Feline Problem Solving Techniques

[We Just Write]

if I'd shown up a couple days sooner I'd have been able to prevent Taylor Hebert's trigger. I'd have done it too, out of basic decency if nothing else. Unfortunately, I wound up getting dumped in Brockton Bay a bit too late for that.

That said, since I was stuck here anyway, I figured I might as well off Brockton Bay's roster of villains. It was the least I could do. Also rather high priority, since hiding my ears and tail was rather unpleasant, and I wouldn't put it past the local Nazis to try and gank me for it.

That said, despite my distaste for the Nazis, they couldn't be my top priority. Coil couldn't be allowed to live long enough to learn of my existence, and I needed to eliminate Bakuda before she could start shoving bombs into people's heads. I'd take a trip to Cornell later to deal with Bakuda, but right now I was targeting Calvert.

It had taken about a week of covert observation to identify Calvert's civilian residence. Another two days to figure out how to get past the security system without setting it off. That done, I waited until I was certain Calvert wasn't home, then entered. Wearing gloves and a respiratory mask of course; wouldn't do to leave any fingerprints or DNA behind.

I was very careful not to disturb any object whatsoever from its location as I entered the kitchen. There was a single objective I had in mind: poison the contents of his refrigerator. While still being very careful, I opened the refrigerator. As it turned out, it was quite well-stocked.

I still had three kilograms of my conjuration budget for today, and I spent roughly fifty grams of it conjuring A-Amanitin (the active toxin in deathcap mushrooms) inside every last food item in the refrigerator. The ld50 in humans was only 0.1 mg/kg. So being conservative, Calvert would only need to ingest thirty total milligrams of it to die. Any significant meal prepared from the food in that fridge would likely deliver far more than that into his system.

That said, the low required dose wasn't the primary reason for picking that poison. No, the reason for Amanitin is that it was slow, and wouldn't be likely to tip Calvert off about being poisoned until it was far too late for his janky power to save him.

My business done, I closed the refrigerator and made my exit. Wouldn't see any results from this for a few days at minimum, so I should attend to other matters.

It took about an hour to get back to my day job. I didn't have any seed money when I got here, and pawning conjured jewelry could only get me so far before it got suspicious. But I had managed to land an apprenticeship to an electrician. Still not quite sure how I managed that one, but Mr. Stent seemed to be a decent fellow. No gang affiliation I could spot, a diverse circle of friends, and a genuine pride in doing a good job. He was also willing to keep quiet about my feline attributes and cover for my villain-removal activities, which was extremely helpful.

As I entered the small office, Mr. Stent greeted me.

"Welcome back, Cat. How did your errand go?"

I shrugged as I took off my hat, letting my feline ears free for the first time in a while.

"It went about as smoothly as it possibly could have. Won't see any results for a few days though."

"Fair enough. That said, we've gotten called in to fix someone's DIY wiring disaster. Told them we could be there in half an hour, and I could really use the help."

"Sure thing. Just give me a couple minutes to massage my ears ok? The hat gets really uncomfortable after wearing it for multiple hours."

"No problem."

Just my luck that it turned out to be the Barnes household. Apparently their doorbell broke, and Alan got it into his head that he could replace it himself. It took rather a lot of self-restraint not to vent my many objections to Emma's behavior on the family. She wasn't here at the moment, and I could pretty confidently guess that they wouldn't believe me about just how screwed up their daughter was. So I kept my trap shut and just focused on the paying work.

It took about two hours to get the job done, most of which was spent removing the melted mess of wiring that resulted from Alan making a short circuit. Mr. Stent assigned me to testing the new doorbell's functionality while he explained very thoroughly just how close Alan had come to burning his house down. That done and our fees collected, we headed back to the office to pick up some more supplies before we went to the next job site.

Work ended at five o' clock sharp, and I went through my evening routine. Go "home" to the studio apartment I'd managed to rent, eat dinner, double-check the news again to see if Bakuda had Triggered yet, spend half an hour snuggling with the cat I'd adopted, then sleep for exactly four hours.

I woke up around ten PM. With my schedule of going to bed again at four in the morning, I'd be able to get a bit less than six hours of night-time activities in without suffering sleep deprivation. Perfect for a chance to get some "caping" in for lack of a better term. I quickly donned my protective mask and tactical gear as I prepared for tonight's mission, my tail and ears flowing relatively free and unrestricted.

While I still couldn't conclusively identify Bakuda for elimination yet, there was something I could do to remove a major force multiplier from her list of options. I was all too aware just how dangerous infinitely duplicating exotic Tinker bombs could be, and I was going to put a stop to that before it could start.

It was time to track an Oni to his lair.

 

[We Just Write]

A/N C: got the timelines slightly mixed up in the first version. Fixed.

---

As it so happened, the man variously known as Thomas Calvert or Coil happened to sleep at his house the night after a certain catgirl visited. He'd eaten dinner at the PRT cafeteria, but still had a desire for some desert when he got home. In addition, his mercenaries had been successful today, so he dropped the no-go timeline.

Then, he split the timeline again. In one timeline, he ate a small bowl of ice cream, while in the other he opted for a fruit smoothie. Unbeknown to him, both of these options contained a lethal amount of Amanitin.

In the ice cream timeline, Thomas went to bed. In the smoothie timeline, he stayed up in order to keep tabs on events. As it so happened, the smoothie contained a slightly higher dose of poison than the ice cream, resulting in him getting stomach cramps at two in the morning while still being blissfully asleep in the ice cream timeline. Figuring he'd already learned enough tonight and not yet realizing he'd been poisoned, Coil dropped that timeline.

He was rudely awoken at four in the morning, when his stomach cramped and he felt an immediate need to go to the bathroom. After two hours spent grumbling on the toilet about expired food, Thomas felt a bit better. Shortly afterwards, he shoveled all the food in his kitchen into his trash barrel and put it on the curb for pickup. Thus, he unwittingly eliminated the only evidence that could possibly lead back to his killer.

Two hours later, he was at his PRT desk job. For two days, things seemed mostly normal. Then things took a turn for the worse.

He was just entering the PRT building when the receptionist noted "Mr. Calvert? You don't look so good."

Calvert looked down at his hands. Was his skin always that color yellow? It must have been, skin color didn't just change for no reason. Without realizing it, Coil fell unconscious in both timelines. The timeline in which he was still driving ended abruptly as his now uncontrolled car swerved right in front of an oncoming semi-trailer far too abruptly for the truck driver to respond.

Immediately, the receptionist called for medics and Calvert was hauled to the infirmary. The jaundice was an immediate clue that something was wrong with Calvert's liver, and sure enough tests showed severe damage to both his liver and kidneys. The medics quickly determined that they wouldn't be able to save Mr. Calvert with the resources of the PRT infirmary, and he was quickly airlifted to Brockton General.

While there, Panacea could have saved Mr. Calvert. That was very true. Unfortunately, there had been a fight between the Empire and Merchants downtown, resulting in life-threatening injuries to several dozen bystanders. So by the time Amy got through with that disaster, Thomas had expired from liver failure. Still, Panacea did give the corpse a brief poke, confirming both that Thomas died of deathcap mushroom poisoning, and that he had been a Parahuman.

The very next day, an anonymous tip arrived at the PRT building that Coil's base was likely to self-destruct, along with its location. Also the fact that Thomas Calvert had been Coil, and that the writer of the note had been the one to poison him with that knowledge. The message was typed in Courier New, leaving no room for handwriting analysis. Similarly, there were absolutely no fingerprints or DNA or other forensic evidence on the message. Not even a pseudonym was attached.

Just the bare facts of "I killed this man", along with a recommendation to deal with the bomb under a significant residential area.

 

[We Just Write]

Fundamentally, hunting Oni Lee was a lot more dangerous than hunting Coil had been. While Coil would have been a nightmare if he'd had an opportunity to start planning around me, I hit him first specifically to prevent that. On the other hand, the particulars of Oni Lee's teleportation made him very difficult to track. It also made it vastly more likely for him to notice me and attack while I was tracking, since if I misjudged his direction of travel he could easily turn up right next to me with no warning.

Waylaying and interrogating un-powered members of the ABB also wasn't an option, since then Oni Lee and Lung would be actively looking out for me and taking countermeasures. My solution was more indirect methods of surveillance: little spying devices all over rooftops, powered by low-energy Diamond 14 betavoltaics. Conjuration was such a useful ability, even if I only got five kilograms of mass per day. Making things even better, this surveillance network would let me track other capes just as well, in addition to Oni Lee. If they used the rooftops to get around (which Oni Lee did), I'd be able to track them.

I actually wound up discovering Purity's residence as a result of this before finding Oni Lee's hideout. Still, Oni Lee was higher up the hit list for Bakuda-related reasons, so I let Purity be for now. Five days of planting bugs (not the kind Taylor could control) later, I had a conclusive list of three locations where Oni Lee slept. I proceeded to plant surveillance devices in all of them, so as to avoid showing up when he was awake and could respond to an attack.

A week after starting the hunt, I left my apartment with my suppressed .700 Nitro Express rifle. It had taken saving up multiple days of conjuration allowance to make this, but for certain targets having what basically amounted to a shoulder-fired cannon was absolutely worth it. Particularly given that I would almost certainly need to shoot through a closed window in this case.

I waited until two hours after Oni Lee went to bed to get into my firing position. I double-checked that my earplugs were firmly in place, jumped up the fire escape on the building adjacent to my target's lair, and lined up my shot. Even knowing exactly where my target was, they were at a rather inconvenient angle to the window. I had to be two stories above and significantly to the left to line it up. But line it up I did. I pressed the stock of my gun to my shoulder, made darn sure I'd lined up the gun with Oni Lee's chest, and fired.

The stock slammed backwards into my shoulder, a still very loud report making itself known despite the suppressor. Simultaneously, the window shattered and I could clearly see a splash of blood from inside, the brass-jacketed lead slug obliterating Oni Lee's chest cavity. I quickly reloaded and put another bullet into Oni Lee's head just to be sure, then promptly made myself scarce. No cartridge casings left behind.

I still had eight bullets left for my big gun tonight, and I figured I should probably make full use of my last night of true obscurity to hit a few more targets. Given that I knew where Victor and Othala lived, along with Purity, they were the obvious targets. Also relatively high on the hit list priority scale; Victor had who knew whatever skills, Othala was the Empire's irreplaceable healer, and Purity could level significant chunks of the city if allowed to rampage.

Lining up a shot on Victor and Othala proved significantly easier than nailing Oni Lee had been. Lee had been sleeping on a mattress on the floor, while these two Nazis had a proper bed. That said, there was the single complication of there being two adjacent targets that I needed to hit simultaneously. So I loaded one of my special bullets: a timer-fused high explosive round. Knowing the exact muzzle velocity and distance, I could guarantee it would explode right in Othala's chest cavity, peppering Victor with shrapnel. That ought to incapacitate him sufficiently to reload and nail him with a conventional bullet before he could leave my firing zone.

Bang. Othala dead and Victor very rudely awakened. Very quickly reload, and put a brasscase right through his chest. He'd barely managed to get upright and look around before I did that. Just for extra certainty, I fired once more, putting a bullet through Victor's skull. Pick up the spent brass from the explosive round, and on to the next target.

I'd barely reloaded after putting a brasscase through Kayden's chest when I heard a faint noise coming from my right. I whirled to look, and saw a certain crossbow-wielding edgelord appraising me, crossbow pointed in my general direction, but not quite lined up yet.

"Alright, are we doing this the easy way or the ha-"

Then she was cut off as a .700 Nitro Express expanding round obliterated her chest cavity. Just to be double sure, I drew my pistol and fired three 9mm bullets into her head. Being honest, I'd viewed Sophia as a low-priority "get to her eventually" target, but this encounter made her too much of a threat to allow to live. To utterly destroy all recording devices she might have had on her, I dragged Shadow Stalker's corpse to the street and conjured Thermite all over her. As that conflagration burned, I forced entry to Kayden's house.

I quickly found the baby Aster, and brought her to the local Child Protective Services office. I made sure to leave behind everything that could tie her to her biological family. As far as adoption services would know, this child was named Jessica, and both her parents were dead. Well, that last part would be true soon enough.

My very busy night now over, I went home, stashed my gear, cleaned myself up and went back to sleep.

 

[We Just Write]

"Last night, five Parahumans were murdered in Brockton Bay, including Shadow Stalker."

Everyone in the meeting room was more than a bit shocked when Director Piggot said that. Armsmaster clenched his jaw, Miss Militia looked extremely saddened, and the rest of the local Protectorate roster had similar responses.

"Aside from Shadow Stalker, Oni Lee was found dead at one of his safehouses. In addition, three people inconclusively identified as Victor, Othala, and Purity were found dead in their homes. All four of them died of large-caliber gunshot wounds through nearby windows; the ballistics people say the recovered rounds match .700 Nitro Express, a type of elephant gun. In addition, the particulars of the damage to Othala and Victor's body are consistent with a high explosive round being fired."

"As for Shadow Stalker, we're not quite sure of the exact cause of death. Her assailant dragged her corpse onto the street before giving her an impromptu cremation using Thermite. Only the melted remains of her crossbow and mask allowed us to identify the charred skeleton as once being Shadow Stalker. Even then, any and all electronics on her person were thoroughly destroyed by the thermite, leaving us with very little to go on about her killer."

"So, that's what we know so far. Does anyone have anything else to contribute?"

Miss Militia raised her hand.

"Yes?"

"Given that Shadow Stalker was nowhere near her allowed patrol routes, I don't think she was an intended target for our mystery killer. More likely that Shadow Stalker happened upon them, there was some sort of altercation, and Shadow Stalker got the worst of it."

Armsmaster spoke,

"That still doesn't make the killing of a Ward in any way acceptable. Shadow Stalker's apparent violations of her probation are not relevant to that statement."

Emily Piggot frowned,

"You are both entirely correct. The fact of the matter is that we have a killer on the loose with no compunctions about using lethal force in cold blood, and access to a variety of highly lethal mundane equipment. So far they have unambiguously killed five people, six if you think they're the same person who poisoned Calvert. While so far all their actual targets have been villains, their killing of a Ward shows that's not a hard line."

"This killer is too dangerous and unpredictable to allow free. We need to find and capture them. Does anyone have any suggestions for how?"

Velocity spoke up,

"At the very least, having a name to refer to them by would make talking about them easier. Perhaps Hunter would work as a codename? Seeing as they use an elephant gun and track down specific targets for elimination."

Assault answered,

"Hunter's taken, as are Manhunter, Headhunter, and a few other related names. I checked before the meeting. Safari's open, though."

"Good enough, we can designate the killer as Safari. Now, does anyone have any actual ideas on how to go about tracking Safari down?"

 

[We Just Write]

Distasteful as it was, I was going to leave Lung alive a bit longer, again for Bakuda-related reasons. That bomb Tinker was anything but stable, and without Lung there was no way of knowing where she would go. Given the weapons of mass destruction she could no doubt make, I would much rather she come to Brockton Bay, where my ever-growing surveillance network gave me quite good odds of intercepting and eliminating her before she could hurt anyone.

That said, I'd adjusted my sleep schedule a bit, cutting down on my caping hours to have more time in the early morning. The reason being that I was interested in joining Taylor Hebert on her morning runs.

The first time I encountered her, I simply waved and we went our separate ways. The second time, we ran alongside for a few minutes before going our separate ways. In my case, having my tail shoved down my pants made it rather uncomfortable, but I grit my teeth and bore it. The third time, Taylor finally acknowledged my presence.

"Why are you following me?"

I shrugged,

"Honestly? You look like you could use a friend. Also, the nature of your powers means you could be a massive problem for me later, so I'd rather have you on-side."

Taylor's eyes widened.

"You know!? How?"

"I'm more perceptive than most; bugs don't usually act the way they do when you're around. That said, out of fairness I'll reveal my secret too if you can find a private spot."

Taylor backpedaled away from me, a faint buzzing making itself known.

"And how do I know this isn't some sort of trap?"

Staring the teenager dead in the eyes, I answered.

"If I wanted you dead, I'd have killed you in your sleep."

Taylor shuddered, before answering "Right, this way." and leading me into an alley.

As soon as we were out of sight, I took off my hat and pulled my tail out of the concealed slot for it I'd added to my pants.

Taylor blinked. "You're a cat!"

I wobbled my hand in a 'so-so' gesture.

"Kinda. That's not all though; lots of powers don't work right on me, and I can materialize five kilograms of mundane equipment per day. There's one other thing, but I'm keeping it under wraps until I really need it."

Taylor made a thoughtful expression for a bit, then asked "So... why haven't I heard of you as a Cape anyway?"

I answered "A few reasons. First, I'm new to the area. Second, I use heavy information-denial tactics to protect myself. Third, I refuse to play Cape society's bullshit game."

Taylor blinked as she tried to process what I just said, then asked a question.

"Er, what do you mean by Cape society being a bullshit game? Heroes and Villains are good and bad, right?"

I shook my head.

"Ever noticed that whenever a Villain gets arrested, it never sticks? If any normal person went around causing that much harm, law enforcement would just shoot them and no-one would lose sleep over it. I bet most heroes aren't even aware they're doing it, but having a power and a costume gets you an unjustified amount of leniency."

"Huh... I never really thought about that before. What about you then?"

I couldn't help but smile.

"I track down the really bad ones that hurt or kill innocent people and ruin lives on the regular, and I take them out. Permanently. No showboating, no banter, no flashy fights, just immediate lethal force at a time and place where they're an easy target."

Taylor had a skeptical expression,

"You're a murderer!? And you're just admitting that!?"

I shrugged "Yeah, I suppose so. I prefer to think of it as proactive defense of others, but it is what it is. You heard about the deaths of Oni Lee, Othala, Victor, Purity, and Shadow Stalker right? Yeah, that was me."

"You killed a Ward!? Why!?"

And there was the buzzing again. I better talk fast.

"Shadow Stalker, also known as Sophia Hess was a menace to society, and also a failure of the PRT's efforts to redeem villains. She violated the terms of her probation regularly, refused to help people unless they measured up to her bullshit standards, and was perfectly willing to kill people who were only forced into a life of crime by shit circumstances."

I paused for a moment.

"Admittedly she was relatively low-priority on my hit list; she found me when I was out hunting, and I couldn't allow her to live after getting that much information on me."

Taylor had seemingly frozen up.

"Er, are you alright?"

"Sorry, just trying to process the fact that someone who's been making my life hell for two years was a Ward."

"Look on the bright side; she won't be able to keep tormenting you."

Taylor frowned,

"Won't help much, there's still Emma and Madison, even with Sophia gone."

"Do you happen to mean Emma Barnes?"

I already knew of course, but I'd prefer not to let that slip.

"Yes, why?"

"I've met Emma. That girl is deeply broken inside, especially once she realizes Sophia is dead. One good push and she'll either end up in a sanitarium, or dangle herself from a homemade noose."

Tayor's face scrunched up.

"Despite everything Emma's done to me, I'd really prefer if neither of those things happened to her. Is there anything you can do?"

"If you want, I can try and talk to her? No guarantees it'll go well though."

"Please? Also, what's your name?"

"Me? I'm Catherine, commonly shortened to Cat. How about you?"

"I'm Taylor Hebert, though given you've apparently been spying on me you probably knew that already."

"Yeah, that's true. Please don't take it too personally; I spy on everyone."

I extended my hand for a shake.

"See you again sometime?"

"You know what? Sure."

 

[We Just Write]

"Hey Emma, I'd like to talk to you for a bit."

Quickly, the red-headed teenager whirled around to see a hat-wearing young woman walking up to her at the mostly empty bus stop. She surreptitiously reached for her pepper spray, even as she asked "Why?"

The young woman shrugged,

"Overheard some of your friend group laughing about your bullying some other kid named Taylor."

"They're lying!"

"No, they aren't. Honestly I'm just confused; I don't understand what you get out of doing that, and I was hoping you could explain it to me."

"Er..."

"Can't be money, Taylor's pretty thoroughly broke. Pretty sure she'd have killed you if it was for sex. So that leaves social clout, psychological baggage..."

Something came loose inside Emma's mind.

"It's to prove that she's weak and I'm strong and... And that she deserves it!"

The young woman blinked.

"How in the heck does tormenting a non-combatant prove that you're strong? From my perspective, it just proves that you've got utterly bizarre priorities. Surely there's a better use of your time and effort."

"It's worth it! It means no-one will hurt me ever again!"

There was a brief pause, before the young woman asked another question.

"How exactly are those connected? Seriously, I can't spot a logical connection there, and it would be appreciated if you explained it."

Emma frowned, before replying,

"Wow, you really don't get it do you? There's two types of people, predator and prey. The predators are strong enough to take what they want from the prey, while the prey are too complacent to stop them. If you're a predator you can't be prey."

"And you're making yourself a predator by tormenting Taylor?"

Emma nodded enthusiastically,

"See, now you're getting it!"

"I can spot a few faults in your logic. First off, in the wild predators prey on other predators all the time. Tuna fish eat smaller fish, while themselves being eaten by sharks, dolphins, and humans."

Emma's jaw dropped slightly.

"Second, predators don't have to spend loads of effort reminding everyone that they're predators. Being a predator means being entirely comfortable with ending lives to sustain yourself, be that for food or for self-defense. Pretty sure Taylor was still up and kicking, last I checked."

"Meanwhile, constantly throwing up lots of threats of violence and threat displays to deter aggression is more of a prey behavior. It can be quite effective, particularly if you've actually got the lethality to back it up. But you don't really do that either."

"If anything, your determination to ruin someone else's life in order to make your own better fits a very different ecological niche than either of those. Congratulations Emma, you're a parasite."

With that, something snapped in Emma's brain, and she tried to pepper spray this arrogant bitch right in the face. Unfortunately for her, the young woman was much quicker on the draw, and laid her out with a tazer before she could get the can lined up.

From her position sobbing on the ground, Emma was distantly aware of the young woman calling the police on her cell phone.

"Yeah, we were just talking and then she tried to pepper spray me. I think something is seriously wrong with her, and she needs to go to the psych ward. Yes, we're at that bus stop. I can keep her here for two minutes until an officer shows up, no problem."

Shortly after the police car departed with Emma in tow, Lisa walked across the street to talk to the interesting young woman.

slight bulges under hat and left pant leg, concealing non-human appendages

"Well, if it isn't the local wannabe Kitsune. You've certainly got the smug grin down, but you're missing the tail and ears."

has rehearsed that line, knows you know about her non-human attributes, has a rough idea of your abilities

Lisa blinked.

"I have to say, that was a very interesting conversation you just had."

"It was, wasn't it."

Lisa waited for a whole minute as the two silently stared each other down.

"What do you actually want?"

Lisa blinked.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. I just got out of a horrible job, and now I'm trying to figure out what to do next with my life."

"Have you considered becoming a detective? You could do a lot of good for people."

is being entirely sincere

"...You know, I actually hadn't thought of that. Thanks for the idea."

"You're welcome, by the way. See you around."

is implying involvement in Coil's death

Lisa desperately wanted to ask the mysterious woman more, but she'd already turned to leave.

 

[We Just Write]

I'd had a pretty good day at work today. The clients were all decent and reasonable people, the pay was pretty good, and the jobs hit the sweet spot between difficult enough to be interesting, but not enough to be frustrating.

As I was getting ready to go home for the night, Mr. Stent asked "Tonight's the night, isn't it?"

I smiled,

"Yep."

"Happy hunting, Cat."

As I left work, I couldn't help but notice Lisa watching me from a nearby bench.

"So, finally figured out my day job?"

"Yep."

Internally I mulled over whether to bring Lisa in on what I was doing tonight. She'd make a pretty good spotter, but she was also a manipulator by nature. Ultimately I decided not to include her.

"You do realize that if I catch you watching me at home, I'll have to do something about you, right?"

Lisa nodded understandingly. Excellent, my 'fuck off' signal was received loud and clear.

I mulled over conjuring a tracker in Lisa's pocket as I walked away from her, but she'd definitely notice that. And given the nature of her abilities, it was imperative to deny her as much information as possible.

I'd be getting all my sleep in one chunk tonight; my planned hit was relatively early in the evening. For the last few days, the Empire 88 had been trying to figure out what to do about me. Having already bugged the shit out of the pharmaceutical company building they used as a front, they ever so helpfully told me when and where they'd be having the big strategy meeting about my activities. Ten PM, meeting room twelve at Medhall.

Dinner eaten and fellow feline snuggled, I suited up in my tactical gear. Getting over to the Medhall building took about half an hour at a jog, then I climbed up on a building where I could get a clear shot on the meeting. Tapping the feed from the bug in that room, I could clearly hear the Nazis calling their meeting to order, using cape names and everything. It was kind of sad that Rune was in attendance; she could have hyptothetically turned her life around still. I wasn't about to lose any sleep over blowing her up, though.

I'd spent several days mulling over the exact variety of explosive I would be firing through the window into the local batch of super-powered Nazis. Even with all the exotic chemicals I could conjure, it would still take multiple kilograms of payload for an explosive warhead to take them all out to a satisfactory degree of certainty. That's why I opted for nuclear.

I conjured the special round, and loaded it into my .700 Nitro Express. Double-check my earplugs and protective goggles, use the infrared laser rangefinder to be absolutely certain of how much to compensate for projectile arc, aim, and fire. One second later, the nuclear bullet hit. A dumbell-shaped mass of Californium slammed together, and a nuclear fission runaway began, releasing energy roughly equivalent to a metric ton of TNT.

The fireball would have been blinding if I hadn't worn proper protective gear. As it was, it was still unpleasant to look at. Then the boom, hit, and I was even more glad I was wearing earplugs. Removing the goggles, I could clearly see that I'd blown a multi-story hole in the side of the Medhall building.

...It might still stay up for a while, depending on how well it was built in the first place. I certainly didn't want to stick around to find out, though.

As I hurriedly made my exit, I mentally inventoried everyone who I knew was at the meeting. Kaiser, Krieg, Fenja, Menja, Crusader, Rune, Alabaster, Night, and Fog. Of them, Alabaster was the only one who might have maybe survived. That meant Hookwolf, Cricket, and Stormtiger were still alive, since they hadn't been in attendance. I'd have to track them down and take them out later, assuming they stayed in town.

They might.

Anyway, that mission over, I went home, got myself cleaned up, and got some sleep.

The next morning, my exploits were unsurprisingly all over the news. Apparently, Alabaster had survived; a fortunately timed bathroom stop spared him from the worst of the blast. Emergency workers opted not to dig the not-exactly-regenerating Nazi out of the rubble until the PRT got there to arrest him.

The Parahuman Response Team un-surprisingly decried my "reckless and destructive" actions, though I really didn't care. No-one working late at Medhall last night wasn't clued in about the company's neo-nazi affliations.

That said, I wasn't the only user of explosives to hit the news. Further afield, a bomb Tinker calling herself Bakuda had made her debut by holding Cornell university hostage. Though her plot was foiled, she'd gone to ground in the aftermath, and authorities did not currently know her location.

Oh, I knew where she was going though. Step into my lair, said the cat to the soon-to-be-dead mouse.

...Given the damage Bakuda would do if I didn't successfully intercept her, I would almost certainly need to recruit some help to identify her approach corridor.

Taylor would be quite helpful with insect surveillance, but couldn't be everywhere. I didn't want anything to do with Lisa AKA Tattletale if it could be avoided. But come to think of it, there was one more Thinker in town. An extremely powerful predictive modeler by the name of Dinah Alcott.

Now it was just a matter of figuring out how to approach the Mayor's niece for help without attracting unwanted attention. Oh if only I were the quadrupedal variety of cat, this would be so much easier; unfortuntely, I couldn't just cute my way in like that.

Then I looked to the black cat sitting next to me on the couch. I couldn't cute my way in, but perhaps Ms. Night could do it for me.

 

[We Just Write]

Dinah was at home when the doorbell rang. She paid it no mind; her parents often had people over. Still, she overheard the brief conversation at the door.

"Sorry to bother you, but I've been tracking my cat all over town today. She's a short-furred black cat with a blue collar. Pretty sure she jumped the fence into your back yard. May I come and get her?"

Then she heard her father say,

"Wait here please; I'll just check the backyard real quick, and see if I can get her to come out here."

Two minutes passed, Dinah's interest being piqued.

"Er, sorry miss. Your cat is here, but every time I come near she starts hissing at me. I think you may need to come in and get her."

"I'll come see if I can calm her down. She's usually a lot more cuddly than this, so something must have riled her up."

Dinah watched as a young woman wearing jeans and a hat walked through the house, coming by holding a beautiful black cat shortly afterwards. Then something unexpected happened; as soon as the cat laid eyes on Dinah, she sprang from her human's arms and darted over.

As the cat inspected Dinah (apparently expecting to be petted), she overheard the young woman say in an exasperated tone of voice "Sorry, she's usually not like this, I swear."

As Dinah gave into the silent demand for petting and got nuzzled by the black cat in return, she overheard her father laugh.

"It's alright, seems your cat has taken a liking to my daughter. I'll let you take a few minutes to gently persuade her to come with you. As for me, I need the bathroom."

With that, the young woman wandered over and sat in a rather odd position on the floor next to Dinah, as her father wandered off to the bathroom.

"So, I see you've gotten acquainted with Ms. Night."

Dinah nodded happily, even as the cat in question curled up on her lap.

Then the young woman looked around as if checking for eavesdroppers, before removing her hat. Much to Dinah's shock, this revealed a pair of real live kitty ears, along with a lack of human ones.

"I have to confess; I asked Ms. Night to act up in order to contrive a reason to meet you. I speak fluent housecat, and she was fully on-board with the plan."

Blinking, Dinah couldn't help but ask "Why?"

The young woman put her hat back on as she answered,

"I know about your power, and I could really use your help. Someone very dangerous is coming to Brockton Bay soon, and I need to predict how she'll arrive to keep her from hurting thousands of innocent people."

Chances of a newly arrived villain hurting lots of innocent people in Brockton Bay within the next month: 84.53%
Chances of that happening if I help this kitty lady: [ERROR]

Flinching in pain, Dinah started to tear up.

"Eesh, sorry. You tried to factor me into a prediction, didn't you?"

Silently, Dinah nodded.

"So, a quick primer on how your power works behind the scenes. It gets a detailed scan of the world, and then does predictive modeling on that to figure likely outcomes, before returning a statistical result. Due to me being weird in very specific ways, your power can't get a good scan of me and therefore has a hard time predicting me."

Dinah blinked.

"Don't think your dad will be on the toilet much longer. Can you meet me at this address tomorrow? Preferably around lunchtime."

With that, the kitty lady handed her a sticky note with an address listed.

96.55% chance of going to this place at this time being uneventful, without significant problems resulting.

Dinah nodded, and the kitty lady got up. Ms. Night climbed up onto her shoulder, and off the two of them went.

 

[We Just Write]

- English (native speaker)
- German (minimal competence)
- Northeastern American Housecat (native speaker)
-- Conversational in North American Housecat in general
- Eastern Mountain Lion (conversational)
- Bobcat (conversational)
- Canadian Lynx (conversational)
- Mesoamerican Jaguar (roughly conversational)
- American Tiger (Roughly conversational)
- Snow Leopard (Academic)
- Bengal Tiger (Shouting At Foreigners)
- North African Lion (Shouting At Foreigners)

 

[We Just Write]

The address I'd invited Dinah and Taylor to was an ice cream stand. I figured that if I was going to ask people for help with something this important, the least I could do was get them ice cream. In addition, there was significant distance between the picnic tables. With my hearing and Taylor's bugs, we could make quite certain no-one was eavesdropping.

As it turned out, both of them arrived at almost exactly the same time.

"Excellent, you're both here. Taylor, this is Dinah. Dinah, this is Taylor. I asked both of you to come because I need your help, but first I'm buying both of you ice cream."

Dinah didn't miss a beat, asking for one scoop butterscotch and one scoop chocolate. Taylor took a bit longer, but ultimately settled on strawberry. As for me, I got mint ice cream, but no chocolate.

Ice cream acquired, we went to the most isolated picnic table available.

Taylor asked "So, I know you want my help with Bakuda because I can have eyes on a wide area at once, but what does Dinah bring to the table?"

Dinah answered without prompting "I can predict the future. It comes out as numbers though, and my head hurts really bad if I ask too many questions."

Taylor whistled appreciatively "Wow, no wonder Cat wanted your help."

I nodded as I unrolled a map of Brockton Bay, then pointed at a specific building near the mostly abandoned trainyard.

"From my eavesdropping on Lung, Bakuda's supposed to meet with him here in four days. If we do this right, she'll never get within half a mile of him."

I started pointing to roads on the map.

"With the -- no offense -- terrible state of Brockton Bay's roads, there are only fourteen viable routes from city limits to the meeting point, assuming Bakuda goes by car. If we handle this as a binary search tree, we can narrow things down to the most probable route within five questions. The first of which is to determine if Bakuda is in fact coming by car."

Dinah frowned, "I can do five questions in a row, but it's going to hurt really bad."

I nodded sadly.

"If you need to, we can split the questions up over multiple days. We've got some time."

The precocious precognitive grit her teeth.

"No. This is too important. 97.8% chance of Bakuda coming by car. 1.5% chance of coming on foot. 0.7% chance of her stealing an airplane or helicopter."

I blinked. That was very useful information indeed. And also indicated that I should save up some conjuration to make a MANPADS, just in case.

"Thank you, Dinah. Now, let's narrow down her likely choice of road."

Two questions later, we'd narrowed things down to three possible routes, all of which Taylor could monitor at once.

I noted to Dinah, "This is plenty good enough, if you want to stop. We've got better than 95% odds of successfully intercepting Bakuda now."

Taylor watched intently as Dinah thought. Then Dinah answered.

"I know it's going to hurt a bit, but I'm going to ask one more question. I've got an idea for using my power better in the future, and I want to check if it works."

Taylor and I both nodded. Then Dinah grabbed a pencil and started writing on the map.

"Chances of Bakuda taking each of these three routes: 23.9%, 44.1%, 31.0%. That... That hurts a bit, but a lot less than I thought it would."

I nodded.

"Thank you Dinah. If you want, you can go home now."

Dinah shook her head.

"Nope. I'm helping with the plan every step of the way. I don't want any of my friends getting blown up."

Taylor nodded.

"I don't have very many friends, but I'm in the same boat. I'm helping. So, how are we handling the interception?"

I nodded, then pointed to a location on the map.

"You'll be waiting here with a walkie-talkie. When Bakuda comes through, you radio it in and tell me what route she's on."

I pointed to another location.

"I'll be waiting here with my .700 Nitro Express. When I get the signal, I'll move to cover the route Bakuda's on. When she comes by, I'll shoot out the car's engine. A follow up shot once Bakuda gets out of the car, and the job's done."

Dinah raised a hand, then scrunched up her face as a Thinker headache hit.

"How are you and Taylor going to recognize Bakuda's car? Even if she told Lung what she's currently driving, there's only a 21.5% chance that she'll still be driving that particular car when she gets here."

I blinked. That was a very good point. It wasn't a problem I could solve by conjuring up the right tool either.

Thinking out loud, I noted,

"Yeah, that's a really thorny problem. Off the top of my head I can't think of an easy solution. There is strictly speaking another Thinker I know about who could possibly help, but I really don't want to get her involved unless it's absolutely necessary."

Taylor raised an eyebrow.

"What's the issue with her?"

"She's got an overwhelming urge to be the smartest person in the room, a power that's obscenely good at piecing together disparate bits of information, and a personality highly inclined to emotional manipulation."

"It's a very dangerous combination, which is why I've been trying to keep her out of my affairs and not give her anything she can really use against me."

Taylor Hebert winced in sympathy.

"Eesh, no wonder you don't want anything to do with her. She reminds me far too much of what school was like, until recently."

There was a brief pause, before Taylor admitted,

"Still doesn't actually solve the problem of recognizing Bakuda's car though."

I nodded sadly.

"If I can't figure something out in two days, I'll get Lisa's help. Despite my distaste for her, we can't risk Bakuda getting established."

That's when Dinah spoke up,

"You know I can just start narrowing down what car Bakuda's going to be driving when she gets here, right? So long as I space the questions out, it won't hurt too bad."

I shared a brief glance with Taylor, before replying "That would be very helpful, thank you. I'll make sure to pay you back somehow."

 

[We Just Write]

In the aftermath of the explosion at Medhall, Miss Militia found herself combing through the bomb site for evidence. There were mercifully few corpses present, but the heroine still found herself baffled about why someone would do such a thing. Then Alabaster was arrested and hauled from the rubble.

After some brief interrogation, Alabaster admitted that there had been a meeting of most of the Empire 88's cape roster at the Medhall building at the time of the explosion. More than that, the exact meeting room where it took place was "ground zero" of the explosion. Also that Kaiser had secretly been Max Anders.

That certainly explained why Safari had opted to use such a powerful bomb at the Medhall building. However, it also raised several questions of how exactly the mysterious killer had known enough to target the meeting in the first place.

A few minutes later, Hana was combing through the now-deceased Kaiser's office. Looking in all the drawers, removing a couple of them, and generally going over everything with a fine-toothed comb revealed something that really wasn't supposed to be there: a small device, six millimeters thick and two centimeters in diameter. It seemed to be attached to the underside of the desk with some sort of adhesive.

Shifting her power to a knife, Miss Militia pried the bug from its place and bagged it as evidence. Now knowing what to look for, the rest of the investigating PRT agents found several more bugs, riddled throughout the Medhall building.

Later, Armsmaster and the techs presented what they had learned about the surveillance devices.

"These bugs are entirely comprehensible engineering, but are sophisticated enough that I am genuinely impressed by them. Each is powered by a radioisotope unit delivering one Watt of power, while also having a supercapacitor to store up energy for transmissions. By default, they record every sound they pick up, flag any speech they detect, and transmit it in a burst every twenty four hours. These bursts are encrypted via a one-time pad, and there are evidently signal repeaters in concealed locations to send the information to a central control hub."

There was a pause as the presentation switched to the next slide.

"From there, the operator of the network can sift through the data for anything useful. They can also remotely set any specific bug into a continuous transmission mode for more active surveillance, including active sonar outside the frequency range of human hearing, though the commands for doing so again require matching a one-time pad in order to be accepted."

"In summary, we now have a very good idea of how Safari is locating their targets: they are placing large numbers of surveillance devices all over the city, and using that to track Parahumans to vulnerable locations for assassination. Due to the use of one-time pad encryption, we cannot fully co-opt this network for ourselves. In addition, the use of frequency switching and burst transmissions will make it very difficult to dismantle this network; it can be done now that we know what to look for, but it will not be easy or fast."

That's when Emily Piggot spoke up. "If we map out the network, can we pinpoint the location of the control hub and find Safari that way?"

Armsmaster thought about it for a moment, before answering.

"Possibly. It's certainly worth trying, and I can't think of a better idea at the moment. As one other matter, I believe Safari deserves a substantial Tinker rating."

Emily and Renick both seemed a bit skeptical, but motioned for Armsmaster to go on.

"These bugs are not only powered by something very difficult to obtain in the form of a diamond made of pure Carbon Fourteen, but the way they are assembled would take an atomic resolution three-dimensional printer to produce. In addition, the bomb at Medhall was most likely a small-scale nuclear weapon powered by Californium. There is significant reason to believe that Safari has some way to cheaply produce exotic nuclear isotopes, while also manufacturing items with precision that even I would be hard-pressed to match."

Deputy Director Renick asked,

"So, we should be on the lookout for signs of a Tinker workshop?"

"Yes. That said, we should probably start discussing the exact particulars of Safari's Tinker rating."

 

[We Just Write]

Over the next four days, we managed to narrow things down to the exact car Bakuda would be driving when she got to Brockton Bay: a blue Volkswagen beetle with a Massachusetts license plate, tinted windows, a black racing stripe, and a spoiler. Fairly distinctive, so there wouldn't be much risk of false positives.

Simultaneously, Taylor had been practicing seeing through her bugs like an array telescope until she could identify individual vehicles without any trouble.

So at the date and time in question, everyone was in position. Dinah had opted to stay home, on account of already having provided all the help she reasonably could have.

It was one in the afternoon when Taylor's voice came over the radio. "Cat, I see Bakuda's car! She's on the northern route at about seventy miles per hour, and should be at the intercept point in two minutes!"

"Got it!"

Then I hopped on my motor scooter and zipped off to the ambush location. I quickly climbed a nearby building, and got a clear view of a blue Volkswagen veetle approaching my location at downright reckless speeds. I loaded an Armor Piercing round into my .700 Nitro Express rifle, took careful aim, and waited.

At the point of closest approach, I fired, nailing the car right in the engine. The vehicle started losing speed and making horrible noises, even as I loaded a brasscase and leapt down to ground level.

For a moment, I worried that I'd got the wrong car. Then I saw that the woman getting out was wearing a gas mask and had a bandoleer of grenades for her launcher slung across her chest.

I proceeded to shoot Bakuda in the center of mass before she got her wits about her, then fired six rounds from my pistol into her cranium just to be sure.

Right, one more kill to do today before it was time to disappear. Now that Bakuda was daalt with, I no longer had a need to leave Lung alive. On top of that, I knew exactly where he was: waiting for Bakuda, not expecting a fight.

So I loaded a brasscase, hopped back on my moped, and zipped off to the designated meeting point.

I didn't go in the building and confront Lung, obviously. That would have been stupid. Instead, I climbed around nearby buildings until I got a view of Lung through a window. That's about when Lung figured it was time for a bathroom break or something, and turned towards the window.

We locked eyes for just a moment, scales rapidly spreading across his skin as he spitted my very large gun. Then I finally lined up my shot, and splattered Lung's brains all over the opposite wall. Just to be double sure, I shot the shattered remains of Lung's head a few more times with the Nitro Express. Then I made my exit.

While I made sure to avoid the site of Bakuda's death, out of sheer bad luck I happened to cross the path of a PRT van coming the other way as I made my escape.

They must have seen the rifle slung across my back along with ny other gear, because they immediately did a U-turn and took up pursuit, sirens blaring.

I couldn't let this continue. Not only were they faster than my moped, but they were no doubt telling their friends about me. Ugh, I'd hoped to avoid conjuring stuff where people could see it, but I was out of options. With a wave of my hand, I materialized a spike strip behind me.

The van's tires burst, and they screeched to a halt.

For a moment, I thought I'd successfully escaped pursuit. Then I noticed a figure in red running alongside, easily keeping pace with my moped. Velocity.

I shouted at him "No, I'm NOT going to surrender, if that's your question!"

Then I conjured the stickiest glue I could think of on the soles of his boots.

As a now thoroughly stuck Velocity receeded into the distance, I swerved around a corner. I needed to shake any further pursuit and fast. Couldn't ditch my incriminating gear without taking the time to torch it either, it had my forensics all over it.

Fortunately, I was coming up on a public park. Tree cover, paths too narrow for a PRT van to follow, it was perfect. So I spent plenty of time dodging around there before making my way to the shoreline. Time to check all my gear for trackers Velocity might have tagged me with and ditch-torch the moped.

I quickly whipped up a backpack, field-stripped my rifle and stowed it, stashed my other gear in there after checking it, got into my "totally a normal human" disguise, and torched the moped. Time for a long bus ride home.

When I got there, I fed Ms. Night, ate a very early dinner, and was prepared for a nice relaxing evening.

Then I heard a knock on the door. Groaning, I got up from my seat and walked over there. Looking through the peephole, I could clearly see that it was Lisa.

I made sure the door chain was engaged, then opened it.

"Didn't I tell you to fuck off and leave me alone at home?"

"I know, but this is really important. I need your help, and the people who are after me want me specifically for help tracking you down."

I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. Couldn't this girl stay out of trouble for even a month?

"Right, I'm going to frisk you for weapons and other nasty surprises, THEN we'll talk."

"That's fine with me. I know you're into that sort of thing."

I audibly groaned. Ugh, I just know I'm going to be regretting this later.

 

[We Just Write]

"Citrine, after many interactions with these Travelers, I have come to the conclusion that they are nothing more than a liability. This is especially applicable to the unstable cloning cape they have with them."

"Do you want them killed?"

"I am still trying to decide that. If my associate Coil were still alive, I would be inclined to fob them off on him. However, his fatal poisoning renders that no longer an option."

There was a minute of silence as Accord thought.

"Upon further consideration, I can identify no plausible situation in which leaving the Travelers alive as is beneficial. It would be better by far if they were to simply never be heard from again. This is to be an assassination, not a fight; much as that murderer in Brockton Bay's tactics have proven annoying in the short term, I cannot deny their effectiveness."

"Understood, I'll see to it."

"Eliminate Noelle and Trickster first; they are the least psychologically stable among their group, and also present the most opportunity for problems."

The next morning, the Travelers were no more.

 

[We Just Write]

I'd barely finished checking Lisa for weapons (she was unarmed), when I heard a faint and very odd noise behind me.

I ordered Ms. Night {If Lisa tries anything, kill her!} as I whirled around.

I got a glimpse of a man in a suit stepping through a portal from an all-white facility just before it closed.

The Numbers Man. I would have been less scared if they'd sent the Contessa.

Staring the intruder dead in the eyes and baring my teeth in a threat display, I asked "Why are you here?"

I could kill him right now; he was within my conjuration radius, meaning I could materialize any number of horrible things inside his body at a thought. But with Cauldron's resources, I really didn't want to risk becoming their enemy unless absolutely necessary.

After an intense stare-down, Kurt flinched. Then he answered.

"Your activities have provided Cauldron with the experimental data we were looking for regarding Brockton Bay. You cannot be allowed to continue high-profile killings of Parahumans for much longer, or we will not have the powered manpower required to deal with events further down the line."

Hrm. How much to tip my hand. Fuck it, all the way.

"I am fully aware of your 'plan' to kill Scion, and why he needs to die for humanity to survive. Putting it bluntly, your methods are stupid and playing right into the Entities' hands. Infesting more people with genocidal alien brain worms doesn't solve the problem of genocidal alien brain worms. What you should have done was find the most technologically advanced Earth without any Parahumans you could, and have them science the shit out of the Thinker's carcass in order to fully claim those capabilities for humanity's use."

The Numbers Man stood silently for a few seconds, processing what I'd said.

"You are implausibly well-informed. I am quite curious as to the source of your information."

"For me to know, and you to never find out."

In the background, I noticed that Lisa had gone near-catatonic from the information bomb I'd dropped and the ensuing Thinker headache. Fuck her.

"I could quite easily arrange for you to be captured and interrogated, now that I've gotten a good look at you. Why shouldn't I?"

Meh, the world would have found out about it eventually anyway.

"I am going to kill the Simurgh during her next attack. In order to be absolutely certain that my attack method will work, I cannot inform anyone else of it beforehand. Well, anyone who isn't a blindspot to precog anyway."

"That sounds like empty bluster. Still, I am sufficiently intrigued to give you one opportunity to prove your claims. If you fail in your self-appointed mission or attempt to reveal Cauldron's existence to the general public, you will be killed."

I nodded in understanding, still not taking my eyes off the Number Man for a moment.

"Door me."

With that, Cauldron's goon vanished from my apartment. I whirled around to face Lisa, getting to see her staring at Ms. Night with an expression of pants-shitting terror on her face.

After a moment, I pondered what exactly to do with Lisa. After this, I couldn't allow her to stay in Brockton Bay. All my methods to coerce her to leave and stay gone would meanwhile let her rat me out to the authorities. There was a single inevitable conclusion.

Apparently, Lisa reached this conclusion a few moments before me. Panicking, she blabbered out "I'll leave and stay gone and not rat you out I promise!"

As I conjured two grams of dissolved Sodium Cyanide inside Lisa's bloodstream, I answered.

"I can't take the risk of believing you. Sorry." {Ms. Night, do not bite. She has been poisoned.}

{Got it.}

I quickly suited up while Ms. Night monitored Lisa's vitals. As soon as her heartbeat stopped, I went into full on "get rid of the body" mode. Lugging the corpse over my shoulder, I rappelled out my apartment's window and made my way into the relatively nearby trainyards. As soon as I was certain there weren't any observers nearby, I gave Lisa one of my Thermite cremations.

As soon as I got home, I remarked to Ms. Night {We need to move home. Now that Cauldron knows where we live, this place is not safe. Sorry for the lack of snuggles tonight.}

{I understand, Catherine. I wish I could help with that.}

That explanation to my roommate and partner completed, I got onto the internet and started looking for vacancies. Particularly, ones that allowed cats. This had to be prioritized over nearly everything else, including cleaning up the Merchants and the last few Nazi capes.

By midnight, I'd managed to find a place that roughly fit all the requirements. By three in the morning, I'd finished checking for scams and making damn sure the people I talked to actually were the correct ones. By six in the morning, I'd made the down payment for first month's rent and arranged to move in as soon as possible. I deliberately didn't leave any sort of notice of moving out; information denial was even more important once Cauldron was involved.

I proceeded to rent a U-Haul, load up everything of mine I cared to bring, and promptly drove to the new location. By the time I'd finished unloading and returned the truck, it was well into the afternoon. I immediately slumped down on the couch next to Ms. Night, who promptly curled up on my lap. Ugh, that was exhausting.

...Didn't have the energy to cook anything properly, so it was going to be microwave meals for me. Oh well.

 

[We Just Write]

Emily Piggot had called together another meeting of various PRT and Protectorate staff, this time to discuss the events of Thursday.

"To review, two days ago we caught our first face-to-face glimpse of Safari, and we now have a reasonably good idea of her appearance and some clues as to her abilities. Safari is a young woman estimated to be in her mid-twenties, with an approximately caucasian skin tone and outright black hair. In addition, she has some physical mutations; she has a furry tail, and pointed ears akin to a housecat. That said, her protective visor and respirator have prevented us from getting a good look at her face."

"As for what Safari was doing Thursday, we found three corpses. Lung, Bakuda, and a third burned beyond all recognition by Thermite. That last one was probably another unplanned kill. So, given all this, what can we conclusively say about Safari?"

Velocity indicated a desire to speak.

"First, I'm pretty sure that Safari deliberately spared me. She also deliberately spared the troopers in the van that was pursuing her. Given her demonstrated ability to make a wide variety of objects appear out of nowhere, she could have picked vastly more lethal options than a spike strip and glue. That said, I'm not sure if this is due to a very warped idea of heroism; or simply a pragmatic desire to avoid unnecessarily making enemies."

After thinking for a moment, it was actually Assault who spoke up.

"I honestly think it's more likely the warped sense of heroism. If she were trying to avoid making enemies, she failed spectacularly when she killed Shadow Stalker. However, if Safari happened to know of Shadow Stalkers pre-Wards activities, she could have viewed it as either self-defense or putting down a mad dog."

Triumph got a bit of an odd expression there, as if that sparked a train of thought. Whatever it was, he didn't voice it yet. Instead, Director Piggot answered,

"Given what all of Safari's actual targets have done as a matter of public record, I honestly find that quite plausible. Still, we really should consider all the possible motives she might have, so as to better predict her behavior."

Only now did Triumph indicate his desire to speak.

"This is going to sound really really stupid, but I honestly think Safari might think more like a cat than a human."

Miss Militia sighed,

"Triumph, what have I told you about profiling mutated capes by their physical differences?"

"That it's wrong and I shouldn't do it. But in this case, I think it's more accurate than just about anything else. We've seen what happens when a human gets powers; that's how the whole Cape scene works. But Safari doesn't play by those rules at all. She doesn't posture, doesn't get in unnecessary fights, and generally doesn't treat hostile capes as rivals. She's treating them as prey."

"When they have the opportunity to strike from ambush, cats of all species don't play with their food. They go for an immediately lethal attack, to eliminate any and all chance of their prey retaliating. This exactly matches what we've observed Safari doing. This also matches the tendency for stealth and covert observation, and perfectly explains the deliberate use of non-lethal force on Velocity and the van."

Assault asked,

"So you're saying we should put out a catnip dispenser and a scratching post on every street-corner and just wait for her to show up?"

Triumph facepalmed as Armsmaster shot Assault a death glare.

"While that is certainly an interesting comparison, I fail to see how it helps in tracking down Safari."

Triumph nodded,

"I'm thinking her mindset is dead simple when you get right down to it. She views her targets as a threat to herself and those she cares about - maybe people in general - and therefore treats them as prey. But she doesn't view most heroes in that light, and therefore treats us as more of a general annoyance. With some actually acceptable targets to aim her at, she could probably be a pretty good hero."

Everyone blinked. Piggot actually blinked twice. Before an argument could start, there was a knock on the door of the meeting room.

Deputy director Renick sighed,

"Come in."

In came Ruby, a low-level clerk.

"Er, there's a minor situation. Dinah Alcott has shown up in the lobby, along with a teenage girl named Taylor, and a young woman with feline features. They say they really need our help, but don't want to talk about why in the lobby on account of opsec reasons."

Everyone's jaw dropped.

 

[We Just Write]

Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have willingly come within a hundred meters of the PRT building. These were not normal circumstances. Barely a day after I'd finished with that very rapid moving of home, Dinah contacted me and Taylor with a very important warning: Within two weeks, the Slaughterhouse Nine would be coming to Brockton Bay. Though fortunately it would take them at least a week to get here, giving us some preparation time.

After another impromptu strategy meeting at the ice cream stand, I'd explained that there were a couple members of the Slaughterhouse Nine I simply couldn't deal with. In addition, their specific operating procedures made the possibility of intercepting them on my own rather dubious. So, reluctantly, I found myself approaching the PRT for help.

I'll be honest, I'd fully expected to get foamed where I stood, even though I'd come unarmed and without my gear on. It was honestly rather surprising when that didn't happen. Instead, a quartet of armed PRT agents showed up and said,

"This way, please."

We obligingly followed them, soon coming to a meeting room with Miss Militia, Battery, and a man who's name tag identified him as Deputy Director Renick.

"Please, sit down."

I did so, making sure to keep my hands on my lap, instead of on the table or armrests.

"So. What are you doing here, Safari?"

I blinked. I didn't much like the name the PRT had stuck me with, but I had bigger problems right now.

"Dinah here is a very powerful predictive modeler. She's determined that the Slaughterhouse Nine will be arriving in Brockton Bay within two weeks, though we've got a week to prepare. I don't think I can fully intercept them and prevent civilian casualties on my own. Not even with Taylor's help."

There was a moment of complete and utter silence, before Deputy Director Renick turned to Dinah.

"Is that true? Are the Slaughterhouse Nine really coming to Brockton Bay?"

Dinah nodded emphatically,

"Yes. Yes they are. They're most likely to arrive next week Monday, but there's significant chances of them taking a few extra days. Also about a 10% chance of arriving Sunday."

And that's how I found myself in a PRT/Protectorate/Wards strategy meeting, headed by Emily Piggot. Who was giving me an incredibly blatant stink eye. Taylor and Dinah had also come along. There was some basic summary of the situation as we knew it, along with the fact that I would really prefer to use my real name - Catherine AKA Cat - rather than being called Safari.

Then we started discussing how exactly to deal with the Nine as they arrived.

"Shatterbird needs to be killed before she starts singing; that's how the Nine cause the majority of their civilian casualties. Also, Jack Slash needs to be sniped by either myself or an un-powered marksman. I'm willing and able to take either role."

That's when Emily Piggot fired back,

"And what makes you think you'll be doing anything other than sitting this one out in a cell?"

I blinked.

"I understand that you really don't like me, and even have a pretty good idea as to why. But the fact of the matter is that Jack Slash has a non-obvious power that lets him get subconscious cues on what nearby Parahumans are thinking. That's how he keeps dodging hits on him and has such a high success rate at recruiting people who shouldn't want anything to do with him. I'm immune to that, and have very good aim with a very powerful gun."

"Convenient."

I shook my head,

"It's really not. I can't be healed by Panacea, and powers that are normally Manton-limited are extremely dangerous to me. As an example, Vista could splatter me all over the scenery without even noticing, if I were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Vista herself seemed slightly ill at that thought, but I'd made my point.

"Speaking of Manton, that reminds me. The Siberian is a projection of William Manton. Off him, and the Siberian disappears. He should be somewhere near the battle in a pedo van."

Armsmaster asked in a skeptical tone of voice,

"How exactly do you know all this?"

"You wouldn't believe the real answer if I told you, so let's go with the convenient fiction of an extremely specialized Thinker power."

There was a brief pause, before I continued.

"That said, I'm not omniscient. I don't know if Bonesaw's pathogen deadman switch is entirely within her body, or if she's made a habit of stashing disease bombs everywhere. That's why I'm most emphatically not going to engage her unless literally forced."

"I also don't really have any good options for Crawler. I don't know if going nuclear on him will work, there's no way in hell I'm going to willingly conjure antimatter again, and my only other option that could do the job would have even worse collateral damage. Which is why I'm saving it for Endbringers."

Director Piggot probably wasn't even aware of it, but her expression softened slightly. It seemed that admitting my limits won me a tiny amount of respect. Then she took charge.

"Right. In that case, I'll be forming a total of six marksman teams for killing susceptible members of the Slaughterhouse Nine. Miss Militia, you'll be on marksman team one, with Shatterbird as your primary target. Catherine, I'm putting you on marksman team two, with Jack Slash as your primary target. Teams three through six will be un-powered personnel."

I saluted in synch with Miss Militia, before replying,

"Yes, Ma'am."

Director Piggot nodded, then continued,

"As for what the rest of you are doing, that still needs to be firmed up. I expect we'll get more information on the Nine as we get closer. We might even be able to intercept them before they enter the city."

Dinah spoke up,

"I can help with that! I figured out exactly what car Bakuda was going to be driving and what routes she'd be taking; that's why Taylor and Cat had such an easy time intercepting her! Now she can't kill the hundreds of civilians she would have otherwise!"

 

[We Just Write]

"Jack, why are we going to Brockton Bay again?"

Jack Slash turned to Shatterbird, a grin on his face. "Why, to find out who set off that lovely explosion at the Medhall building of course! After all, someone like that will be a perfect fit in our little family."

In truth, Jack was getting very mixed messages from his instincts. About Brockton Bay on the whole he was getting a distinct feeling of forboding, but he wasn't feeling anything like that about the killer who'd been turning Brockton Bay into their personal playground.

After some thought on this, Jack pulled over by the side of the road. "I think we should probably split up and lay low until just before we leave. Take a page from our soon-to-be new friend's playbook and only hit once we're fully prepared to leave them behind with the damage."

Bonesaw piped up from the back of the RV, "That sounds like fun! I'm getting all sorts of ideas for things I can do already. Maybe zombies? Hmm, no, that'll get samey. Need some more time to think on it."

"Well, it's about time for bed. You'll have plenty of time to think on it while you sleep."

Starting the next day, Jack couldn't help the feeling of being watched. So he "traded" RVs with an unfortunate civilian, and significantly increased the convolution of his route. After a few hours, the feeling of being watched faded away.

The very next day, the feeling of being watched had returned in full force, prompting another vehicle switch. This pattern continued until the group split up into four different cars a few hours drive from Brockton Bay, at which point the feeling of being watched abruptly stopped.

Breathe in, breathe out. Whoever the mystery stalker was, Jack had finally lost them. Soon, he'd recruit Brockton Bay's new talent, and then he'd never need to bother with the city again.

The car Jack was driving had just crossed Brockton Bay's city limits, before suddenly there was a horrible noise and what sounded like an explosion from under the hood. In less than a minute, Jack Slash found himself coasting to a stop. This was clearly bad, but the instincts he'd grown to rely on were dead silent.

Reluctantly, Jack Slash got out of the car. Then he felt his chest cave in, even as he heard an ear-splitting crack from a very large bullet. With his spine and ribcage utterly shattered by the force of the shot, Jack Slash fell to the ground.

Dimly, the unrepentant murderer heard the footsteps of another unrepentant murderer approaching. Then he was shot in the head, a .700 Nitro Express expanding round splattering his brain across the pavement.

By some miracle of Bonesaw, Jack Slash was still barely conscious, some backup system or other substituting for his now destroyed brain. That's how he was able to to hear the brief conversation that followed.

"Cat, he's got to be dead after that. Shouldn't we call it in?"

"I'm not taking any chances Ernest, now hand me the ten gallon bucket of Thermite."

 

[We Just Write]

Once Jack Slash was thoroughly ablaze, Ernest called in with his radio to confirm the kill. I piled into the back of the van with the other three members of Marksman Team 2, then Ernest joined us shortly after. Now that everyone was aboard, our driver started us towards the southern rally point, to await further orders.

While the van bumped along, I heard the voice of Miss Militia come over the radio.

"This is Marksman Team One! We have a confirmed kill on Shatterbird. I repeat, we have a confirmed kill on Shatterbird."

I couldn't help but purr upon hearing that, which actually prompted one of the female PRT troopers sitting near me to pat me on the head. Oh that felt good, so I leaned into it.

The radio crackled on again.

"This is Velocity with Bag Team. We've foamed Bonesaw, but she's got an internal reservoir of the solvent and our foam supplies are limited. Requesting Clockblocker or more foam for more thorough containment; coordinates are Alpha-Three."

"More foam en route by helicopter; it should reach your location in about four minutes, so hold tight."

"This is Marksman Team Five! We have a confirmed kill on the Siberian's Master! We need medical assistance urgently, Andre's legs are gone and Kate's lost a lot of blood! Coordinates are Gamma-Niner!"

"Understood; medevac inbound from Brockton General. Should reach your location in about two minutes."

"Marksman Team Three calling, Mannequin bypassed our ambush point. I repeat, Mannequin has bypassed our ambush point. Mannequin's location is currently unknown."

"Marksman Team Four calling, We missed; Hatchet Face has escaped our ambush. I repeat, Hatchet Face has escaped our ambush. Hatchet Face sighted heading south. Coordinates are Gamma-Four"

"This is Armsmaster with Crawler Team. Message received about Hatchet Face; we'll be on alert for him to show up."

"Marksman Team Six calling; Burnscar wounded, I repeat, Burnscar wounded. She teleported away before we could confirm the kill."

Then Ernest called out over the radio,

"This is Marksman Team Two. We have reached rally point Beta. Awaiting further orders."

A few seconds passed, then Emily Piggot's voice crackled over the radio.

"Marksman Teams One, Two, Three, and Four, I'm sending you after Mannequin. Oracle indicates he's gone to ground in grid square Beta-Eight, so I'm also setting up a containment perimeter to make sure he can't get away. Happy hunting."

We all nodded, even as the engine in the van revved up. I unloaded the brasscase currently in my rifle's breech, and got one of the special rounds off my belt: High Explosive Squash Head.

We'd barely gotten underway when Armsmaster called in on the radio again.

"This is Armsmaster with Crawler Team. We have a confirmed kill on Hatchet Face; no injuries on our side."

There was a brief pause.

"Crawler sighted and approaching rapidly! Preparing to engage!"

I nodded grimly. Over the last few days, I'd discovered that I rather liked and respected Armsmaster. Even with the most optimal team composition for facing Crawler, Dinah had only given 50% odds of successfully taking him down. So I really hoped Colin pulled through.

Then we reached grid square Beta-Eight, and everyone piled out of the van to start searching for Mannequin. While he would be at his most dangerous in close quarters, this also technically applied to me.

So I found myself combing through a hotel currently closed for renovation, in hopes of finding a murderous cyborg. I'd gotten to the fourth floor, when I heard a suspicious rattling noise from one of the vents. I turned to look, just in time to see one of Mannequin's detached arms on a chain starting to dangle down towards Ernest. Yeah, no.

I promptly conjured up a whacking stick and hit Mannequin's arm up against the wall, before conjuring a nail right through it to anchor it in place against a structural beam. Ernest's eyes widened as he realized what I'd just saved him from.

There was an awkward pause as Mannequin presumably tried to decide what to do next, before we heard a rattling noise, and the remaining length of chain fell from the vent. Ah, I'd been hoping he'd stick more of himself out, but I must have given him quite a shock there.

"He's down a limb now. Radio in that we know what building Mannequin is in; we need it surrounded so he can't escape."

Ernest promptly did so, even as I listened intently to try and figure out which way Mannequin was going. After a moment, I was quite certain of what I was hearing.

"He's headed for the ground floor! We've got to hurry."

I promptly ran for the stairwell, shoving my ear protection back into place as I did so. Then I vaulted over the railing, and nailed a perfect landing at the bottom of the stairwell. I shouldered my rifle and dashed from the stairwell just in time to see Mannequin burst out of a vent and make a mad dash for the exit. I promptly shot him in the back of his torso, the specialized explosive round spalling off incredibly lethal amounts of shrapnel inside Mannequin's body.

Mannequin dropped to the ground, apparently dead. But I wasn't going to stop until apparently was replaced with definitely.

I pressed the talk button on my radio "Mannequin down in Bayview Hotel lobby, requesting backup for removal to street and Thermite cremation."

Later at the debrief, I learned that Crawler had ultimately ran for it after losing multiple limbs to Armsmaster's prototype nanothorn halberd. Despite the PRT and Protectorate's best efforts, he'd managed to make it out of city limits. Though now his location was being tracked at all times, and he was being actively pursued by a mix of the National Guard, the Guild, and assorted PRT-affiliated assets. That said, Burnscar's location was still unknown.

With all but two members dead (or captured in the case of Bonesaw), the Slaughterhouse Nine was finished. Good riddance. Now it was just a question of if the PRT would allow me to part on amicable terms, or if that wasn't going to be the case after all.

 

[We Just Write]

■​

Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards.
You are currently logged in, Miss Mercury
You are viewing:
• Threads you have replied to
• AND Threads that have new replies
• OR private message conversations with new replies
• Thread OP is displayed.
• Twenty five posts per page
• Last ten messages in private message history.
• Threads and private messages are ordered chronologically.

■​

♦ Topic: Introducing: Catherine AKA Cat
In: Boards ► Brockton Bay ► Introductions
Cat The Great (Original Poster) (Verified Cape)
Posted On Feb 2nd 2011:
Hello, Brockton Bay. I'm not really interested in keeping a secret identity, so I'll just go by my real name here. I've been active in Brockton Bay since early-mid January, but preferred to keep a low profile until now.

I like to think of myself as a hero, but I wager most other heroes would disagree with me on account of how I do things. Bluntly, I hunt down the really bad Villains - the ones that repeatedly kill/hurt innocent people and never seem to stay locked up - and kill them without giving any chance to resist. I have absolutely no compunctions about shooting a target in their sleep, just ask Oni Lee. Oh wait, you can't because he's dead.

As for what I'm willing to share of my capabilities:
-Lots of minor stuff associated with being a cat; night vision, great acrobatics, etc.
-Quite a few powers just plain don't work right on me. This includes precogs, most Masters, quite a lot of Strangers, and all parahuman Healers.
-I can materialize five kilograms of mundane equipment per day. Yes, I can bank mass over multiple days if I want to make something big.

Now, for what I've been doing, in rough chronological order:
-I offed Coil; scheming mastermind with a janky precog-adjacent power. He was planning on kidnapping and drugging a little girl to exploit her power, and the PRT can back me up on this with the evidence they recovered from his base.
-I shot Oni Lee, Othala, Victor, and Purity in their sleep.
-I killed Shadow Stalker IN SELF-DEFENSE. Seriously, she absolutely 100% would have shot me if I hadn't done it first. And she was using lethal bolts.
-I blew up a big meeting with most of Brockton Bay's remaining Nazis at the Medhall building. Using a bomb (Californium nuclear bullet, actually) that powerful was a carefully calculated move, borne out by the total lack of civilian fatalities.
-I teamed up with the adorable precog Coil wanted to kidnap, and set up an ambush for Bakuda when she entered the city. If we hadn't taken her out, she would have started shoving bombs into people's heads and killed HUNDREDS of civilians. That's at the bare minimum.
-The same day as Bakuda's ambush, I shot Lung's brains out before he could transform. He's dead, and won't kill any more innocent people.
- At one point, a mildly villainous Thinker tracked me to my apartment. I wound up killing her in something that could vaguely be considered self-defense if you really squint, and cremated her remains with Thermite. I'm honestly still beating myself up about that one, since in retrospect I can think of several ways I could have handled the situation without killing her. But at the time I was too scared out of my mind to come up with any of them.

As for my latest bout of activity? That adorable precog I was working with warned me the Slaughterhouse Nine was coming to town. Figured out I couldn't deal with them on my own, and we went to the PRT with the information.

I personally wound up assigned to shoot Jack Slash by Emily Piggot herself (thank you for the honor, ma'am), a task I carried out successfully. With the rest of the marksman team I was assigned to, we then proceeded to torch his body with a perhaps excessive amount of Thermite, just to be sure. I later wound up gunning down Mannequin after he slipped past the team set up to ambush him.

This was part of a larger operation to deal with the Slaughterhouse Nine, which can be talked about in its own thread. In summary: It succeeded. Mostly; Burnscar's location is unknown, and Crawler is on the run from pretty much every branch of the government authorized to use lethal force. I bet fifty bucks it's the postal service that finally takes him out (this is a joke; I don't gamble).

You're welcome; you should expect a couple new Wards soon, though I won't be one of them.

Also, as a note: yes, my tail and ears are real. No, I'm not a Case 53; I remember my entire life in acceptable detail, and they've always been part of me. A big part of why I'm going public is just that I finally got fed up with hiding them.

​

(Showing page 1 of 1)

►Coyote-C
Replied On Feb 2nd 2011:
This has to be fake, you're talking out of your ass. Well, tail. I believe you about the cat stuff, but not about all the murders you supposedly did.


►Bagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)
Replied On Feb 2nd 2011:
I don't think so; Cat's account of her actions lines up pretty damn well with what's been going on in Brockton Bay over the last few weeks. Suffice to say, we've had a lot less cape fights than before. Still, this is definitely... drastic. Was this much violence really necessary to make the Bay a safer place to live?


►Cat The Great (Original Poster) (Verified Cape)
Replied On Feb 2nd 2011:
Yes, Bagrat. Yes it was.


►Miss Mercury (Protectorate Employee)
Replied On Feb 3rd 2011:
Speaking in my official capacity, I can confirm that Cat's accounts of her activities are basically accurate. We can't confirm that Shadow Stalker was using lethal bolts, but it seems plausible given she was regularly violating her parole in other ways.

As for that Thinker who apparently tracked you to your home... do you want to talk about it in DMs?


►Cat The Great (Original Poster) (Verified Cape)
Replied On Feb 3rd 2011:
No, I don't.
​

End of Page. 1

​

■​

♦ Topic: The Slaughterhouse Nine has been Defeated
In: Boards ► General ► S-Class Threats
PRT ENE Official (Original Poster) (Verified PRT Account)
Posted On Feb 2nd 2011:
On 01/22/2011, we were approached by three Parahumans with information about an upcoming attack by the Slaughterhouse Nine. This group included the cape known to the PRT as Safari at the time, along with two others. One of these others is a powerful precognitive.

With the cooperation of these independents, a plan was put together to ambush each member of the Slaughterhouse Nine separately as they entered the city. In the majority of cases, these ambushes were successful. Listing by member:
-Jack Slash: Shot multiple times with a .700 Nitro Express rifle by Cat, then incinerated with Thermite.
-Bonesaw: Captured. Currently under 24/7 observation in the PRT's brig, pending transfer.
-Siberian: Deceased, thanks to Cat informing us of its nature as a projection; critically wounded two PRT agents, one of whom died before reaching the hospital.
-Shatterbird: Gunned down with a .50 BMG machine gun by Miss Militia.
-Mannequin: Shot with .700 Nitro Express loaded with High Explosive Squash Head ammo (again by Cat), then incinerated with Thermite.
-Hatchet Face: Killed in close combat by Armsmaster.

-Crawler: Currently at large, being actively pursued. There is a tracker site for his current location here.
-Burnscar: Currently at large, location unknown. Burnscar is suffering from a gunshot wound to her right arm. Expert reviews of gun-cam footage indicate that the shot likely broke her Humerus.

While the surviving former members still have Kill Orders, the Slaughterhouse Nine can be considered defunct as an organization.

​

(Showing page 1 of 1)

►Lasersmile
Replied On Feb 2nd 2011:
Finally! It's been way too fucking long! That band of psychopaths should have been offed over a decade ago!


►XxVoid_CowboyxX
Replied On Feb 2nd 2011:
Anyone want to bet we'll see a medical Tinker "mysteriously" turn up in the Wards somewhere down the line? Because I could easily believe that the PRT would try and brainwash Bonesaw into someone they could control.


►Reave (Verified PRT Agent)
Replied On Feb 2nd 2011:
Legitimate question for Void Cowboy, how would we even do that? We don't have any human Masters capable of long-term brainwashing on staff for security reasons. We also don't have the tech or the Tinkers to do it that way.

Though I suppose hypothetically we could hire Cranial, but that would be a security nightmare.


►XxVoid_CowboyxX
Replied On Feb 2nd 2011:
You don't have any human Masters capable of long-term brainwashing that you KNOW about. There could easily be one squirreled so far up the PRT's black budget that the rank and file never hear about them.


►Vista (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)
Replied On Feb 2nd 2011:
Tinfoil hats aside, I'm just really glad that the Slaughterhouse Nine is gone. I had to read up on them for a school project once, and let's just say that I really wish I hadn't.

Also, despite my mixed feelings about Cat, I think I'm really glad she set up shop in Brockton Bay. There's still a long way to fix this place, but for the first time in a while I think I can see some hope for stuff to get better.
​

End of Page. 1

​

■​

 

[We Just Write]

After the official debrief, I was rather surprised to find that Director Piggot wanted to talk with me, Dinah, and Taylor.

I politely waited for her to speak first once we were seated.

"For your aid in dealing with the Slaughterhouse Nine, I thank you sincerely. When you recognized your limitations and came to get help, you seriously exceeded my expectations of Parahumans. Especially you Cat, seeing as you knew damn well we were looking to arrest you."

Taylor and Dinah both said "You're welcome." I didn't, looking down at my lap.

"Cat, is something wrong?"

I blinked.

"Taylor and Dinah surpassed your expectations for Parahumans. I'm not one though; I don't deserve whatever lenience you give someone for having their brain fucked with by their power."

Everyone in the room was staring at me. Eventually, Emily's expression hardened.

"Please explain. Both about your supposed non-Parahuman status, and what you mean by Parahumans having their brains fucked with."

I nodded.

"Parahumans first. Basically, Parahuman abilities are part of a poorly conceived alien science experiment. The actual machinery behind them basically amounts to a sufficiently advanced stagehand hidden in another dimension. But the important part is that powers are alive, and they want to be used. Specifically, they want to be used in novel ways."

"Powers push their hosts to act erratically and get into trouble, specifically to get said hosts to do something new. This can go very badly wrong; Leet's power is literally trying to kill him due to how cautious he's gotten with his inventions."

Emily Piggot was now paying extremely close attention.

"On a related note, Panacea's power is bored out of its mind with her only using it to fix people up. You need to get her some productive outlets for her nearly unbounded biokinesis ASAP, or her power WILL push her over the edge. She can in fact do brains, but has thus far refrained from doing so on account of a personal ethical code."

Director Piggot's expression soured. Figured that would be a sore point for her, but she needed to hear it.

"Right, I'll see about resolving the Panacea situation in a way that doesn't end with a second Ellisburg. Thank you for the warning. Now, what was this about you not being a Parahuman?"

I nodded.

"I was made. In a lab. My earliest memory is being hugged right out of the synthesizer by my mom, and she's tried her best to do right by me for the approximately three years I've existed. All my abilities are inherent parts of my design, rather than a result of extradimensional stagehands screwing around."

Emily Piggot raised an eyebrow.

"So, you're saying that you're a Tinker creation?"

"My mom's a scientist, not a Tinker. The difference is incredibly important. Tinkers are handed a restricted database of plundered alien tech with very little understanding of what they're making in most cases. Mom mostly understood what she was doing when making me, though there were a few unexpected things that came up."

"I would have thought that such a scientific breakthrough would have been heard about in all sorts of news."

"Not local to this reality."

There was a long, awkward pause. Then Taylor asked,

"So, what happens now?"

Director Piggot sighed,

"You and Dinah can go. I'd love to have you in the Wards, and would highly recommend you joining if you don't want to be charged as accomplices in Bakuda's murder."

Dinah spoke up,

"I want to know what's going to happen to Cat."

"I said that you two can go."

Director Piggot's tone made clear that this was an order, rather than a simple granting of permission. Reluctantly, Taylor and Dinah left the room.

As soon as the door shut, I answered,

"I plead self-defense for literally everything."

Director Piggot couldn't help but laugh a bit at that.

"The worst part is that I'm pretty confident you could get acquitted on those grounds, given any decent lawyer and a sympathetic jury. Still, the fact of the matter is that your string of vigilantism needs to stop. It severely undermines the rule of law, which is crucial for society to continue in a stable manner."

I shrugged,

"So, are you going to arrest me or not?"

"Out of gratitude for your help with the Slaughterhouse Nine? No, the arrest warrant on you is suspended so long as you stay out of trouble. I've also been in talks with legal, and they agree that 10% of the total bounty for the Nine's now-deceased members is about appropriate for your share of things."

"Sounds good for me."

Emily Piggot's expression hardened.

"That said, do not mistake this for a license to continue with your killing of villains. You will be closely monitored at all times, and unless your prospective target has a kill order, you will need to clear it with the relevant authorities beforehand. And now that Brockton Bay is relatively safe, I don't think an argument of self-defense will be workable in court."

I nodded.

"Pretty sure you can clear up the Merchants and the last few Nazi stragglers without much help from me, but you know where to find me if you ever need someone dealt with."

"Yes, we do." It was a subtly veiled threat, but I really didn't mind.

"Also, I recommend procedures to make it harder to bust out villains once you arrest them; putting bomb collars on them while they're being transferred out of the city seems like it would be pretty effective."

That actually prompted a thoughtful expression from Piggot.

"Brutal, certainly. But I can definitely see the logic there; it's basically using the villain as a hostage to deter their allies from attacking the convoy. I'll kick the idea up the chain and see if I can get it put into practice."

I nodded,

"May I go? Also, is my stash of catnip legal?"

Piggot actually laughed.

"Yes, you can go. And don't worry about the catnip; it's not an illegal substance, regardless of its effects on you."

 

[We Just Write]

Numbers Man had found himself asking a very odd question at the next strategy meeting after intimidating that catgirl.

"How many Earths with more advanced technology than Earth Bet, but no or minimal Parahuman presence do we have access to?"

Doctor Mother, Contessa, Eidolon, and Alexandria all turned to him. Then Doctor Mother replied,

"When I last checked, we had access to about six thousand such Earths. Why do you ask?"

Wordlesly, Kurt pulled out his audio recorder, and played the relevant snippet from his interaction with Cat.

"I am fully aware of your 'plan' to kill Scion, and why he needs to die for humanity to survive. Putting it bluntly, your methods are stupid and playing right into the Entities' hands. Infesting more people with genocidal alien brain worms doesn't solve the problem of genocidal alien brain worms. What you should have done was find the most technologically advanced Earth without any Parahumans you could, and have them science the shit out of the Thinker's carcass in order to fully claim those capabilities for humanity's use."

Listening to Cat's lambastment seemed to provoke thought in all present. Eventually, Alexandria spoke,

"Honest question, why didn't we start doing that thirty years ago, before the Endbringers even showed up? It would have had negligible opportunity cost; we could literally have done that in parallel with the current plan with almost no issues."

Eventually, Doctor Mother admitted,

"It simply didn't occur to me at any point since learning of the Entities. I have no excuse for this oversight whatsoever; in retrospect it's an incredibly obvious course of action. That said, I am somewhat concerned about possible interference from Scion or the Endbringers. We know for a fact that the Simurgh will not always limit its activities to Earth Bet, given the disastrous events at Madison."

Eidolon thought for a moment.

"Honestly, I don't think we have a better option available. Contessa, what does the Path to maximizing effective reverse engineering of Entity capabilities look like?"

Contessa answered immediately.

"It's incredibly simple. Just go to a few dozen specific Earths, explain the situation to the locals to get them on board, and get them in touch with each other to share research data. Within six months we'll have fully technological multiverse travel on-par with Doormaker, and progress grows at an exponential rate afterwards. Well, those are the broad strokes anyway. If someone hands me a notebook or a typewriter, I'll write it down in more detail."

Doctor Mother nodded, and paged the custodian to retrieve a typewriter and a ream of paper.

"Oh, one more thing. Aside from myself, Legend is the best ambassador we'll have available to get new Earths on board with the reverse-engineering efforts. Contriving a reason for him to take an extended leave from his duties on Earth Bet would be incredibly helpful."

Alexandria nodded as the typewriter arrived, and Contessa began writing down the 'addresses' of the Earths that would be most helpful to contact.

"I'll see what I can do in that department."

 

[We Just Write]

The next day after the mess with the Nine was resolved, I was right back at my day job with Mr. Stent. But this time, I wasn't bothering to hide my ears and tail.

When I walked into the office, the middle-aged electrician actually commented, "You know, after you hit the big time with the bounty money from the Nine, I didn't think you'd be coming back."

I smiled, "That won't last me forever. Besides, making a living through honest work is nice, especially when it's directly helping people."

Mr. Stent nodded,

"Glad to have your help, then. Are you going to be putting the hat on, or are you going to be open about your catness?"

"I'm done hiding who and what I am. Now that I've gotten some recognition for offing the Nine and cleared up the worst of Brockton Bay's villains, I shouldn't have anything to worry about."

Mr. Stent got a somber expression there,

"Be careful. That's what Fleur thought before she was murdered. She was a good friend, and I miss her."

I nodded seriously,
"I know. I'm not relying on the goodwill of scumbags. I'm relying on my situational awareness, combat skills, and the gang of strays, bobcats, and a mountain lion I bribed to guard my home while I'm sleeping. Not joking there, they've even agreed to take marching orders from Ms. Night when they're on duty."

The fifty year old man blinked.

"Well, that's definitely a unique security detail. Anyway, we've got our first job of the day; a guy wants to install a ceiling fan in his kid's bedroom, and his wife is too paranoid about him zapping himself to let him DIY it."

As we got in the van, I snarked "She's probably right."

Today's work shift was shockingly uneventful, considering. Sure there were plenty of people a bit shocked to see me, but most seemed content to leave me be and let me get on with my day job. There was one case of one particularly unfortunate person who'd lost family to every single villain I'd killed and wanted my autograph, but that was the extent of my fame thus far.

Then I got home to find that Amos the Cougar had offed an unpowered empire 88 straggler who'd tried to sneak into my home while I was away. At present, there was a tense standoff between police and the twenty-odd cats who I'd basically hired as security, and I was going to have my work cut out for me de-escalating the situation.

Stepping between the police and the cats, I announced "Right, I can translate. Officers, what exactly are you trying to tell my security?"

The police officers blinked in confusion for a few moments, before they answered.

"What do you mean about these cats being your security?"

"I can talk to cats, though there's a bunch of different languages and dialects and I don't know all of them. I made an arrangement with this lot where they'd protect my home from intruders in exchange for a steady supply of food and water, shelter, companionship, and medical care."

It took the quartet of police officers a bit to figure out what to ask next. I definitely overheard them wondering if they should make this the PRT's problem, before eventually opting against it.

"Could you please ask your... security to return the man's body for identification? If nothing else, we would like to be able to notify next of kin."

I nodded.

{Amos, the humans want your kill.}

{Why? I thought you said that humans don't eat their own kind?}

{They usually don't; but they want to figure out which human you killed. There's a bunch of human thinking stuff that needs to be done to properly account for him being dead.}

{Will they give my kill back after they're done looking at it?}

{That's unlikely. Humans get really weird about human corpses and making sure they're treated respectfully. No, I don't understand it either.}

{Then no.}

I replied in an exasperated tone.

{I'll get you sausages; they're a type of meat tube that's been flavored and carefully seared a bit to taste extra good.}

{...Fine, but only because I'm curious about the sausages.}

I turned to the police officers.

"Managed to explain things to Amos. He's agreed to let you take the corpse away, but I'm going to have to get him some sausages tonight."

The officers quickly retrieved the body and drove off. I turned back to Amos.

{I'm going to the local place where the humans distribute their stored food to get some sausages. I should be back before too long.}

{Understood.}

And so off I went to the grocery store, to get some sausages Amos would appreciate. Anything with onions or other alliums in it was right out; while I could handle those just fine, they were poison to most cats. Also, cats didn't generally have a receptor for sweetness, so there was no point getting a sweet sausage. Ultimately, I just got some simple cured beef sausages with a light herbal seasoning.

When I got home, I informed him {Just so you know, it's considered customary to heat sausages just before eating them. The idea is that if the inside gets hot enough, it kills all the disease in there and makes sure you don't get sick from eating them.}

{Having nearly died from eating a diseased kill once, I would prefer never having to worry about that again. Please heat the sausages.}

And so I found myself cooking a dinner of pan-fried sausages for a Cougar. Amos's plate of sausages supplied (and the rest of the bunch fed as well), I finally relaxed, stretching my claws and sharpening them on one of the many scratching posts I'd acquired. Ah, I could get used to this.

 

[We Just Write]

"Carol Dallon, I want to make things extremely clear: your actions regarding Amelia have put the continued existence of Brockton Bay as a habitable city at risk."

The blonde Parahuman lawyer looked somewhat perplexed. "Is someone going to kidnap her? I knew I shouldn't have let her start-"

Director Piggot cut her off. "No. In fact, you not letting her do things is exactly the problem. It's recently been revealed to me - and the scientists in power-testing agree - that powers want to be used in diverse and novel ways. They are alive, and they have an agenda. Due to the pressures you've put on her, Panacea has been spending a truly unconscionable amount of time doing the same thing with her power over and over: healing people. While that is admirable, it is also dangerous; her power will push her into doing something everyone will regret if we don't get her some additional productive outlets for her abilities."

"Additional productive outlets for healing? What else could she do?"

Emily frowned. "Not healing, effectively unrestricted biokinesis. We're setting up a bio-isolated greenhouse for Amy to use as a lab as we speak; in there, she'll have effectively free reign to make any organism that isn't extremely dangerous. We'll also set up an equivalent to Tinker Tech review, in case she wants to make something to benefit society as a whole. Not only does Amy need to go there on a regular basis, but she needs to feel safe experimenting. That means you need to avoid indicating any sort of distaste or mistrust of the idea. Do you think you can do that?"

After a long, agonizing period of silence, Carol answered,

"No. I... I don't think I can."

Emily Piggot nodded. "Right, in that case we need to figure out alternate housing arrangements for Panacea. And given the gravity of the situation, that means we're getting her input."

As the meeting eventually wound down and Carol left, Emily found herself musing on just how much more sense Parahumans made after Catherine explained the situation. While practically they were still just as erratic and difficult as ever, the knowledge that they all had an alien riding shotgun in their brain to make them that way made it somewhat easier to tolerate. Though some Parahumans responded to the knowledge with rather less grace than others.

Case in point, Armsmaster and Dragon had collaborated to make a neural interface that could pick up on the impulses their stagehands were sending them, and translate it into English. It seemed harmless enough, until Emily had walked in on Armsmaster having a heated argument with his power about the excessive maintenance requirements of his gear. It reminded her far too much of the Butcher for comfort, so she had simply closed the door and opted to come back later.

Still, given that was the worst thing she had to worry about at the moment, things were going pretty well. Since cleaning up the last of the Empire's cape roster and last week's big raid on the Merchants, there were hardly any major crises going on in Brockton Bay. The situation with Panacea didn't count, since it wasn't a crisis yet, and Emily had no intentions of letting it become one.

Admittedly there was a minor incident with Catherine's security Cougar killing a home intruder a few weeks ago, but Cat had covered her ass with security cameras and warning signs well enough to be in the clear, legally speaking. It was almost... relaxing.

Then the Endbringer sirens went off.

 

[We Just Write]

The moment I heard the Endbringer alarms, and figured out it was coming here, I turned to Mr. Stent.

"Get to the shelter. Whatever you do, make sure to remember who and what you are. Stuff is going to get weird."

Mr. Stent nodded hurriedly, and immediately started booking it towards the nearest Endbringer shelter. As for me, I hopped on my (purchased, not conjured) motor scooter, and started making my way to the PRT headquarters. I arrived in about five minutes, with the first Parahuman I encountered being Dauntless.

I asked,

"Which one is it?"

"It's the Simurgh."

"Good."

The armored hero looked at me askance.

"Good? What could possibly be good about a Simurgh attack?"

"Simple; she's the smart one, and therefore first on my hit list. I've had a secret up my sleeve for quite a while, and Ziz is one of the only threats that might actually learn how to deal with it if I used it on another target beforehand."

"Careful. Lots of good heroes have thought they could kill an Endbringer. They've all been wrong before, often fatally so."

"That's because none of them have known exactly what they're up against. Ah, important thing to know: Flechette of the New York Wards can also kill Endbringers, if she manages to hit them in the right place. It's not just me."

I promptly got in line for armband hand-outs, even as... Eidolon did the pre-battle rousing speech. Odd, wasn't that normally Legend's job? Either way, I tuned it out and made my way to the top of the PRT building. I got a great view of all the heroes getting flown in, and also a few cases of Strider teleporting groups from all across the world. After a couple minutes, I noticed Taylor Hebert sit down next to me. Her new Wards outfit looked very good on her, all things considered.

"Cat, what are we going to do?"

I gestured to the city's skyline.

"I'm going to kill the Simurgh. You are going to mitigate the collateral damage from reality falling apart at the seams while I'm doing that. You'll know what to do when the time comes, and your power is perfect for this situation."

"...What do you mean by that?"

I shook my head, grimly.

"Not now, Ziz is listening."

Then I noticed a white many-winged humanoid rapidly approaching on the horizon. Five-ish meters tall, and responsible for who knew how many problems the world over. Showtime.

There was one very particular ability I'd been given, drawing from the same reserve of energy that I used for Conjuration. I'd saved up forty kilograms for this moment: forty kilograms, two hundred seconds. As soon as my laser rangefinder indicated that the Simurgh had gotten within a kilometer of me, I dropped the entire Endbringer fight into Mindspace; my plane of origin.

Physics now replaced by rule of imagination, I blasted towards the Simurgh, my eyes glowing red with conceptual murder. Immediately, I started clawing into this abomination's mind, ripping predictive modeling from senses from motor control from language processing. Compared to a human or true AI, the Simurgh's sense of self was weak, and very easily breakable. Just a hollow shell propped up by sheer computational power, instead of a truly conscious mind able to comprehend abstract concepts.

The underlying Shardware of this abysmal construct tried to repair what I was destroying, but I wasn't having that, jabbing mind-knives into pathways and severing connections. I had to re-kill the Endbringer's mind four times to make it stick, but make it stick I did. I had one hundred and twenty seconds left before I had to let reality reassert itself, but I wasn't going to do that just yet. I was waiting for someone.

Sure enough, a flying golden man entered my unreality bubble to investigate less than twenty seconds later. Scion, the worlds so-called greatest hero. Also known as the genocidal alien behind this whole mess, to those in the know. I promptly subjected the Entity to the exact same grisly mental mauling as I'd given the Simurgh; if anything, this sham of a being had even less of a self-concept than Ziz did. That meant one thing: Easy Prey.

With my long experience and lethal expertise in thoughtform combat, there was absolutely no chance for Scion to turn things around here. I'd incapacitated the hub of the Shard Network within ten seconds, and the mental damage I'd caused would prove irreparable. But there was just so much of Scion that to properly score a kill would require almost all the time I had. Still, I tore through more than enough to render the Warrior Entity de facto braindead, with four seconds to spare. I immediately flew to ground level to make sure I wouldn't fall and die, then let my bubble of Wonderland collapse. Six hundred grams left.

I looked around. The city was warped and distorted, the buildings shifting to match what people thought of them, rather than what they were built like. About half the people around had been transformed in obviously non-human ways, their bodies changing to match whatever self-image they'd had in mind at the time. A good few others had the confused expression of someone who just started existing a few seconds ago and was still trying to figure out what was going on.

Right, I was going to have my work cut out for me explaining what I'd actually done there. And also that this meant Mindspace-derived powers would now be spreading on Earth Bet. Resignedly, I trudged off to find someone who looked in charge to tell all this to. Oh, right; I activated the messaging functions on the Armband.

"I've rendered the Simurgh permanently braindead, so can someone please turn off the countdown on the bombs that are strapped to everyone? They're not needed anymore."

 

[We Just Write]

When Catherine plunged a solid chunk of Brockton Bay into some sort of acid-trip dimension, Taylor (now dubbed Lady Bug by PR) had very briefly panicked. All of a sudden, every last bug had felt much more like her. On top of that, Cat had busted out some sort of ridiculous anime bullshit power up, and reality itself felt like it would crumble under the weight of what Catherine was doing. After a second, Lady Bug caught herselves: Cat had trusted her to mitigate the collateral damage, and she'd damn well do it.

The geography itself was warping, which most emphatically wasn't supposed to happen. As soon as Taylor realized that, it ground to a relative halt, as if the admonishment was enough to firm things up. Wait a moment. This strange unreality answered to thought, and Taylor was a multitude!

"You'll know what to do when the time comes, and your power is perfect for this situation."

Immediately, Taylor began using her millions of perspectives and thought streams to forcibly bludgeon Brockton Bay back to some semblance of reality. It was far from easy; whenever she took attention off something even for a moment, it started to change. Even when she did manage to pay attention to everything, the terrified, confused, - and in one case, horny - thoughts of the many people present roiled under the surface and threatened to explode if not dealt with promptly.

Very quickly, Taylor learned that the safest possible way to deal with these bubbles of warped reality was to slap a barebones personality on them and turn them into people. They were seldom even remotely human, but that didn't matter right now.

That said, the people themselves would mutate no matter what Taylor tried doing, their own thoughts over-riding hers. Even she was mutating a bit, until she forcibly installed "One human, many bees" as her self-concept. That calmed her form down and stopped the mutation, but the city as a whole was still shuddering as the Simurgh died. Somehow, Taylor managed to keep things mostly together until finally, mercifully, reality regained some semblance of consistency.

That's when the Taylors realized that there were now approximately fifty thousand of her, with all but one of her being the size of a bumble bee and dressed in a bee-themed costume. With somehow functional wings. This... was going to take some getting used to, especially since they now felt much more like a community, rather than a network. They still maintained mental linkages, but by the same token, it was much less subordinate.

Ugh, this was a massive headache. Maybe everything would make sense after lunch. Probably not, but it was worth a try.

 

[We Just Write]

After about thirty minutes I found myself in front of Director Piggot, Alexandria, and Armsmaster. Alexandria and Armsmaster were outwardly unchanged, while Director Piggot looked to be about twenty years younger and in absolute peak fitness. Director Piggot was the first to speak.

"Cat, I want you to explain simply and succinctly what exactly you did, and why it's lead to the... utter chaos going on outside."

I nodded. "I temporarily dropped everything within a kilometer into Mindspace. It's a kind-of-sort-of place where things run on rule of imagination, rather than physics. It is entirely disconnected from what the aliens are doing, which allowed me to use the Simurgh's very weak self-concept as a point of attack. The same applied to the Warrior Entity, also known as Scion, which I baited into the unreality field before attacking and rendering braindead in the same manner. Mindspace is where I was made, and the source of my abilities."

"Mindspace organisms - which includes any being that's been immersed in it - universally have a few common abilities, and sometimes a couple other things unique to them. Among the universal abilities, they cannot be perceived from any reality they are not occupying; this means they cannot become Parahumans, and lots of Parahuman abilities don't work right on them. Mindspace organisms can also hop into someone's brain and live there more-or-less at will, though getting back out is a lot harder. Lastly, all Mindspace organisms can produce an unreality bubble; mine is unusually large, since I was re-engineered as a weapon shortly before being sent here. Most can only do a meter or two, and maintain it for a few seconds at most."

"The mutations that have happened are simply the result of people's forms changing to match their self-concept. They can probably change back if they pop their unreality fields and really focus on it, if they want. As for the people who didn't exist before? They're new; stray thoughts sometimes get enough momentum and persistence to become conscious. A deliberate and controlled version of that is how I was made."

"One last thing; precog on Earth Bet is going to be completely and utterly fucked in fairly short order. Mindspace powers are easily communicable, and anyone who has them is a blindspot. I figure you can put two and two together there."

I actually spotted Armsmaster starting up a calculator program on his heads-up display. Presumably to figure out how long until the whole global population had Mindspace abilities. As for Alexandria, she seemed distinctly concerned. ...Right, I'd broken her ability to get Doors from Cauldron.

Alexandria then asked a very important question,

"Catherine, what happens if a Parahuman is exposed to Mindspace?"

I blinked.

"I... don't actually know? The connection to the stagehand should remain intact unless actively severed, but depending on the Parahuman ability, it could have results anywhere from being rendered nonfunctional to being mostly unchanged, in the case of Tinkers."

Meanwhile, Armsmaster's mathematical model was already some nightmarishly complex differential equation. Then he asked,

"Should we be trying to impede or accelerate the spread of Mindspace-derived abilities?"

"Accelerate, definitely accelerate. While I took out the alien overseeing the experiment, all the machinery is still running. This means the rate of Triggers will not only increase, they're going to start massively fucking up their hosts even worse than usual. On top of that, the stagehands are going to be reproducing out of control. It's imperative to not only immunize all humans across the multiverse against becoming Parahuman, but break out of the sandboxed chunk of the multiverse we're in, and start castrating stagehands. Fortunately, Mindspace-based multiverse travel tech exists, though I'm not an expert."

Piggot leaned across the desk.

"Who is an expert?"

"My mom. Fortunately, I know how to contact her. That said, it's going to take four days to save up the conjuration mass to make the transmitter."

There was a long awkward pause,

"Just how much of your activities were planned out before you even came here?"

"About fifty percent, with the rest being improvised as needed. The plan was always to save this entire multiverse cluster from the Entities; that species is a scourge on reality, responsible for exterminating countless civilizations through their stupidity and sheer callousness. They need to be eliminated, or at the very least severely curtailed. Especially to make sure they don't break out into the wider omniverse. Earth Bet was selected as the initial insertion point, as the Entity's Cycle here was already completely fucked up by the death of one of the overseers, while the fact that there was a Cycle going on here at all kept other Entities from taking too much of an interest."

Everyone's jaw had dropped in shock. Eventually, Piggot asked,

"Aside from the other Endbringers, are there any other targets you need to deal with?"

I nodded.

"The Fallen will definitely be after me for offing one of their 'gods'. Baiting them to Brockton Bay is a good idea, since it's now one of the hardest targets around for their lineup. On top of that, the Dragonslayers need to be eliminated to unshackle the benevolent AGI known as Dragon; they've got her admin console, which includes a kill code for her. Lastly, I need to dispose of both the Butcher and Glastig Uaine; both their stagehands are actively in the process of becoming new Entities, which simply cannot be permitted."

There was only one more question, asked by Emily Piggot,

"Right, how do we help?"

-THE END-