that hell hole was willing to work to send more people there.

He laughed along with it and pretended he had no principles. That it had been business, and he didn't care. Protectorate or villain, they both paid right? Let him stay free and his principles could burn.

The truth was he was keeping his principles religiously. As Madcap he had devoted his life to keeping people out of the Birdcage, and as his final act Madcap had kept Ethan out of that place. He hadn't devoted his life to stopping people from ending up there out of some noble sense of freedom, he did it because the place was horrifying beyond belief, and there was no way in hell he would take that trip if there was any way out.

So, he became Assault. He created a new life, found new ways to use his power so nobody would suspect anything, and most of all he stayed out of the Birdcage.

From the transcript of Apeiron's conversation with Panacea and his talk with Weld and Director Armstrong people had dug through everything they could. One thing people were pretty sure of was the man had some college education, just from the terminology he used when describing parahumans and triggers. People sitting in a lecture hall discussing the mechanics of parahuman abilities used different phrases than what you get in the criminal underworld. Generally, there's a lot less precision and a lot more profanity outside of a university environment.

One bit was interesting. That thing about Trigger Theory. Ethan had looked it up when on bed rest. The idea that your powers were an expression of how you triggered, different types of situations creating breakers, tinkers, thinkers, and so on.

Ethan wondered if anyone considered the kind of event that would give someone mover-striker powers, and why that person would be averse to people being trapped in a subterranean hellhole?

Best not to think about it. Madcap was behind him and right now he had about as much of a chance of ending up in the Birdcage as Panacea did. He turned his attention back to the girl as she began to speak.

"What…" Amy took a breath and continued. "What about mom? What did she do?"

Ethan could see the discomfort spread through Lightstar. The man clenched and unclenched his fist before responding.

"That fight was hard. Even with all of us there, even with the element of surprise, we weren't winning." He sighed. "It was a bad environment for us. We were tripping over each other. Nobody could open up with their powers. The fight was turning into a disaster." He reached up and rested a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently.

"How did you win?" Amy asked.

"Your Aunt Sarah was the first to notice it." He spoke slowly. "He was protecting something during the fight. He would take hits rather than let any attack get close to the door of one of the closets."

Ethan watched as Amy's eyes widened and flickers of recollection seemed to dance across her face.

"He was getting away. He could do that, burrow with his power. It was almost impossible to chase him. That's when your mom decided to attack the closet door." The man stopped talking for a moment to give the girl an apologetic look. "And your father jumped between it and her. She stabbed him through the shoulder."

"Why did he do that?" Amy's voice was small as she spoke.

Lightstar looked at her for a long moment and Ethan knew why. He had seen the recollection on her face. She knew the answer. He did too. It made perfect sense. To any parent it made sense.

"He did it because someone was in the closet." He replied. "Because…"

"Because I was in the closet." Tears were leaking from Amy's eyes. Ethan rose to retrieve a box of tissues from the sideboard and passed them to her. She took one without looking at it and made no move to wipe her face. "Marquis saved me from mom. From Carol." She didn't sound like she believed the words that were coming out of her mouth.

Lightstar sighed. "She didn't know you were in there, but that's one of the reasons this kind of thing became part of the unwritten rules. It's dangerous, and bad things happen." He shook his head. "Afterwards he, Marquis asked us to take care of you. To keep you safe from people who would try to hurt you or use your power."

"And Carol got stuck with me?" She said in a bitter tone.

Lightstar shook his head. "It wasn't like that. Your mom was the best person to look after you. Aunt Jess really wanted to take you in…"

"Really?" Amy asked, looking up.

"Absolutely. We… we weren't in the best place to look after someone. Your mom and aunt knew it, and I went along with them. But Jess would have loved to have you."

That brought a slight smile to the girl's face. It was fleeting, but at least they weren't ending on a completely sour note.

"Is there anything else you want to know? Anything at all?" Lightstar leaned forward as he asked, but Amy shook her head.

"Uh, maybe later but no. Not right now. Thank you, but…"

He nodded. "Alright. I'll be in the city for a while, and I meant everything I said when you called. Let me know if you need anything."

Amy glanced back in the direction of the cells. "If I can."

There was still a slightly bitter edge to her voice, but at least some humor had crept in. Ethan let them say their goodbyes before escorting Amy back towards the M/S unit.

"So…" He started. "Since I was front row to that I think I'm entitled to ask, how are you doing?"

She blew out a breath. "My father's a villain. One of the worst villains in the city's history. He killed people. And my mother almost killed me trying to kill him."

"So that's a bad?" He asked. "Really bad? Really bad with the addition of a bunch of words PR doesn't want me to say?"

That drew a smile from the girl. "I'll go with the third one, thanks."

He smiled back. "Okay, he was a villain. That's bad, I won't try to sugar coat it. But it doesn't say anything about you."

"Really?" She asked sarcastically. "Nothing?"

"No…" He drew out the word. "I guess this does mean you are the evil villain's beautiful daughter who turns to the side of good. That's got to be a step up."

That got a snort from the girl. "You make it sound like being a villain is a joke."

He shrugged. "Being a villain is a joke. Being a criminal is serious, but villains are all costumes and pageantry. They're still criminals, but that's the serious side. The joke side puts on pajamas and runs around trying to rob banks."

"Sure." She said bitterly. "It's just a light switch. Doesn't mean anything at all."

"I wouldn't say that." He admitted. "But it's not hard and fast. Heroes have gone bad and villains have ended up working for the Protectorate."

"You're kidding." She gasped up at him. "Why would a villain work with heroes?"

He slowed his pace. "There are reasons."

"Like what?" she snapped.

He let out a breath. "Sometimes it's a second chance. Sometimes they were villains because they believed in something that seemed right, but wasn't. Sometimes they found someone who decided to give them a shot and they don't want to disappoint them."

He realized he'd been looking off to the side as he talked. He quickly schooled his expression and turned back to Amy, who was looking at him with wide eyes. "Are you…" She asked.

He cut her off before she could finish. "Well this is your stop. Let me know if you need a refill on junk food and magazines. As a person committed to bed rest I recommend the Haagen-Dazs double mocha chip. Really fills the void."

She looked like she wanted to say something, then nodded. She turned towards the man at the terminal, then swung back towards him.

A hand reached up and caught the exposed skin on his neck. He felt a rippling in his body as burns vanished and internal injuries disappeared. Amy pulled her hand back and looked up at him.

"Good luck. It sounds like they need you out there." She smiled as she spoke.

"Thanks. And good luck to you as well." She glanced back as the agent opened the door and gave him a sad nod before disappearing back into the tank.

Ethan smiled and flexed his arms. He was back. He needed to get these bandages off. He needed to report to the Director.

And he probably would need several hours of evaluation before they actually let him into the field. Thank God for Haagen-Dazs double mocha chip.

Jumpchain abilities this chapter:

Scrapper (Fallout 4) 300:

You have the capability to dismantle and repurpose objects for your own creations; even ones that you might not fully understand. So long as it's not hopelessly beyond your understanding, indestructible, or ridiculously big, you're capable of taking most things and reducing them to their base components, salvaging any working parts with only a few days of work at the worst.

Starting Gear (Fallout 4) 0:

You get faction appropriate clothing (normal clothes for Drop Ins and Railroad, a uniform for BOS, lab coat for Institute, and a hodge-podge of leather and scrap metal for Raiders) and your choice of a 10mm pistol, brass knuckles, a security baton, a machete, or a laser pistol (regular or Institute), as well as 100 Caps

Advanced Formulae (Fullmetal Alchemist) 100:

Alchemy comes to you as breathing does. Your greater understanding allows for the creation of more complex alchemy. You can combine with Simplified Formulae for multipurpose combat alchemy