Scarcity 14.2
Colin knew he should probably sleep. He had a carefully measured dose of sedatives ready to ensure he got the best return on his investment, when he was ready to take a break.
He couldn't bring himself to stop, though. It always felt like the next breakthrough had to be just around the corner.
The otherworldly blade taunted him from behind the thick glass.
The weapon's power was undeniable. Even in its currently inert state, he and Dragon had been able to isolate the same anomalous signatures that were present in Hunter's vials. The artifact in front of him may look like a sword, the same way that Hunter's vials looked like blood, but they were pieces of something much greater. Their very existence should be actively ripping the surrounding atoms apart at a fundamental level, but they obviously weren't. Somehow, the extra-dimensional anomaly was stable. Harmless.
Well, Assault and Legend may disagree with that last part. Harmless in the same way that a gun was harmless when there was no one around to pull the trigger.
Colin just needed to figure out how to harness it without losing his mind in the meantime.
Unfortunately, nothing he or Dragon had tried would activate the sword's amped state the way that wielding it had. Even briefly carrying the silver beacon from where it fell to the PHQ was intoxicating.
He wanted more.
But this was the Simurgh they were dealing with. They had to assume that there was some kind of Master component to the weapon's capabilities. He just needed to figure out how to handle it safely without compromising its potency.
If Hunter were still alive, Colin would have asked her for advice. She seemed to understand the angel better than most.
But Hunter was gone, as far as he could tell. Her wristband registered a complete lack of vitals, and no one had seen her in the aftermath of her fall.
Of course, there was also the Simurgh's absence to consider. Even with his security clearance, the details were frustratingly vague. As far as he could tell, the Simurgh killed Hunter, targeted a group of fleeing capes at one of the recuperation sites, then disappeared.
It didn't escape his notice that Victoria Dallon had been one of the capes injured in the final moments of the attack, but he hadn't had a chance to contact her yet. He was… busy.
The sword was mocking him.
An alert popped up in the corner of his visor. The request for confirmation from the surveillance team, authorizing the first drone flyover of the quarantine zone. He sent back a generic confirmation before returning to his work.
The PRT had strict regulations regarding direct interaction with Simurgh quarantine sites. Even observing them was risky, since any communication from within the zone had the potential to be a trap in the making. They were very careful not to allow capes to directly observe the inhabitants of the zone unless absolutely necessary, instead tasking rotating teams of disposable agents to view the intermittent drone footage and report their findings. The monitors were required to participate in daily M/S screenings, and were frequently rotated and replaced when personality anomalies began to inevitably rear their ugly heads.
There had originally been a dedicated surveillance team following the Madison attack, but the suicide rate made that approach unsustainable.
Colin continued his analysis of the physical blade itself.
Like all of Hunter's recent creations, it was impeccably crafted. Whatever the base material was, it was as close to indestructible as any physical object could be. Colin had run similar tests on Endbringer flesh samples in the past, and this surpassed even that. Obviously, since Hunter's blades had been capable of damaging the Simurgh.
If he could even manage to simply replicate the material, that in itself would be an enormous win for the Protectorate. The single rod that formed the haft of his primary halberd wasn't enough for him.
All he needed was-
"Sir… Sorry to interrupt, but you're gonna want to see this," the surveillance console spoke directly into his headset via the emergency communication system.
Colin frowned. It must be something serious, if they were willing to risk compromising him. He would have to undergo even more M/S procedures when this was over. Inconvenient.
With a frustrated sigh, he pulled up the live drone footage of Brockton Bay.
What the hell is that?
Whatever he'd been expecting… this wasn't it.
In the ruins of what was once Downtown, something was carefully picking through the wreckage of the battle.
If he hadn't known better, he would have assumed that it was another Endbringer.
Easily five stories tall, the massive spider-like monstrosity moved ponderously as it lifted pieces of destroyed buildings like children's toys. It had more limbs than he could count from this vantage point, each ending in a skeletal and unnatural six-fingered hand. Its head was a bizarre, oblong sphere of honeycombed bone and pulsating flesh.
It was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. It itched at the back of his mind.
As he watched, the creature managed to extricate its prize from beneath the rubble. It picked up the broken body with surprising care. Colin recognized the purple and white costume, even stained with dried blood and dirt.
What was this… thing… doing with Lady Photon's corpse?
That was when the connection struck him like an electric current.
He recognized the hands on the monster. They were uncannily similar to the massive appendages that assisted Hunter during their mock duel.
Panacea.
How had he missed that Amy Dallon hadn't left the quarantine zone? She was in the triage center when the evacuation was announced; there was no reason to leave her behind.
Unless she had stayed on purpose.
The monster, which could only be Panacea's latest creation, delivered Sarah Pelham's body to another waiting hand and then continued its search through the chaotic battlefield.
Another revelation hit him like a sack of bricks.
She's gathering corpses for Hunter.
There was no other explanation that made sense. It was too similar to Hunter's habit of collecting the corpses of her enemies for her tinkering. Either Hunter wasn't dead, or Amy Dallon believed she would return.
Colin took control of the drone remotely, and began a lower sweep. He needed more information.
His stomach grew tight with an unidentifiable feeling as he did so.
Those accursed hands were everywhere.
He couldn't keep count. There were hundreds. Thousands. They appeared randomly out of walls, out of strange pulsing blood vessels that ran through cracks in the streets. He could just barely make out thousands of tiny creatures, spindly little things that sprouted like mushrooms from Panacea's abominations.
One of the Simurgh's mad victims came too close to one of the unnatural limbs. The skeletal hand snatched the twitching woman off her feet like she was caught in a venus fly trap before dragging her screaming straight through a brick wall.
Shit.
The Hunt wasn't just gathering corpses.
He couldn't begin to imagine why, but it probably wasn't anything good.
A new voice suddenly popped up in his ear.
"Colin," Dragon said with unusual severity. "We have a problem."
"I'm aware," Colin replied dryly. "Are you seeing this?"
"No, I'm talking about… What are you talking about?"
"Take a look at the most recent quarantine surveillance footage. I'm bringing the drone back for another pass now."
There was a very brief pause. It should have been impossible to review several minutes of footage in less than a second, but Colin knew better than to question Dragon's considerable capabilities.
"Oh Amy… what have you done?" Dragon whispered.
Colin decided that was probably rhetorical. He ran the statement through his speech analysis program, just in case.
Yes, it was rhetorical. Excellent. He was getting better at this.
The drone made its way over the Docks, and the Trainyards finally came into view.
"My God…" Dragon breathed. Colin agreed with the sentiment.
Five more of the massive, multi-limbed monstrosities were perched on various buildings in a rough pentagram surrounding the Hunt's base of operations. The Hospital itself played roost to the largest yet, towering somewhere between seventy and a hundred feet over the run-down complex.
That wasn't the most surprising part, though.
Throughout the streets and crumbled buildings around the base of the Hospital, thousands of people milled about in what looked to be a rough refugee camp. He couldn't make heads or tails of the non-stop flurry of activity, but he did see the black clad soldiers of the Hunt running too and fro with supernatural speed and precision, carrying crates and equipment far too large for any normal human to lift on their own.
Even as they watched, another group of haggard survivors limped to the ramshackle gate underneath one of the monsters, and a thin figure in a top hat welcomed them in.
"Are they… helping people? Or keeping them captive?" Dragon said. He wasn't sure if she was actually asking, this time.
Colin hesitated, but decided to answer anyway.
"Hunter… believed herself to be ultimately righteous. It's possible that her organization is… continuing in her footsteps, no matter how misguided."
They just watched for another long moment.
It occurred to Colin that Dragon called him for a reason.
"Sorry for stealing the show. What did you need?" He asked eventually.
Dragon took a deep breath.
"Several square miles of forest in the White Mountains spontaneously disappeared overnight, and I was able to capture footage of Rachel Lindt moving through the area on one of her beasts this morning."
Ah. That would do it.
"The Hunt isn't contained by the quarantine perimeter, and I can hazard a guess at where all that missing biomass ran off to," Dragon said. She sounded more sad than anything.
He understood the sentiment. There was no way they were going to keep this quiet forever.
"Giant hands are the least of our worries. She can and will make Blasto and Nilbog look like amateurs."
Colin never thought that he would find himself agreeing with Brandish, of all people, but it seemed like she may have had the right idea.
"I'll put together a report for the Chief Director. We can't take any action in a quarantine zone without direct approval, anyway," Colin sighed.
He wasn't looking forward to this. Especially if Hunter was still kicking somewhere in there.
His eyes were drawn to the sword in the testing chamber.
If he did end up being forced to face Taylor Hebert in a true deathmatch, he was bringing a little something to level the playing field, M/S protocol be damned.
…
Lisa definitely didn't take an extra breath to steady herself before she walked into Hunter's Workshop.
Or, more accurately, Vicar's, at the moment.
Amy Dallon was a mess, and Lisa's power was all too happy to provide entirely too many gory details. She still couldn't quite help but needle her, though. The former hero had to lighten up sometimes.
Lisa's trepidation was wasted this time, though. The Workshop was empty.
She pointedly didn't look at the altar on the far wall. Her power didn't like Hunter's Chalices one bit.
Instead, her eyes fell on the unmade mattress on the floor.
Blanket arrangement indicates two occupants. Vicar did not sleep here last night. Vicar is unable to sleep here without Hunter.
Oh. That was… sad.
Lisa would be more sympathetic if Vicar hadn't known what she was getting into from the get go. Hunter was exactly the type of person to throw herself at anything and everything dangerous with zero regard for her own safety. Lisa didn't need her power to tell her that, even though it wouldn't shut up about it anyway.
It was frankly surprising that Hunter hadn't already died multiple times prior to this. Or maybe she had, and Lisa's power just wouldn't give her the details. The annoying voice in her head got a bit overwhelmed when it started trying to parse Hunter's immortality.
Lisa was still generally pleased with her role serving an immortal powerhouse that could go toe to toe with Endbringers, but the position did lose some of its luster when she had to deal with said powerhouse's mopey, potentially murderous girlfriend.
She was reasonably sure that Vicar hadn't actually killed anyone before, but she seemed entirely too willing to take the plunge.
Despite the biokinetic's complaining, Vicar really was the best person to take charge in Hunter's absence. The rest of them weren't invested enough yet. Without an anchor to orbit around, the former Undersiders would drift away.
She may be flawed and kind of shitty at leading a gang, but at least Vicar cared. Even if she probably wouldn't admit it.
Lisa didn't look too closely at Hunter's glass maze of equipment. She had better things to use her power on, today. Like figuring out where their temporary leader had run off to.
Movement on one of the workbenches caught her eye.
Artificial semi-sentient lifeform. Collective and singular consciousness, simultaneously. Preference in headwear inadvertently ingrained as a result of Vicar's obsession with Hunter.
Lisa hated her power, sometimes.
Vicar's Messengers waved at her.
She didn't wave back.
The less she interacted with Vicar's creations, the easier it was to pretend that this was totally normal and nothing to be concerned about.
The PRT certainly wasn't going to glass the entire quarantine zone at any moment. Definitely not.
Everything was… fine.
The Messengers gestured for her to follow them.
Lisa sighed, but she didn't have a better way to find Vicar. The frustrating healer had taken the lantern with her.
The hallways of the Labyrinth were as creepy as ever. There seemed to be even more of the strange, fleshy vessels running over the ceiling and curling around the walls these days.
Hunter and Vicar always carried their weird purple stalker lantern, but Lisa opted for a good old fashioned Maglite.
She probably should have been expecting it, but the first of the hanging bodies still surprised her.
Significant variety in cause of death. Varying times of death. Vicar is using artificial life forms to scavenge corpses for Hunter.
What the fuck, Vicar.
It was, again, bizarrely sweet, in an Edgar Allen Poe kind of way.
There were a lot of bodies, though.
Lisa was acutely aware of just how many people had died in the Endbringer attack and its aftermath, but… damn.
They just… kept… going.
Strange, fleshy tubes that matched the blood vessels on the ceiling ran along and into the endless row of corpses.
Autonomous biological equipment to harvest and store blood.
The Messengers bobbed merrily along between the exhibits of Vicar's macabre display, leading her on down the hallway of pale death.
Finally, she made it to a set of double doors on the left side of the corridor.
The bodies continued on, though, farther than she could see in the fluorescent white flashlight.
Lisa shuddered internally and pushed the doors open.
Somehow, the long, open ICU ward on the other side of the door was even worse.
"...Subject two-eighteen. Affliction Class A; no observable signs of cognition, consistent with previous subjects. Frontal lobe shows significant evidence of rapid atrophy. The brain stem is malformed, allowing for continued bodily function despite the…"
Strapped tightly to a gurney, one of the Simurgh's victims strained uselessly against the living restraints that kept him locked firmly in place. A gag silenced the obvious attempts to scream and bite at his captor.
Hungry black eyes bored into Lisa's mind and she had to look away before her power could start extrapolating. She didn't want to know.
Standing at the head of the bed with her hands touching either side of the mindless man's temples, Vicar idly narrated her… testing process, apparently.
One of her Messengers was perched on her shoulder, holding a notepad and pen. It appeared to be taking diligent notes.
What.
Lisa blinked and decided not to think too hard about that.
Instead, she stared down the length of the room and suppressed her horror as best she could.
Countless gurneys just like the one in front of her filled the space, each with their own living occupant.
Holy fuck.
How many people had Vicar taken? Hundreds? Thousands?
Her power was no help. The Hospital was infinite, and Vicar could stretch her artificial limbs as far as she pleased.
The rest of the victims didn't seem to be awake. Unnatural, pulsing organs connected to the Heart covered their faces, and they didn't struggle the way the current test subject did.
Customized biological apparatus administering sedatives, nutrients, hydration, and respiration in addition to autonomously harvesting blood.
Oh God.
Vicar had turned them into living blood factories.
"...attempting to restore frontal lobe functionality… now."
The Afflicted man went stiff as a board. His muscles and tendons strained even further, mad eyes bulging in their sockets.
Then, as quickly as the process started, he fell limp and still.
Subject deceased.
No shit, power.
"Fuck. No dice, again," Vicar sighed to herself. She released the dead man's head, and only then seemed to realize that she had company. "Oh. What do you want?"
The rude greeting was so incongruous that Lisa had trouble answering.
"I have an updated list of refugees for you to heal when you have a moment… I'm trying to ration the remaining blood vials… but, more importantly… what the actual fuck is all this?" Lisa couldn't help herself.
Vicar had the audacity to roll her eyes.
"I'm trying to figure out how to reverse the Simurgh's influence," Vicar said.
"By kidnapping and killing them?"
"The Simurgh is a bitch," Vicar shrugged. "She set all kinds of fail-safes and traps in their brains. Everything I've tried so far has been fatal, but you never know. I might get lucky next time."
Lisa did her best to force down the automatic terror at the casual admission of more murder via medical experimentation. She idly wondered how many of the bodies outside were from the Endbringer attack and how many were from Vicar's experiments.
Objectively, she knew that the Simurgh's victims were a lost cause. There was a reason that the PRT resorted to quarantine zones, after all.
It didn't make it easier to see them, chained down and hooked up to a living network like something straight out of Bonesaw's playbook.
"And the blood harvesting?" She demanded.
"Well, if they turn out to be completely unsalvageable, we can use them to generate more blood for Hunter's vials without asking for donations," Vicar reasoned.
"That's… that's…" Lisa couldn't quite get her brain to work correctly.
There was something monstrously wrong with that.
"I mean, it's not like they're conscious, and the alternative would just be mercy killing them," Vicar said. "This way, they can be useful."
"How many?" Lisa whispered.
"Currently? Um… I haven't been keeping a close count, but like, two thousand and some change? It was more, but… well, my testing hasn't been successful yet. I've got the Amygdala grabbing more any time they try to break into the refugee camp. Or if I happen to see them about to kill someone through the Messengers, or whatever."
"Amygdala?"
"That's what I decided to call my new creatures. I wanted them to be scary as fuck, to keep people in line, so the name fit* Vicar shrugged again.
Is embarrassed about naming creations. Feels over-dramatic. Naming them anyway. Is over-dramatic.
Groundbreaking revelations there, power. Thanks for that.
"This is so fucked," Lisa mumbled without thinking.
"It's what she would do. Besides, have you got a better idea?" Vicar asked harshly. "We could just leave them out there, killing and fucking eating the sane people. Or we could just kill them all. Would that be better? Would that coddle your moral sensibilities?"
She did sound a lot like Taylor. Lisa wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.
Is overcompensating for lack of confidence and agency. Emotionally unstable. Current coping mechanisms are exacerbating feelings of guilt and self-loathing.
Well… fuck.
Lisa supposed that she might have to actually be… supportive. For the greater good.
She was still going to give Taylor a piece of her mind when she got back. Honestly, Hunter's crazy girlfriend had to go without her fix for a whole week and a half and she'd already jumped to human experimentation by day two?
"Vicar… Okay, you're right, sometimes there aren't any good options. I just…" Lisa wasn't exactly sure where to start, so she went with a classic. "Amy, are you okay?"
"Fuck off. I'm fine." Vicar… Amy bit out.
Is not fine.
Lisa sighed. Internally. She was already on thin ice, here.
"It's okay, to not be fine, you know," Lisa said carefully.
"No, it's not."
The alien, skeletal hands sprouting from the ceiling reached down and grabbed the corpse off the gurney, blood vessels extending to begin the harvesting process as it was carried out to the hallway.
"Taylor will be back soon," Lisa tried again. Her power said Amy was feeling guilty, right? "You know she can't help herself. There was nothing you could have done to-"
Amy's fist hit the steel surgical table next to the now empty gurney with a startling bang.
"Shut the fuck up," Amy hissed. "You don't know anything."
This was dangerous territory, but at least she'd gotten a response. Lisa was reasonably sure that Amy wouldn't actually kill her.
Her power didn't offer any answers, though, which wasn't especially reassuring.
Oh, sure, now you decide to zip it. Fucking traitor.
"She knew what she was doing. You don't have to feel guilty for-"
"She went back for me."
Amy's voice was broken.
Lisa blinked.
"What?"
"I could have just healed her," Amy whispered. "Stabilized what was left of her, so we could finish fixing her later. But… Vicky was dying, and I needed someone who was willing to die to save her. So I made Taylor a new body, and I begged her to go."
Frizzy chestnut curls fell in front of Amy's face, but Lisa could see the tears starting to form underneath. They must have been close to the surface already.
"I sent her to die, for me."
Well… shit.
"And now, we don't even know if she'll come back, because I don't even know if she died. All I know is that she healed Vicky and shoved her into the Labyrinth with the lantern, then she and the Simurgh disappeared. She could be anywhere."
That was actually a fair point. Lisa hadn't considered the possibility that Hunter was still alive, but just trapped somewhere.
The idea was… concerning, to say the least.
"I don't believe that. She always has a plan, even if they aren't always good plans," Lisa said with a sad smile.
"It doesn't fucking matter," Amy yelled suddenly, her agonized voice echoing amongst the corpses. "It doesn't make it better. She's still gone and it's still my fucking fault."
Amy clenched her fists on the table.
"Why can't I just be happy?"
Lisa wondered if the body enhancements prevented hearing loss. Hunter fired that giant-ass canon of hers without hearing protection all the time without going deaf, so they must do something.
Auditory system restructured to allow for improved damage thresholds.
Neat.
"I finally managed to not feel like shit for once in my life and then the fucking Simurgh shows up personally to fuck it all up! Now Taylor's fucking dead and Vicky fucking hates me and I can't heal these fucking shitheads because their goddamn brains keep melting and it's not fucking fair!" Amy finished by sweeping her notes and two discarded Messenger hats onto the floor.
Lisa wasn't sure if she was done ranting or not.
Is not done.
Thanks.
"What if she doesn't…" Amy's voice was quiet again. "Every fucking time I get to have anything good, I find a way to ruin it. Why am I like this?"
So dramatic. She and Taylor were well matched, if nothing else.
Lisa didn't say that out loud.
She also didn't point out that all of that shit was an easily foreseeable consequence of Amy's poor decisions.
Instead, she took a deep breath and tried to take a metaphorical step forward without running into a landmine.
"Well, no one's perfect-"
"Fuck you-"
Lisa wasn't particularly great at avoiding metaphorical landmines. Quite the opposite, unfortunately.
"-let me finish! Nothing good is guaranteed to last forever, even our immortal First Hunter. And that doesn't make it easier to lose it. It doesn't make it hurt any less when you know you could have done better, but you didn't."
Lisa took a moment to shove the intrusive image of Reggie's face back into the dark. Her current plan was to do that every time he cropped up, and one day, she'd die.
She saw nothing wrong with this plan.
"There aren't any do-overs, though. All you can do is try to do better next time, and not let it drown you in the present."
"I'll keep that in mind for the next Endbringer attack," Amy muttered darkly.
Still, that was an improvement over manic human experimentation or unhinged screaming. Progress!
"So," Lisa soldiered on. "It's fine to not be fine when things go to shit. And sometimes, there's nothing anyone can say that'll make it better. You just have to do your best, and keep going."
Amy took several steadying breaths and ran a hand over her swollen face.
"What, exactly, do you think I've been doing?"
"There's a difference between treading water and throwing yourself off a cliff," Lisa said softly. "Just… make sure Taylor has someone to come back to. You won't be doing her or yourself any favors if you burn out at the starting line."
It was quiet for a while, aside from the ever-present heartbeat in the deep.
"Okay," Amy said eventually. "I'll… take a break, I guess. I should probably go make an appearance in the camp anyway. Keep people in line."
That wasn't exactly what Lisa considered to be a 'break', but it was a start.
"Do you want a hug?" Lisa asked. She barely added any sarcasm at all.
"I'll turn you inside out and let the Messengers make a hat out of your spleen."
For once, Lisa was reasonably sure that Amy wouldn't actually do that.
"Do you feel better, at least?" Lisa grinned. She could already tell Amy was standing a bit straighter. Hopefully, she would tone it down with the human experimentation. At least until Taylor got back.
Some days, Lisa honestly wasn't sure if they were good for each other or not. As long as they weren't experimenting on her, she'd deal.
The de-facto leader of the Hunt just glared at her.
"Are you coming with me?" Amy asked instead of answering. "We can hit those healing targets on our walk."
She didn't have anything specifically planned, right this moment…
"Sure. At least the clouds are finally gone."
Amy stopped and eyed her with an unreadable expression.
"You want to go the slow way, or the fun way?" Amy's grudging smile gained an ever-so-slightly cruel edge.
Lisa sighed again. Out loud this time.
"What's the slow way?"
"Walking, obviously," Amy drawled.
"Am I allowed to ask what the fun way is?"
Uses artificial life forms for transport.
"That would take all the fun out of it."
It was probably better than walking past all the corpses again. The combination of the smell and the effort required to hold her power back wasn't worth it.
"Fine. Let's just go."
The giant hands descended, and Lisa shivered in their surprisingly gentle grip as she and Amy were whisked away through the dark.
…
Taylor sat on the rough, dark gray shingles of the house within her Dream. The full moon was bright and white-silver in the sky overhead, surrounded by an endless sea of stars.
Even in a Dream, sitting on a roof in melancholic solitude was ideal for thinking heavy thoughts.
All around the island of peaceful solitude that was her dream, a calm, clear lake extended to the horizon and beyond. It reflected the shining lights in the sky like a mirror, perfect and pristine.
The water wasn't quite real, just like everything else here. It was metaphorical. Great bodies of still water served as a bulwark to guard the sleep of those who dreamed. It was why her Nightmare contained only the churning ocean of blood.
Taylor didn't know how she knew that, but it didn't matter.
It was a strange place, that her power created for her.
The gnarled tree in the corner of the yard rose high over the quaint two-story house, its leaves rustling quietly in the gentle breeze.
The sun never rose, and the moon never waned. There was only the timeless tranquility.
It would be perfect, if she wasn't alone.
Taylor sighed, and let her physical eyes fall closed.
Within her mind, she opened the eyes granted by her power, and let her Self expand to leak into the bedrock of this Dream of hers.
She could feel this little bubble of perfect solitude, floating outside the foundational planes facilitated by whatever it was that allowed for parahumans to exist. Everything else was so very small, by comparison.
The eyes in the dark watched her with idle interest and something vaguely akin to fond indulgence. Taylor got the impression that the presence in the moon didn't quite understand her, either.
What do you want from me?
It didn't answer, but she felt a twisting at the very edge of her awareness. Maybe it was just thinking. Its alien thoughts seem to take a long time to form.
Taylor let her mind wander, while she waited.
She'd been moving, hunting, striding forward nonstop for so long. Ever since she'd woken up in that snowy, moonlit graveyard next to her own headstone.
Some part of her knew that she was afraid to stop. Afraid of what she would find under the moss if the stone stopped rolling.
Afraid of what the answers would be if she started asking herself why.
Maybe it was time to figure some of that out. While she had the time.
One of the white flowers drifted by in the breeze, and Taylor snatched it out of the air on a whim. They weren't quite like anything she'd ever seen in the real world. Out of everything in the Dream, the flowers were the only part that didn't seem to originate from her.
She let her fingers run gently over the ivory petals, eyes still closed even as she perceived herself from both within and without.
Are we a good person?
Maybe. She wasn't sure.
Before she died the first time, she would have said yes. Before she died the second time, she probably would have said that it didn't matter. Now, she was starting to think she was wrong about both.
Immortality was as much a blessing as it was a curse, and the only person she had to live with forever was herself.
She'd killed a lot of people, along with so very many other questionable things aside. Could the moral quality of her nature be reduced down to her actions, or was there something inherently hers that existed outside of her deeds?
Was there any kind of objective standard for moral authenticity, or was it truly subjective? Was it enough to just… do her best, going forward?
She saw Assault's crooked grin in her mind, and it made her chest clench painfully.
Assault… Ethan had been a good person, and he hadn't made it seem all that hard. Maybe it didn't have to be complicated.
The presence watching from within the moon seemed mildly amused by her brooding.
It would help if you told me what you want.
She felt something regard her with a careful kind of awareness. Like a human trying to decide whether to return a fallen baby bird to its nest… Something profoundly Other attempting to determine whether it's intervention would cause more harm than good, and whether it was even capable of doing so in a way that would be helpful in the long run.
It was entirely possible that Taylor was just projecting, but she didn't think so.
There was a great, distant thundering at the edge of her mind's eye. Tiny ripples began to form in the wide lake surrounding her Dream.
The thoughts of the moon's presence were somehow both heavier than the sky and lighter than smoke. Trying to comprehend them was like trying to catch the breeze between her fingers.
Taylor understood only the most nebulous concepts that crested the horizon of her perception. Living stars dancing through an empty void. An existence so vast and all encompassing that it strained her mind just to observe it. The awareness focused on a piece of something that was so dark it stood out against the void around it, yet also aware and staring. Its emptiness spread into the spiraling stars like a poison, eating away at them like acid.
Kos.
Pain flared behind Taylor's eyes as the word carved itself into her mind with a metaphysical weight she was never intended to withstand. Without Amy's enhancements and the litany of parahuman vials she had consumed, the magnitude of the communion would have broken her mind and burned her blood in her veins. As it was, she felt like a warped sheet of glass just moments away from shattering.
Taylor wrenched the twisted pieces of herself back together and retracted her otherworldly awareness before anything could get permanently damaged. Apparently, staring so deeply into the abyss wasn't something to be done lightly.
"Right," Taylor said out loud, opening her physical eyes and leaning back on the roof to look up at the perfect silver isle in the clear night sky of her Dream. "I guess I'll keep an eye out for… Kos, whatever they are."
The alien awareness in the moon seemed pleased.
"I need something to call you, though," Taylor said after a while. "Just thinking of you as the moon isn't exactly convenient."
The moon's presence didn't answer. Taylor wasn't even sure that it understood the concept. What did humans know of how ants conceptualized them?
She spun the delicate petals of the white flower between her fingers, watching it dance in the gentle moonlight.
"I think I'll call you Flora, if that's okay."
The otherworldly existence that permeated the Dream just regarded her with an almost childlike fascination. It wasn't necessarily the worst feeling in the world, even if it was decidedly strange.
The breeze felt nice, in her hair.
Time didn't quite work correctly here, so Taylor lost track of it quickly.
"I miss her, Flora," she said eventually, for lack of anything else to say.
The moon didn't answer, but she got the feeling that it was still watching her curiously.
"I think I could live like this forever, if I got to spend it with her."
Two more flowers danced in harmony on the breeze. Taylor reached out, and they landed lightly side by side on her outstretched palm.
"Yeah, like that," Taylor smiled, and she felt an unknowable sort of contentment from the alien presence.
…
Amy legitimately didn't know if this was a terrible idea or not.
She took a moment to stare out of the Labyrinth and center herself.
The newest door led to a generically bland hotel room somewhere outside Boston, from what she could tell. The lantern didn't necessarily give exact directions, and distances were strange in the Labyrinth.
She decided not to wear her costume for this. She wasn't here as the Vicar of the Hunt. She was just… Amy.
Victoria was as gorgeous as ever, even curled up in the ugly hotel comforter watching some shitty sit-com with wet hair.
Amy took a deep breath, and knocked on the door frame.
Victoria jolted upright with a start, looking around in confusion.
There was nothing else for it, so Amy stepped out of the Labyrinth.
It hurt, the way Vicky flinched away from her, but she deserved it. This was her penance, in a way.
Vicky quickly got over her surprise and narrowed her eyes.
"What the fuck are you doing here," she hissed, although her voice wasn't as angry as Amy expected. More like she was just trying to stay quiet.
"I had to see if you'd give me a chance to explain, when the world wasn't ending," Amy said. She hadn't exactly rehearsed this conversation, per say… although, she kind of had. In her head. A lot of times.
Vicky frowned.
"I don't… Fuck if I know, Ames. Everything is so… Dad, and Aunt Sarah, and you're… it's just, a lot," Vicky pulled her knees up against her chest under the blankets.
Yeah, it really was.
"I know it doesn't help, but… I'm sorry," Amy said.
"For what, specifically?" Victoria eyed her warily.
"What Taylor and I did to Dean was majorly fucked up. I get that. I'd probably… no, I'd definitely do things differently, if I had a do over. Which I don't," Amy rambled. So much for her rehearsal. "And the dumbest part is that it wasn't even fucking necessary. Like, Anne's secret identity got shot to hell almost immediately. We knew that it was a decent possibility when we went on that double date. I just… panicked, and Taylor… Well, Hunter is Hunter."
Amy trailed off, and Vicky just stared at her for an uncomfortably long time.
"You really don't see how scary you are, do you?" Victoria said finally.
Amy didn't know what to say. She was acutely aware of how scary her power was, actually. Carol had seen to that. But correcting Vicky didn't feel like the right thing to say.
"You… like, yeah, I can punch people really hard, but you can twist them, mess with their heads, and who knows what else. Not to mention you can just pop out of the fucking walls anywhere you want. I just… I never really saw you like that, until yesterday. It's hard to get over. Especially when… Ames, you can't just do shit like that because you panic, or whatever."
Amy shrank in on herself involuntarily. It hurt, but she deserved it.
"Yeah, I know."
She decided not to mention all the experiments. Or collecting corpses for Taylor.
Vicky sighed.
"I don't know what you want me to say," she said.
"I don't, either," Amy replied quietly.
I forgive you.
I still love you.
She took those thoughts and shoved them into the 'don't think about it' box.
"When did everything get so complicated?" Vicky whined petulantly. It made Amy smile despite herself.
"I think it always has been, we just kind of pretended it wasn't," she said.
Vicky nodded absentmindedly, staring at the TV.
"Honestly, I would have been a lot more pissed, before, but… we survived an Endbringer. Sort of," she glanced guiltily at Amy. "And, well, everything else just seems… unimportant. I don't know."
Amy understood that feeling all too well. What did anything matter, when everything was gone?
The laugh track on this show was really fucking annoying.
"Do you really think Hunter survived?" Vicky said eventually.
"No. I think she died, and took the Simurgh down with her," Amy said. She didn't have the energy to lie to Victoria about anything, anymore.
"Then why…"
"She told me that death wasn't the end, for her. That she'd died before, and came back. I hope… I know she'll find her way back, again," Amy said.
"That's…" Vicky trailed off. "I was going to say that's impossible, but what do I know? Nobody really knows how powers work. Hunter has too many damn powers, though. Talk about winning the jackpot."
"Her power forces her to hunt people and drink their blood," Amy deadpanned.
"Still bullshit."
Amy snorted, but she couldn't stop a smile from sneaking on to her lips.
Vicky's face fell, after a moment.
"She saved my life, there, at the end."
Amy bit her lip.
Hadn't she just been beating herself up over this exact same thing? Maybe the universe had a shitty sense of humor.
"It doesn't really make it any better, but… I think the Simurgh only came after you to lure Taylor back out. Fuck, she only came to Brockton in the first place because she was after Taylor," Amy said.
That got Victoria's attention.
"What? But, Endbringers are… How do you figure that?"
Oops. Amy didn't know how to even begin explaining.
"I can't… Vicky, there's so much. I'm sorry, for keeping you in the dark, and lying to you for so long, but… it's literally a long-ass story, and I don't have the energy tonight.
Vicky just shook her head.
"Like I said, when did shit get so damn complicated," Vicky sighed. "I miss things being simple."
Amy didn't actually agree, but she didn't say that out loud.
"Taylor said the same thing, before. That she missed the days when she just got to kill Nazis," Amy said instead.
Vicky coughed out a surprised laugh.
"God, it's still so wild that you're dating her. Like, we sat through New Wave meetings about Carpenter, the Nazi Blender!" Victoria's laugh definitely had a manic edge. "And you were just sitting there, right after… Oh my God, you were with her! The morning after the Empire thing! When we met at the mall, and you… we were late to the meeting about Hunter, because you were fucking fucking Hunter!"
Amy blushed and kind of wanted to die, but she was also deliriously happy that Vicky didn't seem to hate her. It was a lot to feel, all at once.
"I made her steal a mattress after that," Amy mumbled. "Those lab tables aren't very comfortable."
Victoria lost any semblance of composure and cackled like a drunk hyena.
This was… nice. It felt like the good times, before. When she could put aside her pathetic obsession and just enjoy Vicky's company.
Unfortunately, it wasn't destined to last.
"Victoria? Who are you talking to?" Carol's voice came from the door to the adjoining hotel room.
"Fuck!" Amy and Vicky both whispered at the same time, then grinned despite themselves. Like they were kids getting caught staying up too late, again.
Except now, they were violating a PRT containment zone and Amy was probably technically wanted for... basically every crime possible? Most crimes. Same difference.
"I'll be around, as long as that's okay," Amy whispered quickly. "Lurking in the walls, y'know."
"You're so fucking creepy," Vicky whispered back, but she was still smiling. "Yeah, it's fine. Go. Love you, Ames."
Amy's chest felt like it might burst and her eyes were weirdly wet.
"Love you, too."
Then she ducked back into the Labyrinth before Carol could break down the door and murder her.
When she made it back to the Workshop, she was still smiling.
She took a shower. The blood and grime had been getting out of hand.
She used one of Taylor's hot plates to make hot chocolate, because why the fuck not. Maybe she should have Alec steal some chocolate to distribute to the refugees. He'd probably get a kick out of it.
The stray thought made her pause. She might have to bring Alec in for some of her experiments, since he could control human nervous systems. It probably wouldn't help, but it was worth a shot. It's not like things could get any worse, on that front.
Tomorrow.
Finally, Amy curled up on the mattress Taylor stole for her, wrapping the heavy blankets tightly around herself.
They still smelled like Taylor.
Smoke, and iron.
Amy breathed deeply and hugged the warm mug to her chest.
Victoria didn't hate her.
Taylor would be back soon.
And the Workshop didn't feel quite so cold, anymore.
…