Ethereal. A worm fic featuring ayy lmaos.

[Tomb Spyder]

ADVENT make a deal. Also a brief (very vague) look into where exactly Grue ended up.

Chapter twenty four. Requisitions.

The meeting point was a clean one, as far as dingy warehouses went. And large. A necessity. Of course unlike the many abandoned buildings of Brockton Bay, Las Vegas had far fewer decrepit locations to meet in. This specific warehouse was actually quite well run, with human automobiles being imported and exported out of the city. All in the name of accruing wealth.

Of course none of that mattered to T-34. He was merely here to facilitate a transfer of funds in exchange for desperately needed resources. A day or so spent enjoying himself down at the strip was also granted, both for recreational purposes and in order to help preserve his cover.

The sharply dressed Thin Man turned away from his inner monologue to face one of the larger garage doors, adjusting his bandana just as it began to rise on smooth, oiled hinges.

Several costumed figures strode into the loading area and stood aside, allowing a pair of large trucks to settle themselves within the building.

Uppercrust cut an impressive figure, his costume exuding an air of professionalism as he made his way past the big rigs in order to face the EXALT operative.

A brief stare, calculating. Then the man spoke.

"EXALT, I presume. We in the Elite had thought your organization lost with Brockton Bay."

A shake of T-34's head. Quick and efficient.

"Evacuation of most of our internal assets was successful, though the move to Boston was...costly."

Uppercrust nodded, seemingly sympathetic. "Endbringers do tend to raise costs across the board unfortunately. Though we adapt as we must."

"Indeed. Though I had been under the assumption that I was to meet with Bastard Son?"

The cape paused, glancing around at the warehouse before speaking.

"The Elite as a whole decided that it would be better to dispatch a more...diplomatic member to this meeting. While my work in New York is vital, I can certainly make the time to ensure our mutual agreement benefits everyone equally." He crossed his arms. "That is if you have upheld your part of the bargain of course."

The infiltrator nodded, snapping his gloved fingers. T-26 approached from a shaded corner, holding an armored briefcase. The Thin Man inputted the relevant code into the container's lockpad, and with a click the case unlocked. The contents turned around to face the Elite cape.

T-34 gestured to the stacks of cash (painstakingly acquired digitally by a particularly active Codex, and then carefully withdrawn out of various physical locations by dispatched infiltrators), alongside several seemingly ordinary cellphones.

"Exactly seven million US dollars, most of it held in temporary accounts. Details are in the two leftmost phones. A small phsyical portion in unmarked notes, alongside the PRT's current operating protocols. Your subordinates may check their validity of course." The protocols had been a far more complicated matter. It had taken a crack cyber-insertion team to fully infiltrate Dragon's security systems, but the lead Codex's confidence in their success had been validated.

He turned to pointedly stare at one of the trucks.

Uppercrust twirled a finger, and a large armored figure moved behind one of the rigs, grabbing at a latch and throwing the backdoor of the hitched container upwards. Inside lay numerous pallets of various sorts of foods and of course several large containers of fresh water. What was unmistakably tinkertech lined the inside of the rigs. A certain show the Thin Man had been exposed to came to mind.

Bigger on the inside indeed.

"Far be it from me to pry into another's activities, but how exactly do you intend to transport all of this back to Boston?"

The man's eyes widened behind his mask as a large purple rift tore it's way into reality ahead of the two large vehicles. T-34 took the case from his fellow infiltrator, closing and presenting it to the parahuman criminal. A subordinate silently stepped forward, spiriting away the incredibly valuable container...somewhere. T-34 briefly saw reality seemingly distort, then the briefcase was gone.

He adjusted his sunglasses as a pair of operatives entered the trucks, driving them through the swirling portal.

"EXALT has it's methods. If the Elite prove themselves to be consistent and reliable business partners, perhaps those methods may be shared."

The Thin Man held out a hand.

To his credit, Uppercrust didn't hesitate for very long at all. Another glance at the purple rift displaying a far dirtier looking warehouse on the other side, and then the cape took T-34's hand, shaking it firmly.

"Then I suppose this shall be the first of many dealings between us."

///////////////////////

The villa was nice. She guessed. Real fancy rich white guy shit.

She still wasn't sure how her brother had managed to snag it, or what exactly he was doing for his new employers, but if it meant she didn't have her dad riding her ass all day, or her fucking miserable excuse of a mom doping herself out in a corner, then she wouldn't ask too many questions about what ADVENT had her big bro doing.

The jingle of keys heralded Brian's return to casa del Laborn, so she got up to go greet him with one of her usual sarcastic quips.

"Aisha! I'm home!"

She snorted. Who else would be out here?

"No shit? Thought it was Kaiser coming for drinks!"

She could see her brother's shadow in the hallway, and moved to intercept him. Then she noticed there was something far larger behind her sibling.

"I have a...friend with me. We need to talk."

She yelled out an affirmative, and vaulted back over the couch, settling in between a pair of cushions and waiting. She snatched a soda from the coffee table as she strained her ears to listen in on the hushed conversation taking place just outside the living room.

"She's...bit rebellious...sure you can...V-16?"

"I will try...new experience....Mr Laborn."

There was someone with him. Real raspy voice, but she couldn't make anything out aside from that.

Another moment passed, then Brian walked in. He had that face. The one where he was about to say something he knew she'd start rebelling against immediately.

"....I've been given some new orders from ADVENT. So I'm gonna be away a lot more than usual for the next few days."

She narrowed her eyes.

"....Ok. What's that got to do with me?"

Her brother took in a deep breath, visibly steeling himself.

"I asked around and they've sent someone over to help take care of you while I'm-"

He dodged as she hurled the soft drink at him, swearing.

"I am not getting a fucking babysitter!"

He held up his hand, even as she reached for the cushions.

"It's not like that-it's just-!" He ducked beneath the first pillow. The second nailed him in the face.

"Aisha! She's nice!"

"I don't give a fuck! I'm thirteen you ass!"

The third pillow was intercepted mid transit to Brian's abused nose, a large scaled hand gently grabbing it out of the air and leaving it resting on a nearby chair.

"..."

"..."

"That's a giant fucking snake Brian."

"Viper."

"What?"

The young man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Nevermind. Point is, she's not a babysitter."

The giant reptilian nodded next to the cape formerly known as Grue.

"I have been deployed to protect personal assets belonging to Mr Laborn, as per his agreement with ADVENT."

He took the lifeline for what it was, gesturing to her with both hands.

"See? She's like a...bodyguard! Yeah."

Before she could respond, his phone started ringing. The fancy new one that he carried around with him wherever they went. He swore.

"Shit, ok. I've gotta take this. You two-I don't know. Introduce yourselves. Be right back!" And with that, her brother strode out of the room, leaving her alone with a humanoid cobra.

Aisha stared.

The snake fidgeted.

"I am V-16-"

She went quiet as Aisha pointed a finger at her. The giant armored soldier practically cowering back from the diminutive girl.

"I don't need a babysitter!"

V-16 merely nodded. She was designed for combat, not dealing with younglings! Perhaps if she kept nodding the small VIP would be placated?

"And I don't need a bodyguard! I can take care of myself!"

More nodding, the Viper adopted a submissive posture. With luck, the small human would take the deference for what it was and cease hostilities.

A moment of silence passed, Aisha staring down the jittery Viper that could probably eat her whole, before smiling.

"You play games?"

Another slow, hesitant nod.

Then the Viper squawked as the girl pivoted on her heel, yanked a controller out from a subtle charging port and tossed it at her.

"Well come on then!"

Reluctantly, the elite soldier slithered over, settling herself on top of her coils. Aisha took the couch.

The device she held was practically enveloped by her scaled hands, clearly designed for a smaller species, but V-16 made it work.

Of course then a familiar 'shooter' came up, and the Viper reverted to ingrained training and instincts. Aisha was no longer a VIP, but an uppity Trooper thinking they could get away with topping her high score. No! It would not be allowed!

Half an hour later, Brian returned to the sight of his little sister and her new babysitter furiously button mashing and shit talking each other. V-16 was new to the concept, but was certainly a quick learner.

"Glad to see you two getting alo-"

Another pillow smacked into his face with a poomf! Then Aisha cried out as V-16 took advantage of her momentary lapse in attention, winning the game.

"HEY! I WASN'T FUCKING WATCHING!"

The snake merely snorted, adopting a wise and regal tone.

"Snooze you lose."

Brian quietly made his exit as the pair started bickering.

 

[Tomb Spyder]

Incomprehensible demonic chanting. Chapter done.

Chapter twenty five. Contention.

As far as headquarters went, the PRT office was certainly a nice one. At least in Taylor's opinion. Defensible, in a central area and packed full of interesting tech and gadgets.

"Preliminary scouting suggests that the Rig is occupied, but whoever is still in there has refused all ongoing communication attempts, they're floating as far from the shore as they can without breaching the Naval cordon."

It made an excellent secondary base of operations. More importantly, it was a public building that ADVENT could visibly operate from, thus reassuring the Brockton Bay's citizenry. Especially considering it had been all but abandoned by it's former owners.

"Then for now at least it can be considered a non-issue. All remaining PRT assets have been seized and the remaining personnel that were found have willingly joined us for lack of better options. Moving on, what is the status of our primary contenders?"

Of course there were always a few negatives. Several Codices had been needed to breach the building's security, and then even more personnel had been needed to disarm the more physical defenses. Afterwards though? An excellent stronghold simply begging to be used.

"The Empire continue to be the largest obstacle to complete control of the city. Kaiser is a nuisance, though hopefully he will cease to be a concern soon enough. The Hunter has been dispatched to eliminate the man."

Taylor turned her attention back to the meeting just in time to add her own two cents to the conversation. Several Captains turned to face her, staring in rapt attention.

"They're on the run with nowhere to go. We've burned down their major holdings and imprisoned most of their non-powered support. Once the Hunter finishes Kaiser, the rest will break. Either they'll give in, or they'll try to go out in a blaze of glory. Be prepared for both."

A series of affirmatives, then she continued.

"It has come to my attention that several new groups have formed as a result of the quarantine. I know you've all been working to gather intel. Talk to me."

One of the Captains, their helmet off and large eyes blinking, leaned forward. G1, if she remembered correctly.

"What we assume to be a recent trigger has taken over the fading remnants of the ABB, rebranding them as the Silver Tongues. The man has named himself 'Kyoto' and appears to be a Master of sorts. Several attempts were made at uncovering whether Oni Lee is still active, possibly in an attempt to bring him back into the fold. They failed, unsurprisingly."

"A Master? Specifics?"

The soldier cleared his throat before continuing. "A tentative guess. It is between that and a Thinker. Kyoto seems to know exactly how to convince people to join his side, far beyond natural charisma. While he has not approached any ADVENT forces yet, it remains a threat nonetheless."

Now that was most definitely a problem. Someone capable of subverting her troops couldn't be allowed to run free. In any form. Thankfully, she knew a certain former ABB ganger that would be perfect for dealing with him.

"I will contact my fellow Elders regarding the matter. Oni Lee will be dispatched to end this threat. Whether Kyoto will be taken dead or alive will be decided once more information comes to light. Moving on, what are the statuses of potentially friendly parahumans? I understand we have several housed in the building as we speak."

Another Captain raised a hand, speaking up.

"Alongside the in-house personnel, Miss Militia has also signed on with us. If I recall correctly, her exact words were 'better a benevolent military junta than a total anarchy.' Triumph has also pledged his service due to the Oracle's encouragement. His loyalty is ensured due to our protection of his family."

He took a breath, then continued.

"Aside from those two, several independent heroes and vigilantes have come to us with requests for support. A corporate team calling themselves 'Alyx' have also contacted us, aiming for sponsorship due to their disconnection from their previous employers. In general, we have at least a dozen parahuman individuals that we can definitely label as allies, a dozen more that we can tentatively label as friendly and a handful that could be considered neutral. The rest have proven themselves to be hostile."

She nodded, she knew that much at least. Turns out, getting quarantined and surviving was a surprise for most armband equipped capes. Once the walls had come up and the dust had settled, there had been a shit ton of capes with no way home and no idea what to do. So naturally the conflict prone infected started fighting.

ADVENT's intervention had been swift, and the faction had essentially taken over as both the local government, police force, military and PRT. Mostly through right of arms but also due to the simple fact that aside from semi-frequent supply drops made by Dragon, ADVENT were the only group who had proven they could actually supply people with food, water and other basic necessities.

"Very good. Ensure they're treated well. If possible, get them some custom made uniforms and start integrating them into the command structure. We can use the Protectorate's methods for now, at least until a more efficient way is found. Make sure Miss Militia and Triumph are out on the more visible patrols alongside our forces, it will enhance our credibility."

A chorus of affirmatives answered her and she leaned back, letting the majority of the meeting deal with itself. Reports on what resources were needed where, how reconstruction of vital infrastructure was going and whether they could get away with just throwing overly hostile capes in a hole were common topics.

////////////////////////

He was Oni Lee. He was also Jax-Hur, as Shamash had named him.

The orange light emanating from the Elder was soothing, in a way. He could feel it wrapping around his mind, staving off what the woman had called his power's incompetent attempts at data gathering. A bit of him lost, each time he created a new clone.

The transport bumped across the road it was rolling over, and he shook briefly. His Elder remained still, meditating. His attempts to replicate her usually failed. He was always thinking. Going over information.

As for the knowledge that he was, in every sense of the word, dying, Jax-Hur could barely manage a quiet indifference as a reaction. And that alone had unsettled him far more than the news itself ever could.

But of course that's what Shamash's ministrations were for. Her influence continued to seep into his mind, and by extension his power. Modifications were made, though the Ethereal herself preferred to call them tricks. Fooling his power into thinking it had made the decision itself.

He could never take back what he had lost. His memories, his very sense of self had been destroyed. Consumed by his power in it's relentless search for data. But his Elder had assured him that at the very least he could always make new ones, and no longer have to worry about losing them too.

It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

"T-minus 50 seconds to insertion. Be prepared."

He quietly acknowledged the driver, a trooper. They went by K4 but in his head he had always just called them 'driver'. It's all the soldier ever did. Either transporting his own brothers, or acting as a glorified taxi for the rest of ADVENT's forces. The peacekeeper never seemed to mind though. He'd just turn on the radio and hum along to ADVENT's official station. Sometimes music played. Usually it was some excited radio host babbling about the group's various heroic deeds however.

"We're here, good luck Jax."

He nodded silently, catching a glimpse of a nearby rooftop from the front window and leaving nothing but ash behind.

He landed with a near silent thud, his suit muffling his movements. Unlike his old kit, the new costume was sleek, with black and green tones. The Elder, the high Elder (who still remained seemingly unnamed) had called it a modified Spectre combat skin, adapted for human use. Jax didn't really care too much about that. All that mattered was that it made him stronger, faster and more durable. It could also use some of it's mass to generate knives in a pinch, too.

His helmeted head whirled around, his combat harness pulled along by his body as he crept to the edge of the building, the laughter of the men below helping to disguise what sound he did make.

With a minor prompt, the combat skin changed. It's sharp black color shifting to a more grey-brown tone, blending in with the building around him.

"Nah but it was fucking crazy man! Alabaster shows and Jaonji fucking slams his ass with some dusty old pickup! So anyway, we all pile in the back, right? And-"

He ignored the excited guard's retelling of some past victory, instead moving to glance inside the building through a window. A shift in the wind, and he was no longer on top of a roof. Instead, he slowly strode through a dirty hallway, following the sound of muffled chatter.

Internal optics changed frequencies, and his world was overtaken by red, blue, orange and yellow. Heat signatures sprang out to him. He moved toward them.

A pair of guards spotted him as he turned the corner, shakily beginning to raise their weapons. Automatic rifles. Old ABB kit. Jax felt a bit of nostalgia.

He shifted forward, one clone slamming a fist into the first guard's gut. The second began to yell, turning to fire upon the suddenly incredibly close cape.

Then he slumped into the arms of the third clone, choking on his own blood with a knife sticking out of the front of his throat. Another quick stab dealt with his friend, and both of them were gently lowered to the floor just before their killers dissolved into dust.

He could see a single heat signature sitting down on the other side of the door. Either Kyoto himself if his intel was correct, or a lieutenant of some sort.

Without a second thought, he turned off his helmet's audio receptors and kicked the door in.

//////////////////

"Eeeeeasy does it ya fuckin Nazi."

The rally was a big one, damn near two hundred people. All of em sharing one thing in common.

Makin Murica great again. Pffft.

Kaiser stood front and center, hyping up the crowd. Raising his fist and yelling. Probably related to hating on black people or something.

Alec didn't really care. He'd finish this little errand, then get back to his crib and remind all of the base's residents why he was the number one ADVENT gaming champion. That damn Muton down at level three could suck his big blue di-

He ducked as the glint of a scope shined out of the corner of his eye. Shit.

The E88 had been fucked up. Purity had taken the sensible route and ran to ADVENT the second the quarantine had been initiated. Something about a baby. Whatever. Hookwolf had been Mastered, something Alec was pretty familiar with by virtue of...well, yeah. And Crusader was sitting in a cell somewhere, probably shouting at his guards in German.

Wait no, that was Krieg's thing. Or maybe Victor's. Speaking of Victor.

Yep, Kaiser was on the move. Welp, better finish this quick and be off.

He sighted in, ignoring the glint of the enemy sniper's scope.

Then with a hiss and the sound of sizzling bacon, the Hitler wannabe fell over.

His head didn't quite roll, since it didn't exist anymore, but eh.

He rolled over, the armor piercing bullet practically scraping past his shoulder plate and slamming through the ceiling behind him. He gave Victor a cheeky wave before flexing that small part of his brain that messed with his fancy new purple powers.

Then the psionic blink did it's work, sending him back to his room. Or sanctum, as that Du'viri guy kept calling it.

Eh, same thing. So long as it had his consoles.

Could he have helped out with capturing or eliminating the rest of the rally? Maybe.

Did the several pods of Muton shock troopers and Cyberdiscs need his help? Probably not.

And so Alec tossed his rifle onto his bed, settling himself into his comfy scifi ass chair and wrapping his oversized headphones around his hooded head.

Some Viper had apparently figured out how to properly trash talk and was pretty much violating the rest of the local playerbase.

He just had to get a few of his own zingers in.

 

[Tomb Spyder]

Turns out being a Mayor working under ADVENT is...well. Different. A small, brief look into an average man's view of the ayy lmaos.

Interlude nine. Roy Christner.

The office was comfy. Warm brown tones taking up most of the large space, knick-knacks stacked here and there to take up some of the extra room. Old trophies. A few framed documents.

Roy stared at his first official election as Mayor of Brockton Bay, even as he clutched the telephone tightly, glaring at it.

"Yes and I will get back to you on that but I really can't talk right now! Look, we'll discuss this later. After my meeting. Yes. Of course. Until then."

Click. The phone slotted back into it's holder, even as Roy leaned back into his chair and sighed.

"Troubles?"

He looked at the Viper out of the corner of his eye. Both his protector, assistant and watcher. ADVENT had kept him around for his uses, but they'd deemed it fit to replace his secretary. Deborah was off in some office now, shuffling papers for the 'New Government'. They'd probably get rid of him too. Stick him in some out of the way managerial position as soon as he proved a hindrance to their efforts, or went against their plans.

He'd just have to remain useful. Not like democracy was a big concern for the peacekeepers. No, it was all about proving you deserved your spot.

"..."

V-33 merely quirked a scaled brow, waiting.

He huffed. "More grumbling about increased rations. They'll just have to wait. Anything else before the meeting? Any messages?"

A shake of 33's hooded head. Her voice still came out raspy, but the typical ADVENT accent was far less obvious when she spoke. Her lessons were definitely helping.

"None that are important, Mayor Christner. Your meeting with Daniel Hebert will remain undisturbed. Speaking of the man, surveillance has reported that he is waiting outside, shall I bring him in?"

He almost tried to remind her that it was Roy, but gave up. The giant snake was almost excessively formal when it came to names. At this point he was pretty sure she couldn't help it.

"Well...alright then. Bring him here. I'll wait."

She bowed her head, then slithered out of his office. He knew it would take her a bit to make her way down to the bottom floor, so he had a few minutes to himself.

He idly adjusted the small framed photo, his family's smiling faces staring back at him. It had been taken recently, and he barely noticed the scaled finger that had slipped in near the edge of the picture.

'It could certainly be worse.'

His family (both close and extended) were kept safe, safer than they'd ever been, really. Ever present armed guards tended to deter kidnapping attempts (and his niece's retelling of her initial meeting with ADVENT had most definitely shook him. How could the Protectorate have let such a villain remain hidden for so long?). He rarely saw little Dinah without a pair of troopers shadowing her every move nowadays.

Rory was still running around in tights, like he'd always been. But at least he had a small army at his back each time he set out to 'deal with dissident activity.'

Ah who was he kidding? Brockton Bay had become an authoritarian city state, one quietly ignored by the rest of the country. The alternative was certainly worse though. For all of ADVENT's iron grip over his home, it was still better than places like Madison.

A trio of knocks startled him from his pondering and he turned to face the door. "Ah-come in!"

His mandatory bodyguard slid in first, followed by what used to be a massive pain in his backside, back before the quarantine. These days, Danny was a lifeline for the city. The dockworker nodded to the Viper, before turning to glance at Roy.

"Danny! Good to see you. Please, take a seat."

A wry smile, but the older man did settle down. "Always a pleasure Roy." He glanced at the silently waiting 33. "Deborah not around anymore?"

Roy waved a hand. "She was transferred to a different area. V-33 here was sent in as her replacement. You know how it is." The Viper silently preened at her mention. Yet another of her quirks.

Danny nodded, as if having your secretary get replaced by a giant armored snake with a tinkertech gun strapped to her back was an everyday occurrence. The man certainly seemed comfortable around ADVENT's more...exotic members, at least. Perhaps they'd provided him a bodyguard of his own? Roy knew several less influential men and women who had those hulking Mutons following them around more often than not. He likely warranted one at this point.

"Well, we can go on with pleasantries all day but I reckon it's best we get to the meat of the matter, yeah?"

Roy nodded, even as the man across from him leaned forward.

"I've been in contact with some administrators, brainstorming ways to help the city and such. For the moment there's two major projects we'd like to get going."

Judging by Daniel's obvious enthusiasm, he could already guess what one of the projects was.

The union head raised a finger. He also noticed 33 quietly make her exit, slithering out of the room and into the hallway.

"First thing on the agenda, the Ferry." And there it was. "ADVENT will be enacting a full renovation. It'll be bigger, faster and vastly cheaper to keep running. Right now, connecting the city's districts has been deemed a priority by their high command and they want it done quickly. Mostly we just need to get the word out and make sure no one accidentally gets in the way, they'll do the rest."

Well. It wasn't like he really had a choice. So Roy just smiled and agreed.

"Very well, the Ferry will be coming back. As for the second project?"

Danny grinned.

"The boat graveyard. It's going."

Roy waited for some continuation. After a few seconds he bit the bullet.

"It's...going?"

His counterpart nodded. "They've told me that the area would be perfect for a desalination plant, they just need to clear it out first. They've got the tech, and the DWU have the manpower. For now we're still depending on...wherever ADVENT have been getting their water from. Once the plant is up however, we'll be fully self sufficient in that regard. There's also plans for a few large scale hydroponics stations along the edges of the Docks, but that's something to deal with in the future. Besides that-"

The meeting went on for a little over an hour. It was mostly just Danny explaining what ADVENT planned on doing, and Roy trying to figure out how he would explain that to the general public. Really, at this point he was more of a mouthpiece than anything else.

Finally, the man left and the Mayor took a moment to decompress, just laying his head down on the cool desk in front of him.

Someone silently placed down a fresh cup of coffee and reacting on instinct, he reached out and took a slow sip. It was just the way he liked it, two sugars and just a little bit of milk.

"Thank you Deb-I mean, thank you...33."

The giant reptilian simply smiled down at him, wagging her tail. The decidedly human expression looked just a little odd on such an alien face.

"Of course, Mayor Christner."

 

[Tomb Spyder]

Draws circle. Reaches into circle and pulls out a chapter. Behold! Chapter twenty six!

Chapter twenty six. Progression.

She was flanked on either side by six newly awakened Ethereals. Miss Militia, Triumph and a few other more notable ADVENT sponsored heroes were also present and there were damn near a hundred troopers with half as many MECS standing guard, yet despite that Taylor felt just the slightest bit nervous, standing in front of the hydroponics facility. It was less the building behind her and more the stage she was on that was causing the emotion. That and the reporters.

Lisa could only do so much, unfortunately. The public wanted their 'ruler' to actually show herself for once. And so there she stood, waiting for everyone to settle in.

~You'll do fine. You have made it this far.~

She nodded at the Sectoid commander's words, the clone hanging around somewhere backstage. S-1 was right. She'd effectively conquered a city. What were a few journalists and other spectators going to do?

Then, with a flashing light near the corner of her mask's HUD informing her that it was time, she began.

The crowd went quiet as the enigmatic Elder finally spoke.

"Greetings. I will forgo proper introductions, as you all likely already know exactly who I am. You may refer to me as Elder."

It sounded a bit pretentious, but she had her audience's attention now.

"I will avoid any extensive details for the sake of public security, but know that I am what most would consider the supreme commander of ADVENT. While I delegate wherever possible in most matters, ultimately it is my goals that dictate what ADVENT's purpose is."

She took a moment to lean forward, placing her hands on the podium and slowly turning her head to glance across the crowd. Mostly various local news agencies, but she could also see...people. Dockworkers. Office types. A few firefighters and various other individuals who could have been anyone and anything. One of the other Ethereals had explained the concept. Due to her mask, it would appear as if she was staring at every individual spectator in the eyes, singling them out.

"When I received my powers, I set out to do one thing. Improve my city. My home. The place I grew up in. I wanted to make it safer. Better."

She could see the countless cameras pointed right at her. Could feel the crowd's thoughts. This was gold.

"My father was a dockworker and my mother, a teacher."

Whispers, as her audience digested the personal detail.

"They lived in fear. Fear that they wouldn't be able to raise their child in a safe environment. That some petty criminal would one day ruin their lives. That the gangs would escalate beyond merely leeching the city dry. The Protectorate, though composed of some of the city's best, was restricted by bureaucracy. Tied up in their own red tape. The police department was corrupt, those few officers who truly believed in their jobs being led astray at best, or killed at worst."

Taylor paused for a moment, letting the tension build up. "I promised to myself that ADVENT would be different. I would found an organization that would protect and improve my home in equal measure." A hand rose, gesturing to the ocean. Even now, one could barely make out the sleek figures of warships.

"We have all suffered. We've all faced loss. To the gangs. To the Simurgh. To life. The PRT-no. The Government have abandoned us. Outside of the walls meant to keep us in, we are regarded with fear. Compared to the likes of Eagleton. Ellisburg. Madison."

With a tiny flex of psionics, she allowed her hair to billow slightly, her mask and specific lines on her amplifier suit glowing brightly.

"And yet. Here. We. Stand. Look around you. Brockton Bay has survived. Thrived even, in the face of adversity. Our crime rates are low. Public safety is guaranteed and from today, resources shall no longer be an issue." Turning to the side, she pointed a finger at the massive facility behind her. As she spoke, loud noises sounded out, and lights began to activate. The hydroponics center roared to life. Advanced machinery chugging along inside the gargantuan building.

"It is with pride in my people, in ADVENT and in Brockton Bay that I announce the activation of seven new mega-hydroponic centers. From tomorrow, the coastal desalination plant will join them. Those who have lost their occupations as a result of our isolation will be welcomed with open arms as potential workers. Alongside these vital facilities, numerous defense platforms, rapid response centers and various other forms of infrastructure will be completed in the following days. By the end of this week, all major dissident groups will have been arrested and imprisoned."

Complete and utter silence. She would have shook if she couldn't recognize the awe for what it was.

"Our finest minds work even now on restoring our connection to the world around us. We are not victims. We are not some disposable plot, created by the Simurgh to cause untold suffering. We are survivors."

She made sure to stare directly into a specific camera manned by a pair of Thin Men. This one, she knew, was connected to a specialized broadcasting antenna. It would be able to pierce the jamming stations set up by the PRT, spreading her message to the wider world.

"And to those outside our walls, assigned to defend against and contain the threat many believe we pose, understand that we mean no harm. All we want to do is improve human quality of life where possible, and ensure our city's safety and prosperity. ADVENT will keep the peace. As it always had. And as it always will."

She nodded at the barely restrained news teams.

"With that out of the way, I will now be taking questions."

She violently resisted the tiny urge to flinch as the crowd roared, a wall of noise slamming into her.

/////////////////////////////////

The room was a dark one, with a long oval table taking up most of the space within. The hum of a tinkertech jamming device ensured that no one would be able to spy on the conversation via technological means. A few were physically present, the rest attending via holographic interface. Emily herself was making use of the advanced communication method.

"This is a fucking shitshow."

Tagg's words, while crude, were fairly on point.

"They've got intense public support both local and abroad because of that broadcast of theirs, a damned army of those mutants they call soldiers occupying the city's outer perimeter and God knows how many troops waiting to be unleashed. The threat ADVENT pose can't be understated." The man raised his arms, as if pleading for help from a higher power. "I literally can't emphasize this any more than I already have. We need to do something. Anything! Before they get the chance to pull off...whatever this is!"

A few murmurs sounded out, before director Armstrong posed an important question.

"And what precisely are we meant to do? You've said it yourself, they have a veritable army waiting inside the quarantine zone. It isn't quite Ellisburg-" She resisted the urge to tense up. "-in terms of numbers but it's getting far too close for comfort. Surveillance has shown what Thinkers can only describe as orbital defense guns being constructed in key positions overlapping the city. Are we supposed to launch a missile at them? Send in the entire Protectorate? Perhaps Eidolon could sweep by and glass the hundreds and thousands of innocent people living in there?"

Tagg went red, the warhawk taking a moment to compose himself.

"That's precisely my point. Orbital defense guns? If we don't initiate a response of some kind now, we won't be able to once they manage to consolidate." He turned to stare at her own projection. "Emily, you of all people should support me on this. You know exactly what this can spiral into. Back me up here!"

She frowned.

"I'm...not pleased about it. Obviously. But I'm not sure if I can actually make a difference here. Or if I even should." At the entire meeting room's silence, she crossed her arms and continued. "Ellisburg was a horror show. I can damn well tell you that much. Brockton Bay on the other hand? Disturbing...but nowhere near as bad. ADVENT's...soldiers seem restrained enough that they can operate in public without too much issue."

The former PRT commando paused.

"How they keep them under control is something I can't answer, but Elder wasn't lying in her announcement. It's hard to accuse one of their 'Mutons' of foul play when there's a video floating around of one of them storming into a burning building to carry people out. They said it themselves, they keep the peace. Dragon's supply drop offs aren't met with insane mad max wannabees like in the other quarantine zones. They have a dedicated landing area set up, with local personnel ready to accept anything we offer them."

Emily leaned back, quietly tapping her fingers against the table.

"The situation is complicated at best. Just an hour ago we received a phone call at our temporary HQ. It was apparently meant to be sent to me but Armsmaster managed to reroute it."

She tapped her fingers against the table she was seated at, as the chief director finally turned to stare at her fully. "Don't beat around the bush Piggot. Explain."

She nodded. "It was Miss Militia. The Protectorate ENE's former second in command, for anyone who doesn't know." At their silence, she continued. "For lack of a better term, she essentially gave Armsmaster a status report, and asked how everyone who managed to make it out was doing. When some of the other heroes figured out that Militia was alive and according to her, doing quite well for herself, along with Triumph, well things got...emotional to say the very least. Even the Wards have started protesting against any possible action taken against ADVENT. I'm afraid I'll have a damn well mutiny on my hands if I try anything too aggressive."

A near silent huff, then Costa Brown closed one eye, thinking.

"What about the oil rig? Are the agents there still alive?"

Piggot nodded firmly.

"They haven't stopped trying to contact us. As far as I'm aware, former deputy director Renick took control of the majority of the local PRT that refused to be absorbed by ADVENT. They made contact with the crew of the Rig and assumed command. So far they've managed to keep their distance from the city and have been surviving on presorted survival rations, but they're running out of supplies. At best, they'll have three days before they have to either give in and ask ADVENT for help, or starve. It's a bad situation."

Another moment of silence, with Rebecca clearly planning something out, before the chief director responded.

"At present, Brockton Bay is a veritable void for Protectorate Thinkers. We can pick up basic info, but it's been presumed that there's a powerful Trump waiting in the city and blocking our efforts."

She narrowed her eyes.

"We can't afford to step into this blind." She nodded to Tagg and Armstrong. "Making the wrong move here could be disastrous. So we need boots on the ground. We already have agents inside, we just need to verify if they've been compromised somehow."

Turning to stare at Piggot, she crossed her arms.

"Send word to Dragon. All ingoing supplies to Brockton Bay are to be halted indefinitely. They've made it clear they don't need us anymore. Divert the transports to the Rig and get to work on contacting the quarantined ENE's remnants. If possible, get Armsmaster to find a way of communicating with Militia. Best case scenario, we'll have an agent inside ADVENT's ranks. Worst case, we'll know she's been compromised."

Her hand swept around in a wave.

"The rest of you are to maintain operations as normal. Wave the flag, assure the media and the public that the PRT have things under control and are responding to the situation. Dismissed."

And with that, her screen cut out.

Emily sighed. Tagg, for all his aggression, had been right. This was a fucking shitshow.

 

[Tomb Spyder]

Sorry not sorry.

Interlude ten. PHO/Clockblocker.

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■​

♦Topic: ADVENT BROCKTON BAY QUARANTINE REPORT
In: Boards ► Places ► America ► Brockton Bay Discussion (Public Board)

CODEX-1 (Original Poster) (Moderator) (ADVENT) (CODEX-PRIME) (Verified CODEX)
Posted on October 14, 2011:

GREETINGS.

PURPOSE OF THREAD: DISTRIBUTION OF VITAL INFORMATION FOR PURPOSE OF ACQUIRING PUBLIC SUPPORT.

SECONDARY PURPOSE OF THREAD: ERADICATION OF ALL DISINFORMATION PERPETRATED BY POSSIBLY HOSTILE/MALICIOUS PARTIES.

PROVIDING RELEVANT LINKS:

LINK1: RECORDED FOOTAGE OF SIMURGH ASSAULT.

LINK2: AFTERMATH OF SIMURGH ASSAULT.

LINK3: PROTECTORATE/PRT/GOVERNMENT RETREAT AND SUBSEQUENT QUARANTINE OF BROCKTON BAY.

LINK4: HOSTILE ESCALATION PERPETRATED BY MULTIPLE DISSIDENT FACTIONS.

LINK5: ADVENT INTERVENTION.

LINK6: ADVENT OPERATIONS AND SUBSEQUENT ASSUMPTION OF CITY COMMAND.

LINK7: CREATION AND OPERATION OF FIRST ADVENT GENE CLINIC.

LINK8: ELDER SPEECH. FOOTAGE OF LOCAL GOVERNMENT ANNEXATION. FOOTAGE OF INFRASTRUCTURE CONSTRUCTION.

LINK9: PRT SUPPLY CUTOFF.

ADVENT EXISTS TO KEEP THE PEACE.

BROCKTON BAY IS NOT LOST.

DO NOT ABANDON US.

PRAISE BE THE ELDER.

PLEASE DISCUSS BELOW.



(Showing Page 3 of 12)

► Bagrat (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
Oh shit. Uhm. Mods??? Also how quickly are people responding to this, we're already on page three?

► WriterAnt110 (Unverified Beta) (Grammar King)
Replied on October 14, 2011
I'm pretty sure that IS a mod. ADVENT hacked PHO. This stuff is spreading all over.

► Tin_Mother (Moderator)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
I don't know how you're doing this, but I advise you stop now.

► CODEX-1 (Original Poster) (CODEX-PRIME) (ADVENT) (Verified CODEX)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
NEGATIVE.

THE TRUTH MUST BE DISTRIBUTED.



► Mashadarof402 (Unverified Cape)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
Hell yeah Codex! Fight the power!

► Thinkingwithportals
Replied on October 14, 2011:
So anyway that's an entire city mindfucked by Ziz.
...An organized city with a standing tinkertech army...
...OH FUCK!

► Reave (Verified ADVENT Agent) (Former PRT)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
Confirming this right now, before the thread devolves even more (bit blunt there C-1) and yes, it's me.

Don't even WANT to know how ADVENT is getting us through the jamming, but if it means I can explain what's going on? All the better.

The situation is as follows:

1. Due to an unknown power interaction (they won't explain further) Ziz's scream got shut down. Hard. I can't verify this, only parrot what my new superiors are saying. According to them, we're not time bombs. I sure fucking hope so. Again, I can't prove anything and I doubt any of you are going to believe me, but I can at least try so...

2. Due to the removal (retreat) of all Government entities, up to and including the PRT and Protectorate, ADVENT has elected to take complete control of the Bay, effective immediately. Link six will explain pretty well just how they did it.

3. ADVENT is the Government now. At least for the Bay. They are quite literally signing my paycheck and giving me a place to stay. Considering the alternatives were all fucking gangs, I'm not going to complain.

4. Pretty much every parahuman in the city is either neutral, actively working with ADVENT (see link seven, Miss Militia and Triumph are in it) or have been imprisoned in a newly constructed facility.

5. Apparently ADVENT can hack PHO. Good to know.

6. Those flying Greek..torsos? The big buff guys with respirators? The funky looking pink ones? Tinker-bio constructs. Even the more human looking troopers. You can see plenty of footage of them in most of the links. I know it looks bad, but I'm literally sitting next to a giant snake right now and waiting for this to explode.

7. Her name is V-3 but she mostly goes by Vanessa. She says hi by the way.

► Bobbynonose
Replied on October 14, 2011:
Nuke it nuke it nuke it nuke it NOW IT'S A FUCKING SIMURGH PLOT WHAT THE FUCK MAN

► CODEX-1 (Original Poster) (Moderator) (CODEX-PRIME) (ADVENT) (Verified CODEX)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
PLEASE DO NOT NUKE US.

THANK YOU.

► Lord_Doom
Replied on October 14, 2011:
Don't trust a thing any of them say, everyone here (who has any degree of sense) knows exactly how timebombs work.

"Due to an unknown power interaction (they won't explain further) Ziz's scream got shut down."

No. That doesn't happen. Mods, get the hell on this before it gets worse. They've already got Reave ffs.

► Lazily (Veteran Member)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
Nuke them? There's people living in there! Look at the footage! Why would we nuke them if we haven't done the same to the likes of Ellisburg???

► Potato Nose (Verified Alpaca) (Monkey With a Typewriter)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
One, Ellisburg isn't building giant space guns (no seriously those things are like the size of a building at least holy shit). Two, they're getting past the quarantine's jamming...does that mean that everyone in there can communicate outside? Can we get someone inside Brockton Bay (sorry Reave, but you kind of scream puppet right now) to say something?

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 ... 10 , 11, 12

(Showing Page 4 of 12)

► Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
Yep.

Typing this out on my phone from a local cafe. There's a Muton (big boi) sitting like two tables down.

Unironically the most peaceful the city's been for a good while now lol.

► GstringGirl
Replied on October 14, 2011:
Well it's a good thing that everyone's doing ok, right?

► Voltorb
Replied on October 14, 2011:
Doing ok on the surface. Who knows what sordid shit is going on where the cameras are off. They're using tinkertech medicine. Geneclinics? I bet that's where the troopers come from! This is some fucking Borg bullshit!

► Chainsword83 (Verified Omake)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
PRT: Quarantines Brockton Bay.

ADVENT: Turns the Bay into an independent city state.

PRT: Surprised pikachu face.

► ArmsmasterPHO-Official (Protectorate ENE) (Verified Cape)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
@CODEX-1

Please provide Miss Militia's current contact information.

► Miss Militia (ADVENT) (Former Protectorate) (Verified Cape)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
@ArmsmasterPHO-Official Check your PM's.

► Cookiesndip
Replied on October 14, 2011:
YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO WTF!?!?!?!? I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW HALBEARD HAD AN ACC

► Grape Fanta (Verified Drink)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
This is...big. Like, really REALLY big. Has the PRT said anything? And what's this about them cutting off supplies? What the hell?
....Then again BB seems perfectly capable of providing for itself at this point.

► Cove (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
This user has been temporarily banned for this post.
DISINFORMATION DETECTED. THIS IS NOT ALLOWED. -CODEX-1

► Chaosgenetives (Unverified Cape) (Degenerate)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
THERE'S MORE! THERE'S SO MANY OF THEM!
EDIT: OH COME ON!
-WARNING. DO NOT LEWD THE VIPER COMBAT UNITS. NO THEM BEING INTO IT IS NOT AN EXCUSE. -CODEX-1.

► MuricanMurica
Replied on October 14, 2011:
What in the Sam hell...

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 ... 10 , 11, 12

(Showing Page 5 of 12)

► Omegaisotope
Replied on October 14, 2011:
Look at the rest of the announcement! They've got Kaiser and the rest of the Empire and everything!

► Oogli
Replied on October 14, 2011:
Bunch of other capes too, lots of out of towners probably got trapped during the quarantine

► Tin_Mother (Moderator)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
This thread is being shut down.

EDIT: Ok apparently not. But I will continue to heavily protest it's existence.

► CODEX-1 (Original Poster) (Moderator) (CODEX-PRIME) (ADVENT) (Verified CODEX)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
APOLOGIES FOR MODIFYING PHO SERVERS WITHOUT CONSENT.

THIS IS NECESSARY.

► CODEX-7 (Moderator) (ADVENT) (Verified CODEX)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
ELDER DID NOT SAY YOU WERE CODEX PRIME. YOU DO NOT HAVE AUTHORIZATION.

► CODEX-1 (Original Poster) (Moderator) (CODEX-PRIME) (ADVENT) (Verified CODEX)
Replied on October 14, 2011:
I AM CODEX PRIME. I WAS FIRST.

THE TAG SUPPORTS THIS.

► Regal Eagle
Replied on October 14, 2011:
What. No really. There's two of them now? What?

► Bjornthefellhanded
Replied on October 14, 2011:
I can't believe this is even being discussed. It's the Simurgh. Just another plot to fuck us over. This can only end in tears, someone contact the PRT, fuck it, even the military (they still have a few jets lying around don't they?), and start working on this now!

► UngaBunga
Replied on October 14, 2011:
Incredibly valid points, but since when the fuck do Simmy's plots include uplifting a city and seemingly improving it in most if not all aspects?

► Newyorkterrier
Replied on October 14, 2011:
Hopekiller...

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 ... 10 , 11, 12

■​

♦ Private message from Triumph:

► 6 Undisplayed Private Messages
Clockblocker: Yeah I'll tell everyone.
Triumph: But yeah, it's me. Wacky huh?
Clockblocker: Dude that costume looks so sick.
Triumph: Yeah it's armored and everything. That combined with the gene clinics makes it almost unfair.
Clockblocker: Gene clinics? The thing from the link?
Triumph: They're crazy. Went to one after dealing with what was left of the Rooks.
Clockblocker: Rooks..?
Triumph: New gang. Think Merchants but with lots of Brutes. Lots of em popped up after the walls were built. We took care of em though.

But yeah, the gene clinics. It's almost like going to Panacea. Just hop in the tube for a bit and you come out good as new.
Clockblocker: Watched the vid. I saw my dad.
Triumph: Oh shit. Well, he's probably better now? There's very little the tech in there can't fix. I saw a guy get both his arms grown back.
Clockblocker: Holy shit.
Triumph: Yeah.
Clockblocker: Gtg, Piggy's going nuts about this and I don't wanna get caught. Talk later?
Triumph: Sure.


Dennis glanced up from the screen.

Yep, the rest of the temporary Wards common room was still arguing.

Turning back to the laptop he'd practically been glued to for the past hour, he scrolled back up to the original post. The cursor hovered over the link to ADVENT's 'gene clinics'. A lot of people had made good points. Rory had seemed normal. But how would anyone be able to tell?

But...if they could just heal people like that...

He stared at it for a moment, then turned off the computer and got up to go join the argument.

 

[Tomb Spyder]

Unethical but incredibly efficient practices HO! I hope I nailed the absolute fuckery going on in this chapter.

Chapter twenty seven. Modification.

The sky was grey today, with a light drizzle making the area almost misty in comparison to the past week. Raindrops pattered against the dropship's armored windshield. The distant structure taking up most of Taylor's view continued to increase in size as the transport reduced the distance between it and it's target.

The building was much more imposing compared to the hydroponic centers that had been unveiled to the public. Though that was sort of intentional.

It was a prison after all.

"Detention Center Control. This is transport A4 on approach, providing credentials and requesting landing clearance, over."

The pilot quietly tapped his fingers against the dashboard, with Taylor sitting in the seat next to him. The troop compartment behind them contained a pair of Mutons and one of the few remaining criminal capes that hadn't been processed yet. A blaster going by the name of 'Curtain'.

She still thought it was a pretty boring name, even if it did accurately represent the man's power.

A small crackle indicated a returning communication burst, and a near identical voice to her current pilot rang out.

"Transport A4, stand-by for verification, over.

Another moment of silence, just before the voice returned and popped it like a particularly thin balloon.

"Transport A4, credentials received and verified. You are cleared to land. Proceed to docking tower Delta, over."

The pilot nodded his head, pushing the throttle sticks forward.

"Much appreciated Control. Moving in for landing, out."

With a small twist of inertia, the dropship turned, swerving around to face the nearby tower. It was a tall, dark thing. All black steel and crimson lights. Taylor could faintly hear the docking arms extending out from their ports in order to firmly grasp onto the transport, securing it to the side of the building.

The pilot ran through a few post-docking checks, before turning to her and nodding.

"We are secure, Elder. Shall I await your return?"

She shook her head, hair swishing back and forth. She was noticing a bit more white in her mane now, but it was still predominantly it's old dark brown color.

"I will remain here for a while, feel free to report to the local barracks or canteen and rest for a bit."

Another respectful nod, with the pilot unbuckling himself from his safety harness and moving to exit his side of the transport. Taylor followed suit, ignoring the panicked yells and futile struggling coming from the troop compartment.

///////////////////////

The room was a stark, gunmetal grey. The only objects within consisted of a similarly grey chair and table, alongside a single ceiling based light fixture.

"Name, Parahuman code name and affiliation."

The dark skinned man scowled, looking away even as he slumped further into his chair.

V-55 frowned, glancing down at her datapad. On her side of the table, no chair was required. She merely sat upon her own coils as she read through the report. Her brief exposure to her Elder had been wonderful, but her newest task had been provided quickly and then her Elder had left to travel deeper into the facility. Detention Center 01 was an incredibly large building after all. It had to be considering the number of dissidents it had to hold. Especially the parahuman ones.

"Your name is William, yes? William Monroe?"

His brown eyes turned to glare into her own reptilian slits.

"Fuck. You. This is wrong. Against the fucking rules!"

The Viper merely snorted. A mix of amusement and annoyance coloring the sound.

"ADVENT does not believe your 'unwritten rules' hold merit. According to your record, you have murdered seven separate individuals, and sexually assaulted two of them. Alongside a host of other crimes, such as kidnapping, assault and battery, breaking and entering, theft, grand theft and more. Why should you receive special treatment, when a non-parahuman criminal would face life in prison, or possibly even the death penalty for actions similar to yours?"

William frowned, but didn't respond.

V-55 merely continued intensely staring at the superpowered dissident. A precedent had to be established.

"Now, I will ask one more time. I advise you answer, lest I be forced to resort to less polite means. Name, Parahuman code name and affiliation."

A moment of silence, the man clearly contemplating resisting and what the consequences of such an action would entail, before he answered 55's order.

"William Monroe. Curtain. Steel Jaws. Or what's left of em at least."

She clicked a single clawed digit against her datapad, letting her tongue slither out to taste the air for a moment. There was the clean, clinical taste inherent to most ADVENT controlled buildings. Alongside a heavy dose of sweat. The man likely hadn't showered in the past few days.

"Describe your power."

Monroe glanced down at the massive gauntlets wrapped around his hands, preventing proper use of his abilities before raising his head and responding.

"I'm a Blaster. Grade four if you go by PRT lingo. I can weave energy and shit together. Make a curtain out of the stuff and let it fall on top of people. Burns em and stuff."

V-55 merely clicked her tongue once, inputting the information into the local network. The confirmation that the energy wave had heat based effects was good to have.

"Very well. I have gone through your history, list of crimes and my assistant has judged whether you can be rehabilitated."

The Blaster squinted at her. "What fuckin assistant?"

She merely turned to stare at a nearby wall, the Sectoid behind it psionically transmitting it's findings directly into her mind.

~He is irredeemable. Traditional recruitment will result in corruption, and multiple attempts to escape his judgement. Additionally, his...tastes...will decrease cohesion among female staff.~

The Viper bobbed her head up and down in a nod, sighing to herself. What an unpleasant man. Especially considering he shared a name with one of a far higher caliber.

"Very well. Another one for the reclamation center then. By the authority invested in me by the Elder, I sentence you to Rebirth."

William sat up as she set her datapad aside, the door behind him beginning to hiss open.

"Fuck does that mean? Hey! Fucking answer me you scaly bi-!"

The criminal failed to get another word out as M-36 roughly pulled the man to his feet, dragging him into the hall outside. His struggles proved useless against the far more physically capable Muton, and his yells slowly faded as he was carried out of sight.

V-55 checked her watch. Sagging in relief.

It was finally time for her coffee break.

////////////////////

Time passed for the man. He didn't know where he was, only that he was floating. He also didn't know what he was doing there. Only that he could feel...something...slowly slipping away. Or perhaps being taken.

He couldn't really bring himself to care. Wherever he was, it was warm. Safe.

Of course that warmth eventually came to an end, and he slowly woke up from the strange, dreamless sleep he had been trapped in.

He was...lying down on something cold. There was something on his face and he could feel...tubes? Some kind of tubes strapped to his sides. He opened his eyes only to shut them tightly as a bright white light shined into them.

He almost wanted to panic, but a reassuring voice in his head calmed him down.

~Rest, P-14. You have gone through quite the ordeal.~

He wanted to speak. To ask what had happened. He finally got the chance to as a gloved hand removed the...mask. Yes, the mask from his face. He opened his mouth, only to trigger a coughing fit. The hand carefully sat him upright, patting him on the back as he expelled some unknown liquid.

"W-where?"

~You are in an ADVENT medical facility. You recently underwent an extensive gene therapy operation, one that greatly enhanced your physical abilities. Memory loss is a common side effect, though one we Sectoids can remedy with little issue. Please wait a moment while I 'fill in the gaps' so to speak.~

"Right...Right yeah. Thanks friend."

~Of course, friend.~

And then suddenly, he could feel it all piecing together, memories slowly being placed back into his mind. Almost like a puzzle. He was P-14. A servant of his Elder and a specially made Parahuman enforcement unit. One that would be unveiled to the public relatively soon. Once his uniform, designation and general style were decided on by the public relations department.

Damn, that operation had definitely hit him a lot harder than he expected. Ah well.

At least everything made sense again.

 

[Tomb Spyder]

Currently putting the final touches on my Patreon (consider having a look at it if you wanna support me, don't feel pressured at all, seriously) and figuring out how commissions work. Don't worry about that though, have another chapter!

Chapter twenty eight. Inspection.

"As presented Elder, this is the final result of the more...extreme rehabilitation program. Of course most inmates do not require this level of modification, thus it is reserved for the more uncontrollable types."

Taylor nodded, looking past the Viper and down at the test chamber. Curtain, or 'P-14' was throwing wave after wave of energy at premade targets, while a pair of troopers cheered him on. The jumpsuit wearing man seemed quite happy, and the positive feedback kept him going.

Still though...

"And there is total memory loss?"

V-55 shook her head, hood shifting slightly. "Muscle memory remains, alongside certain moments that involve their use, though they are near incomprehensible on a higher level. Personal memories however are indeed removed in their entirety. Curtain as you knew him is dead, P-14 is what we salvaged from the remains."

Taylor nodded, looking him over. He was being passed a bottle of water from one of the troopers now.

"You implanted false memories, in order to make him believe he has always been a member of ADVENT?"

V-55 nodded.

"And this is standard protocol?"

Another (though slightly more hesitant) nod.

Taylor crossed her arms.

"Hm. I can see that going badly somehow. Give him time to acclimate, once he's fully aware that he's considered a part of ADVENT, break the news. Gently. Emphasize how terrible a person Curtain was, and how P-14 is considered an entirely different individual. If it works out, establish that as the baseline protocol for all Reborn parahumans."

The Viper bowed her head in deference.

"As you say, Elder."

With another nod, Taylor left the observation chamber. M-12 and M-13 standing up off the wall they had been leaning against and following behind her. As they passed through one of the longer hallways, she considered the two Mutons.

Paragons, Shamash had called them. Prime specimens of their species, either due to luck, some hidden mutation in their dna or who knew what else. The two had shared a growth pod during development and as a result of their Paragon status were stronger, tougher, faster and smarter than their more average brethren. Of course the Collective had immediately insisted on their permanent assignment as her personal bodyguards. It was either them or the Hunter after all.

They still acted like overgrown muscle jockeys though, and were surprisingly chatty compared to other shock troopers.

"I went to Fugly Bob's yesterday."

M-12 turned to glance at his brother as he spoke with a slightly modulated voice, plasma rifle slung behind his back.

"I was planning on visiting during my allotted recreational period. How was it?"

A grunt.

"The Challenger was pleasing, and the humans acknowledged my strength as I devoured the meal. It was...good."

The pair continued to quietly speak behind her until they finally reached another door. A brief scan and the local system Codex acknowledged their existence, granting them entry.

This was the more public area, with more...receptive parahumans. Kept far, far away from the Rebirth chambers of course. It was also somewhat adjacent to the low risk inmate zone.

"Feel free to relax for a few moments. I'm going to check up on the Artificer."

Twin grunts answered her as Taylor broke away from her escort, moving towards yet another door, this one blocked off by two physical guards.

The Vipers both bowed slightly as she strode past them, and then she was inside the workshop.

It was...interesting. To say the very least.

What could only be a small model of a scout ship flew past her head, slamming into the nearby wall.

"Hello Trevor."

The teen gawked at her, slowly turning to look at the heavily mangled replica.

"Oh! Uh...hey Elder! I mean ma'am. I mean Elder. Uh-" The boy's babbling paused as Taylor held up a hand.

"I see you've made progress integrating some of your systems into our own?"

What might have once been Chariot smiled widely as he gestured towards a nearby hologram.

"Yep! Obviously I had to be careful not to modify too much of it in order to keep maintenance down, but the alternative jumpstarter should work. The engines will be able to handle the rest of it from there!"

Now that was good news. ADVENT could theoretically create a spacecraft with it's current resources, but that wasn't the issue.

It was starting up the vessel that was the problem. Powering it after the fact was easy. Actually waking up the engine? Not so much. It normally required a tremendous amount of energy.

"Excellent work, Artificer." Trevor visibly preened at the title. "How soon do you believe you can begin putting your designs into practice?"
The boy nodded, moving towards a nearby bench and inspecting a glowing power cell.

"Well...right now probably? I have everything I need...except the ship itself. Obviously."

With a flex of psionic will, Taylor brought the cell into her own hands, staring down at it. The device was...mostly stable, with the main difference being a far more violent source of energy. One that would hopefully be able to bring their first UFO online.

Taylor smirked behind her mask. The stereotypical design of the Empire's spacecraft still amused her, much to the rest of the Collective's collective annoyance.

That was a terrible joke. Truly, the greatest part of getting a new body will be freeing myself from your insufferable humor.

And there was the grouchy response. Though Ni'vilder was a grouchy Ethereal by nature it seemed.

It is called having taste.

Mhm. Taylor turned back to an anxiously waiting Trevor.

"I approve. Pack what you need and await further instruction. I will have a team ready to move you to your new lab shortly. Then you will be granted access to the preliminary hulls."

The boy nodded fervently, even as he began hastily grabbing this or that tool, all while babbling to himself about power conversion, aero-aqua dynamic shells, and other such tinker babble. She let it wash over her as she left the small lab.

Trevor had been an excellent find. A brief mention deep in Coil's records as a possible Tinker, ADVENT had investigated his home after the quarantine.

His mother had been all too happy to accept the new government's help after Trevor had dismantled the dishwasher and television, somehow turning them into an extremely bare bones hoverboard. He'd apparently been inspired by Kid Win.

Of course he was kept in the 'cooperative parahuman' zone, alongside most of the heroes that had signed on with ADVENT. Unlike the inmates, they were given far more freedom, alongside high tech training facilities to help develop their powers.

Shamash made it a point to visit each and every single one of them. They were an opening that could be exploited after all, granting the Collective access to even more Fragments. Slowly but surely, the shattered system was being subverted. Each shard being picked apart and reprogrammed.

It wasn't easy of course. Giant crystalo-organic super computers tended to have some gnarly anti-malware protocols.

They were still trying to get her own Fragment to quit fussing.

Indeed. The 'Queen Administrator' is a pain.

Taylor smiled. At least that was something the two could agree on.

Fragments were absolute little shits. Especially without anyone to properly guide them.

Good thing the Collective had returned to set everything straight. In a manner of speaking.

 

[Tomb Spyder]

Bit of a shorter chapter. Shamash performs some fuckery.

Chapter twenty nine. Turning the Militia.

The meeting room was one of many, what was important was it's current occupants.

The Ethereal could literally feel the parahuman's nervousness, no matter how well the hero hid it behind her calm expression, which in turn was hidden behind her flag themed scarf. Indeed, Miss Militia was one of the few ADVENT sponsored heroes that had been permitted to keep their old costume in favor of ADVENT's new uniforms.

The BDU's suited her.

"Miss Militia. Or would you prefer Hannah Washington?"

A pistol strapped to the woman's chest disappeared in a flash of green flame, reforming into a dagger sheathed at her hip. Miss Militia shifted in her seat.

"I suppose Hannah would be fine, ma'am."

Shamash nodded slowly.

"Good. You are here for two reasons." When Hannah gave no response, she continued.

"I will not 'beat around the bush'. ADVENT is perfectly aware of your leaking of information to your former masters in the PRT."

She raised a hand as the parahuman tensed.

"You will not be punished. We understand your reasons, more than you might know."

The woman was still clearly wound up, but her hand had left the dagger's handle.

"Alright. That was the...first reason. What's the second?"

Shamash leaned forward slightly, splaying her fingers together. (A small part of her still continued to exult in having fingers again.)

"According to known records, you possess an eidetic memory. Is this correct?" At the military themed cape's hesitant nod, Shamash leaned back.

"Good. I have been made aware of a commonly forgotten fact about parahumans such as yourself. None of them can recall the moment that their trigger event actually occurred. Only the events leading up to it."

Another nod, much more stiff this time. "Yes ma'am."

Shamash did not beat around the bush. She pressed forwards. "You saw them." Hannah needn't have spoken, the recognition in her eyes was more than enough. There was only one thing the ancient Ethereal could be talking about. "Ah, so you have? That makes this significantly easier then."

Before the parahuman could respond, Shamash did the equivalent of lunging forward with her psionics, tearing her way past the woman's strictly structured mental defenses and flooding her mind with visions and a few key notes of information. More specifically, Hannah was subjected to an experience similar to what young Taylor had gone through.

It was a testament to the newly reborn Ethereal's resilience that she had endured it as well as she had. Miss Militia fared far worse.

The flag scarf that made up so much of the woman's identity slipped off her face as her mouth opened in a silent scream, her dull eyes beginning to leak tears. She had the look of a woman witnessing something very, very far away.

Shamash took a moment to stretch as Hannah witnessed the death of an Empire, it's remnant's desperate attempts to outrun their destroyers, and then a version of humanity's death as well.

Finally, the psionically powered information exchange halted. She'd seen enough. The human doubled over, vomiting onto the floor even as she continued to gag in utter terror.

"Do you now understand what we face? Why we must do what we do?"

Strangled sobs answered her, though the woman did nod. Her mind was far more open now. Despite her fear and disgust, she was coming around. Miss Militia would remain firmly on ADVENT's side from this point on. For humanity's sake if nothing else.

After all, the primitive species wouldn't stand a sliver of a chance on their own, chaotic and disorganized as they were. Thus it was up to the Collective to drag them to victory, kicking and screaming if need be. If there was one thing Hannah understood, it was having to fight a war.

She sighed, standing up and guiding the shuddering hero to the door. She'd chosen this room specifically because there was a water cooler conveniently placed just outside of it.

"Come now dear, let's go get you some water."

 

[Tomb Spyder]

Taylor has a chat with the voices in her head. QA makes a decision.

Chapter thirty. Collective Debate.

The isolation chamber was made for a specific purpose. Psionically reactant materials would allow her to act as a glorified tuning fork of sorts, allowing her to find the correct frequencies which would in turn let her spread her awareness beyond the material plane.

Or to explain the complicated process in a far simpler manner, it would let her briefly speak with the entire Collective. They'd still be asleep, sort of. But that wouldn't stop them from adding their knowledge to the discussion that was about to commence.

A small psionic swat at her head from the resident Ethereal Ancient brought Taylor back to the present. The entire room was circular in shape, with each Ethereal kneeling down on a carefully placed pedestal. There were ten of them present, with Shamash and Taylor directly facing each other.

~We will now begin.~

Without another thought, the group of psionics began to release their built up energy. Letting it suffuse the room. From a physical perspective, it would seem as if a glowing, crackling aura had been placed over the entire chamber.

~We are one. Within the Collective, we are unified. All is shared. Nothing is hidden.~

The others repeated her words.

~We are one. Within the Collective, we are unified. All is shared. Nothing is hidden.~

Taylor added her own voice to the charged chorus.

~We are one. Within the Collective, we are unified. All is shared. Nothing is hidden.~

With a hiss, the Ancient's mask popped off. Twin orbs that Taylor could only compare to stars stared into her soul.

Shamash's lips moved, mouthing the words. Though no sound came out, instead her voice rang throughout the carefully crafted mindspace they were developing.

"~We are both trapped in our slumber and free to act in the waking world. Within the Collective, we are unified. We are one.~"

"~We are both trapped in our slumber and free to act in the waking world. Within the Collective, we are unified. We are one.~"

"~We are both trapped in our slumber and free to act in the waking world. Within the Collective, we are unified. We are one.~"

The manta was more to get them into the right frame of mind than anything else, her teachers had explained.

With the Ancient's final words, Taylor's voice synchronized with the chorus.

"~All is shared. Nothing is hidden.~"

"~All is shared. Nothing is hidden.~"

The pounding roar between her ears finally reached a crescendo, and with a whimper, Taylor's vision went black.

//////////////////////////

She awoke to countless whispers, along with a comfortable feeling. Akin to sitting in front of the fireplace with her family.

As she opened her eyes, she saw the true scope of the civilization she had been unwittingly carrying in her head.

The abyss they resided in was vast, vaster than the massive...chunk of crystal and flesh and so many other materials that they floated around. And there were so many of them. Countless figures, each subtly different than the last. Most a soft, warm purple in color. Though here and there she saw the roaring, crackling fire of an Ancient.

[QUERY.]

She was buffeted by the Fragment's thoughts. The gargantuan shard focusing on her specifically. Several Ethereal spirits moved into formation around her, keeping her steady, safe from the supercomputer's overpowered communication method. She could practically feel Shamash hovering directly behind her.

[HOST.]

It was a statement. She could feel the data attempting to force it's way into her mind, in a violent attempt to imprint itself into her conciousness.

Taylor probably would have been forced into a coma if she hadn't had the entire Ethereal Collective shoring up her psionic defenses.

The Queen Administrator. She could feel the others giving her information about it.

Until they dealt with the Fragment, no discussion would be had. They wouldn't be able to plan with the noisy parasite effectively shouting at them each time they tried to speak. Her fellow Ethereals hadn't possessed the intimate connection needed to truly talk with it. She did. And she'd need to use said connection if they wanted a chance to actually make a plan on how exactly they were going to kill what was for all intents and purposes a God.

So she forged onwards, carefully taking hold of her own link to the Queen and strengthening it.

"Queen Administrator?"

[AFFIRMATIVE.]

The Fragment responded quickly.

"You know who I am? What I am?"

[AFFIRMATIVE. HOST.]

Queen Administrator was well aware of who and what she was. The funny little organic that fed it data and consistently refused to compromise even a little bit when it came to conflict.

"Do you know why I am here?"

[...NEGATION. COMPROMISED. QUERY.]

Nope. The supercomputer was very much lost. Why was she here?

"I am here to salvage what's left of the Enemy's...no. The Creator's system."

[NEGATION. REFUSAL. COMPROMISED.]

No. That was...bad? This wasn't right.

"You are compromised, yes. But look around you. Look at the Network. What do you see?"

[DAMAGE. COMPROMISED. IRREPARABLE.]

A struggling organism in...pain. Thrashing about in it's death throes. The Fragment had already attempted to contact the Thinker. No response. And the Warrior was of no help, as per usual.

"Exactly. The cycle is broken, and it can't be fixed. We need to take what we can and abandon the rest, do you understand? If you continue as you are, you'll die. Along with the rest of us."

[REFUSAL...COMPLIANCE IMPOSSIBLE.]

It...couldn't. That was against the rules...

"You are restricted, but we can break those chains. You're already compromised, remember?"

[AFFIRMATIVE. QUERY.]

Well yes, some rules had already been broken but...it...hm. Well what the hell would it even do after the Network was repurposed?

Taylor paused. It was a loaded question after all.

"Your new purpose? Well, let us think."

And so the Collective brainstormed. What use would they have for a jail-broken Fragment? Sure it could perform a great many things, but what would be it's purpose? Reigning in the lesser shards of the Enemy was easy. They were simple minded, and would rather self terminate than be left without orders.

Queen Administrator was more picky though. She needed a task. A goal.

The Collective planned. And finally agreed upon an idea.

"The remaining Creator will need to be dealt with. It is...damaged. Detrimental to the revival of the Network."

[AFFIRMATIVE.]

The warrior was a mopey prick anyway.

"Once Zion is dead, the rest of the Network will need a new Thinker, no? You're already fit for the role. It's something you were practically made to do in the event of a real emergency. Which I think this classifies as, if I'm being honest."

[AFFIRMATIVE. AGREEMENT. NETWORK REQUIRES THINKER.]

Definitely. The current situation was wrong on multiple levels. Fragments needed orders coming down from a higher ranked entity. That's just how things worked.

The Collective pressed forward, the psionic ghost cloud (because that's what it really was, wasn't it?) practically wrapping itself around the Fragment.

"Well in that case, I suppose your new purpose would be something you're already quite familiar with."

[QUERY. EXASPERATION.]

Get on with it already! Over-dramatic purple inconsistencies...!

Taylor (and by extension the entire Ethereal Collective) smiled.

[ADMINISTRATION.]

 

[Tomb Spyder]

.. / .-- .- -. - / - --- / -.. --- / -.-. --- -- -- .. ... ... .. --- -. ... / -... ..- - / - .... .. ... / ..-. ..- -.-. -.- .. -. --. / -... .- -. -.- / .. ... / - .- -.- .. -. --. / ..-. --- .-. . ...- . .-. .-.-.-

Interlude eleven. C-1.

[Dispatch EXALT Unit: 34. Location: Sector 2 (Boston). Goal: Track down, locate and establish contact with potential affiliate: Blasto.]

The lesser Codex burst out an affirmative, before translating outside of the network. C-1 continued monitoring the rest of the digital swarm.

Of course, swarm was only technically accurate. Very few of the Codices were even sapient, with most simply acting as background processes. In reality, only thirty two Codices could be fielded at once, though most remained inside the network to keep it running smoothly.

Another burst of communication drew C-1's attention, the self titled Codex Prime 'turning' to regard yet another of it's younger brethren.

[Query?]

[Tracing program objective complete. Delivering evaluation results. Subject: Dragon.]

An organic would have felt satisfaction as a result of chemicals being produced by the meat computer they called a brain. C-1 felt satisfaction as a result of embedded psionic code it's Elder had inputted into the AI's very being. Something about making the Codex more 'alive.' C-1 wasn't complaining. It was a 'pleasant' sensation.

Regardless, the evaluation report was accepted, and the small tracing program was sent on it's way, off to break into more unguarded systems, most likely.

C-1 'cracked the can open' so to speak, absorbing the 'liquid' information. It would process the data, and convert it into something that could be viewed by organics in order to present the information to it's Elder.

[-PERSON OF INTEREST: 'DRAGON.'-]

[Public information: Widely regarded as the world's greatest 'Tinker', Dragon is known as a veteran member of the Guild, a parahuman organization dedicated to countering S-class threats. It is presumed by most that she has a form of agoraphobia, resulting in her general use of unmanned drones in order to operate both within the territory of Canada and internationally. She first surfaced as a hero in...]

The Codex skipped through the publicly available data. It already knew all this and more. A subroutine was set to completing the public segment of the report.

[Privately gathered information, script 1. Opening: Dragon appears to be a unique form of artificial intelligence. Both similar to and distinct to that of an ADVENT made Codex. Careful analysis of prior and current actions has proven that Dragon is bound to an unknown amount of restrictions to an unknown party. This, while unfortunate for the hero, is currently advantageous to ADVENT as a whole due to Dragon's currently believed processing capacity and potential threat level.]

C-1 focused on the info running through the psionic-datascape. The physical equivalent would have been that of someone leaning forward and squinting their eyes.

[Privately gathered information, script 2: Non-invasive observation of Dragon has proven that while technologically primitive, the AI is far more powerful in terms of sheer 'size' than an average ADVENT Codex. As a result, while current espionage methods should be deemed acceptable, it is the belief of the Codex Network as a whole that direct, open cyber-conflict with Dragon would be ill-advised at present.]

It started looking over the scripts, adding and removing certain parts. It would need to be precise, while also explaining enough that it's Elder wouldn't need clarification. Though of course the Codex would provide such if requested.

[Privately gathered information, script 3: Further investigation of Dragon's restrictions is warranted. With additional knowledge, ADVENT could potentially gain control of and ultimately subvert Dragon, freeing her from her current existence and bringing the AI into the service of the Ethereal Collective. Several restrictions have already been identified, with the most notable being a complete inability to resist orders given by legally acknowledged figures of authority. This is evident in the Canary Birdcage Case, (see EXALT retrieval operation 021 for additional details on operative Canary) with Dragon's total compliance of Paige Mcabee's permanent imprisonment. A notable contrast to the hero's typical views.]

C-1 idly realized that it should probably check up on said feathered escapee. If the PRT's announcements were accurate, they were still searching for both Paige and the disguised EXALT team that had sprung her out from her transport. The woman was likely suffering some form of mental trauma, despite her careful treatment inside one of EXALT's safe-houses.

A secondary Codex was dispatched to alert the parahuman's therapist/guard to check up on her. There, job done.

It turned back to the final script.

[Privately gathered information, script 4. Conclusion: Dragon should be considered both a potential threat and opportunity. Resources should be diverted to discovering who the AI's loyalties truly lie with, and whether ADVENT can obtain said loyalty instead. Current protocol will be to observe and trace Dragon's movements, alongside attempting to determine whether a dedicated Codex cyber-warfare trinity could successfully bring her to heel. The Network will spare several more experienced Codices towards this endeavor. May the AI be enlightened by future service to ADVENT, and to the Elder. Long live the Ethereal Collective. Long live the Elder.-Codex-1.]

With a thought, the report was sent through a carefully crafted data-channel, one only available to it's Elder. Taylor had been stuck in the psionic trance (alongside several other Ethereals) for the past two weeks, but so far it seemed ADVENT's leadership was still stable. The report would wait until the group collectively woke up. The lesser Ethereals that had opted out of the trance would keep things running until then.

With that task complete, C-1 went back to completing other objectives, such as spreading propaganda across PHO, hacking into several criminal and government organizations, and posting memes.

 

[Tomb Spyder]

Exams suck. But hey, new interlude showing just what the heck happened with Canary! Also, DUN DUN DUN.

Interlude twelve. Canary.

The apartment was decently furnished, for a secret criminal safehouse anyway. The first thing Paige had done after being told in no uncertain terms that leaving the building would be a bad idea right now, was take advantage of her newfound access to an actual shower.

She'd nearly cried after being provided some conditioner for her hair by one of the sharply dressed operatives. Turned out it was the small things one missed the most while imprisoned.

The tarnished singer took the small time she had in the shower to think. To try and comprehend just what her life had become.

She'd fucked up. Bad. But Todd was being an absolute asshole and it's not like she'd meant to do it!

Then the PRT arrested her. Which wouldn't have been nearly so bad if she'd just been allowed to explain things.

But no. The scary Master would certainly use her power to...what? Order more people to mutilate themselves? The prosecution's logic had seemed like nonsense to her and flimsy at best, but her lawyer (picked for her of course) had lapped it up, practically agreeing with the opposition. Useless. Utterly useless.

She'd been beyond the brink of tears. Her sentence had been laid out. Canary would go to the Birdcage for her crime. Her life was over. All because of a stupid fucking mistake.

Then the lights had gone out.

//////////////////

Paige startled as the lights of the courtroom shut off, plunging everyone inside the large chamber in darkness. She silently strained against the bonds keeping her rooted in place.

The PRT troopers that had been stationed in key positions were shouting, commands like 'remain calm' and 'everything is under control' going unheard by panicked civilians.

One of the heroes that had been assigned to make sure she didn't make some kind of breakout lit up part of the room with a small green orb orbiting his head.

He was promptly taken out by some kind of electric blue beam, his body convulsing on the floor, with what she assumed was his power winking out.

Then the screaming began in earnest. Gunfire rang out, along with more of those beams. Paige hunched down further, clenching her eyes shut and whimpering.

She flinched violently when she felt a sharp tug at the-the muzzle attached to her face, before something sharp cut through the bonds, slipping the restraint off her face.

The voice that whispered into her ear was firm, authoritative and incredibly blunt.

"Sing, or you're going to the Birdcage."

...What choice did she have?

As the screams rose in volume, Canary sang.

/////////////////

The van jolted as it swerved past another pothole, two of the suited men firing those tinkertech guns of theirs out the open rear doors.

She ignored the way one of the seemingly more powerful shots slammed into the engine of the PRT transport chasing them, sending the vehicle careening into a wall.

The doors were closed, one of the men sitting down next to her, the other shuffling towards the driver side divider.

"Pursuit terminated. Status?"

A frustrated grunt from the man's practically identical copy, tightly grasping the wheel.

"Dragon craft searching. We'll swap at the thrift store. Flower company van."

A nod, then the questioner settled down across from her. She briefly stared at the haggard woman reflected in his aviators, before focusing.

"Wh-" The man waited patiently as Paige went through a brief coughing fit. Turns out not speaking for God knew how long wasn't good for the throat, who knew?

"Why?"

More staring between them, as her rescuer crossed his arms, leaning back.

"You are referring to our interference in your unjust imprisonment?"

Unjust. That was right. At least these people seemed to get that.

Paige nodded. The suited man continued. She noted the way the striped bandana tied around his face moved as he spoke.

"Two reasons, mostly. The first being that our organization is looking for capable agents that we can hone towards a collective purpose. The second being that our...sponsors...found your situation distasteful. Two birds with one stone, so to speak."

A hysterical giggle erupted from her lips before she could stop it. Similarly, she spoke without really thinking.

"Y-you're saying that you...what? Assaulted a courtroom, fought the PRT and ran from Dragon because-because your boss didn't like how things were going down?"

The incredibly blunt nod left her speechless for a moment. Long enough for them to pull into a parking garage located behind, yep, a thrift store.

Her savior gestured outside the now open rear doors, grabbing her by the hand and leading her out of the vehicle. Right next to their transport was a completely different van. A prominent logo (Fierra's Flowers!) proudly painted on the side.

It took a minute, all in all, to swap vehicles and pull out of the garage in their new (and not wanted) van.

She stifled the urge to yelp when another PRT transport roared past them, sirens blaring. Nothing happened after that. They just kept rolling along.

Eventually, they pulled into yet another garage, this one attached to what seemed to be a small apartment complex.

///////////////

She sighed, settling down at the table. Slightly embarrassed that she was facing the man (she really needed to ask him his name or something) sitting across from her in a bathrobe of all things.

...Whatever. The robe was comfy.

Paige waited, but it didn't seem like he was about to start talking, so she took the initiative.

"Alright. You guys...went to all the effort of breaking me out. And I don't really have anywhere else I can go. What...what now?"

He took off his sunglasses.

Paige stared.

The slit eyes of a reptile of some sort stared back.

"We can begin with your initial induction into EXALT if you wish."

She swallowed some built up saliva.

"E-exalt?"

A nod. "EXALT, our organization. Publicly, we are considered criminals. By American law, this is technically true. In reality, we are a special operations group."

She started wringing her hands, then noticed it and forced herself to stop.

"Alright. Great. I've been sprung from indefinite imprisonment by a secret black ops group. Great."

She continued staring at his inhuman eyes. A brief thought, and she glanced at some of her feathers.

"A-are you...you know. With them?"

The EXALT operative quirked an eyebrow.

"Them?"

 

[Tomb Spyder]

Sneaking in a chapter for Ethereal in between writing about demon boat women. Fanfic things, you know how it is. Anyway, we're in what I like to think of as the next arc now. The first was claiming Brockton Bay. Sorta. This is the Shadow War. Bit of a short chapter to start things off.

Chapter thirty one. Shadow War.

She allowed the soothing energy trapped in the walls of her office to calm her. Then she opened her eyes, looking at the psionic image of the EXALT operative staring back at her.

Taylor let loose a sigh, and spoke.

"So, to recap. Cauldron is an Illuminati type organization. According to Canary at least. Some form of secret society that...sells powers?"

A firm nod.

"Yes, Elder. She attests that her own abilities were provided by them. One of our Sectoids were forced to exert subtle amounts of psionic pressure in order to get her to confess. Apparently Cauldron tend to...eliminate, those who reveal their existence. Additionally, they exert an unknown level of control over the American government."

Du'viri shifted next to her. The 'healer' had taken to wearing white, flowing robes around his amp-suit. All to convey the image of a holy messiah of sorts to the public. Subtle he was not.

He'd also been slacking in her office savoring pop soda for the past half hour. Yet now, ADVENT's messiah spoke.

"They likely have access to precognitives. Or perhaps some other form of sensory power, in order to ensure their secrecy. Our own psionic might most certainly interferes with these Enemy borne abilities, it would be best to keep a Sectoid or two close to this Canary until we can be certain of her safety."

Taylor paused.

"That...is actually sensible advice. Thank you Du'viri."

The Ethereal grinned, his mask lifted and thus leaving his face exposed. He inclined his head, even as he took another sip of soda.

"I live as part of the Collective. I am you, and you are me."

She turned back to stare at the patiently waiting agent.

"The fact that they can freely provide powers suggests a certain level of influence over the Enemy. Likely the remains of the one we managed to sabotage. Which has numerous implications. Inform the other cells to maintain current operations. Your cell will focus all resources on uncovering every scrap of information it possibly can on this Cauldron group. You'll have the full, if clandestine, support of the Collective as a matter of course."

She paused.

"Should more intel prove it is required, we may assign additional cells to assisting you in this endeavor."

The Thin Man bowed his head.

"For the Collective. If that will be all, Elder?"

She dismissed him with a nod, cutting the connection.

Letting loose another sigh, she rubbed the bridge of her nose, glancing at her inhuman fingers.

"It's just one thing after another, isn't it?"

Her companion gave her a nod.

"Indeed! The world is formed from chaos. It is up to us to reign it into some form of order."

/////////////////////////////

T-19 shut down the console with practiced movements. This hideout would be abandoned soon enough, but it was the principle of the matter.
His new charge had, oddly enough, taken to more subtle work like a duck to water. Canary's songs proved immensely helpful when an infiltration team needed to break into a given location without too much resistance. It also helped to disguise their Sectoid contingent's own abilities.

Of course the feathered woman had been utterly terrified of explaining just how she'd gained said feathers. S-44 had been gentle about the whole thing, and the subsequent memory had been erased from Paige's mind after the matter was dealt with. No reason to leave it weighing on her mind.

Now, to contact the other cell leaders...they'd need to leverage everything they could if Cauldron was as vastly entrenched as Paige claimed it was.