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.

61. 46-2 Interlude Brian - Colin

46.2-1 Interlude Brian

Brian picked his way through the damaged streets, making his way towards the team's hideout. The after effects of the attack permeated the city in a way he had never experienced before. He had seen enough of the aftermath the previous night, but it had a different texture during the day. That was probably due to the people, not just in numbers, but in attitude. The determined and even occasionally hopeful faces were a far cry from what he'd seen after the end of the attacks.

Even the most hardened of Brocktonites had been shell shocked after the display that ended the fight. Recovery work had moved forward, but it had been done with an air of desperation. The focus was on containing fires, clearing access lanes, and finding survivors. He was well acquainted with that last one, having spent most of the night searching through rubble.

Really, he had spent the time managing Alec and trying to keep the boy on task. A side effect of Regent's actual power let him feel out people's nervous systems. It wasn't like he could precisely track opponents or see people through walls, but he could get a general idea of where they were. Enough to point out sections of rubble where people were trapped.

But not enough to do any more than that. All they could do was get close enough for the watches to confirm a scan, then move on. It was impressive seeing what the technology could do, but also more than a little concerning. Joe had been open about them collecting medical data and information on the team's powers, he had just badly undersold how powerful the scanners that had been bundled into the watches actually were.

Underselling his abilities seemed to be something of a theme with Joe. It didn't help that a blind man could see he was getting more powerful, which threw off any attempt to calibrate things. You could never be sure if when he was playing something off as minor whether it was because he was trying to downplay his technology, or if he just hadn't advanced to the level of whatever terrifying reveal would be next.

The thing is, you couldn't say Joe had ever tried to actively deceive them. If anything, he had gone further than anyone could be expected to. At their first meeting he'd mentioned building power armor, something Brian half-dismissed as a joke. Then he showed up less than two days later with a case full of self-repairing tinker tech and handed it off for a price that was less than pennies on the dollar. What they were dealing with hadn't really sunk in at that point, and after the bank and with the chaos of the city he didn't really have a chance for proper examination of the situation.

Everyone had been struggling and coping in their own way. After Bakuda's escape Alec was on everyone's shit list for the first few days, but he suspected that was more about venting their own frustrations than holding the boy accountable for messing up his role in the fight. If Alec had been his usually irreverent self that might have been it for his involvement in the Undersiders, but you could see he was taking things as hard as any of them. In some ways it seemed to hit him even harder. The lack of him being an asshole for the sake of being an asshole had been enough to even get Rachel to pull back on her anger over the situation.

When the call went out from Joe for help in the aftermath Brian supposed he should be grateful just getting Alec out into the field. He had known some of the issues the boy was dealing with and what he was trying to get away from. He had been able to piece part of it together even without Lisa's insight. He did always wonder how much of what Alec put forward was genuine laziness as opposed to just trying to distance himself from the world around him.

Not that the world had been particularly inviting as of late. The chaos that had been unleashed over the city in the past week was enough to make anyone want to cut themselves off. Back at the start of things, when Lisa had pitched the bank job he knew it would be trouble. It was the kind of stunt that was practically designed to bring down heat. He just had no idea how much heat it was possible to see out of one event.

Even if nothing else had happened, if the ABB had never attacked, if the city stayed sane, it would still have been a massive turning point for the team. After what they had fought through… Well, it would have been impressive just getting away free and clear from something like that. Taking the Wards out, a well-trained and well-funded team with control of the battlefield, beating that was the kind of thing reputations were built on.

Then Aegis had lunged at Taylor. After that everything was different. He had known it then, clear as day. The Undersiders could never go back to how things were before. He hadn't been happy about that, he hadn't been ready for that, but he knew to not let himself get caught up in his own feelings, not in the aftermath of a job. Being a leader meant managing the situation and thinking about the future of the team. Complaining about things you couldn't change wouldn't help anything.

He had made the decision to go into that heist. They all had. With the boss offering twice their take from the bank it had been too enticing to turn down. The take had actually been excellent, about as good as it could have been. Joe's knives had bypassed any minor obstacle like locked drawers, barred doors, or cash cages within the vault. Regent had even wanted to have a go at the safety deposit boxes, but they didn't have time to waste on what was probably a collection of passports and birth certificates. And thanks to completely routing the Wards they got away with everything.

Tattletale's upper estimate was thirty grand in cash, with the boss's bonus bringing it to ninety. They had done even better, managing their first six figure job. Even with all the heat, the fundamental change in the team circumstances, he had been thrilled over that. He was so close to getting custody. Just a few more things and he'd be set. Once the apartment was ready and Aisha was set up in a new school any chance of his mother messing things up was practically nonexistent.

The situation with his sister had become a lot more complicated. Not exactly worse, or at least he hoped not worse, but complicated. Complicated on a level that even after everything they'd been through in the past week, even after the insanity of the previous night, he needed to get Lisa's help. At least she would understand why he was more concerned about the situation with his sister than the upending of the power balance of the entire east coast. Possibly the entire country depending on what Joe's next move would be.

In a way he was almost grateful for the concern. Dealing with something Aisha-related was familiar territory. He'd had preciously little familiar territory since the bank job and its aftermath. Despite the world turning upside down Aisha was still Aisha and he was still her big brother, needing to make sure she hadn't gotten in over her head. Again.

He sighed as he found himself needing to cross one of the weird trails of stuff that had been thrown off when Joe was injured. He stopped himself from getting caught up in concerns over that kind of ambush from the ABB, the technology Joe must have had on him to create something so widespread, the highly disturbing nature of his healing, and every other thing about the fight. He would need to get into them at some point, but it would be with Tattletale's help. Despite knowing Joe personally, he had barely any more understanding of what was going on than the average person on the street. Just an inside look at the escalation curve and some additional concerns centered on offhand comments and casual displays of power.

In terms of those displays, this one wasn't particularly bad. There were ones that were particularly bad, terrifying even, but mercifully most of them fired off into the bay. Some of them weren't even clear in their effects, just a trail of vaguely glowing torn up city leading to a strip of water that churned unsettlingly. Some were all too clear, like the active lava flow, cloud of glass fragments, or electrified trail of yellow earth. What he was looking at was positively benign in comparison.

Extending from the container yard at a trajectory that was nearly parallel to the Boardwalk stretched a trail of frost. It looked like the city had seen snowfall in a straight line with nothing else touched. He paused before stepping into the effect and immediately felt the biting cold. His feet crunched against what was more of an ice slick than the gentle dusting of snow it had looked like.

Luckily someone had dumped gravel across the road and sidewalks, meaning traction didn't completely disappear the moment you entered the chilled space. It was bitterly cold, but at least people could walk or drive through it without sliding out. He looked across the frost-covered buildings that were intersected by the effect and wondered if they had been damaged by the cold, or if it was limited to the surface, frosted windows and icy roofs. The alternative would be something like frozen or burst pipes, or other winter related damage. Brockton had a mild climate, so things weren't built for the extremes you saw in the rest of New England. It was minor compared to the scope of the attacks, but these were the kind of things that added up.

Despite the suspicious nature of the mysterious tinker effect, you weren't seeing any level of significant concern played towards the lane of frost. It was further from the rest of the critical areas and well out of the blackout zone. Combined with being one of the more benign effects and one of the closest ones to the Boardwalk and you had people treating it as more of a curiosity than a concern. They were either hurrying to cross the area or poking at the boundary where the temperature shifted. It was a level of irreverence you could only get in this city. Brian suddenly imagined people in the blackout zone emptying broken refrigerators into the effect, with groceries stacked in the middle of the street or crammed into random buildings along the path. It seemed ludicrous, but that was Brockton Bay for you.

Fortunately, the further you got from the site of the ambush the farther apart the effects were spaced. He didn't need to cross another one to reach his destination, though he could see a trail that looked like a tightly contained dust storm maybe a block from their base. Another of the inconvenient but not dangerous or significantly obstructive paths.

He ducked into the side door of the abandoned factory and climbed the stairs to the corner loft that served as their base. The time he'd been spending at the base had felt more like holding up from a disaster than any of its earlier cheerful associations. It had become a place of recovery, and for good reason. After Saturday night he'd been in a bad state. Everyone had been, but what he and Lisa had gone through wasn't something you just shook off.

Alec too, he had to admit. What happened there might have been more conventional than what Bakuda had hit the two of them with, but it wasn't any less horrifying. In some ways it might have been worse. His own experience had been nightmarish, but after a certain point it was just disorienting. He… he didn't like thinking about it, but it wasn't the pure torture Alec had gone through. Being warped and twisted was its own kind of horror, but past a certain point he couldn't even keep track of it. He'd seen the video, made himself watch it. Seeing what happened to his head and remembering how fuzzy his thinking had become, he wondered if there was an association.

It showed them how out of their depth they had been. The consequences of a mistake at the level they had been playing at. Without Joe's healing he would still be caught in that living nightmare, assuming he could have even survived in that state. The same was true for Lisa, Alec, and what would probably have happened to Taylor if Joe had arrived any later.

Without that they would have been done and without the mental effects of the healing they probably wouldn't have been functional. He wasn't sure he believed Joe about his theory of 'over-healing' them. Then they finished the night. He had a chance to relax. The high of combat and the determination to see things through faded from his system. And then the shaking started.

He clenched his hand to the railing of the stairs and took a moment to steady himself. Yes, it was bad, but everyone was going through that. The team needed him to be stable. So did Aisha. He had always been able to cope, to push through. He could manage it now. They had a city-wide disaster, an emergent power vacuum, an ally with who had just attracted the attention of the world, they were in so much debt it was barely worth calculating the precise figure, and his sister wanted to work part time for a cape. He didn't have time to break down.

Cresting the top of the stairs he found Lisa sprawled on one of the sofas, one laptop in her lap and another resting on the coffee table. The TV was playing a muted broadcast of one of the 24-hour news channels with closed captions on and it looked like a sample of the documents, charts, and paperwork that had built up in her room over the past week finally exploded into the common area.

"Lisa?" He called out causing a concerning amount of blinking from the girl as she appeared to attempt to clear her head.

"Oh, hey Brian." She clearly tried to put on her usual grin, but it faltered before fully forming. Instead, she slumped back against the couch as Brian found a seat across from her that was clear of the debris of her analysis.

"Alec around?" He asked, looking at the other boy's closed door.

Lisa shook her head without looking up from her computer. "Left a little while ago. Said he was meeting some people you met last night?"

Brian frowned. During the previous night's work, the pair of them had nearly tripped over another group of recovery workers. Unfortunately, the responders happened to all be from his dad's gym. Apparently the entire membership had taken it on themselves to pitch in and help, and of course they all remembered him. And wanted to meet his friend.

Alec had wasted no time ingratiating himself to them, including an endless stream of fabricated stories of how they met and their various escapades and connections through the fictitious employment the boss had set up for Brian. He'd spend the entire time on edge waiting for a disaster that never came. In fact, his father had called before he left, thanking him for helping out with the recovery. It was an oddly nice turn considering how their previous discussion had ended.

But of course, Alec couldn't let things go. He had no idea how or when he'd exchanged numbers, but apparently Alec was taking the opportunity to insert himself into Brian's old life. Any other time he would have been furious at the idea, but given recent events, he could somewhat forgive things. At least to a degree. Alec might love to mess with people, but he understood certain boundaries, at least with respect to cape life. He wouldn't let anything slip and Brian could deal with whatever minor trouble he decided to cause. Really it was more the idea of being dragged back into a life he largely left behind that was getting to him, though that was fresher in his mind thanks to his recent exchange with Aisha and his dad.

"So, what's all this?" He asked, gesturing to the assorted papers scattered across the living area. "Did you finally run out of space in your room?"

There was a flash of amusement at the idea before the emotion was buried under the weight of her stress or exhaustion. Lisa slumped slightly before pulling herself back up. "No, that's not it." She sighed. "Since March was taken out of the picture things have started to make sense again. Seriously, I don't think anyone really realized how far she was coordinating things or how badly it could mess up thinker powers, and probably everything else as well." There was a grim look on her face. "This is all new stuff. Analysis from the past night. Everything in there?" She gestured to the door to her room. "Worse than junk. It hurts just to look at it. I needed a fresh start. I needed to trash the old stuff, start over, but we're short on flamethrowers at the moment."

He let a small smile show at her joke and saw her relax slightly, but that wasn't all he saw. Even the effort of the brief exchange seemed to wear on her in a very visible way. "How long have you been up? And how much have you been pushing your power?"

Lisa sank further back into the couch. "Since yesterday morning, and as for my power, probably too much." She admitted. The stress of the past week was evident. He'd watched as it built steadily. She had rallied a bit on Wednesday, after the meeting with Joe, at least enough that he didn't feel the need to step in as team leader, but whatever ground she had gained had been lost, and then some.

"Before you say anything, I know." She said quickly. "Even without my powers I would know. I'm at my limit." She looked dour. "As soon as March was out of the way the boss came down with a laundry list of work. Post disaster, critical period, had to be ready."

Brian nodded. "Was that what the meeting was about?" He asked.

There was a slight tremble as Lisa's eyes darted between screens and documents. "Some, but that was a bit more forward facing." He lifted an eyebrow and she continued in a tired voice. "Things are changing. Even more than anyone thinks, and with what was pulled last night that's a high bar. The boss is going to be pushing forward."

"How so?" Brian asked. "Bigger jobs? More attention?"

"Yes, yes, and more." She admitted. "This has been in the works for a while. There's going to be a push, and we'll be a core part of it."

Brian felt his stomach turn. "Of course. After all, we're the path to Apeiron."

Lisa didn't try to deny it. Figured. All the time spent building a team, planning jobs, securing a reputation, and in the end everything came down to who they happened to know. One random association. It should have been a blessing, access to the big leagues for almost nothing, but in reality it felt meaningless. Like nothing they'd done, nothing they fought for, actually mattered. All because Joe would be there, overshadowing everything.

Though, if he was feeling this way he could only imagine what the other capes in the city were going through.

Lisa must have picked up on that because she quickly made a placating gesture. "Yeah, we have a line to Joe, and that's unique, but we'd still be players even without it. It's just that we're the only ones who can actually contact him with any reliability, and that's going to be critical."

Brian didn't like the sound of that. "Critical how?"

Lisa let out a long breath before looking at him. The circles under her eyes were more evident than he's ever seen, and her voice was heavily serious.

"Somer's Rock."

Brian blinked. "Seriously? They're having a summit? And now? Why not days ago, when we still had everything exploding?"

"Because everything was still exploding." She quipped, and for a moment looked a little like her old self, rather than the exhausted wreck she'd been morphing into over the past week. "This was going to happen as soon as things calmed down enough that people could safely meet. My guess is March probably knew that, or suspected it, and was keeping up the pressure so the gangs couldn't form a united front."

"But March is gone." He countered. "The entire ABB is a wreck, a shadow. They're down to Bakuda, who might have-"

"Definitely has cancer. Well, cancers. If I'm right on this she basically got a combo platter, and not any of the 'nice' kinds either."

He nodded. "Alright. So, one very sick tinker and a handful of unpowered members. Any alliance between the other gangs would have been paper thin, even with the threat of Lung and a full power ABB. So, unless she has something up her sleeve I doubt there is much to unite against out there."

She shook her head. "Nothing in reserve, at least in the core group. Oni Lee took a hit that's going to see him in critical care for a long time. March…" Lisa looked pensive as she continued. "Still hard to read her, even on video, but injuries like that meant she would have been in for a very unpleasant death."

Brian didn't like the uncertainty in her tone. "Would have?" He asked with a concerned note to his voice.

Lisa entered some commands on her laptop and spun it to show him the screen. "Another display of the dangers of Joe's technology. Something happened after the fight moved over the bay." The laptop displayed pictures of the remains of the container yard. The area had the look of worm-eaten wood. Entire sections had been burrowed clean through, but somehow left a fused crystal surface that locked things in place, either holding containers at strange angles or diving down into the ground in tunnels that seemed to be exceptionally stable despite their apparent fragility.

Brian shifted uneasily as he took in the picture. "That was the bike, right?" He asked, unable to keep his voice steady as he spoke. "The 'not exactly hell' bike?"

Lisa nodded solemnly. "No word on what exactly happened. No sign of March's body. Some witness accounts, but most indistinct. Reports of something tearing up the area, and not much more than that. The Protectorate knows something, but the incident is being hushed up on a serious level. Not one I can get to with my usual channels. Whatever it is, they're prioritizing it on a level as bad or worse than anything else Joe showed."

That was a very strong statement and a deeply unsettling idea. Just off the top of his head Brian could cycle through the sheer quantity of concerning things the Protectorate could be, should be prioritizing. Joe had showed up to the fight with a drone army, a robot that could handle the assault on a bomb tinker's workshop single handed, a kind of 'something' that spread crazy effects over several blocks of distance when damaged, that red thread mess that literally pulled his broken body back together, whatever that beast transformation was, an Endbringer sized robot, a persistent blackout effect, an attack that could probably level a city in one shot, and, finally, the vanishing recovery bot with the stripper heels.

The full list was exhausting to consider. Just going through it with Lisa would be a trial, much less trying to get clear answers from Joe. The idea that something could be worse than anything else was a terrifying prospect. The container yard had been chewed up in a disturbing way, but nothing about it suggested the damage was worse than any of Bakuda's numerous bomb combinations. There had to be something else that had the Protectorate spooked, and the presence of the sparking 'not hell' robot seemed the most likely culprit.

He remembered the images that flashed before his eyes back when they had fought Bakuda. Blood red and black crystal, crystal that seemed concerningly familiar when looking at the picture of the container yard. He remembered that feeling of insignificance at the scale of whatever he was looking at, the mountain that wasn't a mountain, flowing into and out of itself, constant motion that obscured its actual form, if it even had one to begin with.

Lisa didn't have to say it. The whole thing stunk of some kind of dimensional tech with a side order of the popular 'power tinker' theory. In a world where most people's experience with inter-universe travel was the movie and video game exchanges that came through Professor Haywire's gateway it was easy to forget how dangerous that kind of thing was, and how hard the Protectorate came down on it.

Not that they needed any more reasons to be worried about Joe. Hell, he didn't need any more reasons to be worried about Joe. Everyone was worried about Joe. And with that thought things suddenly fell into place.

"That's what the summit is about, right? How to deal with Apeiron?"

Lisa put on a genuine smile as she replied. "Really it's more how Apeiron is going to deal with them." On seeing his reaction, she quickly clarified. "No, not like that. Joe's not planning to take out the gangs. 'Deal with' as in what his deal is going to be. They need to know where he stands before anyone moves forward. The entire underworld is at a precipice. Too many groups out for blood, revenge, or just a power grab, and not just among the local teams. This summit is our best chance at avoiding a gang war."

"You mean another gang war, right?" He asked, his mind going over the events of the last week with a bitter feeling.

"Call it gang war phase two." Lisa's excitement for whatever insight she'd pulled together seemed to be temporarily overriding her exhaustion. She shuffled a few papers to her side before continuing. "Right now, we have a bit of a respite while people lick their wounds. Joe releasing that ABB info last night was a godsend for that."

Brian raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Seriously? How?" He and Alec had needed to take detours around three different teams of capes who had pushed into the blackout area, and signs of the conflict had been evident through the night. They were seriously lucky to be able to complete their sweeps without getting caught up in things. Even if they had been in costume, nobody in their right mind would pick a fight under those conditions.

"Okay, he'd never think this way, but Joe gave the Merchants and the Empire a chance to hit the remains of the ABB. Gave it to everyone, really. Anyone who wanted it got a shot at their pound of flesh. Even Faultline's Crew took a swing. Everyone who pushed in raided, grabbed some loot, and roughed up a few people, but most importantly they were able to get the last hit in. That was the important part."

Brian nodded in understanding. "It's a point of pride. Anyone in the gangs who wanted to get back at the ABB got their chance. The leadership can stand down and consolidate without looking weak."

"Which means we can actually get people to the table without it turning into a dick measuring contest over wounded egos." She said. The exhaustion was creeping back in, but Brian thought he saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"Alright, so the gangs will show up, and might actually want to talk. Where do we stand in this?" He asked. He had his own suspicions, but wanted to see how Lisa would spin things.

"We have a seat at the table." She explained. "Well, you do, fearless leader."

He frowned. "This is the kind of thing that really needs discussion before it's decided." She rushed to reply, but he raised a hand to cut her off. "I get that this is important, and time sensitive, and it's a good idea to be present there, but you don't make calls for everyone. Hell, I don't make calls for everyone, not about something on this scale. I understand how badly you've been pushing yourself, but we cannot go forward on this without a team meeting."

Lisa practically deflated. "We'll need to meet fast."

"When are they planning the summit?"

"Sunday night." She explained. "Enough time to settle and secure things, and the best chance of coming to some stable agreement. Also gives time to get some definite answers about the aftermath, the condition of the city, and official stances of the Protectorate and PRT."

"Stances on Joe?" She nodded. "And let me guess, we're expected to invite him? Bring him ourselves?" A bitter thought entered his mind. "Are we even invited seriously, or just as messenger boys?"

"This is serious." She assured him. "It can go forward without Apeiron, but it could get messy real fast. We'd basically be representing him, and I know you don't want that. With him there we at least got to take our own position on matters." Brian frowned but let her continue. "Yeah, basically everything is about Joe right now. There's no way of getting around that. We can stand on our own, but not against the kinds of stuff Joe will be dealing with. We either need to bunker down or cut ties, and trust me, the first is going to be a lot safer than the second."

"What 'kind of stuff' are we going to be looking at?" He asked in concern. The reality of the situation was that it wouldn't just be them. Whatever chaos Joe's actions attracted would quickly become the city's problem. That meant the problem of numerous ill-mannered parahuman gangs and organizations. The kind of people who would quickly ensure it was everyone else's problem too.

Lisa glanced at her screen before launching into her reply. "It's too soon to be sure of anything. What happened last night is going to scare off most people, provided they don't already have vested interests in the city. Whatever does show up it's going to be organized and it's going to come with enough firepower to think it has a chance. Getting Joe to the meeting will help with that. People are less likely to take a blind swing if he puts forward a clear stance. Most of the chaos out there is based on the fact that he came out of nowhere and they have nothing to go on but some half-assed PRT statements and a smattering of Uber and Leet broadcasts."

Brian took a deep breath as he considered the situation. "Do you think you can even get Joe to the meeting? Will he be willing to go along with the truce?"

"Definitely will uphold the truce. Joe has built a reputation based on holding to contracts." Like their 'medical services' agreement, Brian thought. Another thing Lisa set up without consulting anyone. A miracle that she did, but it wasn't a good precedent, and it was one she seemed to have continued with. "It's the only reason the gangs will feel comfortable sitting down with him, and violating the truce at the summit will crater his reputation forever. There's no way he'll break rank on this."

Lisa was understating things. It would do worse than crater his reputation. One of the only things people were sure of when it came to Apeiron was that he held to his agreements. In a situation where new chaos seemed to bloom on a daily basis it was a single point of stability from the man at the center of it. He suspected reactions to the situation would have been a lot worse if Apeiron had come across as someone striking out at random. The belief that he could be reasonable, even on a single point, was holding back a mountain of fear.

Take that away, and do it at something as significant as a Somer's Rock summit, and there would be panic. Panic probably beyond the bounds of the city, maybe even at an international level. Joe might be able to handle it, but he doubted the five of them would be as lucky. No, Joe, if he agreed to come, would hold to the truce. He just hoped nobody at the summit would be stupid enough to test him on the matter. He would say nobody could be that stupid, but there were capes and this was Brockton Bay. Some of the city's wider reputation was actually well placed.

"Fine. That covers the truce. What about actually getting him there?" He asked.

"Given that the alternative is us going alone I don't think that's going to be a problem." Lisa responded flatly.

It was a frank statement of what they already knew. Joe was protecting them. Maybe it was for Taylor's sake, based on whatever thinker power or concern or personal investment was playing out there, but that didn't change the facts of the matter. The most dangerous tinker on the planet was trying to keep them safe. The concept that would be endearing if it wasn't also terrifying.

Brian eyes dropped down to his watch. "That's what these were about, right?" He asked. "It had nothing to do with what we owe him, with making sure we can repay. Does he actually even care about the debt?"

"He cares about the fact that it gives him leverage and access. It's an excuse to keep tabs on us and step in when he needs to." Brian frowned and She dropped her head. "I don't like having that hanging over us either, but it's better than the alternative." Her voice cracked slightly on the last word and she looked away, curling her legs beneath her.

Brian shook his head slightly. He hated it, but honestly he felt the same. That night, what Bakuda had done, it was a nightmare. Tattletale at least knew that help was coming, but she couldn't have known he'd be able to do anything for her, for him, for Alec. It was pure trauma, and he was barely able to deal with it himself. He wouldn't even know how to help someone like Lisa through this. He hoped her thinker powers would be able to help, but from what he'd seen they could just as easily be setting things up for failure.

"Did you ever figure out what these were worth?" He asked, raising his watch in an attempt to change the subject. It did manage to get a slight grin from the girl.

"Too much, bordering on ridiculous. There's tech in here that nobody has access to. Hell, there's tech that outstrips high level parahumans." She replied, gesturing to the slim, elegant band on her wrist, which somehow perfectly complimented her look.

He looked down at his own rugged and bulky design, again marveling at how well it matched him. Not just his style, it felt like it was designed for his character, both in and out of cape identity.

That was actually one of the more unsettling elements of working with Joe. It was one thing to have a tinker churning out miracle technology, but Joe wasn't just technically proficient. His works extended beyond that; into something Brian could only call artistry. It was a core part of the reputation the tinker had acquired online, but seeing it first hand and up close was an entirely different matter.

"What do you mean by that?" He asked, looking closely at the intricate designs of his watch.

Lisa shook her head and held up the watch. "This is probably not going to help with any of those Joe-related concerns you're avoiding bringing up…" he gestured for her to continue and she nodded. "Alright. You know how we were all impressed when Joe told us he put personal force fields in each of our watches?"

Brian nodded. Despite the many reservations he had about wearing what still felt like a tracking tag, the defenses that came with it went the distance in terms of making the watch bearable. Unblockable medical alerts would have been significant enough, but a bullet proof force field, no matter how temporary, changed the way you could function as a cape. "Were we not supposed to be impressed?" Brian asked, somewhat skeptically.

She shook her head. "No, we were, and it is incredible technology. It just doesn't come close to the scanners."

"The scanners?" Brian asked flatly.

"I know how it sounds. I didn't even really key to it until last night, but the scanners he built into the watches are the most advanced things I've ever seen. I have no idea how they work."

"Okay." Brian nodded. "I get that they're out there, but so is all of his tech. Going off what they actually do-"

"No, you don't understand." She said slowly. "I do not know how these things work. My power has nothing. The scanners, they can break down material structure at a distance with perfect accuracy. They aren't doing any kind of medical scan on us, no active energy emissions or passive collection of data. They just know what's going on. It's like Joe started with the effect that he wanted and worked backwards to make a device out of it."

That painted a concerning image for Brian. Lisa was right, it really didn't help with any of his Joe-related concerns. "How did you figure that out?" He asked.

Lisa shifted awkwardly, then looked down to her wrist. "Watch? Display screen."

The familiar floating display sprang to life. A tiny feature Joe tacked on after everything else, and one that was significant in its own right. Alec may have been the one to make jokes about it, but Brian would have to confess to trying out his watch in place of his TV. Based on maximum screen size and audio quality it put the system in his apartment to shame. It was too bad he couldn't share it with Aisha. He knew she'd love that kind of thing.

The screen about Lisa's watch looked broadly the same, but there were some critical differences. The technical information and sleek design of the original display was gone, replaced by a rounded theme and large, friendly icons. They looked like what you would find on a smartphone if it was designed to be used in pre-school. He assumed the picture of the smiling rotary phone was intended for calls, and there were similar simplified designs for other watch features, though fewer of them than he would have expected.

"Once I picked up on it last night, I tried to access the actual systems, not the scaled down version we can get through the virtual intelligence." She looked up at his shocked expression and quickly defended herself. "These are ridiculously overpowered and not doing a sliver of what they're capable of. You could tell that when they were reading medical status through half a building worth of rubble. I figured there must be a way to access the full capacity of the scanner."

"Right." He looked at the cartoon icons again. "So, what went wrong?"

She sighed. "Some kind of countermeasure. Dug too far past expected operation and got the watch stuck in safe mode. Most features locked out and I'm stuck with what I have here."

He scanned over the collection of bright and childish icons. Somehow the idea that the worst countermeasure put in place by the person who blacked out and devastated a quarter of a city was limited access and a vaguely mocking icon layout, well, it was the kind of thing that seemed incongruous, but was actually reassuring. Joe could have shut down the watch, or detonated the power source, or any number of other horrible options. Instead, he cut off Lisa access and set her up for what would probably be a rather humbling request to restore functionality. Joe clearly wasn't universally non-violent, he'd seen that firsthand even before the publicized fight with Lung, but he wasn't directing that kind of violence with casual abandon.

"Have you spoken with him about that?" Brian asked.

"Not yet." She replied somewhat meekly. "Relayed things through Taylor, but haven't followed up yet."

"Wouldn't he know already?" Brian briefly considered things, then looked at his watch, then at Tattletale's. "Wait, do we even need to tell him about the summit? I mean, we've been talking about it with these-"

"No." She quickly assured him. "Joe doesn't spy on us through these. He doesn't even monitor our calls or messages."

"Are you sure?" He asked. "I mean, it's his system. He has to have records."

"Records yes, but he's not monitoring them." He gave her a questioning look and she elaborated. "Joe doesn't want us trying to work around these. Doesn't want us taking them off or trying to use other, less secure communication methods. That was clear, through everything. We've got privacy on these calls."

"Really? You're certain that he's not going to jump in? Even if it's something he won't like?"

"No." she said clearly. "He knows that if I even get a hint that they're not trustworthy then the thing would spend ninety percent of the time locked in a drawer in another building. That happens and we won't have them when we need them."

"He's putting our safety above being able to spy on us." Brian said.

"Exactly. We get caught in some disaster and he might dig into the records, but he's not touching them outside of an emergency. It's a better deal than we'd get from any other communicators you could find."

Brian would have asked if she was sure of that, but it lined up too well with what he knew about Joe. It lined up with the kind of logic that would see tech like the watches handed out in the first place. Joe could have made wearing them mandatory for the duration of the debt. Hell, he could have locked them in place and there wouldn't be much they could have done about it. As far as obsessive protection went, it was a light and measured approach. Honestly, it was probably more measured than what Brian would have done in his place.

"Alright." He said, turning the subject back to the matter at hand. "So, hypothetically, the team agrees to go and we get Joe to show up. What happens next? Two days isn't a lot to work out a strategy."

"The boss has some things in the works." He thought he saw her eye twitch but it might have been his imagination. "Serious stuff that's going to play out soon."

That boded poorly, for a number of reasons. "Any chance the rest of us are going to be filled in on that? Or be able to meet him?" Brian asked. "I was fine with our arrangement back when we were just pulling small jobs, but like you said, we're past that now. And it's not just going to be me. If we're sticking our neck out for more than just the take from a jewelry heist then Bitch and Regent will want to know as well." He wasn't sure of Taylor's stance, but asking her to step up her involvement without some assurances seemed unreasonable. She had been cautious right from the start, and had taken the worsening situation and what happened to Aegis worse than anyone. This level of escalation had to be hard on her.

"If Somer's Rock goes well, then definitely. Probably sometime next week, by my guess." She was trying to look casual, but seemed decidedly uncomfortable with the idea, and he didn't think it was just the prospect of losing her exclusive rights as his point of contact. Still, with her apparently teetering on the edge of collapse he decided not to push her.

"So, what's the criteria for this 'going well'?" He asked.

She took a breath and steadied herself before continuing. "The objective, as least from our perspective, is to keep things from boiling over. Any resolution that doesn't end in open hostilities is going to count as a win."

Brian considered the factors in play. "That might be something of a tall order."

"Hopefully it won't be that bad." She replied. "Half the people there will either be terrified of Apeiron or trying to buy him off. Anyone who starts something will be trying to make a statement to their own side, and will know they can't do anything. They'll make sure to keep things deniable."

"They might play nice with Apeiron, but everyone else will be long term enemies." He countered. "Even the summit truce won't get them to forget that."

"Luckily we shouldn't have too much trouble on that front." Lisa explained. "Our main beef was with the ABB. We're mostly off the Merchant's radar, and have no history with the Empire. There's some bad blood with Faultline-"

"You're still sore about her poaching Spitfire?" He joked.

"But they'll be fully focused on revenge against the ABB or Uber and Leet." She continued as if he hadn't said anything. "There's a chance we might see a couple of independents, but it's not likely. Worst case, Uppercrust is in town working on the coastal shields. He might decide to show up, but that will be purely for the sake of appearances."

"Uppercrust?" Brian asked. "As in the Elite? The worst case is the Elite showing up?"

"Absolute worst case. And it's not like you're thinking. And Uppercrust isn't like Bastard Son or Blueblood. This is a professional visit, not a takeover attempt."

Brian let out a long breath. He wasn't sure of that, but given everything that was going on, he decided to try to trust Tattletale. "If you say so." He let out a long breath. "This is going to take some work to pull together.

Lisa gave a tired nod. "I can start making calls, get everyone here for a meeting. Once we agree on attending the summit we can-"

"No." He cut her off. "That's not happening, not with the state you're in."

She frowned. "We can't afford to wait on this."

"We can't afford to botch it either." He countered. "Rachel sees you in this condition; she's going to dismiss anything you say out of hand." He could see Lisa wanting to argue the point, but needing to concede. Rachel's views on power dynamics could be troubling at times, and required a serious amount of active management. How a new job was presented was as important as what it actually involved. They couldn't afford to show up at Somer's Rock with less than full strength, and Bitch would be reluctant about any non-paying work to begin with.

"That's not even getting into what could happen if you push yourself without a chance to recover." He continued. "You try to manage the team in your current condition and it's going to go poorly. Just try to tell me your power isn't going to burn out if you push it any further."

Lisa looked up at him and he could see the spark of defiance spring to life, then dwindle away. It hurt to see it, but at least she was confronting it with him rather than displaying weakness in front of the rest of the group.

"Fine." She flopped back into the couch. "I'll rest. But we need that meeting first thing tomorrow."

"I'll handle it. Even get Alec up." It would mean setting the groundwork now, which meant an evening of calls or personal visits to the team. Probably for the best. They had felt scattered and aimless in the wake of Saturday night. Just a couple of team meetings breaking up everyone dealing with their own things. It would be good to touch base properly. "What about Joe? You said he checked in with Taylor?"

From her position, lounged back against the couch, Lisa smiled. "Checked in with Taylor, but more importantly checked in with Weld." Brian's eyebrows shot up as Lisa continued. "He called up the new leader of the Wards from a line even Dragon couldn't trace and had a nice conversation with half the PRT hovering around."

"What did he say?" Brian asked a bit uneasily. It didn't take a genius to see that Joe's devotion to villainy was mostly surface level. He didn't think the Undersiders were at risk of being thrown to the wolves, but hearing about contact with another power bloc was always a bit unsettling.

"Basically, that he was tired and was going to take a nap." Brian gave her a questioning look and she waved him off. "Yeah, I get the irony." She suppressed a yawn before continuing. "As far as I can tell he was sincere about it. Genuinely wanted to assure them that he wouldn't do anything for the next couple of days."

"Well," He started. "That's a relief, right?"

"Sure, but it's not going to stop the Think Tank from picking over every word choice and tonal shift trying to discern some secret intent." She explained. "I haven't gotten the recordings yet, just the transcript, but that's probably its own project."

"Project for later." He countered, and she gave a lazy nod in agreement. "If Joe's standing down we should be able to reach out after the team meeting tomorrow.

"Should work." She agreed. "If we pitch it right after the team votes then it should come off as more natural." She glanced at him and closed her mouth quickly. Brian knew she constantly worked out how to manage people, but it was a bit unsettling to hear every interaction broken down to its strategic elements. He knew that was probably happening anyway, but it was nice to not need to constantly confront the fact.

"I'll set things up and we can go from there. You need to get some rest." He said sternly.

"Alright." She conceded. "Just let me pack this up, and I'll get some sleep."

He glanced at the door of her room. "You crashing here, or back at your apartment?"

She gave the door to her room a long look, then shook her head. "Apartment. I can't deal with that room right now."

"I can pack it up for you." He offered.

Lisa shook her head. "Don't bother. I can manage tomorrow." She sighed. "Though I'd appreciate a ride. Not in the best state to drive right now."

The process of getting Lisa's notes and laptops packed up proved to be more involved than he expected. Given the amount of work she was taking with her he suspected she would be getting somewhat less than the complete rest she promised. Once the two laptops, assorted files, three flash drives, and select item pulled from the insane mess that had become her room were all packed they finally set out through the city in Lisa's car.

She was half collapsed along the back seat while he drove. Alec's absence saved them from any 'Miss Daisy' jokes, and honestly it felt more like driving an ambulance than any act of chauffeuring. Given Lisa's half-conscious state he felt bad about pressing the original reason for his visit.

"Uh, Lisa?"

"You've got something you've been sitting on since the start of all this. Thanks for prioritizing and putting the team first, yadda, yadda, now out with it." She mumbled with her eyes half closed.

Brian nodded as he took a corner away from the docks, heading to the more residential area south of Downtown. "I need to ask about Garment."

Lisa's eyes fluttered open. "Garment? The new cape in the docks?" There was a confused look on her face. "What about her? Look, I get that we'll need new costumes fast, but that's kind of a long shot."

He supposed it was less of one now that he technically had an 'in'. "It's Aisha." He explained, earning an even more confused look from Lisa. "Garment offered her a job. Part time work in her new store."

"What did…" She trailed off and with a glance to the rearview mirror Brian could practically see the wheels turning in her head. "Same region of the docks. Your father teaches at the gym she debuted at. Overly generous personality, probably ingratiate herself, but just offered work? Not out of character, but-"

"She's already set up a store." He cut her off before she could get caught up even more. "Some old studio near the gym. Got the place just before everything went to hell. Apparently she met Aisha earlier, handed off an entire wardrobe as an advance-"

"Sounds like her." Tattletale interjected.

"Seriously?" He asked, keeping his eyes on the road. "I get she has a reputation for being generous, but the amount of stuff she gave Aisha, it's insane."

"She's more than generous." Lisa replied. "Some of the stuff she handed off on Saturday night has been put up for auction. One girl was able to cover two months of rent and bills from eBaying her jacket. By all accounts Garment cares more about making clothes than running any kind of business. How much did she give your sister?"

"From what I saw, at least a dozen outfits." He cycled through the events in his mind. "Good stuff too, I mean as far as I could tell. Just the materials…"

There was a snort from Lisa and he glanced at her in the mirror. "Honestly? That wardrobe is probably worth more than any of our individual takes from the bank job."

Brian felt his eyebrows rise and he tightened his grip on the wheel to steady a concern that had been building since he first learned about the situation. "Seriously?"

Just running the math, it was troubling. Brian knew about how this kind of thing worked. You saw it on the street all the time. Some gangs recruited out of ideology or desperation, but most of the time it came down to debt. Provide some service, substance, or luxury to people who were hard up or didn't know better, then hit them with the reality of the situation. A lot of low-level gang work was to pay off what you ended up owing to the gang, and it was incredibly easy to get caught in a hole you would never dig yourself out of.

It had been why the reality of the team's debt had hit him so hard. A nightmare he had worked his entire career to avoid, suddenly thrust upon them. Or it would be if it were owed to anyone but Joe. Even after everything that had happened, everything from the previous night's insanity, Brian just couldn't bring himself to see Joe that way. He had no shortage of concerns about the current situation, but Joe acting as a predatory debt holder wasn't one of them.

Just the fact that he was completely waiving interest was enough to prove that. A handful of minor concessions and the occasional job like the previous night was the full extent of his terms. With what they owed even the most minor interest on the lowest possible estimate of their debt would have been crippling. Instead, there was nothing. No interest, no payment plan. It was something they could conceivably dig their way out of.

Only now Aisha might have gotten caught in the same situation. The insanity of it, thousands of dollars of custom fitted designer clothes made for a girl in the middle of a growth spurt. Half of that wardrobe wouldn't fit Aisha within six months, and then what? It wasn't like bespoke items could be returned, and that kind of gift had to have some kind of implicit obligation with it.

"Hey." Lisa called up. "I know what you're thinking. Don't worry about it. Garment's not going to go mob tactics over a handful of… I'm guessing dresses? Dresses and other outfits. I had to look into some of this. She hands out stuff… well, either to advertise or just to show off. She's not even pursuing rights for the cape she designed for Flechette. I know it freaks you out, but this specifically isn't something you need to worry about."

Brian let out a breath as he pondered things. He stopped the car at a light and took a moment to try to order his thoughts. The revelation that Aisha wanted to work for a cape, and that his father was apparently onboard with it, had been a shock. Of course, seeing Aisha in her new clothes had been a shock in itself. It was such a drastic departure from Aisha's usual style that he could barely believe it.

It was actually more dramatic than that. If it was just a different set of clothes that would be one thing, but she had been acting differently. Some of that had to be the clothes. Actually wearing a proper dress and jacket in place of her previous top and shorts… well, she was in about five times the coverage she previously wore. Some of the behavior was clearly tied to that.

He knew that people adjusted their behavior based on what they were wearing. He had personal experience from his time in and out of costume. It was easy to draw confidence from a full set of motorcycle gear. He could tell that at least a portion of Aisha's behavior was tied to the fact that she was wearing what was probably the highest fashion stuff available in the city. Maybe on the east coast.

And it looked good. Not in that borderline inappropriate way her old stuff came across, but like it was actually fit to her. She looked mature, not like she was trying to look older, but like she was actually able to handle herself. His father certainly seemed to approve, and he could understand why. Years since Aisha moved back in with them and this might have been the first time he really seemed proud of her.

Maybe that wasn't just the clothes. After they had been attacked on Saturday night Aisha had been the one who got him to the hospital. Who had set up their father's care, who had called him to let him know the situation, and had generally taken care of said situation. Back when he was barely functional in the aftermath of what Bakuda had done, Aisha had been looking after things. He never would have expected that from her. He knew his father hadn't. It was the first time Aisha had stepped up in a major way, and the first time he'd seen his father acknowledge her.

It was certainly the first time his father had taken Aisha' side in an argument. Every point he made about the dangers of becoming associated with a cape, of the potential problems with cape businesses, or the kinds of trouble a public cape could attract, trouble that Aisha would be tied up in, was all cast aside. It seemed that the gym was as tied to Garment as anything else in the town. Any problems that could come from Aisha being employed by the new cape would already be in play for the gym and everyone associated with it, including his father.

That was probably the worst thing about the entire situation. It felt like he'd been negligent. That part of his life, the gym, the training with his father, the whole community that existed there, he had left it behind. Taken what he needed from it, what he could use, and moved on to bigger things. He never really thought about it. Sometimes he still showed up, just for the sake of appearances, or to help out as a favor to his dad, but it wasn't really his place anymore. It wasn't a cape place.

Except now it was. A new cape had decided to make it her unofficial headquarters. It started by sending rescued people there for shelter, then expanded from there. The banner, the events and community kitchen that had sprung up after the blackout. That televised debut special where Garment might as well have planted a flag in the damn place. The thing he had left behind had been claimed by someone else, and it was making him nervous. As hypocritical as it might sound, he didn't like having unknown cape stuff this close to his home, to his family.

"Look, I know you're burned out." He called back, as if her being slumped in the back seat of the car left any doubt to her current state. "But this is my sister. It's really important. Anything you can tell me about Garment…"

He trailed off as he saw her nod through the mirror. "Don't worry about the burn out, I've already done the analysis." She squinted and looked off to the side and took a breath before continuing. "Garment's body is in a persistent breaker state. You see it in certain capes. Right now, there's no confirmation as to whether she's a Case 53 or someone who got overwhelmed with her power, or just went too far into their power. All I can tell you is the situation doesn't bother her."

Brian nodded as he took the corner. "That's fine, but she's still an active cape. What about anyone she starts something with, or anyone who comes for her?"

He saw Lisa shake her head in the rearview mirror. "Not likely. That stuff during the blackout was, well, maybe not a one-off, but not something she's making a habit of. No patrols since then, not even last night, and turned down every Protectorate offer, even the stuff that's basically lip service to hero status. She is one hundred percent rogue."

"Yeah, but doesn't that just make her a target?" He asked as he took a corner.

"Not much of one." Lisa countered. "Seriously useful power, but it practically pays for herself, and she already has resources. With her durability and status, she's even less of a recruitment target than Parian, and Parian's held out for years."

"Right…" He said, thinking over the situation some more. "But what about the tinker thing? I get gangs not wanting to take risks for giant mascots, but everyone's after tinkers." Aisha had been particularly dismissive about the idea that Garment was a tinker, even though it had been a focus of her debut. That color shifting dress and the speculation about what else she could make had been a major point of discussion, and he didn't understand why Aisha couldn't see it.

"Well, she's not exactly the tinker people are focusing on right now." Lisa quipped. When he gave her a hard look through the mirror she relented. "Fine. Garment is a low ranked tinker. Like, near formality ranked. The Protectorate hasn't done evaluations on her work, but the best they have is some custom fibers. She might be able to pull off body armor, and there'll certainly be a market for cape costumes, but slightly better Kevlar isn't the kind of thing you kidnap a near-invincible cape over."

"But cape costumes mean capes floating around, meaning they might see something. And they could bring their own trouble. And Garment might be 'near-invincible', but Aisha isn't." He listed with growing concern.

Lisa signed and nodded. "It's a risk, but assuming Aisha doesn't stay Garment's only employee, which is a distant possibility, it's a minor risk. Plus, someone goes after a person close to Garment in her 'civilian' life and the Protectorate would come down like a ton of bricks. Doubly for someone Aisha's age. And once again, all they could get out of it is a set of costumes slightly better than Protectorate standard issue."

She sounded confident, but Brian was still worried. Worried about the kind of trouble Aisha could get into if she dealt with capes on anything like a regular basis. Lisa was probably right about the risk of her being targeted, but that didn't account for the uncertainty intrinsic to her own behavior.

An additional concerning though burrowed into his head. "You said she already had resources, right? Is that going to be a problem? Other connections, or preexisting commitments?"

The girl shook her head. "Basic resources. She can just leverage them well. There's… someone who's supporting her, but it was very basic to start. Internet access and supplies. Once she got on her feet, so to speak, the quality of everything jumped. Most likely some confidential contract work on the side. Apparently off the books, but that's more of a tax issue." She saw his expression and shifted topic. "Right, whoever was working with her was probably just some civilian connection. Initial stuff was all incredibly basic, off the shelf production. Didn't ramp up until the press she got from Saturday night."

Brian nodded slowly. It was a relief to know there wasn't an existing gang connection. Some civilian contact who had stayed quiet… Considering Garment's behavior at the gym it was probably someone from that neighborhood, maybe even someone from the gym. He had to admit, the image of somebody like Blane or Casey looking after Garment before her premier was both adorable and hilarious. It drained a lot of the sinister atmosphere that had been building up in his mind.

"Look, with everything that's happening it's going to be the better part of a week before anything can be done in terms of Garment's business. In fact, unless her clothing powers also extend to business management I'd put it at several weeks before she can get anything together. We'll keep an eye on things, but I think Aisha will be alright."

He let out a long breath and nodded in agreement. "I understand. It's just…"

"I get it." She replied. Brian knew that she did. Lisa was one of the few people who knew about Aisha, about the reason for him joining the team. It had been the cause that drove him, even if that cause seemed to become progressively more obscure lately. It was like Aisha could just drop out of his mind for days on end. He felt terrible about it. As hard as things had been recently, as crazy as it all was, she was his sister. She was important, and he needed to keep that in mind.

"Do you need any help getting up to your place?" He asked, pulling into the parking lot of Lisa's apartment building."

"No, just drop me by the door. I'll call for a pickup in the morning."

"Got it." He said, pulling up. "I'll let you know when I have a meeting set up, but please don't stress over it."

"No chance of avoiding that, but I'll at least be able to get some sleep." Her eyes turned serious for a second. "I know this was necessary, and I sure as hell needed it, but we're going to have to make up for lost time. This is a critical period and we can't let it slip."

"Trust me, I get it." He replied. "Don't worry, we'll get through this."

"Thanks." Lisa gave him a smile before she turned and slumped towards the apartment entrance. He could tell she meant it to be reassuring, but it was anything but. Instead of her usual foxlike grin of confidence it came across as forced and unsteady. He shifted nervously as he pulled out onto the road. Problems at home, problems with the team, and the persistent problem that was Joe. Well, nobody said being team leader was easy. A sardonic grin crossed his face as he headed towards the other side of the city. It was time to lead.

46.2-2 Interlude Colin

Colin strode through the night, enjoying the feeling of freedom from his restored mobility. Just a week of incapacitation had nearly driven him insane. He couldn't imagine what the projected months of recovery would have been like. Lying helpless as the city descended into chaos, unable to act as everything he worked towards crumbled around him. At best being allowed to offer moral or administrative support, or serve as a lightning rod for when the blame finally needed to be assigned.

That was what stung the most about the situation. A lifetime of perfect conduct and it only took a single mistake to open the floodgates. Lung's capture was supposed to be the pinnacle of his career, the beginning of a new age for the city. A chance to turn things around. Instead, it had seen him suspended from command with his equipment confiscated and the possibility of criminal charges waiting in the wings.

After being slighted with that lone black mark he was suddenly facing everything and anything that could be directed at him. It was like the world was waiting for its opportunity and only Colin's years of iron discipline had been holding it back. The disaster at the bank immediately followed by Amy Dallon's debrief and master containment. The rapid actions and transfers meant to smooth things over, ultimately doing nothing but providing more points of failure. The impossible attack on the Rig that cost him his lab, his health, and possibly even his command. From the first crack the others spread like a spiderweb.

It was an apt metaphor. Everything came back to the bug controller. The naive girl who had been styled as Lord and then Lady Khepri by the internet. The world had built up the image of an implacable cold-hearted villain with no remorse. They hadn't seen her in the aftermath of her fight with Lung, or when she had been begging him for unthinkable concessions on behalf of ill-conceived undercover work. It was possible that 'Khepri' was a true master villain and manipulator, able to fool his lie detector perfectly and plan things twelve steps in advance. Possible, but not probable.

More likely she was a teenager badly in over her head and lashing out blindly, trying to remedy a situation she had long since lost control of. In many ways a novice with power could be more destructive than an experienced adversary. The key difference being an experienced adversary would at least moderate their actions to the point of ensuring said destruction didn't fall on them as well.

It was fairly likely that 'Lady Khepri' was trapped in a situation she had long since lost any semblance of control over. Regrettably, it was a feeling he could relate to, as unfortunate as that was. Being confined to a hospital bed, watching the world descend into chaos around him, he'd been desperate for a lifeline. For any way out, anything that would keep him from being bed ridden for months and nearly crippled after.

But that wasn't the case. Wouldn't be the case. Not anymore. He tensed his legs, feeling the muscle sheathing and reinforcing bone splints take the pressure as he launched into his next step. The sensation was intoxicating, freedom and power at his full command.

"Now remember, this is a trial run, not a stress test". The familiar voice had spoken from a subdermal transducer that conducted sound waves along bone directly to his ear. The implant added a slight echoey aspect to the speech, but not enough to impact the efficiency of the communication, and something he could correct for at a later time. The entire system was a compromise from planned direct neural interfaces. Unfortunately, the pressing timeframe of events didn't allow full development and testing, or the acclimatization process required for such technology. Rather than a single perfect work, the process would need to be a staged series of upgrades.

"I'm well aware." He replied. The subvocal microphone wasn't as efficient as the receiver system, still requiring him to speak softly for his portion of the communication. In acknowledgement of the message, he slowed his strides from near bounding to a deliberate, measured gait.

There was a crunch of rubble as his companion fell in beside him. A ghost of a smile crossed Colin's lips, the lightest of personal satisfactions he'd allow himself to indulge in. Technically this wasn't the first time Dragon had been a presence on one of his patrols. Occasionally, on a particularly slow night, she would call in through his field comm. Light conversation, nothing that would detract from his duties or incur any risk, and much less substantial than their infrequent collaborations, but he had to admit he enjoyed the distraction. He had long abstained from any personal connection or indulgence that would diminish his ability to function as a hero, which left Dragon as one of the few people who might count as a 'social' contact.

However, this was different from a long-distance call with shared sensor data. The sleek and streamlined suit moved over the ruined streets with a grace his still-healing body couldn't hope to match. This model was one of her smaller builds, barely twelve feet long, but much more agile and more suited for work in tight quarters and urban environments while still holding her signature reptilian form. It had been assembled, if not completely fabricated, at Dragon's new beta-site south of the city. The first Dragon suit of Brockton Bay.

As a consequence of its smaller size and greater articulation the suit was able to mimic expressive postures as it moved. It was the kind of detail about Dragon's work that consistently impressed him. The utility of a highly mobile suit was obvious, but Dragon took it further to ensure the construct was able to convey body language and expression. It was something that would prove vital when interacting with the public or the press, both major concerns in the current situation. A stalwart and rigid battle suit could be an intimidating presence, but one that could subtly adjust its posture in response to questions or display mimicked emotions was able to become personable in a way Colin often struggled with.

He wondered if Dragon's specialty naturally lent itself to a more holistic approach to technology implementation, in contrast to his more focused methodology. That might be why their collaborations seemed to be so fruitful. Combined, one specialization could compliment the other.

The suit turned its head towards him and tilted it slightly. The slight adjustment of the optical reticles seemed to indicate a measure of concern. "This is also a very early stage for field testing. Nearly premature. First sign of a problem, and we're calling it."

"Acknowledged." The majority of the trials he was taking his modifications through could have been performed in the training center or power testing department at the PRT headquarters, or even back at Protectorate Storage and Monitoring Site 21-A, where most of his surgeries had taken place. But this was his city. It was only right that he should get back on the streets, even if that was in a reduced capacity.

That thought stung more than it should have. He knew the reality of the situation. He was nowhere near combat ready. Multiple implant sites were still healing, even with the benefit of what powers and technology he'd been able to call in to accelerate the process. The hundreds of tiny modifications, and the promise of more to come, almost made him regret not electing for complete replacement of damaged sections.

No, Dragon had been right to talk him out of that. Setting aside the adjustment period required for learning to use even a single cybernetic limb, much less several, the entire project would likely have failed if he had gone that route. The dire circumstances may have streamlined approval of technology and procedures that would have taken months or years in any other situation, but it wasn't a blank cheque. There were limits, and he nearly ran straight into them.

Dragon knew more about the design and approval process than him. Oh, he had perfect knowledge of the exact procedures, guidelines, and necessary steps, but Dragon worked directly with the people who granted said approvals. She knew how they thought, what convictions they held, and what kind of technology they were overly sensitive to. Wide scale cybernetic enhancement was a tall order, particularly for a fast-tracked approval. Proposed cybernetic enhancement that involved the removal of healthy or recoverable limbs or organs would have been dead on arrival.

So, in place of a complete rebuild he instead saw more of a renovative approach. Bone lacing and muscle sheaths addressed the worst of his injuries. Support systems that complimented biological processes rather than supplant them became the order of the day. There was an irony in the fact that what had been sold as 'noninvasive' augmentations in fact required substantially more work than just removing the injured areas and starting from scratch.

But he had done it. With Dragon's help in the design and surgery process he had folded a dozen discarded ideas and pieces of stored technology into a workable solution. He was mobile again and if not at full capacity then at least on a track to exceed his previous limits. To be more for the city than he ever could be before.

A single look around him served to cement his conviction. The state of his city showed how badly his presence was needed. The streets were abandoned thanks to the State of Emergency curfew, but that only added a ghostly aspect to the damage on display. Buildings that he passed a hundred times on his patrols were lying in rubble, often spilling into the street, save a single lane path cleared by the day's recovery efforts. The landscape was one of persistent damage and temporary repair measures.

Measures that accomplished little more than allowing access to more ruined areas of the city. He tensed his legs, feeling micro-actuators charge briefly before leaping on top of a pile of rubble that used to be a storefront. Two more bounding strides took him further up the ruined building, to a point where the city-wide damage of the previous night was on full display.

Dragon's suit watched him with what could almost be called exasperation before following him up the mound with fluid grace.

"Colin…" The voice had an admonishing tone to it, even under the echo, the electronic filter, and the Newfoundland accent.

"That was well within the parameters of testing." He countered. Commands to an ocular interface opened his internal sensors to Dragon's systems and from the body language of her suit she seemed to concede the point.

The ocular interface was another compromise. He would call it a quick and dirty solution to man-machine interfacing, but the system was actually extremely elegantly designed, utilizing natural eye movements and cornea projection. The visor display of his previous armor was now unnecessary, and his mind was already racing with other systems that could be used to replace it.

But it was still two steps behind his ultimate goal. The most elegant interface in the world couldn't compare to a direct cognitive link. Technically it meant he was 'chasing Apeiron', a phrase that had become common in the tinker circles of the Protectorate over the last week. That, along with the now infamous comment regarding 'three-day-old technology', had elevated Apeiron to near mythical status, something unreachable and unapproachable.

Looking over the city, the band of darkness stretching from the shore nearly to the hills, the still glowing scars cast off from the ABB ambush, the damage to the coastline and Boardwalk from the upper atmospheric strike, with all of that on display Colin could understand where the sentiment came from. Understand it, not agree with it. It struck of complacency, or seeking an excuse. The vast majority of the Protectorate had stopped even attempting to understand Apeiron, effectively ceding any responsibility to policy makers and the upper echelons of departments and government offices.

That wasn't an option available to Colin. Not just because of his determination as a hero, his focus on preparation and countermeasures for any and all problems. No, Colin didn't have the option of happily ignoring the situation and watching from a distance, because for him there was no distance. It had been his city that endured Apeiron's presence. Every act of chaos that the rest of the Protectorate was looking at as anything from personal entertainment to a source of research data he had to deal with personally. Apeiron and Brockton Bay weren't hypotheticals for him, they were a harsh reality he had to face.

"You're thinking about Apeiron again." Colin turned to face the suit, once again managing to arrange its non-human form into a posture that came across as companionate. He briefly wondered if she had read into his personal biometrics from the data link he had opened to get a read on his emotional state, then dismissed the idea. You didn't need a direct data link to gauge someone's emotions, and Dragon had known him long enough, worked with him enough to gauge when he was bothered.

"I was considering the limitations in my command interface." He confessed. "I understand that a neural-integrated cerebral implant would be excessively dangerous and disruptive, but the purported neuron mapping technology mentioned in your encounter with Apeiron should be technically possible, and scalable to a field interface."

His current augmentations already used electroencephalogram technology both as a form of monitoring and reserve control system in the event of serious incapacitation. Refining technology to the point of being able to read individual neuron activation would be challenging, but was a very real possibility. Being able to implant data, allowing a direct two-way link was an entirely different matter, one he might not be able to resolve on his own.

It was a common thread. Technology purported by Apeiron could be approached, but not fully obtained. "Chasing Apeiron" indeed.

The posture of Dragon's suit shifted slightly. "There are a serious number of risks involved with that kind of technology."

"I'm well aware." He responded. "But it's too valuable of an avenue to not pursue." The aftermath of Dragon's 'battle' with Apeiron had shown that. While the way the tinker had navigated and subverted the network had been impressive, and highly concerning for any number of digital security concerns, what had truly stood out was Dragon's side of the conflict.

He could barely believe it once the full report was made available to him. He knew Dragon operated on a higher level. The benefits of being a Noctis cape combined with a highly advantageous specialization were evident. She had even managed to leverage her crippling agoraphobia into an advantage, resulting in a devotion to her work and heroism that exceeded what even he could manage. Given the number of systems and initiatives she covered it was obvious she was capable of functioning at a higher level. People had just badly underestimated how high that level actually was.

Apeiron's functionality in that conflict had been impressive, but Dragon's had been a work of art. The brutality and efficiency of her combat had been breathtaking. He doubted most people even understood the implications from the records of the event, but they were clear to him. Even accounting for her resources, her supporting programs, and her broader access rights she had operated on a level that was pure artistry. In a way it was beautiful.

There was an irony to things. Before Apeiron's appearance the 'impossible tinker' would have unquestionably been Dragon. Even he was aware of the magnitude of the gap between them. It wasn't just her power, or the time available to her. She was an exceedingly intelligent, determined, and valiant woman. The strength of her convictions was clear in her refusal of Apeiron's offer, regardless of the criticism or speculation the act had generated.

She was the tinker he had and still sought to emulate. Her functionality was evidence of what a person could be capable of through determination, intelligence, and hard work. She was proof that Apeiron wasn't the unassailable monolith that had been built up by the wider Protectorate. And she had done it without the secondary abilities that allowed Apeiron to function as such.

"Has there been any determination of the presence of Apeiron's supporting powers?" He asked. His own implants were able to access data networks, but he lacked Dragon's secure connection.

The suit shook its head. "Given the level of the effects in play there's an intrinsic difficulty in evaluating the technology-based expressions from any that might be due to a supporting power." The suit shifted slightly. "Though it's looking like your shaker theory was close enough that I still probably owe you that drink."

That brought a smile to Colin's face. His public conviction regarding the presence of shaker powers had been thoroughly ridiculed following Apeiron's public appearance. The fact that he had been completely incapacitated and thus unable to defend himself hadn't helped matters. One ray of light had come from Apeiron's recovery of Weld, where he offhandedly confirmed that his broken technology fades after a period of time. It was an effect Dragon herself had observed through a recovered heat sink following the conflict at the storage yard.

The exact reason for the effect was unknown. A security measure for preventing the theft or reverse engineering of his technology was the most likely explanation, but it was far from a certainty. If that was the intent the extended delay before the items faded would be counterproductive. A much more reasonable explanation was the idea that Apeiron was working with created matter, some kind of manifested material that would meet the requirements for his technology.

The idea that a cape with a tinker power as strong as Apeiron's could also have an unrelated shaker ability that perfectly synergized stretched credulity. Of course, that was before a week of insanity had recontextualized nearly every known principle of conventional parahuman abilities. The mockery of Colin's initial assessment had died down substantially as the same analysts found themselves forced to deal with one logical impossibility after another.

"That's assuming it's actually Apeiron who is the shaker." He responded, looking towards the former site of Red Pier Container Holdings and current priority disaster area of the Bay.

The suit turned to face him. "I'm not certain of the idea that the robot was actually a parahuman expression."

"I think any hope of certainty has become a distant dream for this city." He replied. "But considering the elements in play, high level changer and shaker powers are significantly more likely than the construction of a weapon on that scale that can also be deployed and recovered inside an urban environment with no sign of its base of operation."

Even with all the other insanity, that giant robot was a standout. Colin was well aware of the logistics of constructing a weapon on that scale. It took Dragon the resources of a small nation to maintain her suits and even her scaled-down Brockton location was a massive investment. Even assuming the kind of stealth or teleportation technology that had been demonstrated by Apeiron's recovery suit, there was simply nowhere to facilitate that kind of machinery within the city.

But there was another option. Colin had been careful about making declarations following the reaction to his shaker theory. He was on thin ice both professionally and in terms of his reputation, and needed all the concessions he could get for cybernetics approval. Where previously he would have been consulted as a near-final authority on the situation he was now just one voice of many. But that was fine. He could live with that, providing information and analysis and presenting 'likely conclusions' based on the data. If he was proven right his reputation would recover, and if not the analysis was still sound and the level of confidence had been included in his reports.

This particular theory was one that was very much not making the rounds of Protectorate tinkers or being discussed in public forums. Information of the state of the fight had become scarce once it had moved out to sea, relying on telephoto lenses and the sensor readings Kid Win had managed to obtain. The only true account was from Dragon's recordings.

Once the 'robot' had been damaged those methods had become useless. Visible light was distorted, infrared was obscured, and there were still precious few sensor methods that could function within the field of particles that had been released, and none of them were reliable over that kind of distance. No, only Dragon had seen what had transpired.

The robot had appeared to be a completely 'conventional' construct up to the point it had been damaged. In fact, it has appeared to be considerably more conventional than most of Apeiron's technology with evidence of cooling systems, integrated hydraulics, and thermal patterns from internal systems. It could easily be believed to be an unconventional construction from the cape or even salvaged technology from another tinker.

Almost. Right up until the moment it had reentered the fight, covered in the glowing signs of Apeiron's healing technology and displaying a blend of mechanical and organic construction. The way metal flowed like water, the way the under-equipped suit had manifested an entire arsenal of weaponry, the voice that had come from it, clearly human but independent of Apeiron's damaged state, it all led to one of two conclusions. Either Apeiron had been amassing technology well beyond what he had deployed even during the worst of the assaults on the city, or that 'robot' was something else entirely.

The prospect of a cape able to grow to titanic proportions, create disruption fields that crippled sensors and electronics, and could emulate advanced technology wasn't a happy one, but there were few happy prospects to come out of the current situation. The Protectorate was keeping a very tight lid on that aspect of the situation.

The popular idea was that Apeiron had acquired technology from a yet-unconfirmed tinker, technology likely built in emulation of old Japanese media. There were a few popular prospects, including two former members of the Sentai Elite. That was particularly unlikely as the technology on display was well beyond what Seiunsho had demonstrated and Shin Mazing was thought to have died facing Leviathan at Kyushu.

"I can understand that." Dragon answered. "But the 'tinker cabal' theory is hard enough for people to deal with. The concept of multiple unknown capes with powers comparable to Apeiron is frightening."

Colin frowned, but nodded. Denying something because they didn't want it to be true. It was ironic that the same accusations had been leveled against him over his shaker theory. It had served his detractors to depict him as too proud to acknowledge that another tinker could have bested him. Fools who didn't understand the amount of work, the commitment that being a high-level tinker demanded. Without supporting powers or a team to back him up Apeiron was a complete impossibility.

Though it seemed the masses were more inclined to accept the impossible than confront a frightening truth. There was a chance he had been the same. He was aware enough of psychology to know that his decisions would never be perfectly logical. There was a distant possibility that some aspect of pride or denial had slipped into his assessment of the situation.

Looking back there were signs he should have picked up on. The determination of 'Khepri' to see the bank heist through, despite the idiocy of it and having effectively leaked the entire operation. That situation had been mismanaged. He was aware of his interpersonal limitations. Thankfully a cooperative public relations department and friendly media had allowed him to portray himself as stoic rather than overly abrupt, but he knew he could be hard to deal with. It was the single flaw he hadn't been able to compensate for with training and determination. The prototype lie detector was supposed to work to resolve that matter, but it hadn't been ready when he needed it. A day late and a dollar short.

It was clear the girl had been holding something back at their second meeting. Things had devolved too quickly for him to find out what, and it wasn't apparent until he had the benefit of hindsight. By the time she spoke with him she had already met Apeiron. She was aware of the tinker tech that was being supplied to the Undersiders. It was even possible she hadn't been fully compromised at that point. That she would have been able to give up the tinker, or at least warn them of his capabilities. Before her public display that ensured there would be no turning back.

Apeiron's motives were still infuriatingly difficult to discern, but there was a chance he might have been more open to communication at that early point. A chance to head off the insanity before it reached a critical level. His interaction with Panacea suggested he wasn't actively hostile and, despite the concerns of high-level manipulation, it seemed to be true. In the tinker's words Colin had merely been classified as difficult to work with, an assessment that he could begrudgingly concede given the standards he held his team to. The use of a more personable member of the Protectorate as the point of contact could have resolved things. It was the kind of role that Assault proved oddly adept in, in contrast to his other professional conduct.

There was also another unpleasant possibility about the situation. The way the bug controller had been outfitted and the demonstrated aspects of Apeiron's thinker power presented a frightening scenario. The tinker may have taken it upon himself to support the girl in her fool's errand, possibly without even understanding the full idiocy of what she was attempting. Thinkers were often led astray by their powers, and it was possible that was just what had happened to Apeiron. It was certainly a more realistic possibility than someone becoming romantically infatuated by that girl.

Unfortunately, it was a theory he couldn't share. Setting aside the supposed risks to the girl's farce of an undercover operation, the revelation would be impossible to make without bringing down disaster on Colin's already precarious position. The vultures were circling, looking for anyone to blame for the current situation. The ensuing mess would take weeks to resolve and strip him of the ability to help his city when it needed him the most.

He had enough heat to deal with already. He might hold no blame for the events at the bank, but the highly visceral spectacle had burned itself into the minds of the public. He would say it was a natural consequence of the Director taking the Wards under her authority, and that it should be clear where the responsibility lay, but the nuances of Protectorate command structures weren't readily apparent. The natural tendency was to look to the top, meaning he shared the spotlight with Director Piggot, and that woman, for all her shortcomings, was a master of public relations.

The debrief of Amy Dallon should have been a turning point, but only complicated things beyond measure. Circulating the recordings should have made his position clear, but it seemed his social failings obscured the facts of the situation, even to Protectorate thinkers. Paired with the master accusations and the entire debacle had only served to sow chaos at the exact time they needed to be pulling together.

Then the disastrous attack on the Rig, his own incapacitation, and the Director's horrendous management of the aftermath. The prospect that things were in any way 'over' following the previous night was hopelessly naive. The display had only generated more concerns, the prospect of a support team being just one of them.

"We'll have no way of knowing until Apeiron makes another move." He said to Dragon. "If his call can be trusted, we might have as much as two days until that happens."

"Time we'll need." She replied, with a complexity of emotion buried under the electronic tone of her voice that Colin had never heard before. She had taken her losses to Apeiron hard, but rallied in her pursuit with as much energy as he had ever seen. Still, bringing up the call was probably a sore point for her.

"About your trace of that call…"

"Don't mention it." She said abruptly.

"I thought the methods you employed were quite impressive. And your theories were sound. It's a shame they didn't-"

"It's fine."

"I mean, it was technically valid. I never would have assumed a cellular signal could have been routed through defunct soviet-era polar transmission stations."

Dragon's suit slumped low to the ground and began making its way further into the Docks. Colin fell silent and moved to follow her. His attempts at reassurance may have come across in a teasing fashion that belied the actual difficulty of the tracing operation she had undertaken. It was probably for the best that he elected not to mention the proposals she had presented regarding submarine cables, signal cloning through the GPS satellite system, or the possible use of gravitational lensing of microwave transmitters.

Instead, they moved towards the heart of the conflict area, Site Zero. The source of the energetic emissions that had spread across the city, entry point for the electronics suppression field that cut across the docks, starting point for Apeiron's battle with Lung, and location of the most important place in the city.

"This is still a system trial. I know how important it is for you to see the site, but we're not taking any chances with that field. First sign of any trouble and we retreat." Dragon sternly warned him.

"Understood." He replied. Based on every theoretical model his implants should be functional within the bounds of the effect, but 'should' wasn't something you wanted to rely on. He had designed them, with Dragon's help, to ensure he wouldn't be crippled in the event of a power surge or EMP, but the field released by the 'robot' had characteristics unique to itself. "Is there any update on the analysis of the field structure?"

Dragon's suit shifted slightly as it walked beside him. "Multiple independent evaluations, but the consensus seems to match up to Apeiron's claims during his call. Some type of charged particle that naturally forms a lattice when present in sufficient concentrations. The effect distorts visible light, obviously, and seems to scatter higher frequency radiation while absorbing lower frequency. Any active circuit within the field sees massive induction effects due to particle interaction. The 'persistent EMP' effect."

"Right." Colin replied. "And the cartoon connection?"

"That still has people beating their heads against the wall. There is a theory of an equivalent discovery driving the design of the robot…" He gave Dragon's suit a flat look. "But it is possible that a specific expression of parahuman abilities from someone with a heavy emotional investment in the media produced a largely identical effect."

Colin nodded. In terms of the possibility of associated capes, it would match up to Apeiron's quirk of using Transformers sound effects on his machinery. The idea of an entire team of Uber and Leet styled parahumans with the power of Apeiron was unpleasant in the extreme, but there was no shortage of unpleasant for them to deal with.

"Are you going to be alright inside the effect?" He asked Dragon.

The suit nodded. "I've upgraded all of my transmitters to be able to connect through all but the thickest portions of the field. For venturing inside, I have some ultrasonic transceivers I can deploy at the edge of the effect, and the suit is capable of semi-autonomous operation in the event that I lose signal."

That would likely be part of the 'software-based' interface Dragon had referenced in her exchange with Apeiron. It was a fascinating concept, bringing to mind his own combat prediction project. He had been exclusively focused on field work, overlooking the gains that could have come from such a support system when applied to other areas. With the main system destroyed, like so many others, and reduced to offsite backups, he would have needed to rework most of its elements anyway. He could enjoy the minor benefit of being knocked back to zero in taking a better path to his goals. The knowledge that he could replace his lost technology with something potentially better was a ray of light in a dark situation.

"I have my integrated ultrasonics, so I should be able to work through that link as well, but we'll probably need to switch to audible communication. I'll be generally focused on scanning and system tests."

Dragon confirmed her own parameters and they moved towards the darkened band of the city. There was the faint echo of noise coming from beyond the strip of darkness. Most likely a revel from the Merchants holdings. The field had effectively fortified their territory, blocking communications and requiring all traffic to divert around the western edge of the city. With the Guard units stationed in the south and most of the area evacuated or abandoned it had granted the gang an immense amount of autonomy.

It was a concerning situation, but so far it was being used mostly for frivolity. Drug addled parties had been a staple of the gang's operations since its inception, and that tradition had only grown over time. It served as recruitment tactic, morale booster, and a chance to grant rewards for the more accomplished members. In terms of criminal actions, beyond copious amounts of drug consumption and trafficking, the consequences were minor. Or at least minor compared to an Empire rally. The point was they were unlikely to spill over to cause problems for the rest of the city, a blessing given the current state of things.

And a blessing for him as well. Despite being back on the streets he was very much not back in the field. The armor he was wearing was a rapid fabrication, created mostly for show. It offered some defensive value, but mainly existed to keep up appearances in the event he was spotted. With his suits destroyed he had been limited to severely out of date models that had been stored or sent to other tinkers for analysis. Even they wouldn't work with his new requirements. The range of implants was mostly sufficient, but required precise interfaces and support systems. He would need to rework his armor to account for that.

Until then he could only be a shadow of his former presence in the city. The rapidly fabricated armor might have been visually identical to his old suit, but that was just for show. Something meant to keep up morale in a bad situation. Until he finished his replacement suit he wouldn't be able to properly think of himself as Armsmaster.

And the city needed Armsmaster. He could see that now more than ever. He'd received the damage reports, watched the coverage, and seen how the situations had weighed on his colleagues, but that had nothing on seeing the destruction in person. He had fought enough S-Class threats to know the signs of a city on the edge. The question of rebuilding or abandoning was often razor thin, with the Endbringers usually being responsible for the latter category. While large sections of the city were untouched, the areas hit hardest, particularly when combined with the impact of the field, could easily be deemed unrecoverable.

Though considering the number of abandoned or defunct buildings on this side of the city, that might be something of a formality at this point. The years hadn't been kind to the Docks. He'd been focused on keeping the gangs in check, but the damage from their presence was evident in the slow decay of the past decade.

He was brought out of his musing as they approached energetic trail 17-F-Cyan. It manifested as a static bank of fog bound with the range of the effect by whatever force had created it. The majority of the trails had already been thoroughly documented, with independent examination confirming Apeiron's own safety recommendations. This particular trail was largely harmless, but still somewhat inconvenient. Not enough to be classified as dangerous, but thoroughly annoying.

Still, he entered the effect without breaking his pace, following Dragon's example. It only took a few strides to clear the fog, but the clawing thickness and total lack of visibility was unnerving. Additionally, emerging into the street revealed the reason this particular effect was classified as 'annoying'.

Water flowed off Dragon's suit and his own armor as they continued on their way. The mist wasn't harmful, but it completely soaked anything it touched. The amount of water generated seemed to exceed what could conceivably be due to any level of condensation, being closer to the after effects of being caught in a thunderstorm. Fortunately, they were both largely in sealed armor, with the worst he'd have to deal with being a soggy replacement costume at the end of the night.

It was just one of so many mystifying examples of such effects. They were all apparently tied to an 'elemental' theme, variations of natural expressions of materials and forces rather than any conceivable technological source. Dissipation was apparently 'anticipated' within two days, but no details were given as to their true nature. The only clue was rare samples of reactive material that had been extracted from some of the trails, usually with the aid of a parahuman ability.

"Have you had a chance to review the analysis of the extracted samples from those trails?" He asked. It was largely an attempt to make conversation out of politeness, but he was interested to hear Dragon's ideas on the effect.

"Testing is ongoing, but the initial findings are fascinating." She replied. "Material analysis has consistently been a dead end. The best theory was some type of modified quartz allotrope, but that was quickly disproven. It could possibly be a new form of matter. Any number of triggers can bring a response from it, typically in the form of a 'elemental' discharge. Proven effects range from creation of mineral compounds well in excess of the initial sample's volume to thermal and electrical discharge. Remarkably consistent results, to the point where it could be possible to integrate into technology, which was likely the original source."

"So, an unidentified form of matter that causes energy or matter to manifest and then vanishes in defiance of physical principles…" He said, a small feeling of vindication blooming inside him. "That sounds remarkably like a shaker effect. A material generation shaker at that."

Dragon tilted her head. "I'll admit, I may end up owing you more than one drink after this is over." There was a pause as she continued walking. "If it is a shaker effect, it would be a different one than what Apeiron's displayed. And different from what was displayed from the… Gundam."

Armsmaster held back a sigh at Dragon's use of the popular term for the robot suit. Yes, it was being used informally by most of the Protectorate and half of the internet at this point, but professionalism demanded they not give in. He thought he caught a movement from the suit at his reaction, almost indicating amusement, but he was probably imagining things.

"Yes, different from the 'Gundam'." There was another possibly-amused reaction, but he pressed on. "Which means either Apeiron was able to emulate a shaker effect through some technological means…" which would be in line with the popular 'power tinker' theory that had been embraced so strongly. "Or there's another cape yet to make an appearance."

"Another cape. Another matter creator. Another similar power set to Apeiron." Dragon's voice turned serious. "You know what that could mean?"

He nodded. "Cluster." It was the most likely possibility for a cape with a range of powers. Of course, capes from large clusters usually had their powers reduced to the point of near uselessness. If anything, Apeiron's abilities seemed to build upon each other. The demonstrated powers would suggest tinker, thinker, shaker, and probably some form of brute. The potential for overlap could reduce the total number needed to explain a cluster, but it still raised the possibility of a significant number of capes waiting to make their appearance.

Which would be a bad situation. Cape clusters were complicated situations often with destructive dynamics between them. There was evidence of mental alteration being a consequence of the arrangement, another frightening explanation for Apeiron's apparent personality shifts between appearances. However, the biggest concern would have to be dealing with someone other than Apeiron. As chaotic as his presence had been, Colin was forced to admit the man had at least attempted to mitigate the direct damage of his actions, though in a highly inexpert manner. The possibility of a cape of the same scale operating with less care, or even as a blatant villain, was horrifying.

"Potentially." Dragon agreed. "But nothing that can be done without further evidence. Analysis of the call, both voice stress assessment and the noise that triggered the interruption suggests the presence of another individual in his workshop." Excitement started to enter Dragon's voice and she began to speak faster. "Assuming my initial tracking from Wednesday morning was accurate, Apeiron likely operates within the northern third of the city. Given the number of industrial estates that have been rendered uninhabitable, and assessment of patterns of appearances there are a finite number of sites that could house equipment necessary to support his operations. The removal of active effects may have allowed a site-by-site evaluation of those locations, but that is unlikely to be completed before Apeiron's next expected appearance. Until that point our most advisable course of action would be through analysis, though emerging information may render large portions of such assessments invalid."

It was the same excitement Dragon had shown when discussing potential ways of capturing Apeiron, or possible counters to his technology. The excitement always seemed centered on the scope of the problem, the level of the technology, and he admired her for that. When presented with a challenge most tinkers would consider impossible she embraced the difficulty of the task, sometimes extolling how challenging it would be, or the marginal chances of success even the most ideal countermeasures would present. She was fully honest with herself regarding the difficulty of the situation before them, but did not let it deter them.

And she was right about their current situation. All they could really do was wait, hope, and prepare. And analyze the information they had. That was the true reason for this visit to Site Zero. Of everything Apeiron had displayed, this was the most critical. The one that could not be left to chance. What it could mean, the implications were staggering. As soon as he was mobile he needed to see it with his own eyes.

And to think, they would have been left completely unaware of the matter if not for the actions of Victoria Dallon. Her actions had likely saved the life of Triumph and granted unique insight to what could be one of the most significant events in the history of parahumans. The combination had bought the girl no end of good will at a time when she and her family badly needed it. At the very least, after the rescue of his son, Mayor Christner would be going to the wire on New Wave's behalf.

"It would be good to speak with Glory Girl again after we visit the site." He said, thinking through her initial account and the clarification she had offered during their brief meeting. Any animosity over the treatment of her sister during the debrief seemed to be mitigated by the significance of recent events. She wasn't exactly friendly, but she was professional towards him, which was frankly more than he expected to receive.

"That might be difficult to schedule. The PRT is sending in a number of specialists to discuss the matter, as well as for a new set of power testing. Additionally, they're conducting sequential investigations for the anomalous case files."

"Still?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Colin, there are at least a half-dozen case numbers that are going to be assigned due to this event, and that's assuming Apeiron doesn't get his own special designation. Right now, they're still trying to sort out the order." There was a shift in the stance of the suit and her tone became somewhat amused. "Though if Victoria Dallon ends up as Case 69 it would probably incense Brandish to the point of trying to fight the entire PRT single handed."

He nodded in acknowledgement of the low-brow joke. "I'm not sure the event and the effects of the event require separate case numbers."

"My understanding is they feel both are significant enough to warrant their own investigations. There is also a chance that March and Triumph might end up sharing whatever case number they assign Glory Girl."

Despite himself Colin found himself checking their surroundings. The direct link meant there was no chance of being overheard, but the state of March, specifically her survival, was one of the prime reasons for the secrecy placed on the event. Apeiron had been deadly serious about March from the start. It had initially been seen as an odd point of focus, an example of his eccentricities or perhaps another attempt at manipulation for those who still held to that theory. The magnitude of that attitude had been badly underestimated, right up to the moment of his exchange with the girl prior to Bakuda's attacks. Given the terrifying levels of coordination she had been apparently capable of, now clearly tracing all the way back to the precision strike on the Rig, and the evident deadliness of her striker power, it was obviously that seriousness had been well placed.

But no matter how justified Apeiron's outlook had been, it was undeniably severe. Amongst the most severe convictions the man held. The city was currently enjoying the closest thing to peace it had seen in a week. Of course, that meant only occasional assaults, robberies, sporadic looting, and light gang activity. Given the state of Brockton Bay, Colin was prepared to accept that. The last thing they needed was Apeiron going on a warpath hunting down what appeared to be a near crippled cape. He now had personal reasons for vendetta with the girl beyond his initial caution, and there was real and justified concern about what he would do if or when he learned of her survival. Given the significance of the rest of the event there was ample reason for keeping matters discreet even without the threat of a tinker rampage.

The darkened area of the city was getting closer and transmissions between him and Dragon were picking up more gaps, a sign that portions of the digital signal were failing to penetrate the strengthening field. Armsmaster pulled up an active display of all system diagnostics, maintaining the information in his field of vision as they moved into the distortion effect.

As expected of a collaborative project designed with Dragon, the systems held. In fact, they were maintaining themselves better than expected. Reports of implanted pacemakers that were shielded from the effect by the bodies of their users made more sense following Apeiron's explanation. The conductive nature of the human body provided a moderate level of protection from the effects of the field. Colin was actually functioning better than he would have with full replacement parts. The additional complication of blending flesh and machinery seemed to be balanced by the benefits it could provide. And while he may have been barely functioning at the moment, a full recovery, stages upgrades, and redesigned armor would allow him to reach a level he never could have achieved before. He would emerge from the crisis better than ever, ready to shoulder the burdens of his role as hero and leader of the city's Protectorate.

"Everything green across the board." He informed Dragon, switching to a normal speaking voice in place of his subvocalizing.

"Understood. Let me know if anything begins to deviate. We want to act before there's a problem, not in response to one." A cylindrical portion of her suit split off and attached to a nearby lamppost. "Deploying ultrasonic relays. We'll need one per block, and might start seeing significant lag, but it will give us a link to the outside."

"Acknowledged." He took a breath and stepped forward. The boundary between the lighted portion of the city and the blacked-out strip was not a smooth one. Power disruptions were complicated things, and the field had damaged all electronics within it. Some of the affected equipment included transformers that serviced areas outside the field, meaning there were sporadic portions around the boundary where it was technically possible to use electronics, but the sources of electricity had been cut off. From an elevated position it gave the field a saw-toothed look that only enhanced its menace.

Inside the area was totally dark and unsettlingly quiet. The lights from his armor and Dragon's suit shined on a scarred and deserted landscape. It felt oppressive and clawing, reminding him too much of his recent, desperate state and dire condition. There was a link to the outside world through Dragon's relays, but ultrasonic data transfer was a less reliable method and Dragon would need the majority of the bandwidth. He held back, focusing on the status of his own systems as they moved through the darkened streets.

Any cheer that had existed between them was absent in the current environment. They pressed forward in silence with grim determination, stopping only to place the relays necessary to maintain communication, their chain of breadcrumbs and link to the outside world. A waning gibbous moon hung in the sky, casting a cold light complimented by the faint remains of the effect that struck down Lung the previous night. The light seemed to deepen shadows more than provide any illumination.

The atmosphere created was unpleasant, and wasn't helped with their arrival at the container yard. It sported the same signs of battle that could be found in the rest of the city, but with an unpleasant addition. Some of the effects of Bakuda's more potent bombs were still visible from where Oni Lee had been launching them with wild abandon before Apeiron had managed to put him in critical condition. Those would have been notable anywhere else, but they barely registered in the spectacle before them.

Tunnels of red crystal wormed through containers, buildings, and the ground itself. Splitting and merging in a pattern that seemed random, but suggested a subtle and implacable order to their arrangement. It wasn't just the tunneling, but the sense of irreverence for anything that happened to have found itself in the way of the effect. Flimsy wooden pallets were torn through, the gaps layered by hard crystal, in the same pattern seen in steel beams or solid concrete. It created a sense of irrelevance, the idea that all conventional materials were not just equally lacking in the face of the effect, but equally valid for its expression. That the flimsiest material would do as well as the sturdiest.

The crystal formations lining the gaps that cut through the area had their own disturbing aspects. From first glance they came across as blood red, but a slight shift in the way light hit them could shift the color to pitch black, near transparent, or something that seemed to hold both the texture and color of flesh.

It was an unpleasant place, but they drove forward towards the heart of the effect. The place where Apeiron's robot had been downed, then set upon by a near-death March. It was like tracing their way to the heart of an explosion, and Colin and Dragon soon found themselves needing to navigate places where the effect had gouged portions of the ground, or burrowed deep into the earth, leaving nothing but a black pit.

"Some of these extend down for hundreds of feet, and that's just an estimate based on the Ultrasound." Dragon explained as they passed by a wide tunnel extending into the cement at a sharp angle. With the arrangement of the crystals, it would be an unpleasant trip for anyone who might have the misfortune to fall into it.

"Still stable though." He remarked, indicating various portions of the tunnels. "Normally I'd expect a collapse, or induced instability in the surface, but the material lining the tunnels is taking the weight."

"There are probably tunnels extending deep into the surrounding area. It will take a survey crew or full excavation to determine their full extent." Dragon commented. "More instability is the last thing this area needs."

From Glory Girl's account the cause of the effect had been a combination of Apeiron's technology violently failing and a runaway effect of March's power. 'Violent failure of Apeiron technology' was already evidently a serious matter, but this specific effect seemed to be out of the norm, even by that man's standards.

It was apparent the robots utilized some highly concerning power source. The theory that Apeiron tinkered directly with powers was still unfounded, but it was evident at least a portion of his technology worked on the same principles as parahuman expression. The implications of that were frightening enough, but the violent failure induced by March's destruction of his power core was a clear demonstration of a worst-case scenario.

March's striker power was evidently of titanic power. No one had seen it coming. Well, no one but Apeiron, but even he had failed to anticipate the synergy between March and Oni Lee. To be fair, Colin had as well. The teleporter was already titanically dangerous, and Colin should have anticipated the threat potential of combining the man's intrinsic skills and powers with high-level thinker support. It was a mistake he wouldn't make again, and doubted Apeiron would either.

The point was, what had been assumed to be a middling power blast effect was evidently sufficient to penetrate levels of durability that were typically regarded as insurmountable. The implications of the cancelation of Clockblocker's power were now apparent, and estimates for what would be required to even slightly damage Apeiron had been of near unimaginable scale. Right until March had reduced him to a bloody pulp with a single indirect, if massed, strike.

The force behind March's blasts clearly defied conventional explanation. As such it was unlikely that Apeiron's power core would have breached quite so violently in any other situation. That was a small mercy given the effects.

The result had been what could only be described as a violent dimensional breach, the kind Protectorate divisions have nightmares about. Worse, the effect was directly tied to elements of parahuman abilities. Victoria Dallon claimed to have connected with the source of her power and done so in a meaningful way. The claim was backed up by her new ability to project small portions of her forcefield beyond the bounds of her body, apparently under the control of her power's source.

It was possible she was deluded about the source of the effect, but the nature of it was self-evident. Glory Girl had experienced a modification of her ability. She hadn't been able to recreate the alleged independent projection of her forcefield, but she was optimistic about being able to repeat the feat. In a single night Apeiron's work and March's ministrations may have proven passenger theory.

That alone would be worth the case number even without the apparent trump effect and interdimensional implications. Apeiron clearly wasn't just working with advanced technology. Dragon worked with advanced technology. String Theory had worked with advanced technology. Apeiron was shaking the very underpinnings of what it meant to be a parahuman. It was no wonder he was impossible to predict. He was changing the rulebook that everyone else played by.

And there was the possibility that an entire cluster of comparable capes was waiting in the wings. Most people would have dreaded the prospect. For Colin it just showed how much the city needed him, how important it was for him to get back in the fray.

They approached the center of the effect, a cluster of crimson tunnels branching from a single point, like a bloody starburst. The nature of the effect, its disturbingly organic aspect and irregular patterning, added to the alien feel of the place. An event that could turn the world on its head, and they were standing at the heart of it. Anomalous event likely to be categorized Case 68, interdimensional breach associated with true location of passenger entities, and the unfortunately named Case 69, modification of existing parahuman abilities based on exposure to passenger entities. An event as significant to the understanding of powers as Case 27 Second Trigger or even the nebulously understood Case 41 Double Trigger.

Apeiron was guaranteed a trump rating. At this point that was a dead certainty. In all estimation, the specific categorizations of Apeiron's abilities and their assigned numbers barely mattered at this point. Colin wasn't willing to completely dismiss the man as something beyond understanding but he could easily accept the evident power gap. The only comparable, rational entities were either Birdcaged or members of the Triumvirate. Given the likelihood of him receiving a specific case number, any engagement protocols would be based on his sequential investigation, not the power rating he ended up being assigned.

Looking around at the devastated landscape bathed in pale moonlight Colin felt the magnitude of the task before him. He held to the conviction that nothing was truly beyond reach or understanding. That with enough effort, determination, and sacrifice anything was possible. The recent days had put that philosophy to the test, but he had proven himself. He was back on his feet and ready to make a difference.

But not here. As much as he felt the need to see this place with his own eyes, there was little to be gained from it. The area was saturated in particles that made any form of electromagnetic scanning pointless. Ultrasonics could map out the area, but that was of little use. Samples of the material had been collected by advanced teams, and probably a fair share of scavengers, and while it exhibited some interesting properties, there was nothing groundbreaking or immediately enlightening. In the end the value of the trip had been the trial run for his augmentations and proof of their endurance against the interference field.

"You know, getting out here, I realize there's not much we can do." He admitted. "It was something of a pointless trip, but thank you for indulging-"

"Colin?" Dragon's voice came hard and fast with enough concern to draw his attention directly towards her suit. The entire assembly was in a low stance and seemed tense.

"Yes? What is it?" He asked in concern.

"Look up."

He realized the particular stance aligned the optical sensors for the widest view of the sky above them. He quickly tilted his head up, and froze.

The figure was familiar. He had seen him on numerous occasions. Every cape who attended disaster response was familiar with him. For most of the planet a single sighting was something exceptional. Colin had a multitude of experiences, but the impact never diminished. The grandeur, the hope it inspired never lessened.

Floating above the ruined container yard was a figure in brilliant gold. A blank expression that seemed almost contemplative and sorrowful graced a face that appeared simultaneously familiar and distinct. The golden man, clad in a white bodysuit and flowing cape, towered over the devastation of Apeiron's works and reviewed it with a critical eye.

No, not critical. Scion's expression remained unchanged as it always had. Colin had trained himself against apophenia. Against confirmation biases and allowing presuppositions to color his perception in the field. The most that could be said was Scion was directing his gaze towards the area. Given the usual vacant attitude towards his surroundings, even during massive disasters or Endbringer fights, that alone could be considered remarkable. Not unique, but still remarkable.

He glanced from the figure floating in the sky to Dragon's suit, then back again. Scion was notoriously unresponsive to communication attempts. He was impossible to track or impede in any way. He operated on an apparently random series of objectives, not seeking out dire situations so much as attending to them if they crossed his path. His motives were impossible to gauge, and Colin couldn't begin to guess at what he was doing here.

Specifically, here, now at this time. Scion saved people from disasters, but he would leave a ruined city without a second thought. Given that he was impossible to detect beyond visual observation even without the field it would be unlikely anyone would have noticed him had they not been right here, right not, at this very moment.

Or was it unlikely? No one could have detected Scion, so he could have been present for hours. His actions were impossible to predict or understand and the site hadn't exactly been a high traffic area after the initial assessment. Had they arrived at the perfect time to encounter him, or had they blundered their way into another of Scion's unfathomable behaviors.

Colin watched the golden man hang in the air. The figure was barely moving or shifting his gaze. At most the fingers of his hands seemed to be feeling for something in the air. Seconds stretched into minutes. The alterations to his body made physical fatigue mostly trivial, but the lack of activity was doing nothing to shed light on the situation. He was about to ask Dragon for advice on their next step when a thrum of golden light shone forth from Scion.

The pluse was followed by another, then another, accelerating in frequency. Scion raised a hand to the air and gold light bled from it. There was a cascade of crashes as a shining lattice of gold spread forth, first from Scion, then out over the entire area, stretching from beyond the heights of skyscrapers to the very ground they were standing on and flooding out to cover the container yard. Then, with a crash, it vanished.

Colin was immediately besieged by noise. Not noise in the conventional sense, but with every detection system available to him tuned to the max the sudden influx of EM signals was almost overwhelming. He frantically worked through ocular and implanted haptic interfaces to reset his calibrations. It was as if the entire area had suddenly been cast into blinding light. It was still as dark as ever, but with functional scanners, light enhancements systems, infrared, and ultraviolet detection the world suddenly held no secrets. His link with Dragon sparked back to life and he heard her voice through his interface.

"Limited area, but the field's been cleared within it. Maybe half of the surrounding block and about a hundred yards out into the bay." It was a very 'Scion' thing to do. Trivially remove a problem, but only an arbitrary portion of it, likely with no intent to ever deal with the rest. "I don't know why he-"

She suddenly stopped talking as a golden glow spread across the ground. Looking up at the figure of scion was like staring into a spotlight. Colin kept his eyes squinted, relying on his sensors and cornea displays to perceive his surroundings.

Through them he saw the world begin to change. Under the golden light the inconsistently colored crystal shifted from a bloody crimson to a brilliant red. The brilliance grew as every exposed surface began bleeding light and heat. It was sweltering to begin with and quickly built to hellish levels. Countermeasure systems built into a dozen parts of his body began regulating heat, working to keep him safe, if not comfortable.

Through the detail provided by his sensors he could see pulses of heat, not in the crystals, but in the center of the tunnels they lined. Pulses built into a constant stream, flowing towards a central point. Their central point. The original point of failure that had created the entire mess. He could barely open his eyes, but he could see the roiling mass, the exact representation of what Glory Girl had described. The burning shadow of a portal to what could potentially be the source of all powers.

And then it was gone. The heat, the light, the energy. The entire yard sat as ruined and twisted as before, like the sparked inferno had never happened. Colin lifted his head and found the golden man looking down at the center of the effect. A faint pulse of light rippled out from Scion's body and the man turned towards the south of the city for just a moment. Then, without warning, he vanished, leaving a rapidly fading trail of golden energy extending towards the ocean.

"Dragon?" He asked uncertainly.

The suit shook its head. "No idea what that was about." She admitted. "Though we can safely say it's concerning."

Colin checked the telemetry of the glowing trail against his own systems. "That path would take him towards northern Europe, assuming no deviation in his trajectory." It was a detail of little use. Any effort to track or predict Scion's movements had proved consistently pointless, and was now relegated as a mere curiosity.

Dragon lifted her suit from its position. "We should get back to base. We'll need to report this, and check it against Glory Girl's accounts."

"And hope that it went unremarked." Colin added. The burning effect had lasted seconds, but in the darkness it would have been blatantly obvious. It was unlikely any reports of the effect would be connected with the earlier incident, or even with Scion's appearance, but the importance of secrecy just became amplified. It was clear this was something important, something they would have to handle carefully.

As they quickly moved back along their patrol route Colin felt the weight of responsibility, and relished it. He was back, finally able to make a difference, to carry the burdens of his city. He could make a difference once more.

Armsmaster had finally returned.