Ancient Legos
Chapter 7
Happenings Elsewhere
Of the multitude of beings upon Earth Bet capable of truly simulating the future, five stood above all.
One lived in orbit, an engine of conflict and destruction leashed to an unknowing controller.
Another, the instigator of this world's troubles, flit across the planet saving, rescuing, and otherwise improving the lives of the native species in an attempt to find what he was missing.
The leader of a group of the native species, hiding his assembly of temporal monitors in a cave in parts unknown.
A woman in body, but girl in mind and soul. A veritable slave to one of the only functional weapons against The Rescuer, and by choice. She who wears a fedora.
And the last, a young girl who could ask questions and get the likelihood of events occurring.
On the morning of February 6th, 2011, their steadfast visions, paths, and predictions of the future… glitched.
An undetectable phenomenon was interfering with their ability to understand the universe.
The Orbiter would learn the answer to her query a single planetary rotation later. But she didn't know that. She was patient, however, and so settled in to observe. To figure out exactly what was disrupting her plans. And when she figured it out?
Well, her unknowing controller's deadline was soon upon them. She would simply have to eliminate the problem herself.
The Rescuer stopped mid-flight. He too took notice of the disruption. He had no more idea than the Orbiter what was causing it. But, he was not an intellectual type, like his deceased mate. As such he deemed it beyond his purview, merely logging the incident in his memory before continuing on his original course.
His advisor would be most unhappy if he allowed one of the volcano eruptions caused by the first conflict engine to kill a high number of the planet's native species.
The temporal monitor's leader had a very different reaction. His reliance on the data of the time was so great that his consciousness was knocked offline. He would not wake in time to prevent future changes.
And his daughter?
She would be out for
blood.
Fedora girl, even as dependent on her ability and her passenger as she was, did not actually
actively interpret time. She took snapshots, possibly even rapid snapshots, but it was not constant. Due to this small difference, when the disruption occurred, she was unaffected. Beyond her ability to determine the path forward, of course, but she remained conscious. She would proceed to call an emergency meeting of a conspiracy named after a witch's brewing tool.
And the little girl? She was already having headaches, the result of trying not to use her new abilities. Due to this disruption those headaches became migraines. A day later, just as a battlecruiser rose into the sky in an attempt to defeat The Orbiter, her parents would rush her to the hospital.
One thing was certain. Something had entered the playing field. And nothing would ever be the same again.
--LB--
Rebecca Costa-Brown was not having a good day.
It started normally enough. She came into work, as Director Costa-Brown, and began going over the various things she had to sign and review as her position demanded.
Then she got a high priority call from Brockton Bay. Directly from Emily Piggot's office.
She hadn't been completely on board with the idea to use Brockton Bay as an experiment in the first place. Every single time she received a high priority message or call from that den of chaos, it just reinforced her belief that the entire thing was a bad idea.
Regardless, she had a job to do. It was with no small amount of hesitation that she pressed one of the buttons on her desk and allowed the incoming connection. The image of Emily Piggot, in full dress blues and sitting behind her own desk, flickered into existence above Rebecca's desk. The live video was being displayed by her office's holographic emission system.
It was one of the few personal gifts she still had from her old friend, her deceased- no,
murdered- teammate. Her brother in all but blood. Hero.
"Hello Emily," she greeted the Director of the Brockton Bay PRT. It wasn't very often that Rebecca thanked her powers' stasis like effect upon her body. At that moment it received gratitude for the fact that she couldn't cry.
"Director Costa-Brown." That was it. A curt greeting, a slight nod of acknowledgement. Lady wasn't known as an old warhorse for nothing, after all. Even with her body in the state she refused to allow Panacea to repair she was still a force to be reckoned with.
Not even Nilbog could take that away from her.
"Emily," Rebecca said, giving her own nod of respect. "This is a high priority call. What happened?"
No more pleasantries. If the call have been a lower priority, Rebecca would've probably pressured Emily once more to let Panacea heal her. But there might be no time for that.
Emily sighed, long and hard. For once, the wear and tear of her body showed on her face. "It's not an emergency, but it is vitally important," she began. The blond woman took a moment to wipe a hand down her face and sighed once more. "We have a new Tinker 10."
That got Rebecca's attention. "Specialization?" she demanded.
Emily set her mouth in a grim line, rolled her eyes, and blew a breath out of the side of her mouth. "Spaceships."
It took several seconds for Rebecca to do anything but stare at her subordinate like she'd gone crazy. "Would you repeat that?" she requested, though it sounded more like an order.
"Spaceships," Emily instantly repeated. "Ships that fly into and through space."
Rebecca let out a long breath of her own and settled back into her comfortable office chair.
"Yes, that was my reaction as well."
Fuck, she thought.
If Zion learns of this...
That was a thought, and a problem, for Cauldron. And for later. Right now, she had to get as much information out of Emily as possible. And see how accurate the specialization was. Given the Brockton Bay PRT had rated this new Tinker a level 10, it was
entirely possible they weren't remotely wrong. There had only ever been one Tinker 10 before besides the Simurgh, and he could have had that specialization. Easily.
His was
Waves.
Something just as powerful, as all encompassing, as Spaceships.
She idly noticed that her brother was showing up in her thoughts a lot these days.
"It's confirmed?" Rebecca questioned Emily, raising an eyebrow. "The rating, that is?"
Emily shook her head and grimaced. "We haven't tested him yet, no," she admitted. Then she got a hard look on her face. "Though I'm not inclined to doubt him. He announced his presence and intent to join the Wards by uncloaking, in his words, a
shuttlecraft in front of our building."
Both of Rebecca's eyebrows raised at that. "He's a minor?"
Emily confirmed her assumption with a short nod. "Attends Arcadia. Triggered two weeks ago."
"At least he's of the heroic inclination," Rebecca lamented, rubbing her face with her hand. It didn't actually relieve her headaches, what few she got, but it was a helpful psychosomatic gesture for a reason. Even without head pain, rubbing faces, nose bridges, temples, or eyebrows eased mental anguish.
Emily scoffed. "Doesn't keep him from being aggravating." She sighed and shook her head. "The things he says he can do, Director… The things he says he can summon. I'm concerned that someone will try to get at him."
Rebecca raised her eyebrows at that. "Why? I understand Spaceships is a very powerful Tinker specialization, but isn't it also the most expensive? I remember a briefing on the costs of the Shuttles before NASA shut them down," she pointed out.
Her subordinate Director scoffed and shook her head. "He doesn't have those drawbacks, Director," she informed her. "He also has a secondary power. We're assuming Shaker/Striker at the moment. And it's…" she trailed off, putting her fingers to the side of her head, "it's fucking
insane!"
"Oh? Shaker/Striker? Those ratings are usually mutually exclusive," Rebecca commented curiously.
"He can build models of ships from Legos, throw them over his shoulder, and summon them full size," Emily deadpanned, staring straight at Rebecca.
The national PRT Director and secret Triumvirate member was dead silent for several long, tense moments as she searched Emily's eyes for any sign of deceit.
"C-Come again?" she finally choked out, unable to believe what she'd heard despite her perfect memory proving it to be accurate.
"You heard me correctly. Lego models to full size spaceships," Emily repeated herself, massaging her own head and wincing.
"You're joking."
"I wish I was. Then I wouldn't have this headache."
Alexandria stared at Emily Piggot for another minute. Literally. She was subconsciously counting the seconds.
Finally she spoke up. "That's bullshit."
It was all she could say.
"Correct. Yet it seems to be true," Emily agreed and countered.
Rebecca Costa-Brown leaned over her own desk and stared Emily Piggot straight in the eyes. "I want that boy tested
yesterday, Emily, and not a word of this can go outside the PRT."
She would also have to have Contessa pay a visit to their troublesome asset in Brockton Bay. This new Tinker, Shipyard, held far too much promise to allow a timeline simulator with delusions of grandeur to interfere.
"He's with the Wards right now," Emily informed her. "I'll push to get him into the testing labs as soon as I can."
Rebecca sighed with relief and subtly relaxed. "Good. Thank you for being so on top of this and bringing him to my attention."
Director Piggot nodded her head and snapped off a curt salute. "It's my duty and… not so much pleasure, given the subject of this conversation," she began to agree, then tried to find further words. "But at least informing you of his abilities spreads the headache he causes around."
That was a joke. Emily had said it with a straight face, but it was definitely a joke. Rebecca Costa-Brown smirked slightly and nodded to Emily to indicate she'd seen it. "Please call me once you have further information."
"Yes ma'am," Emily said. Then she hung up the call.
Rebecca managed to hold herself together for a good few seconds before standing up and shouting at nothing. "SPACESHIPS?! WHAT THE FUCK!"
She clenched her fists for several more tense seconds, wishing desperately to be able to smash something. But she couldn't blow her identity as Alexandria in her own office.
And so, she said the magic words that would start several temporal balls rolling.
"Door me."
--LB--
Alexandria stepped out of the hexagonal orange-lined portal back into her office at the Los Angeles PRT. The rather quick meeting had been a den of chaos. Legend was even involved. This new situation was too big, and the fact it appeared Shipyard interfered with the Path was extremely worrying. They didn't really know what to do. For the first time in a long time Cauldron had been caught with their pants down by a new trigger.
And to a person, they hated it. Not to mention the possibility that Zion would come down on Shipyard like a sack of bricks for having the ability to help the Entity's test subjects escape their petri dish of a planet. This had all the potential of kickstarting the apocalypse.
Alexandria was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't notice what, or rather
who, was standing in her office. Before she could get even a foot further into the room her assistant addressed her. His voice was
extremely tense.
"Ma'am, a situation has developed."
The assistant who should
not be able to access her office when it was
sealed.
She would be looking into
that quite soon.
Alexandria glanced at him, then the closing portal, then him again, before raising an eyebrow.
"I'm paid too much to see things, ma'am," he refuted. "You're good at your job, no matter who you are." He then snorted and shook his head. "Not to mention I've known for years."
Alexandria grimaced, then nodded. "Right, we'll deal with...
this, later," she stated flatly, beginning to remove her costume. "What's wrong?" She started to replace it with her normal Costa-Brown dress blues at the same time as she removed it, piece by piece.
"Ma'am, this is urgent. The new Tinker down in Brockton Bay, Shipyard, directly challenged The Simurgh on her PHO Account three minutes ago. She accepted and is headed for Brockton Bay as we speak. He left for his battlecruiser in what I'm told is one of his shuttles accompanied by Dragon and Vista. We lost all communication with them when they entered the battlecruiser's shield. One minute ago, Shipyard posted on PHO that he was at the bridge of his ship. The battlecruiser then ascended into the sky. It is currently straight on course for The Simurgh."
Rebecca Costa-Brown stopped changing, stopped walking, almost stopped breathing. She stared at her assistant in jaw-dropped, eyes-wide shock. The look of disbelief on her face was
priceless.
"This is not a joke, ma'am," he assured her.
"I was only gone for HALF A DAY!"
--LB--
Revel stood in the Chicago Protectorate HQ. She was watching a national news broadcast with her lips set in a firm line.
Someone had killed the Simurgh.
Her relaxing day had been pulled out from under her before it even truly began.
As second in command of the Chicago Protectorate, and unofficial 'wizard'-keeper, it was now up to her to get her teammates and the Wards both to the HQ and into costume in preparation for whatever they might be needed for.
It was with a heavy heart she began dialing phone numbers.
An hour later everyone except her direct superior had arrived.
"Has anyone seen Myrddin?" Revel asked.
Campanile, her seven foot tall future teammate and gigantic barrel of a boy, chimed in. "Yeah, he was drawing runes of protection or something on the elevator on my way up." He was both serious and joking, stating the truth but with a smug grin and a teasing tone. The leader of the Wards seemed incapable of being pulled down. Something quite rare in their world.
It happened to be that same tone and imperviousness that used to drive her up a wall. Until she got used to it.
And he was only going to
continue growing. She already had to crane her neck to look at his face. How the hell tall was he going to get?!
"Very well," she sighed. "I suppose we shall wait-"
The door to their meeting room swiveled open before she could complete the sentence. In strode her direct superior, leader of the Chicago Protectorate, Myrddin. The only cape on Bet who'd chosen Magic as an explanation for their powers and carried the theme through to its full conclusion.
Case in point, the billowing, stereotypical mage robe ensemble he wore even now, face-darkening hood included. A gnarled wooden staff completed the image. The fact the face darkening was achieved via a visor was the only compromise to modern cape costumes he'd allowed.
"Hail, friends," he greeted. Myrddin might be a few cylinders sort of a full engine, but even he could sense the solemn mood in the room. She was so serious and grave that even Campanile had failed to brighten everything up.
"Myrddin," she greeted her superior and nominal friend, "thank you for coming."
"Think nothing of it, my dear," he said, waving her gratitude off. "I am sorry for tarrying but I had to refresh the intent wards in our direct travel elevator."
Having made his excuse, Myrddin made a beeline for one of the open chairs and sat. With that, she could call the meeting to order.
Instead of doing any introduction, as time may very well be of the essence, she used the remote in her hand to turn on the projector in the room. Behind her a video of a gigantic spaceship fighting, injuring, and inevitably killing the Simurgh began playing on a loop. "At roughly 1630 hours Boston Time, the Brockton Bay Protectorate's newest Ward, a Tinker 20, yes,
20, codename Shipyard, took his spaceship into high atmosphere and engaged the Simurgh in combat. A few minutes later, he killed her," she summarized.
Their reactions were varied. Campanile looked like he initially believed she was pulling a fast one on him. Shuffle, her own second in command, was watching the video with rapt interest. Grace scoffed, Annex looked even more laser-focused than Shuffle, Tecton had a grim, flat line for a mouth, and Raymancer was grinning like a loon. Wanton was the only one with a relatively normal expression, and that's only because he was paying more attention to Myrddin for cues as to how he should react.
But it was her team leader's reaction that puzzled her. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. His face was white, his hand gripping his gnarled staff so hard his knuckles stood out. He mumbled something that she barely heard, along the lines of 'ankh he ate us', then stood up abruptly.
"I am sorry my friends, I must leave you for now. Revel, you are in command until I return," Myrddin announced, already turning around. He swept to the door and waved a hand, as he'd done many times before, which caused the door to swing open without him touching it.
Door telekinesis was one of his lesser known and not very useful powers, but Revel had to respect her team leader's ability to showboat with it.
What she didn't respect was him ditching them. "Myrddin!" she yelled after him, protesting.
"You will be
fine, Revel," he called back to her, already in the hallway outside. "You are more this team's leader than I have ever been anyways. I however
have to greet this… Shipyard."
Revel's eyes widened. He'd never acknowledged it before.
And he was already gone, flying down the hall if the swish of his robes was any indication.
Revel turned back to the shellshocked Chicago Protectorate and Wards, frowning.
"It's not like this is any fucking stranger than what he normally does," Grace piped up.
"Hey!" Wanton intruded, offended at her mocking the hero he idolized.
Revel sent a stern look Grace's way and sighed. The impertinent Ward just shrugged and grinned.
This was going to be a long day.
--LB--
Director Piggot was calling her. For the second time that day.
She answered. Calmly and respectfully. Anyone who claimed she scrambled for the call answering button and almost
flew towards it would be fired with prejudice.
"Emily," she greeted the incoming caller, looking up from her desk. Then the great Alexandria… paused.
The Brockton Bay Director looked like hell.
"Rebecca," she wearily greeted Costa-Brown in return. She sounded…
Defeated.
Rebecca's eyebrows rose at that. Emily never called her by her first name, and it took a lot to rattle her. Then again, her brand new ward engaging the Simurgh and having to deal with Endbringer preparations for her city were valid reasons to look like you were ages older than you actually were.
"Is this about Shipyard engaging the Simurgh, Emily?" Rebecca asked gently, slightly leaning forward. She stared straight into Emily's eyes through the video call separating them.
"Turn on the news, Rebecca," she stated.
...Emily had just called her by her first name.
The Lady, the old warhorse of the PRT, the legendary Ellisburg survivor,
never did that.
Rebecca Costa-Brown swallowed nervously. "Why?"
"Just… just do it."
Rebecca was beginning to get worried. Cauldron knew it was pure stupidity to do as Shipyard had. Face and engage the Endbringer that regularly uses Tinkertech
with Tinkertech, alone, without backup? Dragon and Vista didn't really count given the distances involved.
She would barely count.
Rebecca searched Emily's eyes for a few more moments, seeing the wear and tear on her soul reflected there, and acquiesced. "Okay, Emily."
A few commands to her desk pushed Emily's video call to the side for another window to pop up. She tuned into one of the national news organizations. She figured if it was big enough for the Brockton Bay Director to say 'the news' vaguely, then it would be on all the channels.
She dearly hoped it wasn't 'Simurgh lands in Brockton Bay'.
The stream loaded up and began to play.
And Rebecca Costa Brown, Alexandria, felt her jaw drop.
On loop on one of the biggest national news channels was a video, seemingly recorded from Shipyard's vessel, of the engagement with the Simurgh.
And it showed him
beating the pants off the winged Endbringer.
"Emily-" she began to ask, leaning backwards into her chair as if the impossibility on the news could eat her.
Emily didn't look at her. She was staring at something offscreen, clearly rubbing her hand against it if her upper arm muscles were any indication. "Where are you at?" she asked.
Rebecca turned her attention back to the news just in time to witness most of the Simurgh's body vanish in a series of bright blue flashes of light. "Shipyard just took out the majority of her body in one volley," she stated, disbelief clear in her tone and her tense body language.
Emily nodded, almost agreeably, and scoffed. "You're not even to the good part yet," she faux-cheerily said.
"Emily,
what the fuck?"
"No, no, shhh," her subordinate interrupted, chuckling. She didn't even seem to notice that she'd just patronized and shushed her superior. "Keep watching."
Rebecca would've called her on her behavior if she wasn't so keenly aware of Emily's mental state. So she instead kept watching.
She saw the Simurgh's regeneration skyrocket.
Her blood ran cold. Psychologically anyways, as her body was timelocked, but it felt similar.
She saw the air vortexes and realised what exactly was worrying Emily so much.
The Simurgh had stopped holding back.
More to the point;
she'd been holding back before.
And yet still Shipyard didn't quit. His ship began firing with wild abandon at the winged Endbringer, forcing her to dodge. Rebecca saw what he was doing; herding her towards the front of the ship.
And when she reached it, Alexandria witnessed something terrifying… and
beautiful.
Thousands, possibly tens of thousands, of golden lights erupted from Shipyard's vessel. They arced over and around towards the Simurgh,
hit, and erupted in what looked like nuclear fire.
The next few minutes were just a maelstrom of energy and turbulence as the ship rocked in place. The shields were easy to see failing as streams of the destruction outside them slipped through, scarring entire sections of the vessel. And through it all, the cannons on the ship kept firing at the Simurgh's previous position, until one by one, they burnt out. Rebecca was getting worried that she was about to witness someone's death.
Eventually the maelstrom cleared, though. The ship still stood, burnt, scarred, and limping in the sky, but whole.
And Rebecca couldn't believe what she was seeing.
"E-Emily," she stammered, turning to look at the Director of the Brockton Bay PRT.
Her subordinate and pseudo-friend saw her look, nodded, and then took a swig of the bottle in her hand. The thing she'd been rubbing before was a beer flask. "My brand new Ward just killed the Simurgh, Rebecca," she announced. She looked down at her flask again and frowned. "What the hell do I do?"
Rebecca had no answers for her. She was in too much shock herself to even contemplate an answer.