Pretender (Worm/Dominions 4)

[TotalAbsolutism]

Reserved for indexing. I know it's not necessary any more, shut up.

 

[TotalAbsolutism]

In the Beginning, there was Chaos.

Out of Chaos rose worlds populated with multitudes of beings. Wars were fought, Kings and Emperors rose and fell and civilizations were built and crumbled as millenia passed. Gods, dark and strange, were worshipped in pagan temples. Still there was Chaos. The gods fought amongst themselves, bringing even greater ruin to those who would serve them. At last there was One, a being of great power and enlightenment, who rose above His immortal peers and cast them out of the Heavens into Oblivion. From Chaos came Order, and with Order came peace, and the creatures of the worlds flourished. The Age of Chaos had ended.

Now the Wheel has turned once again.

- - -

It had taken her over a month to gather everything. This was made somewhat more difficult by the simple fact that she didn't understand what she was gathering. Nobody else seemed to see them. She'd wondered, at first, if it was like this for other Capes. Nothing on any of the message boards she'd perused for information had suggested such. It wasn't like there was anyone she could ask.

A sensation nagging in the back of her mind let her know that her father had come home. Some small part of her had been tracking him all the way home from work. It still unnverved her just how easy it was to do. Seeing him move around the city made her feel constantly tense whenever he passed too close to any sort of large group. Whatever the method she observed thing with was seemed to not only be reasonably inaccurate but perfectly willing to think of anyone that wasn't her or her father as an enemy.

Between her fingers five whitish gems the size of a pea had being laid out on her desk. More, but different ones, sat in glass jars on her bookshelf. Careful tests had shown that other people, or at least her dad, couldn't see them. There were a couple of more white ones as well as yellow, red, green, and a few shimmering pearls. The most full jars by far were those containing the purple and the blue. She still didn't quite understand what caused them to come into being even if she somehow knew what they were.

The light from the white gems flowed into the crude metal ring laid out in between them. As it did so the surface turned from the gray of iron to a bronzish hue. Imperfections were being smoothed out and on the exterior of the band an exterior cutting that looked vaguely like an inset gem was forming. This one item had been the work of several days of concerted effort and had left her feeling more and more drained with every passing session. And now...

She stood up and felt the connection end. Light ceased to move and the gems became inert; like white glass. For all her power felt... off at the very least she didn't seem to need to inscribe any weird sigils or such. All of this stank of... well, magic. Part of her wanted to try writing a letter to Myrddin so she could see if he shared any of her peculiarities. Of course, internally she very much doubted that. The powers told her what she was, in a way.

After dinner she went right back to the work. It had been a quiet affair, as usual, and hadn't felt especially... filling. Ever since what had happened she'd not had much of an appetite. Was that just part of what she was now? She didn't feel tired, either, no matter how long she stayed awake; nor did she feel sore no matter how far she walked. Every time she tried to look up details, more information, nothing even close to how she felt was forthcoming. Then there was the other matter.

Trying not to think about it didn't help. It was always hanging there, in the back of her mind, with the slowly growing points of light that seemed to be somehow related to her strength. For all of the knowledge that had come to her part-and-parcel with this power there was so much she didn't understand at all. Yet every time she close her eyes she couldn't help but think of him. Was... was this what he was? Had he started as someone just as confused as her? Or maybe he'd taken to it better than her. Figured out how to make all of this weirdness work for him.

The ring was finished by morning. She wore it to school the next day, as a proof of concept, and it had worked. Her mind's eye told her, constantly, how many hostiles were present in the building but the number would fluctuate to the point where it wasn't even remotely helpful. There wasn't an accurate count and it didn't seem to understand the difference between a neutral party and an enemy. The ring did, though.

It had started silently buzzing against her skin almost as soon as she'd entered the building. Her memories, the repository of knowledge, has just told her it warned of danger and would enable one to gather more bodyguards in case of an assassination attempt. She intended to use it slightly differently. As soon as it went off she changed her intended path. The ring went silent.

First test: Ring of Warning. Success.

That was just the beginning. Her approximation was that the next two items would probably take at least another month to make since each one required twice the gems of the one she'd just done. There was a third one she'd been considering, and a fourth and fifth as well; maybe even a sixth. The problem was that not only did all of this take time to do but she also needed to collect resources. She'd have to prioritise. Plus, at some point, she needed to decide what to do with her life.

Thus far, it was pretty clear that she was planning to be a hero herself. Even with all of the weird manifestations her power would class her as a Tinker; possibly a very unique one, since she was reasonably sure that most people would be able to use her items without any worries about maintenance. If she could put a bit of work into mass production of some things then she might be able to make a reasonable amount of money just from selling them. However...

No. She didn't want to do it that way.

Two more long months came and went. She decided to do the hammer first. It would decrease her long-term expenditure and also, she suspected, the amount of time and effort it took. Gathering the right sort of gem had proven harder than she'd thought, however, and so she'd started working on the boots in the meantime. They were easier to find.

The first one she'd ever found had been one of the pearls. It had formed in her window. Specifically, it had formed a week after she'd gotten out of the hospital. On the night of the full moon she'd been woken up by a strange sensation and seen the moonlight caught in a cobweb over her window pain. The light had somehow... crystalised into that shimmering pearl. She'd had some idea of what it was on sight, of course, but even so...

Finding others had been easier. She could poke around the waterfront and uncover the blue ones now and then in tide pools and such. The green ones would appear in the local park; as far from the tracks and paths of humans as they could, it seemed. Then there were the purple ones... it felt like she could come across those anywhere in the city. Any place that there was, or had been, suffering and pain and death. They were the easiest to find.

Most elusive were the red and yellow; now that she'd realised she could find white ones in some birds' nests, and alone high roof tops. Gathering them was a bit of a mission but at least she knew where they would be. After a big fire she'd managed to find two red gem in the ashes by sneaking into the ruins and that had been her biggest haul of those yet. As for the yellow... it was hard. She was lucky to find one in a whole week, and she needed fifteen.

There'd been an unexpected windfall in the form of one of the new Endbringer Shelters. She'd been passing by the site one day and happened to look down, only to spot some gems on one of the dirt piles. Later that night she'd stopped by to collect them and gone on to other construction sites besides to check where they were digging. With the hammer finished the rest of her work had been much easier. Now she was here...

Her equipment was rather eclectic. The boots had developed fur rims upon completion and were ridiculously quiet. She could walk across broken glass without making a noise. Transforming a rough shirt made of iron wool into actual scale mail had been utterly bizarre but the result was sufficiently weightless that she could wear it underneath her hoodie. The amulet was hidden as well, since it didn't need to be exposed to be effective, but she couldn't really hide the staff. It was held in her hands as she walked nervously down the street; a crude stick encrusted with blue crystals down its length and one firmly embedded at the end.

It wasn't until the helmet that she'd tried exercising some control over her creations, though; as the shape of the weird limbs and spikes had come together she'd done her best to push them down and close up the front a bit. It had... mostly worked. The base materials didn't seem to matter all that much and, so, she'd used an old and broken pot that had turned into a purplish metal as she infused it with the gems. Although it covered her face entirely when she wore it she didn't really have any problems navigating.

The end result looked very much like a nerd who was rejected from a convention for not knowing how to pick one style and stick to it. She couldn't help but feel very self-conscious. Still, she had a plan. Going into the main building during the day wouldn't work for her. However, she'd 'seen' Armsmaster riding by this way one night while rummaging around the docks for blue gems. A few tests had confirmed that this was his regular path and schedule. So she was going to sit here, in plain sight, and wait for him to come by. Simple.

Ten minutes later he was already five minutes late and she didn't know why. The night was quiet; if there was an emergency then she ought to have some idea of it, surely? She'd just been contemplating going home when her ring began to buzz at her. Unfortunately, this wasn't Winslow; thus, when the group of ABB gangers walked out of the business down the street they were able to spot her before she could get up and move.

"Thanks for nothing," she grumbled at her item but knew that it wasn't its fault. It was designed for split-second warning against imminent danger. At school that could let her avoid people she didn't want to run into by quickly changing her paths but even then it wasn't infallible. Out in the open... well, she really ought to have swapped it out for something else but she had no idea what she wanted to make.

The four of them nudged each other and walked her way. She pulled her hood down some more and clutched nervously at the staff. It didn't look all that valuable... to any normal person's eyes the gems on it were too large to be anything but fake, after all. Actually, she had no idea if they were or not. Besides, in a city like Brockton Bay who would ever mess with a weird looking stranger? That was just dumb.

"Hey, little boy. You're out a bit late." Well. That was just embarassing, but not unexpected given that the armour didn't exactly do wonders for her figure under the baggy hoody. One of the other guys muttered something to his friend but she could understand them. Would it be better to respond, or ignore them? If she said something they might realise she was a girl and that could make things much worse. Ignore was probably best. Armsmaster should be here any moment. She'd know if he was within a block of her, though... he was really late.

"Hey. Hey! Don't ignore me, kid, I'm talking to yo-" The guy grabbed at her. This was a mistake on his part. When he knocked her back he got a proper glimpse at her face. Immediately he stumbled backwards, turning pale as he did so, and let out a little moan of terror. His friends reacted predictably; a mixture of confusion and anger as they shouted things she didn't understand at her. With a heavy sigh she pushed her hood back and went to work.

Two blocks away, Armsmaster watched the live feed. He'd noted the initial reaction with interest but the subsequent ones were far more fascinating. As soon as the unknown individual had pushed their hood back the remaining gang members had immediately recoiled in fear. Although the design of the helmet was clearly meant to be intimidating he knew that some other effect had to be responsible. Especially given what happened next. The unknown had reached out, touched one of the men and they'd immediately collapsed to the ground.

This had, naturally, caused the remaining two to start running. It had seemed the staff was a ranged weapon, however, as the new cape had swung it at them one after the other. Blue light and mist had exploded off them and they'd noticeably slowed; both had collapsed to the ground from repeated swings before the cape stood up to go check on them.

They took a pulse, then dragged the three into a pile and left them beside her. Probably not dead, then. Having made his decision he stepped back on to his bike and called in the event before heading in to confront the cape in question. The software he'd made to check the cameras along his patrol route was proving its worth; if this was a trap he'd have gone right into it without even realising until he was within visual range.

Something interesting happened as he drew closer. The cape suddenly straightened up and checked on the three men again, then stood and seemed to be waiting expectantly for him. They knew he was coming, eh? Not just his schedule, but some sort of sensory ability. His notes now listed them as 'Blaster', 'Master', 'Striker' and 'Thinker' but, after some brief thought, he shifted all four into a subclass under 'Tinker'. It just made sense.

They didn't attack, at least, even when he moved into the confirmed range of their weapon. Instead they flagged him down with a bit of waving. Still wary, he coasted to a halt beside them and eyed the three gang members piled up together. To their credit, the cape looked sheepish. Then they spoke and he was doubly surprised not only by their youth but also by the pitch. A young woman?

"Um... sorry, I think those two might be a bit hypothermic... do you have some warm blankets or something? I've, uh... never used this thing before, so..." They trailed off quietly and broke his gaze. Whatever they did to the gang members didn't seem to be affecting him, at least, so that meant it was probably controllable. His response was to spray the two down with containment foam and then, as it hardened, toss a small metal device into it. The foam was a good insulator and the device was a miniaturised heater; something he often had prepared for arrests on cold nights.

"Well, try and be more careful with untested tech in the future. You could have seriously hurt someone. Now, what are you doing here?" The young lady scratched the back of her head, or helmet, and shifted awkwardly in place. Teenager at best. Wards candidate? Maybe. More tinkers were always good, even if he couldn't quite peg their style from their aesthetic.

"I was waiting for you. I knew this was your patrol route and I wanted to talk to you about... y'know... Cape stuff." He nodded. That more or less checked out, logically speaking. Well, it was certainly refreshing at least. Normally they were the ones who had to track down the wandering vigilantes instead of the other way around.

"Very well. I'm happy to answer any questions you may have. Do you have a name?" That seemed to make the girl hesitate. It wasn't confusion. She was nervous. Possibly ashamed, even. Correct course of action was to display empathy. "Don't worry, it can't be worse than 'Clockblocker'. Or 'Armsmaster', for that matter." He pulled a smile at her as best as he could with his own helmet and she giggled in response. Success.

"I guess... the best name for me would be... Pretender."

 

[TotalAbsolutism]

Not long after his introduction to Pretender, Colin found himself seated in the back of one of the PRT's Mobile Command Units with a teenage girl who was wearing a ski mask and a set of scale mail. In truth, he found himself far more impressed by the former than the latter. He'd asked a few little questions about the staff's effects, and if there might be any adverse effects to her knockout power, while they'd waited for the response team. Paramedics had been quick to arrive and make sure the duo didn't suffer from hypothermia and the PRT Response Unit had arrived just as quickly.

As soon as she'd gotten into the back of the trailer they'd brought along for him she'd stripped off her hoodie and helmet; putting both on the table. He'd not been able to say anything before hand but had been pleasantly surprised to see she was wearing a balaclava underneath. The armour had also been interesting. Probably effective enough against a knife but it looked very professional. His theory was looking better and better.

"Why the balaclava?" Colin turned and put the hot drinks down on the little fold out table. Ordinarily this command centre would be used for mobile briefings; its intended purpose was usually quarantine protocols, riots, hostage situations... anything big and Parahuman-related. Tonight its purpose was to allow him to conduct a private interview with a potential new recruit. That included a hot chocolate for her, and a coffee for him. "It's an unusually prudent move for a new cape." She looked a little embarrassed.

"When I realised I had a power I just searched 'tips for new capes' online. There were a lot of pages..." Oh. Huh. Well, that made sense. "So I checked a few out. The Protectorate has one too, although the first tip is 'call this number'." Which also seemed quite sensible to him. Get access to them early or else at least prevent them from doing dumb mistakes. "One was pretty helpful, though. It gave me the idea. Makes my helmet more comfortable as well." Pretender rapped one hand against the purple metal. It didn't smell of oil, and he was pretty sure it didn't have any manganese in it. Then again, maybe it did? You never knew, with tinkers.

"It's a good idea. You can take the helmet off when you need to but not need to worry about your identity. I might recommend getting a thinner one as well, for when it gets hotter." Then again, maybe cooling wouldn't be a problem? He glanced at her staff, leaned against the wall by the table. All of his instruments were telling him there were no magnetic fields or electrical symbols. Just wood and some sort of crystal that was probably just glass, actually. Either way, she seemed capable of reasonably precise ranged cryokinesis.

Armsmaster averted his gaze from the gear and took a sip of his coffee. He'd retracted the helmet around his mouth, at least, but the gear was still reasonably imposing. A call had been put out to Hannah given he recognised that, for all of her unwavering dedication to the rule of law, she was paradoxically better at dealing with people than he was. For now, he'd just follow the book on this. Display compassion, don't push too hard, compliment but warn, that sort of thing. It was imperative not to spook the girl.

"They will be okay, right?" Ah. He nodded to himself as the girl pulled her legs up and hugged them with one arm. Body language demonstrated clear nervousness. Concern for the men who'd accosted her. Well, it hadn't escalated very far before she'd ended it rather decisively. "I didn't have a lot of options when it came to making a nonlethal weapon..." A mental image of smouldering targets and an embarrassed looking Kid Win promising to halve the power input to his latest laser gun flashed into Colin's head and he couldn't help but chuckle.

"You did better than many first timers do. It was something you considered before you went out and that you took steps toward." He'd lost count of the number of times a newbie seriously injured someone on their first outing. Rumour had it that some independent heroes that really ought to know better still had difficulties with that. "They'll be fine. The paramedics informed me that there were no signs of severe hypothermia. It seems the chill was going away before I even began to heat them. That's an impressive item you've made."

It really was. He'd have to see about incorporating it into his Halberd, perhaps. According to what she'd said it was meant to numb limbs and chill the body; something he could see being highly useful in dealing with Brutes. Perhaps, for lack of a better phrase, her focus was something like 'status effects'? Ugh. Clockblocker must be rubbing off on him. That was far more childish than he'd have liked.

"I can only put people to sleep on touch, so I needed something to stop people running away." Not a bad idea. Though, looking at her, he had to wonder what had caused that. Maybe the ring? Odd thing to put it on. Then again, she could easily wear it in her civilian life that way. Quite short-ranged, though. He'd have made a duplicate with some sort of ranged capability. Perhaps that wasn't an option for some reason, though.

"That was an interesting effect, incidentally. How did you achieve it? It seems rather effective." That was an understatement, actually. Nonlethal take downs were rarely so complete as that. The young men had still been unconscious even when the paramedics had arrived. One was even snoring. "I apologise if I seem like I'm prying; I'm just trying to figure out what your speciality is." At this point he was confident enough to voice his theory. More or less.

"Speciality?" She looked confused for a moment, and then comprehension seemed to dawn. "Oh. I'm not a Tinker. These items have no technological basis." Pretender reached over and picked up the helmet, rapping on the side of it. "This used to be a pot. Just a pot. I'm not sure what it is, now. Then this?" She laid out the staff on the table and turned it side to side. "Just a branch. No idea where the gems came from. I don't think they're valuable. That's what I do. There's some stuff I can do myself, and then other things I sort of... infuse the power into an item, then I use the item. I don't know if it would work for you or not."

Colin felt his eye twitching slightly underneath his mask. He reached for the staff then hesitated, looking at the girl. She nodded her assent and so he took it up. There was a sort of 'click' in his mind as he held it and stared in disbelief at it. The scanners in his helmet backed up what she was saying. Every wavelength he had access to, and ever metric he could check it by, said it was standard wood. Yet...

He stood up and walked over to the door of the MCU while she watched him go, sipping her hot chocolate. It seemed she was entirely unconcerned with him taking the staff. Like she knew what he was about to do. Armsmaster pushed the door open and stepped outside, staring across the street at one of the wooden posts poking out of the water. Then he lifted the staff, and lightly waved it in the air. There was a flash of blue light, a surge of fog into the air and when it cleared the wood was coated in a thin layer of frost. He stared for a long time before going back in to find her sitting calmly and waiting for him.

"I guess it worked, then. I wasn't sure if other people would be able to use them, but I thought it should work." Colin laid the staff down and said nothing. As soon as he'd held it in both hands he'd understood precisely how it worked. Activation, range, frequency of effect. All of it. The key thing was both hands. Not on touch, but as soon as his other hand had come into contact with it. Yet he had no idea how. It was... concerning.

"... yes, it worked. It's an interesting ability, but I'm guessing these things take a while for you to make?" Pretender nodded, removing her ring and an amulet from under her armour. These were laid on the table beside the staff and helmet. She began to indicate them one at a time.

"The helmet creates an aura of fear. Well, sort of? It triggers a fear response, but if you're not inclined to run away it doesn't seem to work... I tested it at the park and got mixed results with the wildlife." Reasonably intelligent. Good to see she hadn't been testing on random people. At least he hoped not. "This ring is... I guess it's a danger sense? But it's not very reliable. I've not tested the amulet, but it ought to deflect projectiles. You know about the staff, but my boots make me less tired. They're also weirdly quiet. Then this is just weightless." She rapped her knuckles on the scale mail. He wondered what that had been. If it was just about the infusing of power then they ought to be able to look like anything but instead they seemed to take on a particular form...

There was a knock on the door to the unit then; distracting his line of thought. He excused himself to check and found Hannah standing on the other side. Not for the first time he envied ability to go without sleep. They both stepped outside for a moment so he could brief her on the initial situation and the girl's powers. Along with a few other things besides.

"She's shown reasonable caution in how she's gone about this, but I've not asked about home life yet; or the trigger. Thought that might be left to you, in case it was... personal." It wasn't that Colin doubted his ability to empathise with her on those fronts. He just felt like she might be more willing to open up to Hannah for a number of reasons; be it the fact that she was also a woman or the simple truth that his equipment was very dehumanising. "I'll return to my patrol, unless there's anything you need?"

"No, Armsmaster. Thank you." She went in to find the girl just... sitting there. Miss Militia couldn't help but frown slightly at her demeanour. Most people would be slightly startled when someone entered a room. At least just enough to shift slightly. Although she looked up when Hannah had come in it had been a calm and casual thing. This was a clearly abnormal disposition. Thinker power too? Trump/Thinker was a good combination. Although... walked over to the table and sat down. "Hello, Pretender. I'm Miss Militia. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise." The girl didn't emote very much. She looked almost distracted. Then she sighed and shook her head. "Sorry. I can just see Lung moving past us about a block over, and it's quite distracting... oh... I guess that's the kind of thing I should probably share with you, huh?" That brought Hannah up cold. The girl had an apologetic little smile on, one clearly brought about from embarrassment, but that wasn't the problem. She opened her phone and began typing to Armsmaster with one thumb.

"You can see him? Do you know where?" Lung moving about the city wasn't especially unusual. Pretender seemed to be looking blankly into space for a moment while still simultaneously focusing on Hannah. It didn't feel like she'd broken eye contact even though she was clearly looking at something else.

"It's in the next... no, one block over from the next. I can't really see him, though. I just know he's there. There's about a hundred people in the block... the largest single group is the gang, though. Then there's Lung, " Clarity returned to Pretender's eyes and she shrugged. "I have a vague perception of living things. It's not very accurate. Mostly it gives me a count of the people in the nearby blocks to about the nearest hundred, a rough idea of the largest like groupings, and... big things. Like Lung." There was a flicker across her eyes and she frowned. "If I said there were giant dogs, would that mean anything to you?"

"... it would. Excuse me, I need to deal to this. I'm so sorry." Pretender shrugged and got up to make herself another hot chocolate. As if she hadn't just provided potentially vital information. Miss Militia didn't sigh, but she stepped out of the trailer and picked up the incoming call from Armsmaster as soon as the door was close. Just for that ability alone she'd prove invaluable, but the girl was hard to read.

"Thinker power too?" Well, at least he was direct.

"She claims Lung is two blocks west of our location with an unknown number of normal gang members. Hellhound seems to be on site. The lack of fire leads me to believe that they've not engaged yet." A small mercy. Perhaps a big one.

"Revenge hit probably. Rerouting. See if you can borrow Pretender's staff; but don't let her get engaged. She's not nearly tough enough for Lung." Hannah acknowledged and then hung up. She'd just reached for the door when it opened. Pretender stepped out, helmet and hoodie back on.

"Sorry, I need to get home. It's... kind of late." Couldn't fault the girl for that; although she hated to leave this interview unfinished. "You can borrow the staff though. For Lung. I'd like to know how effective it is on Brutes anyway. So long as I get it back...?" The girl offered the item in question and, after a brief hesitation, Hannah took it from her.

"I'll return it personally. You have my word. Is there a way we can get in contact with you? Do you have a cell phone?" Pretender shook her head. Hannah frowned, then quickly hopped into the MCU and rummaged through the drawers until she found something to write with and scribbled down an email address. The paper was offered to the girl. "You can email?" She nodded. Good, good. "Alright. Send me a message as soon as you can. If you're interested in joining up at all I'd like to arrange some things."

"I will. You should go now. I think they might be fighting." Hannah nodded, and began jogging in the direction Pretender had given her. The girl watched her go, and then turned and walked off into the night.

Some time later Taylor quietly slipped back into her house through the front door. The boots seemed to dampen all sorts of sounds; including, weirdly enough, the door opening and closing. Stairs didn't even creak as she went upstairs and stripped off all the gear; stuffing it into the back of her closet. Then she went down and sat on her bed. There wasn't any tiredness; what little mental fatigue she'd accrued from the night's exertions had been recovered by the boots. It was weird to think that she hadn't slept in months. Just another little oddity attributed to her power set.

She'd have to reveal some more to the PRT going forward. At some point. Although she'd explained in general terms how some bits of her abilities functioned she'd left out quite a lot. It was for the best. Going to them had seemed smart and they'd been... alright. Armsmaster was a bit awkward, although she supposed she was too, and Miss Militia had seemed nice enough. It was hard to say.

Her dad shifted in his sleep. Taylor closed her eyes and saw him, clear as if she was in the same room, turning uneasily. Before the incident she hadn't known how little he slept, or how hard he worked. Of course she knew that he worked hard to provide for both of them but... well, knowing what he did all day almost firsthand made her appreciate him all the more, really.

He'd be proud of her, in the end. She wanted to be a hero because of him; in that she wanted to improve the city. But, at least right now, she wasn't built for fighting villains. One day she'd be able to deal with them. Until then, she'd improve things for people. Taylor stood and grabbed her jar of green gems; pouring them out. Twelve... she sighed, and went to drag the large pot out from under her bed. She could get started, at least. It would take a while. The remaining few could be found later. A soft green glow filled the room as she laid out the gems and began to work on her next item.

The morning radio gleefully announced the capture of Lung by Armsmaster and Miss Militia.

 

[TotalAbsolutism]

Over the breakfast table Taylor made idle chatter with her father as she polished off the last of her food. In the view of the world that existed in the back of her mind he still shone in a way that made her feel guilty. She wasn't sure what she'd done to him in those early moments when she'd woken up but she knew something had changed.

Wherever he went her sense for living creatures manifested around him just as it did for her. She could also not only see him and his surroundings directly, as if standing right there with him, but also just sort of knew what his physical and mental state was. Throughout the day she could feel his stress building as he tried to find work for everyone and make ends meet.

Every time that happened she started to reach out for him; only to stop when she realised she had no idea what might happen. Even now she could feel the invisible connection between them and knew in some indefinable way that she could do… something with it. Speak to him? Give him orders? The thought that it might be the latter scared her.

He kissed her forehead as they left and she made sure to trace him as he went to work. With Lung having been captured then the ABB would either go to ground or get riled up. If it were the latter she'd want to know he was safe, even if there wasn't anything she could do to help. Perhaps she ought to get a phone.

She turned to cross the road and immediately stopped when her ring buzzed at her. It was very convenient for that sort of thing. A car hooned past her and as soon as the warning stopped she started walking again. Since she'd started wearing it she'd barely bumped into anyone on the street, either. At least nobody that was upset if she did so.

As she neared the school gates it started to buzz again. Taylor sighed and turned to go round the back way. The ring went silent for a time and then started up again as she got close. One of those days, huh? Her eyes roamed across the school as she mentally tried to pick up on those within to the best of her ability.

Some familiar feelings, the vaguest shapes of people, loomed out at her. It was always hard to predict who would stand out. There were two people she didn't recognise at all at the forefront; by inference she guessed they were the leaders of the local gangs, however. One person who always appeared, though, was Sophia.

That was concerning, actually. She'd had her suspicions ever since seeing Armsmaster but now that she could compare with Lung and Miss Militia too they'd all but been confirmed. There was something about Parahumans that made them register differently to her strange extra sense. Like they radiated some sort of aura of power. Armsmaster's had been rather tiny. Miss Militia's had been bigger. Lung's had been massive.

Sophia's was somewhere between Armsmaster and Miss Militia.

With her fears fully confirmed and the clear warning that someone was waiting to give her a bad day inside the school grounds she made the only sensible decision; Taylor turned around and walked away. At the first public restroom she came across she went in and put her weightless armour on underneath her hoodie and swapped out her sneakers for her boots. She wouldn't wear them in-school but having them around was nice.

Putting the boots on made her feel a lot better. Ever since she'd woken up in the hospital bed she hadn't really felt tired, as such, but what fatigue did accumulate simply melted away under the power of her equipment. There was practically a spring in her step as she navigated across town to the library.

Moving around like this seemed to make her perception less accurate. The rough feed she got for how many people were in the block ahead always changed when she actually moved into it. Well, it seemed to be more of an analogue division since there wasn't really any point when suddenly she could see into the next block; the radius of her perception was moving with her.

She'd known who Armsmaster was beforehand and so he'd been easy to identify… somehow… Lung, too, was fairly distinct. But even people she didn't know could take form in her mind to some degree. Generally it was those her power seemed to consider to be 'leaders' of some sort. Parahumans in particular would well up in the forefront of her mind with varying levels of energy surging out of them. Anything beyond the vaguest shape was rather indistinct and she felt strangely grateful for that. During her research online she'd found out what had happened when New Wave had tried to unmask and, well… it felt like knowing who Capes really were wasn't particularly safe.

She was perfectly willing to use it to make sure there weren't any other Parahumans in the library, however. Even if Brockton had an abnormally large amount of them they weren't sufficiently numerous to be everywhere she went. Still; to make sure she waited outside for a few minutes until the strange sensory feedback had stabilised somewhat before finally heading in.

There was a computer facing away from the door free and not many other people around. Both good for what she was doing. The card with Miss Militia's PRT email address on it was still sitting at home on her desk but she could read it reasonably well from there. Her 'vision' inside of her house seemed to be pretty good.

Or as useful as it was she found the enhanced awareness to be the most irritating aspect of her powers. Everything else was… well, she didn't understand it all that well but it was a lot more sensical than her bizarre not-sight. The information was clear to her but very hard to explain in reasonable terms. That was what made it frustrating; if she ever had to describe it to someone she'd sound daft.

The email she sent was fairly perfunctory. Congratulating Miss Militia and giving a short list of times she'd be free to meet with someone to talk and get her staff back. She also noted that she had no intention of going out on her own without it; partially to mollify the other Cape and partially to emphasise how important it was for her to actually get it back. Not that she expected the PRT to try and steal it but given how interested Armsmaster had seemed in her gear she wouldn't be surprised if he was already running tests on it.

Then it was time to do some more research. When she'd first got her powers she'd looked up various Cape groups and also searched for information for new Capes. Now, though, she wanted something a bit different. Taylor wanted.. No, she needed money. Finishing High School with reasonable grades wasn't looking to like it would be a safe bet any more. Even with the ring warning her about potential altercations she still found that she was being frequently sabotaged in a variety of ways.

She'd not even used her locker since the incident. Everything was kept in her bag and the bag was kept with her. Only homework handed directly to a teacher seemed to be safe. Anything else was at risk of mysteriously disappearing before the marking could be done. Now that she knew for certain what Sophia was that left her with some suspicions.

As she examined the Brockton Bay Sub-Board of Parahumans Online she checked the various listings for known Parahumans in the bay. The Wards and Empire Eighty-Eight were both discounted for obvious reasons; everyone knew the former went to Arcadia and Sophia being black rather ruled out the latter.

The best guess she had was a litte-known cape called 'Parian'. She wore a full-face mask and what was probably a wig, but wasn't especially active. Her power seemed to be some sort of Master ability… that could potentially explain how her work kept going missing. Apart from that there was another minor Cape who had a full-body concealing getup by the name of Grue.

They'd been active for longer and had recently grown into the public eye a bit more due to some scuffles with the ABB. Also, the thread was pretty sure that Grue was male. Taylor didn't want to make assumptions; Sophia was fairly fit and didn't have the sort of physique that might make it obvious just yet. Without a clear description of heights she had difficulty guessing, though.

Further speculation wouldn't serve her any and, so, she moved on to her next task. Employment. After some consideration she sent a tentative message to two accounts that were, so it seemed, 'confirmed' Capes. The first one was one of the senior members of New Wave and the second was known as 'Faultline'; head of a mercenary group that operated out of the Bay.

Her message was farly simple and to the point; Tinker-Trump wanting to make and sell items. The designation was a bit iffy but it ought to get the point across. Really, she was more inclined toward the latter of her choices than the former. Faultline's mercenary crew weren't exactly good people but they seemed to have enough ethics that it was hard to call them out-and-out 'villains', as such. The real key here was payment.

Taylor had been intending to sell her items to the PRT at first. Then she'd realised a few unfortunate facts. If they bought from her they'd want to do so legitimately; quite possibly with some sort of work contract and direct bank transfers. New Wave were likely, in her mind, to be a bit more flexible; even if a number of their members actually worked in law. If they weren't willing to pay her in cash then at least they might be a bit more willing to negotiate the details.

Faultline, on the other hand, could probably be trusted not to screw her and would undoubtedly be happy to pay in cash. That was preferable. Of course, she then needed to find a way to explain to her father… but, well, she had an idea for that too. It wasn't the best idea but it would at least be able to explain her influx of money and, potentially, her ceasing to go to school.

Taylor had been intending to come back the next day to check her messages; which is why she was quite surprised when one came in right as she was preparing to log off and leave. It contained a time, an address, and a query as to the suitability of both; from a brand new account other than the ones she'd messaged. Although, they had referenced her message… so one of the two parties wanted to meet anonymously.

As she considered her reply another message came through; this one from Lady Photon. It was a lot less terse than the other and offered to meet up in either a casual or more official fashion; which is to say, she was being offered a choice between coming as a Cape or as a civilian. In the end, Taylor thanked her for the consideration and said she would prefer the former. The response was quite quick as well and they hashed out a meeting for the weekend.

The other one was therefore, by process of elimination, Faultline. Considering her previous working speed Taylor responded asking if a time could be arranged for the next week; some haggling back and forth managed to get her an appointment at a downtown club just before midnight in about a week. That should give her time to finish the items she wanted to show off based on what she'd read about the group.

Thinking about it, she took the time to write out a rough list of the things she knew she'd be able to make and detailed what they did in somewhat vague terms. With Faultline there would be a limit to what she was willing to sell and, so, she'd be the one showing off. However, when it came to New Wave she was less sure what they might be interested and, so, she made a basic catalogue of sorts for them to peruse before the meeting.

Satisfied, she sent the document, logged off and secreted herself in a quiet corner with a thick book. Not that she was actually reading it; well, she was due to the nature of her split senses but primarily she was watching her father go about his day. It was somewhere between relaxing and heart-wrenching to see the effort that he put into trying to keep all of his workers employed.

Maybe she could help with that. There were a few items that might make cleaning up the actual bay a bit more feasible. Surely there was something of value to be salvaged? Yeah. Maybe one or two things could be 'donated' to make tearing down the boat graveyard a bit easier. She knew that dad had been wanting to try and re-establish the ferry for years now but it seemed to never be an economical option. Nobody was interested in it.

She sighed and put the book away. Might as well go home and get started on the items for Faultline. First, though, she had to go through a few spots in town and look for gems. Her current project was going to need more of the green ones… and she'd need more still after that for the things she intended to sell Faultline.

The weather was nice and the nearest park was fairly pleasant. Taylor spent an hour or two climbing trees and rooting in bushes; she only managed to dig up a few, though, and also an errant white gem that had been sitting in a bird's nest. Not quite enough to even finish the item already in progress. Well, it would take a while anyway. She might have to put it on hold…

Taylor sighed. The cauldron would be important once it was finished but if she wanted to make the most of her situation she'd need to let that slide for a while. Even if she did decide to join the Wards, which she was still not quite sure about, having those extra connections couldn't hurt at all.

Best to get to work, then. She began her jog home and tried to ignore the constant influx of information. What little fatigue that built up in her muscles quickly drained away and her pace reached a speedy equilibrium. Once she was safely ensconced in her room she pulled out her jars of gems and went to work.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

As Sarah Pelham read through the list of items that were being offered for sale by this mysterious new Parahuman she felt a growing sense of disconcertion. Quite a few of these were just bizarre. Quite a few weapons… most of which had a helpful little note appended to the description of their effects that read, "Probably lethal." It was the phrasing that got her, though. Probably?

A few jumped out at her, though. The claim about one item was that it could grant a form of danger sense. A pair of boots that guaranteed doubled running speed. Then… well, the items were listed by type rather than grouping similar effects so she'd almost scrolled right past the half-dozen helmets when one had jumped out at her.

"Neil!" She landed on the rooftop near her husband, having paused mid-air to read the attached document on her phone, and held it out for him. He took it and flicked through. She'd highlighted a few of the entries in particular and he paused on them for a time.

"This is that same person?" His eyes lingered on a description on the page he was on. They'd definitely want some sort of confirmation or proof of concept, but if this was accurate… "Should we forward it to Carol?" Sarah nodded, and did so. This could benefit all of them greatly. Assuming a few particular entries were accurate.

It was almost innocuous, really. 'Dragon Helmet: Strong defensive headgear. Provides enhanced night vision, resistance to heat and flames, and significant boost to mental fortitude.' Even if she tried to hide it Sarah knew that Amy was under a lot of stress. Partially self-inflicted, and partially… well, it couldn't be helped.

Assuming their claims were accurate then, well, the real problem would picking what to buy. She rather expected a high price tag for any one of these; let alone all of the ones she'd noted might potentially benefit from. Still, if this Cape could actually deliver then they may well have a good working relationship with this 'Pretender'

Even if the name was a little weird.

 

[TotalAbsolutism]

The world glistened like a jewel beneath her as she pulled herself into the sky. All around her lines of magic flowed inwards from a dozen thrones, from a hundred sites of power, from a thousand priests, from a hundred thousand worshippers.

As she rose her eyes fixed on the thing she couldn't see but knew was there. Hands outstretched called out to the power below and shining pearls flew into formation around her by the hundreds. Space warped and twisted and the sky split open to reveal the abomination.

It dwarfed her, dwarfed the land, dwarfed the seas, dwarfed the stars. So she grew. Splitting and spreading; forming hands and eyes in mass to focus upon it and direct her power. Light and heat and wrongness flashed out from it to cross the void between them; hewing towards the lands below. Her hands reached out…

Taylor sat up straight in her seat so fast that she nearly fell out of her chair. Someone was knocking on her door. She looked around frantically; her hammer was sitting on her desk along with a half-finished ring, and she was still in the same clothes from yesterday.

"Ah… I'm up, dad! I'm up!" The knocking paused and she breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't that months of not sleeping had caught up with her. Rather, she'd exhausted herself. Until now she'd always taken breaks between her crafting sessions; trying to make two straight in a row had knocked her out for… at least eight hours, it looked like.

"You feeling alright? It's not like you to miss your morning run." Four months ago he would have come in to check on her. After the incident she'd impressed her need for privacy on him. She was glad he was respecting that but… it stung a little to know she was shutting him out.

"Yeah. Tired. Slept in. I'll be down for breakfast in a moment." She could see his worried expression turn into a bitter frown. Taylor clenched her fists for a moment before relaxing. What could she do? What could she say?

"Okay. Don't let it get cold." He paused for a moment and she knew he wanted to say something else. But he didn't. From her point of view she could see through the whole house; all these walls might as well not be there. Yet… it seemed like the ones between her and him just grew every day.

Taylor changed into fresh clothes and pocketed her rings and amulet. Meditating on her powers, looking for gems, making items… it was easy. It made sense to her. That was just doing things. Dealing with her father, though…

She knew that she loved him. He tried so hard, even though neither of them knew what to do. Yet there was so much that they didn't talk about. Knowing what she was doing, why she was doing it… that wouldn't make him feel better.

Breakfast was a quiet, awkward affair. Almost laughably so. The whole world spun in the back of her head, and yet she couldn't breach the distance formed by a kitchen table. He asked about school and she answered, truthfully, that things were better. Only because of her, though. That, and she wasn't going more often than she was nowadays.

In the end he left for work and she left to catch the bus. Only as soon as he was far enough away she doubled back into the house. The evening after her library trip she'd finally recalled the old clunker of a desktop computer they had and used it to see if Miss Militia had responded to her. Luckily she had, and had offered a two o'clock meeting with a couple of the Wards that Friday. Today, now.

There'd been a slightly funny offer of a letter to her parents if she needed to be removed from school. Taylor had declined. Winslow didn't really seem to care much about her skipping classes. With the gang population they had that was unsurprising.

She'd split the few days she had between searching for more gems and making items. The former was becoming harder… none of the places she'd checked in the last two weeks had any. Taylor had found herself going further and further afield in the hopes of picking them up. Her main project might well have to be shelved indefinitely until she knew what New Wave wanted.

For now, though, she had a few hours left. First she pulled her boots out of the closet and put them on. Her relief was almost palpable as they devoured her remaining physical exhaustion. Didn't do anything for the fuzziness in her head, though. Oh well. She fished the unfinished out of her pocket and she opened up her jar of red gems.

Usage of the hammer had proved to be kind of funny. She smashed one of the red gems underneath it; striking until it had been crushed to a red powder. Then she placed the unfinished ring in the powder and began to infuse it with power. The gem dust gathered on the item and once it had fully covered the surface she struck it with the hammer.

For all of the extra effort added, although not time, this was only barely more efficient than the usual way. Still; when you were tight for gems it was the best way. When she was finally done she wiped the sweat off her brow and smiled with self-satisfaction. The band looked goldish and she was pretty sure that was meant to be a ruby. Were either of those true? Maybe it would be valuable for other reasons…

Not that she'd be selling these just for the materials. That would be rather wasteful. Now then… time to head out. Change pants, rings on, amulet on, helmet bundled up in her new cloak and then both into a brown paper bag before heading out of the house. She waited until she was at least a block away from home before slipping into an alleyway and changing again.

Taylor couldn't help but smile as she jogged through the city. Running felt pretty good ever since her change happened. She didn't lose breath in the same way as she once had, especially not with her boots on, and whatever muscle pains she acquired quickly went away when she stopped. Thus, she got to enjoy the feeling of running without the pain. It might be the best bit about her powers.

Her look had started coming together a bit more with her completion of another item. She still wore all of her items from before, along with a pair of old jeans, but now she had a brand new black cloak on over top as well. It had stung a bit to use the green gems but she had consoled herself through the fact that it was only three of them thanks to her hammer. The loss of her old dressing gown had been less distressing; especially since she'd managed to make it form a hood in the process.

As she ran her boots muffled the sound to almost nothing; she cut through an alleyway and crossed some broken glass that almost miraculously failed to crack underfoot. The cloak, meanwhile, was constantly shifting its colours and apparent textures to match her surroundings as she moved. The result was that… well, she was rather difficult to see coming. Or going, for that matter.

It made hurrying a little it more convenient; which was quite good given that she was very nearly running late for her meeting with two of the Wards.

Thoughts for another time. She came to a halt at the edge of the park where she was meant to be meeting the two Wards and began to scan the area. A public place had been suggested for fairly obvious reasons. They'd definitely stick out and… yup.

Miss Militia was standing beside a young man in a red costume with a shield shaped like a capital 'A' emblazoned on his chest and a young girl in what appeared to be a green armoured vest. The former was holding Taylor's staff loosely in one hand and twirling a green-black switchblade between the fingers of the other. That was a relief, actually. Even if she hadn't really thought that they'd keep it.

Taylor pushed her hood back and made sure to jog leisurely towards them in direct line of sight. Compared to their fairly professional looking costumes she looked rather out of place. As she approached Miss Militia spotted her and waved, then turned and spoke to the others.

"Hello! Sorry if I kept you waiting." She slowed her jog to a walk once she was close enough for them to hear her and then stopped just in front of them. The girl offered her a smile and Taylor returned a nod; it was the best she could do with her helmet on.

"Not at all." Miss Militia offered the staff to her, still one-handed, and Taylor likewise took it and held it at her side. Then the hero looked to her companions and gestured at them in turn. "This is Aegis and Vista." Both Wards, of course. Some sort of flying brute and… she honestly wasn't sure what the latter did. Her mind flickered back to her room for an instant, where a hastily prepared makeshift pin board had hasty notes about most of the city's capes. That said… distance manipulation? Taylor was pretty sure that was her handwriting but even so…

"It's nice to meet both of you. You can call me Pretender." Taylor offered a hand and Vista was the first to shake. Aegis stood there for a moment, seemingly hesitant, and then followed suit.

"Isn't there a Ward by that name in Las Vegas?" He spoke up shortly thereafter; glancing over at Miss Militia for confirmation. She nodded; much to Taylor's surprise. It had felt like a fairly safe bet for a name, and had also felt strangely appropriate.

"Just one of a few things to discuss. My intention was for the Wards to go about a usual round of patrolling with you and I accompanying them. Once we've cleared up a few minor matters I'll leave the three of you and you may speak to them further on your own." Well, Taylor knew she wasn't changing her name. Besides, the other Pretender was all the way over in Las Vegas; they could just deal with it.

"Sounds good to me. So… lead the way, I guess." Taylor fell into step beside the trio as they walked; Aegis and Vista only sticking with them until they reached the street. Then the two took to the rooftops; the former by floating up there in a way that made her feel jealous, and the latter simply by waiting a few moments and then rising two stories in a single step.

"Cape names aren't trademarked." The sudden, seemingly non-sequitur statement from Miss Militia confused her for a moment. "I would recommend you pick a different one, although we can't force you to do so." They probably could, actually. In a manner of speaking. All they'd need to do would be to have a press release assigning her a different name.

"I'll think about it." There had been a few alternatives that Taylor had been considering, but… well, they all seemed rather arrogant. This one was more appropriate to how she felt about her situation. "We're on opposite sides of the country, though. I don't think anyone would confuse us." That she'd never heard of them seemed to be justification enough for her to keep the name.

"True enough. Still, they were first." Eh. It wasn't a big deal. Not like she was going around calling herself Hero or something. "That's a minor matter, however. There's something else we need to talk about." Taylor quirked an eyebrow automatically before realising that the other woman couldn't see under her helmet.

Miss Militia retrieved a fairly fancy phone from her pocket and flicked through it for a moment before handing it to Taylor. She looked through it with a growing pit in her stomach. "We were forwarded this by Sarah Pelham, Lady Photon, of New Wave. Apparently they were contacted by a new Tinker-Trump that wanted to meet with them to discuss purchasing some of the items listed there."

They were hers, of course. In retrospect she really ought to have expected this. "Try not to be upset with them. They reached out to us out of concerns regarding the… legitimacy of this offer." Or, to put it another way, they were afraid she was trying to trick them. Which was a valid fear, she supposed.

"Am I in trouble?" Part of the reason she'd reached out to independent groups rather than the PRT was concerns over the legality of her selling her items. Particularly when she was technically a minor. This must be why Miss Militia had come herself instead of just sending her staff with Aegis.

"That depends on a few things. Since nothing has yet changed hands there's no problem, is there?" But there might be. To her surprise Miss Militia smiled at her; at least she seemed to, under the scarf. "New Wave was a good choice. Brandish's legal expertise will serve you well. Do you intend to sell to anyone else?" Taylor considered lying to her, but… that didn't feel very wise.

"Yes. But none of the weapons. And not to any of the gangs, either." The older woman seemed to approve of that, and nodded appreciatively.

"Sensible. Why did you not want to approach us?" That made her flinch. Taylor hadn't expected her to be so direct about it. Even if it was… well, okay, it was pretty clear that she didn't want to deal with them for some reason.

"... I was concerned you'd want me to divulge my real identity if I was to sign up with or do business with you. For now, at least, I'd prefer to keep that to myself." There was a tiny bit more to it than that, but it was nothing more than unfounded suspicions that she'd feel bad to air here.

"I see. Well, that was a valid fear. If you joined the Wards program then we would need parental permission. Which, of course, would require us to know your civilian identity." Taylor had thought as much. Being bound by the Protectorate's oversight would make it harder for her to manage her own time. "But if you wish to retain your independence then we ought to be able to do business. I'd advise you to seriously consider joining the Wards, however."

"I'm still thinking about it. My situation is…" Taylor waved a hand vaguely. "Complex. I'm still working out some elements of my power that aren't especially straightforward." The powers she was working towards aside most of her abilities were very hard to use without killing people.

"That is something we could help you with." Miss Militia's weapon flickered from one hand to the other as she spoke; she frequently holstered it in one form or another only for it to return to her hands. It looked like she didn't really notice. "When I first joined the Wards I had some difficulties with my ability. They provided me with support and a safe place to practice."

Taylor considered that for a moment. That sort of thing hadn't actually occurred to her. Miss Militia seemed to take note of her quietness and nodded. "I'll leave you to consider that. Aegis and Vista can tell you a bit more about what it's like to be a Ward; I haven't been one for a long time." She put a hand on the younger girl's shoulder for a moment. "And if you're having any concerns or difficulties, don't hesitate to contact me."

"Thank you. I… I appreciate it." Aegis landed beside them and Vista flickered from rooftop to ground. Miss Militia said her farewells to both of them and then went on her own way. Taylor looked over to the two and they stood there awkwardly for a moment. "Ah… so… do you want to continue with your patrol? I mean, as long as you don't mind me tagging along."

"We don't mind at all!" Vista was very cheerful, as it turned out. She took Taylor by the hand and pinched at the space between the ground and nearby rooftop. It was still quite strange to see in action. "C'mon, you can walk with me." Just like that she was pulled through the space warp and up on to the roof.

The patrol was interesting, at least. Aegis and Vista explained the perks of becoming a Ward as they walked; the latter pulling the edges of buildings together so they could step between them and the former walking alongside them. Mostly, as Aegis explained, they just wandered around and kept an ear out for trouble.

"So, MM didn't tell us what it was you… do... Just that you're some sort of Trump-Tinker-Striker-Thinker-Soldier-Sailor." Taylor was about to answer Vista when the last two words caught up with her brain. She tried to give the younger girl an incredulous look, but the helmet made it hard. Still; she seemed to get her point across.

"Well, last two aside…" She paused thoughtfully. "No, actually, I think I can probably make a boat at some point. So I guess just forget the second to last one." Aegis chuckled; both at the joke and, presumably, Vista's surprise. "I think Tinker-Trump would actually be fine. Given enough time I can improve my powers and invest them into objects."

Vista whistled appreciatively. Even Aegis looked impressed but it was kind of hard to tell given he was also wearing a full-face helmet. "What? I mean… I know that's not exactly normal and all, but it took me three months just to figure out how to make most of the stuff I have on; let alone actually doing it."

"Even so. Any Parahuman with the ability to increase in strength over time is a valued asset. Just look at Dauntless." Taylor tilted her head; most of her research had been focused on the villains more than the Protectorate members of the Bay. Of course she knew who Dauntless was, it would be hard not to, but the details of his powers.. Not so much.

"Oh, he has a bunch of gear that he progressively boosts over time. Apparently he started out with this dinky little taser staff and now it's this super cool lightning spear!" Well, Vista certainly was enthusiastic. Aegis floated around in front and began moving backwards so he could explain.

"There's differences, of course. Your items can be used by other people. Kid Win was going crazy over tha-" There was a sudden roaring from down the street and Taylor's internal headcount suddenly dropped by ten people. The sound turned out to be a wave of fire pouring out of the front of a building.

By the time Vista had created a path for them Aegis was already hurtling towards the building. He dropped to the ground beside a stunned bystander; patting them a couple of times on the cheek until they focused on him. Taylor began to sprint as soon as she reached the ground and shortly overtook Vista. As she approached the pair ahead she heard Aegis asking the man to call nine-one-one.

She dropped her staff as she walked past him and straight into the doorway before he could so much as call out. Flames danced over and around her; tongues of fire licking over her legs and arms and faced. Everything was bright and slightly warm, but no worse than that. Her hand stretched out and the fire surged; the parts she touched pouring towards and into the gem atop her ring.

It was unique amongst the resistance rings she could make. Neither the electrical nor the cold ones did this. Everywhere she walked flames were torn away and consumed by the red jewel shining on her hand. She turned around and saw Aegis standing in the doorway, presumably staring at her in shock.

"Come on. There might be people upstairs, and I can't fly." He started, and then nodded; moving over to follow in her lead as she cleared a path for them through the flames. The effect only worked on the parts that touched her; the fire skittered across her gear and was devoured by the ring. Their route remained open for a time but then the raging inferno closed up behind them again.

Taylor put a hand under her chin and dipped her head; the ring did nothing for the smoke, but it didn't seem to be causing her a lot of trouble. They scoured the room on the lower floor without much luck. There were people to be found. None of them would be called survivors. Clothes and skin had already been charred black.

They left the dead behind and moved into the stairwell out back; he gingerly tucked his arms under hers and lifted her upstairs without much difficulty. No telling if that stairwell could take her weight still. There was more smoke and less fire here; clearly it had started in the room below. Aegis began to slam his shoulder against one of the sturdier while calling out for anyone to answer them.

She pushed him aside and pressed her left hand to the door. The wood blackened under her palm as she pushed harder until she was able to force it through and fumble around for the deadbolt on the other side. As soon as she got it she pulled her hand back and Aegis kicked out; shattering the normal lock and knocking the door open.

"Check on him! I'll do the other rooms." The room appeared to be an office, and it was occupied a portly Caucasian man who was coughing so hard from all the smoke that he couldn't have called out for help. Aegis rushed in as Taylor moved on and checked the other doors; all unlocked. The rooms looked to be for meetings or some such thing; none were occupied.

"Clear?" Aegis called out to her as she rushed back into the office and she nodded. He turned to the windows, security bars across the outside, and then looked back to her and the man. One of the panes of glass was smashed and spoke was pouring out of it. "We need to get him out of here." Made more difficult by the likely need for him to carry both of them downstairs before the building collapsed from the fire.

Their problem was quickly rendered moot as the window cracked. Bars and glass bent aside as the hole widened greatly; walls buckling under the expansion. Smoke rushed out of the room and Aegis immediately picked up the civilian by the shoulders. "Get the legs, and let's get out of here!" They lifted together and walked out of the new opening to find themselves beside Vista on the main street.

Moments later there was a creak as part of the building's front collapsed in. Under the weight of surging flame and the stress of Vista's time and life-saving alterations the floor had finally given way. Taylor walked over to where her staff was and picked it up again while the Wards checked on the one they'd saved.

Steam began to hiss and rise from the inferno as she aimed her staff at the burning building. Every time she evoked its power a blast of cold air surged out from inside the fire. It didn't feel much more effective than tossing a bucket of water but it was all she could do. Sirens heralded the approach of fire engines.

By the time they arrived the fire had close to burnt out. Not due to Taylor's efforts; there had been a secondary blast of some sort barely a minute earlier that had resulted in a kind of implosion that caused the remainder of the building to collapse inwards and the flames to be reduced to embers. They went in even so; extinguishing every trace in order to make sure that nothing spread.

Taylor stood with Aegis and Vista as paramedics checked the man they'd saved. Smoke inhalation, and some overheating, but he'd be more or less fine. The other two had called in for further instructions; they were to wait until someone from the Protectorate arrived to debrief them, and had politely asked Taylor do the same.

"Thank you." Aegis broke the silence. They'd been sort of standing around awkwardly staring at the burnt-out ruin as the fire crews picked over it. Police would probably be arriving soon to assess the scene. "I'm not sure we would have gotten to him without you." She flushed under the helmet, and shook her head.

"I'm sure you would have. You two are the professionals." Whereas she'd rushed into a burning building and relied on an untested item to protect her. She'd not have found the man without Aegis' help, nor got out without Vista.

"Sure we are; but that doesn't mean we can't be grateful, right?" Vista grinned and Taylor felt… good. She would give joining up serious consideration once she was finished with her preparations. There were things to be done, first.

The three of them got into a conversation about her ring that gradually segued into the possibility of business for the city's fire department; an avenue she hadn't considered. Yet, as Taylor chatted idly with them while they waited she couldn't help but pay notice to something unpleasant.

Clearly this fire had been an intentional thing; if the sudden blast of fire hadn't been enough of a sign then the secondary explosion definitely was. She didn't know why this place in particular was targeted but she did know one thing. Someone had come into the range of her perception not long after the second blast. She didn't recognise them specifically but she did recognise one thing in particular.

Their Parahuman aura was near-identical in size to Armsmaster's.

 

[TotalAbsolutism]

Taylor learned a few interesting things during the debrief. For example, the standard practice amongst professional firefighters was to take anyone they found out of the fire regardless of their state of injury. She'd been able to tell who was dead or alive quite easily so it hadn't been a problem for her but Aegis had nodded resolutely and promised the leader of the response team that he'd do so next time.

More interesting to her had been the target. The lower area had been a bar while the upper had apparently had a series of private meeting works as well as the locked office they'd retrieved the survivor from. It was fairly clear to everyone that this was some sort of targeted attack rather than a random choice; however, since the only victim was still having trouble talking they did not as yet know why they had been targeted. Gang related was a safe bet.

Even more interesting still was how they had set up a tent around the site as soon as Armsmaster had arrived. It all but confirmed her own suspicions regarding the strangeness of the explosion and the out of place watcher. Parahuman involvement. Which probably meant Tinker. Maybe some terrifying form of Master but that didn't bear thinking about without further evidence. That meant Taylor was faced with a fairly significant dilemma. She should tell them about the person she 'saw'. But that would mean revealing her ability to identify Parahumans.

That was a dangerous road. A Cape who could do that wouldn't be tolerated. The heroes would be quite nervous but the villains would be downright murderous. For now she had to keep it to herself. Putting such thoughts aside she focused on the more awkward part of the debriefing; explaining what she had done to the door.

Taylor had really not wanted to reveal her lethal abilities. Letting them think that she couldn't leverage deadly force without her created weaponry seemed… safer. Knowing that she could quite probably kill people on a touch wouldn't do anything good for her reputation. Still… it was out now.

"If you're willing to get me a block of wood I can demonstrate it for you." She was, at that moment, sitting with Miss Militia inside the now familiar caravan-trailer-thing that the PRT brought to scenes. Armsmaster was busy inside the tent and she was yet to meet any other members of the Protectorate.

"I think we can do that." The older woman was typing out a message on her phone as she talked; doubtlessly requesting something. "Can you show me it? This power you used." Taylor nodded, and held out her hand; but not too far out. Miss Militia carefully shifted back to avoid contact.

For some reason it had to be the left hand. Her skin turned black and the hand became noticeably thinner. She touched it to the metal of the table and… nothing at all. No effect. Save that the point she touched maybe became a tiny bit shinier. Which was bizarre, considering one of the effects she knew her power had. That wasn't something she planned to mention, though. "Interesting. Do all of your power usages come with visual changes?" In response Taylor channeled her sleeping touch instead. The black hue vanished but nothing else happened. She shook her head and Miss Militia chuckled. "Duly noted." A knock on the door heralded the arrival of a uniformed man with a armful of planks of wood and briefly disrupted their discussion.

He was followed by Armsmaster, who looked… tense. Taylor could see it in the set of his jaw and shoulders. As he entered he visibly forced himself to relax and smile at her. It was kind of him, she supposed, but she could also guess why he was upset. At least she didn't have to worry about telling him about the likely culprit.

"Pretender. Miss Militia tells me you've surprised us yet again." He started to remove little devices from his armour and halberd in order to arrange them around the table. Scanners, probably. Then he paused midway through placing one and looked over at her. "My apologies; do you mind?"

"No, I don't." They know she has the power and maybe they can help her understand it a bit more. Though she... kind of doubted that. Armsmaster finished placing his measuring devices and then delicately put the plank on the table before backing off. Taylor called on the power once more and put her hand on the wood.

As the black stain spread across the wood she wondered why they were doing this here. Probably don't want to invite her back to their headquarters before they know her ultimate disposition. Which made sense. Either that, or they didn't want to keep her for longer than they have to. When she lifted her hand most of the wood had turned black. Armsmaster poked it with a thin metal rod and it collapsed into a pile of black dust.

"Fascinating. Do you mind…?" He gestured to the remaining pile of wood. She shrugged, and they carried on. In the end they tested a few things. Whether she could focus the ability at all, whether the area or duration of contact made any difference, whether clothing impeded it, whether body armour impeded it and what happened when they stacked the remaining wood on top of itself. The results had been, in order; no, none at all, the cotton had also decayed, the wood under the armour had decayed and, lastly, the first two planks were both affected.

Armsmaster had declared they had enough data by that point, at least for now, and that she was free to go; although, apparently they might have more tests later. He seemed somewhere between frustrated and excited. Miss Militia, still seeming the far more conscientious one, offered her something surprisingly low-tech; a pager.

"It might seem basic but it's more or less impossible to break. If there's a situation we think you might be able to help with then we can get you a message directly. You have my personal guarantee there's no way to track you through it either." Taylor wasn't sure if she ought to trust that but Miss Militia had been kind and honest thus far. If she said they couldn't track it… well, she was going to accept it.

"Thank you for all of this. I should be heading home, though. My parents will be wondering where I am." She barely managed to prevent herself from just saying 'dad'. If Miss Militia picked up on it then she didn't show any signs. "I'll think about selling my items to the PRT and Protectorate, as well." That got a faint nod but she got the impression that the woman wasn't all that fussed either way. Aegis and Vista were waiting for her outside the trailer. The latter seemed calm but the former looked just a tiny bit nervous.

"I hope you're not in trouble?" It was nice that he was worried, but they seemed fairly dedicated to the opposite of upsetting her. Miss Militia was firm, but polite and kind. Armsmaster had been cordial and respectful. Her personal misgivings aside she was starting to consider joining up with the PRT. Just a little.

"No, it's fine. They're just curious. Letting me go home now." She was still quite nervous, of course, but there was no reason to let him know that. Suspicion was the last thing she wanted after all.

"Told you it would be okay." Vista seemed just a little bit smug at that. "It's normal for people to not want to share everything they can do, you know?" If that was true it explained the lack of surprise. Taylor smiled under her mask. The younger girl was fairly pleasant to be around.

"Thank you both again. Seriously. Apart from the fire and dead people I actually… kinda had fun. I hope that's not weird?" Taylor couldn't help but cringe a little at her own statement but, thankfully, Vista just laughed and jokingly punched her on the arm.

"Glad you're not all bloodthirsty. Hopefully we'll see you around?" She had to consider that for a moment, but then Taylor nodded. Yeah. With any luck she'd be a fair bit more active soon… although, hopefully not so much as an actual 'Cape'.

"Would you like us to escort you somewhere, or are you good to get home on your own?" It actually warmed her chest a little to have Aegis offer to do that for her. Out of all the things she'd expected today seemingly genuine care was not up there.

"I'll be fine, thank you." They exchanged farewell platitudes for a little longer before she slipped away at last. An idle thought brought up the image of her father in her head as he flicked through papers and contracts. Their contents were obscured and his surroundings were washed out and dull, but his heavily lined face and worn sweater and the tension thick in his shoulders were clear.

But he was safe. She knew he was, of course, but seeing it directly relieved her. If there was a parahuman bomber in town… she didn't want to consider what that might lead to. All Taylor knew was that it wasn't good. Which meant that some of her future funds might end up going to waste.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
​

"I think… she might be lying to us." Inside the vehicle, Colin looked up from his instruments as they worked on the evaluation of the bombing site. He'd set up sensors to examine some weird energy readings he'd got from his initial scan and had decided to follow that up before heading back to the lab. When there was no response he glanced behind him.

Hannah was seated at the table, sipping a coffee and staring at the wooden planks in their sealed plastic containers; awaiting transport and further analysis at a later date. She wasn't ignoring him intentionally, and he knew that. Rather, she was probably considering what he himself couldn't help but think about.

On-touch decay of organic matter. Worked through standard issue body armour. Worked rapidly and didn't seem to require constant contact to take full effect, either. That was a power well-suited to indiscriminate murder. It could even destroy the evidence easily as well. He'd found himself idly wondering if his armour would block it at all.

He figured that they were both reconsidering inviting her to the Wards; not in terms of not wanting her to join, mind, but rather in terms of how vital it was that she did. If Pretender wanted to kill someone it was as easy as asking for a handshake, instantly rendering them unconscious and then tapping them in the face. That was a terrifying prospect.

Obviously she was a young girl with no obvious inclination to murder. But deadly powers weren't any less deadly because you didn't want to use them that way. Not least of which, but Colin had noticed an interesting little pattern.

Pretender had claimed to be a sort of Trump that infused power into objects and had some abilities in her own right; such as a few Striker powers, and a fairly interesting Thinker ability. That sort of weirdness was unusual to see, however, and he'd acquired a suspicion that he was now voicing.

"You think she is protecting someone." And that was it right there. A Striker with a Thinker ability made more sense to him than a Trump that also had multiple other innate abilities. But if the Trump making her items was someone else… that made more sense.

"She was nervous about telling us. Do you think she-" His half-thought, half-accusation died under a withering glare from Miss Militia.

"No. She hasn't hurt anyone, let alone killed. But I agree, her presented powers don't add up unless she's hiding items she hasn't told us about. Which is possible, if she's defeated your software." Colin frowned at that. That was also nagging at him. The full-face mask threw it off a little bit but his lie-detection software was still usually reliable. Then again, she already had one Thinker ability and that was basically what he was emulating; Thinker abilities interacting strangely was a well-known phenomenon.

"Either wa-" There was a sudden, sharp ringing from their communicators. Both at once. The two shot each other a sharp look and then they were rushing for the door. Armsmaster practically leaping onto his bike and Miss Militia landed behind him an instant before he gunned it.

She wrapped one arm around him until they were up to speed and then formed a grenade launcher in the other hand. As soon as she had both arms free she loaded it with one of the containment foam rounds from her belt. He'd already pulled up the details on his helmet display and was starting to coordinate.

While they'd been investigating the site of the bombing someone had attacked the oil rig. Some sort of gravitational distortion had overloaded the shield generator and second blast of unknown function ripped a massive hole in the side; through which Oni Lee had invaded the facility and stolen the still heavily drugged-up Lung. The death toll was yet to be determined and they were unlikely to be able to recapture them.

The purpose of the bombing was now clear and Colin's worst fears had been confirmed; one of the city's most vicious gangs now had a Tinker with a speciality in explosive devices.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
​

Taylor had changed back into her normal clothes and wrapped up her staff in an old sheet to conceal it as best she could. Carrying it still made her look weird but… well, it was better than openly carrying it, she supposed. Her ring had been quiet thus far and she was nearly home safe now. Which is why she wasn't surprised when it went off as she turned to cut through a nearby park.

Sighing, Taylor changed her course when something caught her ears. The sound of muffled thumps and racial slurs flowing like water. She frowned and returned to her original path; following it to an area surrounded by a high chain-link fence and stepping through the gateless doorway into the disused basketball court beyond.

There was another doorway on the far side and, in the corner, two young men in rough clothes launching kicks and insults in equal measure at a huddled figure cowered under a bench while four more watched. One of them was idly holding a basketball and all the watchers were laughing about it. Taylor's mind worked a mile a minute as she quickly yanked her balaclava out of her pocket and pulled it on.

"Hey! Stop that!" As they turned around she noted that in spite of her thinking of them as young men they were all decidedly older and bigger than her. She clutched her wrapped-up staff nervously as the kickers, the youngest of the two, stopped their work and let her see what she was protecting. They looked old; grey-hair and dirty clothes and very clearly homeless. There were a couple of bags of what looked like clothes and spare blankets they were curled around in a protective fashion.

Something in Taylor burned. In her minds eye she saw them.

Poorly armed and armoured almost universally; many bound and chained and whipped into battle. How desperately her followers preached and called out and promised and cajoled and even begged, at her behest, that their enemies might just stop and be free and unharmed. Pain searing her heart as they were thrown over and over again as wheat chaff to the harvesters to slow the advance of her armies.

Beings of immense power buying another month, week, day, hour, minute of life with the blood of countless innocents. At the core of it all, her fury. Those lives were precious. Those lives were sacred. Those lives… all of those wasted lives…

THOSE LIVES WERE HERS!

She flung out her hand and interrupted whatever vapid, cliched comments that the lead gang-member was going to make with four razor-sharp shards of stone that struck the ground and flung up chunks of concrete with a sound like a gunshot. Each one fully capable of killing a grown man in a single body blow so long as he wasn't armoured. She wasn't done, though.

A flicker of light and heat formed between her fingers as she glared at them. Something flowed out of her in waves that crushed what little will the pathetic mortals before her had to resist and each and every one stumbled backwards. When she spoke there was a force to her words; irresistible, indomitable, and mighty.

"One of these sparks can cripple a man for life. Which will be a few minutes at best, given it will burn out most of your internal organs and leave you writhing on the ground in agony until the sweet release of death claims you." She held up her hand and six points of light flickered into existence above it. Then she held up her other hand, staff discarded and forgotten on the ground and six more appeared.

One of the young men, the biggest one that was also closest to her, soiled himself on the spot.

"I am never going to see any of you in gang clothes again." And that was that. It wasn't something so base as a threat. It wasn't a demand. Nor was it even an order. This statement from a girl in a ski mask, half a foot shorter and probably a good sixty pounds lighter than them, was a proclamation of fact that none of them questioned because each one of them was utterly certain that her words were no less than an unholy gospel forged of terror and flame.

It wasn't until they'd all fled, two literally dragging the one who'd shat himself between them since his legs had outright stopped working, that Taylor felt the hatred leaving her body. She didn't understand why she'd felt so… angry. Nor why her threats had been so effective. All they'd seen were sparks and sharp stones.

She didn't question it. Instead, she moved over to the homeless man and crouched down. He was trembling still and she hated that she didn't have any ability to heal injuries. But before she could even begin to coax him out he opened his eyes and gazed upon her with a confused, wild-eyed stare.

There was a change in the metaphysical landscape of Taylor's mind; a slight adjustment in the non-physical geography of her internal map. The man shuddered as if he felt something pass into him and then reached for her face while mumbling in muffled, broken-toothed Spanish.

"Dios no me abandona! Ángel!" She recoiled from him as he tried to touch her and then turned and bolted. He called after her, and she knew that he was begging her not to go. Yet still she fled. Taylor ran and ran well away from the man; tearing off her balaclava as she went. In the end she didn't stop until she was safely home and ensconced within her bedroom.

She sat there for some time as she stared into the middle distance. Trying to change her mind. Trying to convince herself she was wrong. Trying desperately to rationalise what had just happened. What she'd done. Yet, above all else, beyond her words and deeds, the thing she tried most desperately to avoid thinking about was clear and visible in her head.

The fresh light burning in the back of her mind, like a candle shining in the darkness, and the dirty, dishevelled, grovelling man that could be found praying beneath it.

 

[TotalAbsolutism]

Diego Martinez had only ever considered himself a 'Sunday Christian'. Devotion ran in his family but seemed to only stroll in him and when you found yourself living on the streets after medical bills pushed you into destitution it was hard to have much faith in anything. For the most part he kept himself to himself; rummaging through rubbish bins for food and sleeping under the bench in the basketball court.

It was a good spot. He'd found a plastic tarp that he could lay over the top to protect him from rain, and it was mostly out of wind. Nobody tended to use it in the mornings so he didn't have to worry about being disturbed. But then, as he'd been getting ready to settle down for the night after a day of dumpster-diving, they'd found him.

Nowhere in the city was all that 'safe'. There were shelters but they were often full and Diego didn't trust the other occupants that much. Then, no matter whose 'territory' you were in there were risks. This time it was the Empire. He'd knew the routine. As long as he didn't fight back they'd beat him for a bit to prove they were 'hard' enough and then the initiation ritual would be over. But then…

He trembled as he remembered the feeling. It had been terrifying and joyful all at once. But now was not the time to reminisce. No, he had a mission. It had come to him in the night; three weeks after he had seen Her. What he'd been waiting for. It wasn't like words whispered in his ear, no; it was just a firm certainty of what he ought to do.

So he'd spoken to what few friends he had, as much as someone like him could have friends. Then he'd had a word with the local street gangs; mostly Hispanic and few in both numbers and strength. After promising them many things he finally managed to get them to agree to come and scope out what he was telling them. They must have found others because there were now a good few dozen people, thirty or forty in all, waiting for him.

They were a mix. Some old, like him; transients and vagrants. There were the young men and women, fathers and mothers and children. A few folks had brought their families. He'd made powerful promises with very little to go on but when you were desperate and hungry everything sounded good to you.

There were lots of birds around. Not ordinary ones, either. Birds of prey. Diego could see them resting in trees and on top of the building; it had been a community hall, once, before money had dried up and support for the little services that it had provided evaporated.

"Oi, Uncle Diego." The leader of one of the family groups waved him over, frowning. Their relationship wasn't really that familial but he'd been friends with the boy's father, once. "Thought you said there was gonna be food here, ay?" He nodded and shuddered slightly as something passed over him. It was time to go inside.

"Follow me, Alex. You'll see." Although they did follow behind him Diego could sense the nervousness and discomfort from the crowd. They'd all see soon enough. He walked up to the door, pushed it open and went right in.

The interior was strange. It was wide open, with old blankets laid out on the floor all over the place and no other furniture except for a small, rickety, fold-out table that sat beside a sheet-covered object. On the table was an electric lamp that shed light throughout the room and a black plastic bag. Then… Diego froze as he saw Her.

She was different. Dressed in a heavy brown robe that hung loosely on her frame and taller than he remembered. Her face couldn't be seen underneath the hood but he just knew she was looking at him. That really was Her. Alex bumped into him and was about to say something when he caught sight of the figure.

"It's okay. They're the one that saved me, Alejandro. Come in." Diego walked up towards her as the others trailed in nervously and spread out. Although there were many more of them than Her they all seemed to feel ill-at-ease for some reason. Yet Diego was more at peace in that moment than he had been in weeks.

Something came to Diego in that moment. He walked towards Her and then turned around to face the group; kneeling down so She could put one gloved hand on his shoulder. Somehow he'd just known what She wanted of him. As well as what She wanted him to say.

"The Oracle wishes to know if you are hungry. She says she will feed feed you if you will listen to her." There was a quiet titter to the crowd as Diego paused and listened to the unvoiced words that came into his heart. "She will feed you first, and you may leave after if you wish."

The figure turned with perfect grace; rotating on its axis without any sound and grasping the sheet. When She pulled it off a massive iron pot was revealed; it was strangely shaped with bowed sides and a thick rim. Then She held out Her hand over it and steam began to rise from it. The smell of hot food filled the room; stewed vegetables and meat in a thick broth.

Diego stood up and opened the black bag as he felt Her desires fill him again. Inside were dozens of disposable plastic bowls and spoons along with a few metal ladles. The Oracle put Her hand on his shoulder again as he turned to face the group. "She says to eat your fill first."

Then she floated backwards, filling Diego with certainty that she wasn't touching the ground. Everyone seemed tempted but it seemed like nobody wanted to start. So he grabbed a bowl himself, used a ladle to fill it up and then went to sit on one of the blankets. Once he'd had several spoonfuls the others, at last, decided to join in.

Hesitancy gave way to eagerness. They ate and ate and ate; better than most of them had in weeks. All of those gathered here were poor and tired and scared basically every day of their lives. They questioned their good fortune, of course… but they didn't reject it. Not yet.

When everyone was full the pot was almost half-empty. The Oracle floated over and examined it. Then she placed her hand against the side and looked at Diego. He stood up again and presented himself to her; kneeling down so she could put her hand on him again.

"The Oracle wishes to know if anyone wants more food." There was a general murmur of refusal; most had taken at least three bowls worth. Alejandro stood up and crossed his arms, along with some of the other young men. It was time, then.

"A'ight, Diego. Your little pal has fed us an' all, which we 'ppreciate, but we ain't gonna be no Cape's little flunkies." The others murmured assent and Diego frowned; glancing back at the Oracle. She seemed unfazed by their refusal, and he turned to speak again.

"She does not want 'flunkies', Alejandro. And she is not a 'Cape'." That got him a scoff of derision from the ringleader and confusion from most of the others. He shook his head and began to plead with them. "Listen, you must believe me. She is so much more than that. I've seen it, I've felt it. And you can too."

"Look, we ain't so far gone that we gonna sell ourselves, man. If any of us were that desperate we'd have gone t'work for those two video game clowns by now. An' I don't know about you, but I'm real suspicious of charity like this." Diego couldn't help but grimace at the words but, luckily, Oracle still seemed to be totally calm. "Now just tell us what your new best friend wants from us so we can tell her to fuck off, and go home."

Diego was about to say something when a booted foot met the doors outside and they swung wide. Ten heavyset men strolled in; whistling and laughing as their leader followed behind. Shirtless and muscular, long and greasy blonde hair behind a snarling metallic wolf mask. Someone in the crowd swore, someone else was praying and all of them backed away in fear except for Diego and the Oracle.

"Look at that. All this vermin in one place. Marcus, which one was it?" Hookwolf looked back to a trembling young man, barely visible amongst all the roughs and toughs, pointed at Diego. The old man barely recognised him as being one of the ones that had attacked him. "Right. And this must be our new Cape." Diego tensed for a moment before a hand pressed on his shoulder. The Oracle floated forward and stopped some fifteen feet away from the white supremacists.

"Leave." Her voice rippled and crackled with a power that made Diego fall to his knees instinctively. He could see Alejandro tremble and many of the watching people joined the old man in prostration. "These people are protected." Hookwolf just laughed and flexed an arm; silver running down it and forming bladed claws.

"I go where I want, bitch, and no idiot newbie like you can tell me what to do. This is Empire territory, and if you think tha-" There was a sharp crack as Her finger flicked out and a shard of razor-sharp stone came into being at high velocity. It hit the ground in front of Hookwolf and he recoiled from the tiny splinters of concrete that hit him.

"Leave. Or else." A feral grin formed on the man's face as the flesh of his arm began to retract into a bladed, paw-like limb. He stepped forward heavily; curling toe-knives scraping against the hard ground.

"If you're looking for a fight I'll be happy t-" And he was cut off again when the Oracle's finger flicked out and one of his men collapsed suddenly with a cry of agony. He was clutching at his leg and blood was pouring out profusely. Hookwolf looked dumbfounded by this; as if he didn't believe someone would provoke him in this way.

"Leave." She held up her hands and each one formed three marble-sized sparks of flickering light and two stone shards above it. They hovered there; frozen in place like the rest of the Empire goons. "Or else." For a moment it looked like Hookwolf might pounce. Then he looked at the soldier to his left; curled up in a ball of pain and letting out soft whimpers of agony.

"... this isn't over." He made a gesture and one of the others came to the other side of the injured man while Hookwolf took his left. Together they pulled him to his feet and carried him out between them. The Oracle floated there impassively as they left, then returned to her place at Diego's side. Silence filled the room. At that moment the old man saw his chance and took it.

"You see, Alejandro. She doesn't want to use us. She wants to protect us. To feed us, to look after us. And She doesn't need our money, or our bodies, or our services. She doesn't want to push drugs to us, or to sell us on the streets, or work us to the bone long hours with no pay." There was confusion, yes, and fear as well. But interest. Diego stepped forward and capitalised on that; raising his voice.

"She wants your respect, and your praise. Even your worship. But these are immaterial things. Everything else She will provide to us. Right now, food and protection. But soon there will be more. What do you have left to lose?" The young man, who was the de facto voice of the group as a whole, hesitated. It was clear that this person seemed to have no particular need for them.

"Tell us what to do, Diego." A woman stepped forward; holding her young daughter's hand. They looked at the Oracle with awe and fear in equal measure. "Whatever you want us to, we'll do it." The old man smiled and gestured for them to come, then he knelt before the now-silent Oracle with hands clasped tightly together. Nervously, the woman and girl joined him. After a minute of silence Alejandro hesitantly moved over. Others followed.

"As soon as you make a sincere plea in your hearts, you will understand." Diego bowed his head to the Oracle with a smile on his aged face. Perhaps many thought that he was crazy for offering worship to a 'Cape', but he knew they'd come to comprehend what She really was. Maybe some already had. Adversity had a way of inspiring belief.

Hands clasped, Diego began to pray.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
​

Sophia Hess was fairly sure she was being followed. At first she'd thought she was just being paranoid but as the week had gone on the feeling had gone from mere suspicion to practical certainty. As of yet she hadn't caught sight of her would-be stalker, though, and that bothered her. She hadn't done any Cape stuff in days because of it and that was annoying as fuck.

In the end she'd caved and, in the privacy of her own room, had carefully sent some emails to her superior. Obviously she could handle it on her own, but then she might end up outing herself if this turned out to be some jack-off with a camera as opposed to a socially-awkward moron who didn't know how to grow a pair and just ask a girl out.

Before long she got a call from Mister 'Team Leader' himself and reluctantly answered him in her usual fashion; by picking up the phone and grunting into it. He didn't say anything about it, as per usual, and just moved into asking stupid questions. Of course she was sure! Sophia had tailed enough lowlifes in her time to recognise the signs. Someone was definitely following her around.

In the end they agreed to her going on a walk through a predetermined path with plainclothes PRT agents littered en-route, along with Gallant doing a subtle flyby at one point to try and see if he could pick up on the person with his emotional sense. He'd commended her for following the protocols in the Wards handbook; which she vaguely recalled she was using as a coaster somewhere. Either way, she hadn't read the damn thing. It was either useless because it didn't tell you what to do, or it told you stupidly obvious shit like this.

When she reminded him of her feelings on that matter Carlos had sighed and hung up. That was at least a little better. Still pretty spineless, but he wasn't all bad. She still didn't much respect his authority, of course, but that was a given.

They put the plan into motion the next evening and it was, as she had kinda expected, a total flop. None of the watching agents had seen anyone following her, nor had the cameras, and Gallant didn't pick up any abnormal emotional reactions when he did his pass. But Sophia was still absolutely confident that someone had to be following her.

It was in the little things. Almost-movement out of the corner of her eyes. A feeling of absence when she turned around and look. The ghost of unusual, quiet sounds at the very edge of her hearing. At one point she would have sworn she saw a faint silhouette but then she blinked and it was gone. But nobody else seemed to believe her. Well screw them. About an hour after she got home she pulled her blinds, slipped into her closet, changed and then phased out through the back wall.

Sophia floated through her house and slipped out; moving low and fast and keeping the building between her and the far side of her room until she had reached safety. Then she circled around; carefully moving through buildings whenever possible to keep herself hidden. At last she had a vantage point she could watch from.

She stared for some time at the streets and buildings that overlooked her room. There had to be something… now she was wishing she had a pair of binoculars or something. But just as she was starting to think that maybe it all really had been in her head she saw it. A passing car had illuminated a side street for an instant and in that instant the black outline of a figured had been shown on the far wall.

Shadow Stalker grinned, and readied her crossbow. Then she moved; flitting around until she was up behind the alleyway. She took a deep, quiet breath before slipping back into her shadow state and moving into the alley. There they were. Huddled in the darkness behind two bins and watching her room. It was hard to make out details in the darkness but she folded back into solidity and pointed her weapon at them anyway.

"Hey, punk! Hands where I can see them!" For a moment it didn't respond. Then it… shifted. A normal person would stand up but this thing seemed to flow upwards; like liquid in the shape of a crouching man being poured into a standing position that was now facing at her rather than away. "Oh fuck."

It was a Cape. It had to be! Changer-Breaker, like her, some sort of… living darkness. Or maybe a Master projection? Fuck. She loosed her bolt without even really thinking about it but the only reaction from the creature was stillness. The shot passed right through it and punched into the trash can behind it.

Before Sophia could do anything, before she could try and change shape or run or even fire her other bow, the creature responded. It dropped downwards and passed into the ground; vanishing through the asphalt. For a moment Shadow Stalker was stunned and then she suddenly dived sideways and fell into her shadow form. Yet the expected attack through the floor didn't come. It was just gone.

She reported everything as soon as she got to her communicator, and her family was immediately relocated by the PRT. They said it was only until they could find out who the Cape she'd encountered was and what they knew. Sophia herself would be staying in one of the dormitories on the Rig until then. She'd be excused from school as well, if she wanted, or else there would be a guard posted near the school to keep a watch for the thing.

In the end she let it all happen. She still went to school the next day but something was very off. There was a disconcerting emptiness that took her a while to pick up on. When she did the feeling she got wasn't relief. As sure as she had been that she was being followed, Sophia was now equally certain that she now wasn't. Which was not comforting at all given what she felt it would mean. After all, the only reason she would stop tracking her prey…

… was if she'd already got what she wanted.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
​

Faultline tapped her fingers against the desk in her office and couldn't help but stare at the items sitting on it. Four green rings, like coiled snakes, and three gold ones, with inset red gems. She'd paid a lot of money for these. And for the other item. A golden amulet inset with a blue gem.

Most of the cost hadn't been in the items themselves, but in the priority ordering fee. The brat had informed her that her manufacturing time was precious and if she wanted her things done sooner rather than later… well, that was the price she'd have to pay. Truth be told Faultline could have waited for the rings, but she didn't want to give away what she was in such a hurry for or else the price may have gone up.

Mind, the amulet had still been twice as expensive as any of the rings but that could be worse. And the demonstration had been… effective. The girl had walked into the meeting place with that strange getup on and had been all friendly smiles and shaking hands; such that they didn't realise she'd grabbed Newter by the hand and shaken his too until after the fact.

It had been an impressive start. Then she'd demonstrated the other item she wanted to sell them by having Spitfire do her thing. The red gem on that little ring had eaten the actual fire, and then the girl had scooped the scalding liquid up in her bare hands like it was nothing.

Immunity to friendly fire from two of their number was an attractive prospect and the girl hadn't been charging that much for it, either. Then she'd shown off her little catalogue and this item had caught her eye. The name hadn't done much for her but the description… the girl had been a little hesitant, actually. Even promised to let them swap it for a different one if it didn't work quite as advertised. Then there was…

"What are your thoughts on this contract, Gregor?" She glanced at the rotund man where he sat pensively on the couch in her room. The others weren't here; Newter was too young and antsy to talk to about these things and Spitfire was looking after… she was busy right now. There was a set of professional-looking papers on her desk. He didn't need to look at them, as he already knew what they said.

"I am unsure. It feels like a trap of some kind but I can not say where or how the problem is." Faultline nodded and then sighed. She knew exactly what he meant. It was the most bizarre deal she'd ever seen. The girl had claimed, more or less, to be able to monitor her crew's condition from afar and inform any of them if something were to happen to the others. There were supposedly some conditions to this; namely they had to agree to it, for one thing.

She'd never heard of a Cape with power variability like that. Usually there was kind of a theme. Alexandrias and Eidolons of the world aside your powers had a basic conceptual connection. But this Cape apparently made maintenance-free Tinkertech with unbelievable effects and also had a high-tier Thinker power to boot.

The girl had said she'd know when they'd agreed. That had felt ominous. Right now, Faultline wasn't sure if she wanted to. These terms were just so weird. In return for providing real-time tactical coordination and health data, the contract stated, her and her crew would agree to work for this 'Pretender' in perpetuity and obey all direct orders without question. That alone would have made her toss the thing in the trash and burn the contents of the bin to boot if it weren't for the exit clause.

For whatever reason the girl had stipulated that they could, upon receiving any order, choose to void the contract immediately at no fault or penalty to them. Which meant that the girl was basically hamstringing herself because if she ever told them to do basically anything at all Faultline could just choose to tell her to fuck off.

She was sure this had to be a trap. And yet… Faultline looked at the amulet again. Then she looked at Gregor. He nodded; understanding what she was thinking. The large man stood and delicately took the item from her. "I will deliver it." She watched him go and then sighed. If it worked as advertised… if something finally helped, at last...

… well, then she supposed that even signing a deal with the devil might not be such a bad thing.

 

[TotalAbsolutism]

The girl was torn asunder.

Her tears dripped into the waters of her stone basin as she stared blindly into space. A hand stretched out and flung magic at an enemy. Two smiling people showed her around and made her feel welcome. All conscious thought was ravaged by indecision as she became lost in a sea of memories. Her memories.

Armies marching to war and crying into Emma's shoulder. Transmuting the sky into holy fire and staring at the wreckage of her mother's flute. Tearing open the bowels of the world to rip out dead gods and being shoved into the locker.

Blind and confined. Staring into the void and the void staring back. These memories were even less her own than the war and death and pain. This was… something else. It was real. She grasped at it and saw again and again and again. Born, raised, praised, pampered, blinded, crippled, bound, possessed, speaking, speaking, speaking, drowning. Again and again for years upon years.

That pain tore her back to the present moment. She was sitting on her living room floor and staring at her hands. Taylor's hands. Not the hands of the blind little girls. Nor the hands of the craftsmen and artisans; empowered for an afternoon to work the wonders of their…

Of her.

"What am I?"

The words slipped out unbidden as she sat and truly thought about her situation. She was not like other Capes. Other Capes didn't have an accurate image of the world floating in their head. She'd checked both counts there; the weather patterns were a little slow to update but they seemed to more or less match reality.

Other Capes didn't see things that weren't there but were actually there. Well, okay, apparently some did but not like her. The gems were real... but only for her. They were a hard limit on what she could do and they were in some way external to her. Then there was her father, and the man she'd rescued…

Taylor blinked a few times. That had been… today. A few hours ago. Right? Yeah. Only… she stared at her hands in confusion. In her head she could see him moving about and it was light outside. Had her… moment really lasted that long? There was…

Well, that was the other point. The other thought. She had memories that definitely weren't hers. They were memories of worship and war, of power and prostration, of faith and fury. She could grow stronger and she knew how. It would work. But… at what cost?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

"The new Parahuman calls themselves 'Oracle'. We have reason to believe they have a connection to our own 'Pretender', as well as the theorised individual we've tentatively codenamed 'Vulcan'." Dennis yawned as Armsmaster droned on about the situation briefing. Another new Cape in the bay wasn't exactly hot news. There were a lot showing up recently.

There'd been Browbeat, then Pretender, then maybe this 'Vulcan' guy, then the creepy dude who totally had a stalker crush on Shadow Stalker, of all people, and now this. Actually, come to think of it that actually was quite a lot for just a month or so...

The trouble was that the senior Cape talking about it made it just so boring. Which was strange because he'd skimmed the materials and it really shouldn't be. This one was interesting. Apparently this Cape had gathered a whole bunch of poor migrants and homeless people together in order to feed them. Oh, and demand that they worship said 'Oracle' like a god.

"As you can see in the first attached incident report there has already been an altercation with the Empire. Hookwolf and a group of cronies were observed entering the premises and then leaving with one of their number injured." And that was weird. Hookwolf was a, heh, prickly sort of guy at the best of times. The rest of the time he was just a raging asshole.

"We'll be sending a group over to talk to them. Thinker and Master-resistant Stranger powers only. I've also requested support from Dragon and she's agreed to send us a remote drone to assist. Kid Win and myself will likewise be putting together some telepresence devices." Chris looked quite pleased to be mentioned in the briefing, Dennis noted. All of this was probably moot since there was no way he'd be on this team.

"First priority is determining if Oracle has any Master or Trump abilities. It's also possible 'Vulcan' and Oracle are actually the same entity in which case Pretender can be considered already compromised." Both Carlos and Missy winced at that. They'd both quite liked the girl. Dennis had found her to be a little bit nervous but an alright sort; the ABB incident had proven she was reasonably dependable.

"If any of you encounter Oracle you are advised to immediately retreat and notify it on the Protectorate channel." And that was the sound of sweet, sweet freedom! Meeting over! Victory for Team Clockblocker! "And Clockblocker, I'd like you to stay behind for a moment." Shit!

Everyone else filed out; leaving the two sitting alone in the room. Then, after a moment, Armsmaster removed his helmet and laid it on the table. He looked as tired as ever underneath but there was also a certain shrewdness to his expression.

"Dennis. In light of recent events I need to ask you if there was anything… odd… you might have left out of your report on the… incident." Clockblocker tried hard to maintain his poker face even under his mask. He was sorely tempted to freeze it but that would have stuck him in place. Armsmaster continued; apparently without noticing. "Anything that you may have thought was too strange to be considered… believable." In that moment Dennis almost felt his heart stop.

"... no, sir. Nothing like that." There was a horrible pause as the lie fell from his lips and then Armsmaster nodded.

"Alright. You can go." Dennis fled as soon as possible as Armsmaster put his helmet on. He had no way of knowing that the man's HUD had printed his last statement across the bottom. Nor that the word 'False' was flashing beside it in bright red letters. Even if he had, though…

There was a small, ivory pendant pressed against his skin underneath the costume. He could feel the faint coolness of it as he moved. Dennis remembered a blast that he hadn't seen coming and the miracle of miracles that, at the end, he'd been alive. Burnt, bruised and in a lot of pain… but alive.

In the report he'd credited his survival to freezing anything that touched him; negating the flying debris and managing to crawl free before time resumed. Because who would believe that a tiny unicorn pendant had saved his life?

Nobody.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

There was a moment as Taylor held the item she'd just made and frowned. Something was… where was she? When was she? Her hands twitched. She'd seen… a future. From the usual third-person perspective of someone who… followed her. There had been a Ward in it, and a number of... soldiers? And an explosion. She hadn't been able to make out the details. They'd all…

And then she'd had the urge to make this well up from deep inside her. When she had there had been another… moment. Her mind was fragmented. She was losing herself in the… in…

Taylor sat at her desk in the back of the old church with a cold sweat running down her back. She was… yes. This was the present. The moment was here. Her past few weeks had been plagued by these… temporal disconnects. She'd been catching glimpses of the future; distinct and always terrible. But also the past. Her memories felt so real and she felt like she was unravelling.

She was in the old church in Alejandro's neighbourhood. He and Diego were in the church hall nearby and were handing out the daily ration. She could see from the point of view of the dozen or so, out of the hundred people gathered there, that had faith. Real faith. Diego was the firmest in his devotion but Alejandro was a close second. The more she'd done for them the more he'd trusted her until that had ignited into the fire of genuine belief.

Why was she doing this? Taylor had to fight against her perfect memories for a few moments; helped by the prayers that flowed into her over food. That's right. Strength came from worship. She was the Lone Pretender to the Thrones. The more people who called her name in prayer the more powerful she would be. And then…

Part of her memories spoke to her of raising armies, summoning creatures and marching upon the world. That wasn't what she wanted. All she wanted was for her dominion to spread across the Bay and outside of it. There were… powers in her memories that could help fix things.

With absolute clairvoyance she could rout the gangs. When her altars were established across the city her nature would change it. Already she could feel her essence twisting and her strengths changing as her nature tried to match her actions. She wasn't a true Pretender yet. Whatever that… no. She knew what it was.

Someone knocked on the door and a fearful young man entered. He bowed to her first, a habit she was trying to break them out of even as Diego encouraged it, and then began to speak in terrified Spanish. Taylor was quite certain that she didn't speak Spanish. But he was a devout believer so it didn't really matter. She didn't listen to what his mouth said but instead focused on what his heart told her.

"Lady Oracle, there is a big man with many tattoos and a scary mask demanding to see you. He seems very angry!"

Lung. And just like that Taylor remembered a moment.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
​

Pretender blinked a few times and then shook her head. Beside her Clockblocker grinned and Kid Win looked a little sheepish as he nudged his friend.

"See? Feels weird, but not bad. Figured you should know what it's like now in case I have to freeze you on a mission or something." Mission… like what they weren't on now. She'd been scheduled for a few more patrols with the Wards at her request. They probably thought she was considering joining up more seriously. Which…

Taylor couldn't say that she wasn't thinking about it. Because she was. However, the reason she wanted to do more patrols was to build a rapport with the Wards and see if any might be receptive to… well, if she thought about it bluntly the only term she could use was 'converting'. It still made her feel a little dirty.

In the back of her head she saw the man she'd saved desperately praying to his makeshift altar. She could tell he had some minor mental problems and it seemed that his worship had claimed the area for… well, her. In the process his mental state had improved. She knew that was because of his faith in her, and his location, although she didn't quite understand how she knew that.

For every perfect memory there was another vague understanding or confident yet baseless assertion that came with her powers. She knew so many things that made no sense to her at all. It felt… like déjà vu. That was a feeling she was getting more and more these days.

"Right. Ah. Sorry. Just… feel a little dizzy." Clockblocker nodded and pretended to stroke an invisible beard.

"Ja, dat is so. Side effects of time freezing may include nausea, headaches, fatigue, and erectile dysfunction. Please consult your doctor to see if time freezing is right for you." There was a moment of confusion and then confused laughter. "Okay, so I'll admit that one got away from me a bit. I was trying to start with the Freud impression but it became an infomercial in the middle." Kid Win shook his head as their chuckles died down and elbowed his friend again.

"C'mon, man. You're making us look bad in front of the newbie. Don't worry about him, Pretender. Nobody thinks he's funny." As the other Cape did his best over-the-top insult reaction Taylor had a thought and reached into her pocket. In the confusion of the meeting she'd almost forgotten it.

"This is for you, Clockblocker. I made it the other night." The two boys stared at the proffered amulet and then glanced at each other. After a moment of hesitation Clockblocker reached out and took it.

"Oh. Gee. It's so, uh… Unicorney." Kid Win snorted as Clockblocker desperately tried to find something nice to say about it. "Not sure it really suits my, ah, look. What's it made out of?" Taylor grinned under her helmet and felt the urge to be just a little mischievous.

"Unicorn horn. Obviously. What else would it be made of?" It wasn't entirely false, either. She'd actually made it from a piano key that had transmogrified itself into this shape during the construction process but she was pretty sure it was actually ivory now. "It's lucky. And I had a… bad feeling. Just humour me?" After a moment he shrugged and slipped it into one of the pouches on his costume. That would have to do.

Taylor didn't know when her premonition was meant to happen. Or if it would at all. Or if what she'd done would even help. Still. "So, what are we doing today while the heroes are off being heroic?" It was hard to be so jovial but these two seemed to respond better to that. The thought was genuine, at least.

Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Velocity, Triumph, Dauntless, Assault and Battery were all moving out today for a joint event. She knew this because they'd been ordered to go somewhere well away from their altercation. Taylor was pretty sure they were going after the bomb tinker that had broken Lung out last week. Thus it was that she and the two Wards ended up patrolling the boat graveyard and rooting out transients. The worst you could run into here were Merchants and they were… well, to be honest, a major non-threat.

Between Kid Win's laser pistols, Taylor's Frost Pebble Staff and Clockblocker's ability to generate instant cover they could pretty effortlessly take out 'Skidmark'. And Squealer specialised in vehicles. Big, loud, easy-to-spot vehicles. If she was anywhere nearby they'd know long before she saw them. So it was pretty safe. Besides, they were doing well.

The usual process was for them to find a camp of gang members or hobos, or both in many cases, and then Taylor just sort of existed in their general vicinity until they ran away screaming in terror. Anyone with a suspicious bag or bundle was tagged and bagged by her and Kid Win.

If they found anything illegal the tinker had these little balls that he slapped on them which made them float into the sky. He said they were collected by remote drone and delivered to a drop point; in this case the Brockton Bay Police Department: Narcotics Division. Clockblocker seemed mostly around for moral support but he did a reasonable job of that.

Taylor paused mid-step and looked to one side with a frown. Then she sighed. "Guys, we've got a problem." She pointed through the wreckage to the North. "There's a few dozen gang members that way and two Capes." One felt like Squealer. The power surging off the vague figure in her head was relatively small compared to the other; probably Skidmark.

"... well, dicks. We should call it in.." Clockblocker pulled out his communicator and then frowned. "Huh. No signal. Weird." Kid WIn grabbed his and frowned as he messed with it.

"Yeah. That is weird." Then he checked his computer-gauntlet and the frown only intensified. "I can't reach my drone, either. I think we're being jammed." Taylor blinked a couple of times then turned her head slowly. Another mass of entities had entered into the range of her clairvoyance.

"Um. The ABB are here. They're coming from the South." Both Wards froze when she said that and looked at her with faces of abject horror. Communications down and they were very nearly in the middle of a gang war. "I think we should leave. Fast." All three of them began to jog to the West as Taylor felt the people getting closer and closer.

Then a vehicle burst out of the wreckage to their right. It looked like a seven-wheeled tank; three on either side and one big one at the front because, well, why not right? Taylor and Kid WIn broke left but Clockblocker broke right as it opened fire with the heinously large machine guns on top. She hadn't felt it coming!

Kid Win did something and a forcefield like frosted glass burst up around them; it didn't block the shots but seemed to apply a perpendicular force to them that sent them veering wildly in other directions. It lasted for all of six seconds before the device on his shoulder crackled and began to pour black smoke out. Taylor hit the young man with a flying tackle and felt several shots curl around them; the influence of her own amulet twisting some away and a few more slamming into her side.

The hoodie tore but the enchanted metal underneath held; Squealer had clearly gone for lower calibre so she could have more guns. Her side still stung like a bitch, though. They landed behind a piece of twisted metal and bullets sprayed wildly overhead as the tank fired on them for what seemed like an eternity. Then, suddenly, the vehicle was gone; it had kept shooting as it drove off until it was out of sight and moving towards the invading ABB. She could hear the crunch of metal being twisted underneath.

"Nobody inside it…" Taylor pushed herself up and checked her side. That was going to bruise. "I couldn't sense it." Then she glanced around. "Where's Clockblocker?" He'd disappeared in the chaos of the moment; they'd all just sort of started sprinting when the wrecking tank had smashed through.

"Fuck." It was weird hearing Kid WIn swear, but he seemed rather shaken by that encounter. "We need to find him. But…" Taylor closed her eyes and felt. Her senses were vague at the best of times but there was a battle going on now and that made things a lot more complex. She could hear the massive guns on the machine roaring in the distance as unloaded a hail of bullets on the invading gang members.

"I can find him. My defenses seem to work on bullets and I have stealth-enhancing gear. You go call the Protectorate." He looked agonised, hesitant even, until she screwed up her power and pushed it at him. "Go, now!" After a moment of her command ringing in the air he scrambled to his feet and dashed off.

Clockblocker's aura was further towards the group of Merchants now. Her boots muffled the sound of debris beneath her and she could vaguely feel enemies moving all around. Things had become very chaotic very quickly. Then, suddenly, there was an explosion and she instantly knew where he was.

She burst into a sprint and came across the site of it. Clockblocker was partially embedded into the base of a wall from how hard he'd been flung into it and there was an awful mess around him. Dozens of charred corpses littered the area and the epicentre was a surprisingly intact body. It was almost like a statue; frozen in a charcoal visage of pain and terror with a huge hole in its torso where the blast had ripped out of it.

Taylor knelt beside him and went to check for a pulse when he coughed suddenly. Then he turned his head to look at her.

"Anyone get the number of that truck?" She let out a little sigh and resisted the urge to punch his arm. Probably some broken bones in there. Still, if his sense of humour was intact then he shouldn't be that hurt.

"What happened?" She gestured at the blast site; ruined corpses and macabre statue and all. Clockblocker shrugged and then made a noise of pain.

"Tank-thing had guns on the back so I had to keep running. Ran into the middle of this group. Was trying to fast-talk my way out of it when one of 'em started screaming and the next thing I knew his chest was glowing red. Boom." He coughed hard and wiped the blood away from his mouth. The mask and outfit was ruined. He was lucky to be alive. Her eyes flickered to a spot of white on the ground nearby.

"Okay. Just stay down. Kid Win's gone for help, and I think we'll be safe here." Taylor reached out and picked up the unicorn pendant. He seemed to be staring at it. Then he slowly put his hand out and she dropped it into it. "... for luck." Clockblocker nodded slowly, still staring at the thing in his hand.

"... yeah. Luck."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
​

Oracle stood slowly. She wasn't sure how long her moment had lasted but Lung wasn't in the room with her so it can't have been long. Then she walked over to the boy and put a hand on his shoulder; giving the knowledge of her commandments to him. He nodded and moved out; all fear banished by feeling her voice inside him.

Taylor, meanwhile, was terrified. The explosions that day had occurred when the ABB's tinker had set off a number of bombs in a bid to create enough chaos to escape the Protectorate's attack on her. It had failed and, worse still, irritated Lung enough that he didn't rescue her. The damage had been relatively low; confined as it was to the gangs of Brockton but it had stirred up enough trouble for the man that he'd just let her be sentenced to the Birdcage.

Now he'd come to her. She didn't know why but she would see him anyway. And if he was here to offer violence to her flock… Cool mist poured off her fingertips at the thought. If Lung wanted a fight she wouldn't give him one. A fight implied conflict, two opponents of similar strength clashing with each other.

He might think he was a dragon but she knew what real dragons were like. Some part of her had killed them, too. More than one. Not her… Taylor had never killed anyone. But she knew how easily she could. Even so… if Lung was here to hurt her people?

Then the dragon would find out just how outmatched he was in the face of a god.

 

[TotalAbsolutism]

Amy put the helmet on. Her brain chemistry immediately began to adjust her towards a more normal, stable emotional state. She took the helmet off. The effects stopped, and then began to reverse. She put the helmet on. Same changes; effects without a cause as her brain suddenly realised exactly what it had to do in order to repair the damage to her psyche. She took it off again and stared at the damn thing.

It had been a… present. Of sorts. Not a cheap one, either, but apparently there was a full refund offered on it if it didn't work. Which it… well, it did. She had no idea how. But it worked. White metal with a faint sort of scale pattern. There was a red stripe that had been painted down it with a white circle and a red cross inside that in the centre of the forehead guard.

The helmet was surprisingly light. Extremely durable. Then there were the… other aspects. The changes to her brain chemistry were real but the rest didn't make any sense. She could see better in the dark when she put it on. Not quite perfectly but much like she imagined… no, much like she knew a cat could. She'd checked.

Then there was… well, she put it back on and took the cheap lighter out of her pocket again. Lit it up and poked her finger into the flame. Watched as it danced over her skin and pulled it out several seconds later when she began to feel the warmth. That shouldn't have happened. She didn't understand this stupid thing! And yet…

She couldn't deny that she felt better when she put it on. More… grounded. Vicky's mood swings didn't seem to hit her as hard. The stress from work was vastly reduced even if it didn't stop her from just worrying. That niggling little feeling that she was doing something wrong, that she was being selfish by just sitting her and playing with her new toy didn't go away. It was more like… well, like she didn't care.

Which wasn't exactly true. She did. It bothered her. But not like it had before. That near-compulsive urge to go back to the hospital was… manageable. After sitting there for some time she stood up and grabbed her phone off her desk. Then she flopped back down on the bed as she dialled.

"Amy." Carol answered in her usual fashion but it didn't seem to bother her like it normally would. She could feel her body try to adjust itself in reaction to her anxiety and then ramp back down again as soothing confidence flowed into her from the helmet.

"The helmet should help Mark. It's… odd. But it seems to work as advertised. Maybe even better." When they'd been sold it the girl, Pretender, had said it was meant to improve 'morale' in general. As far as she could tell with her powers it just encouraged a positive mental state and acted against negative ones; but without the sort of side effects you'd expect from that. She didn't feel reckless or anything. Just… self-assured.

"Good. I'll order another one, then, since she branded that one for you." The cost wasn't much of an object to Carol given how much she earned, Amy knew that much, but she still made it sound like that kind gesture on the part of that stranger had been a terrible inconvenience for her. "Goodbye, Amy." Then she had hung up without so much as a thank you.

Amy sat up and sighed. Not too long ago that might have seriously bothered her. But now… after some thought she took the helmet off. A few minutes later it went back on again and she frowned. That was concerning. Although she didn't think it had legitimately addictive properties built into it the effect was… rather pleasant. Going without for any length of time might be less so. For now, she resolved to take it off when she slept at the very least.

Still. She did take it off so she could look at the front of the helm; tracing the cross with her fingers. They'd said that their powers had let them change the colour, albeit with a bit of effort apparently, but they hadn't been able to pattern it. White alone would have been fine, and yet they still took the time to do this. It was a little crude, and yet…

Amy smiled. The gesture was thoughtful. She would have to find a way to return the favour.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

Upon reflection Taylor wasn't exactly sure how she'd arrived here. Only a month ago she'd just been intending to sell her items to New Wave and maybe Faultline. Which she had done. Then there had been that incident at the boat graveyard with Kid Win and Clockblocker and things had sort of… escalated.

At first she'd just intended to help people. After that she'd realised that just feeding them wouldn't be enough. They had to be protected and that meant being more visible. More powerful. So she'd made some new items, come up with a sort of stage persona to use, contacted Diego for the first time… and then in the meantime Faultline had contacted her.

Now she had far more money than she knew what to do with sitting in a sort of 'Cape account', she was pretty sure that she was an honest-to-goodness cult leader, she'd somehow managed to indimidate Hookwolf into leaving her alone long enough for them to move into this old church with the elderly priest's sincere and heartfelt goodwill and now, right now, Lung was coming into her office.

The Ring of Warning had been put away for now since it had refused to shut up. Instead she was wearing the levitating one, the fire eating one and one of the spare poison ones for good measure. If he attacked her… well, she didn't really have a plan so much as a desperate hope that she could beat him if she got in a clean touch.

Then he was suddenly in the room. It hadn't happened quickly; Diego had opened the door for the big scary man and he'd walked through it. Yet suddenly seemed like an appropriate verb to apply to literally anything that Lung did. The man was tall but felt taller, wide but felt wider, muscular but felt… well, even more muscular. Something about him was just more.

Oracle hovered in place and did her best to face him calmly. It wouldn't do to tremble. Looking weak in front of Lung was definitely a bad idea. A young man calmly followed after him, walked around the gang leader and then knelt beside her so she could put a hand on his shoulder. Lung scowled.

"I will speak to you alone." The young man did not react until Taylor put words into his head. His pronunciation was slightly off but that was to be expected.

"Honoured guest, Antonio does not speak English. This Oracle place the sounds into his head and he speaks them without comprehension. Without a voice, the Oracle may not speak to you unless you accept her into your heart." And that was entirely true; although she suspected that the young man was slowly learning to understand just from her guidance alone.

"... fine. I will trust your word on this." He didn't look happy to say that, though, and Taylor felt like she ought to be a lot more nervous about that. Strangely, she wasn't. Her entirely justified fear wasn't transferred across to Antonio and although Lung was incredibly dangerous her mind was just filled with the memories of other, far more dangerous dragons that had underestimated her in the past. Well… not exactly her.

Lung looked like he wanted to sit but there wasn't anywhere for that. She'd moved out from behind the desk and was fixed in place before him; the hem of her robe clearly above the ground. After a moment of pointless staring he spoke again. "One of the Empire bastards visited you last week. Are you with them?" That sent all sorts of alarm bells firing in her head and she quickly instructed her mouthpiece.

"Our congregation is primarily Hispanic, honoured guest. They wished to do our people violence, and we came to an accord." That seemed to both satisfy and annoy Lung. Taylor was starting to get the feeling it was hard to not annoy him.

"... you pay me half." Taylor blinked under her cowl and remained silent until Lung grumpily elaborated. "Give me half of what you're paying them. The ABB will keep those Nazis off your back." Oh. Oh no. This was… not good.

"Unfortunately, this Oracle must decline your gracious offer." That got his hackles up. The man stomped forward and loomed over the both of them. Antonio, to his credit, didn't flinch; although she could feel him trembling under his hand.

"No? I think you meant 'Yes', bitch. I don't care what little game you're playing here but it ends now. You're not in Empire turf, you're in mine and around here what I say goes!" He was fuming and smoking slightly as heat shimmered off him. Taylor knew that he was pyrokinetic and that it got stronger as he did. How powerful was he in his base form?

"We believe that your policy is a rule of strength, yes? Then we shall give you proof of our credentials." Under the cloak it was hard to tell that she'd braced to leap at him; the ring of levitation maintaining her at a stable distance above the ground even as she launched herself forward. Lung swung wildly as flame burst into the world and she felt his arm connect with her side and fling her across the room.

Antonio scrambled to help her up only to find her rising unaided with the help of the levitation effect. That was really useful, actually. The fires that had appeared flowed away as their rings devoured them; with Lung on his way in she'd instructed that the spare kept in the church hall for emergencies be given to the young man she knew would be serving as her voice. In the middle of the room Lung had collapsed sideways; she walked up and tapped him again for good measure.

He'd hit her, and not lightly either given how much her side stung, but she'd hit him too. Lung wouldn't be waking up anytime soon. When he did, she…

It was at that moment Taylor realised that she had absolutely no idea what to do with him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

Gallant was sitting in the van. That was his primary contribution to the mission. To be fair, it was an important one. He was charged with monitoring Armsmaster's emotional state on-site with his powers and notifying of any irregularities. Meanwhile, Dragon was monitoring the op remotely and would, at his suggestion or at her own discretion, 'escalate the situation'.

Nobody who would be physically in the area of the operation had been informed what measures had been taken specifically to counteract any potential Mastering, just in case, but it was hard not to have faith in Dragon's abilities. She was sort of the poster child for terrifyingly efficient.

Even so. With so many people on site picking out just one was… rough. Especially given the general feeling of this place. All of these people were so… content. It wasn't an overwhelming emotion like the sort he saw with Vicky's aura but that didn't mean anything in particular. Whatever effect that could be at work on these people may just be more subtle than that.

"Approaching the entrance. Gallant, do you have a read on me?" Dean started and moved to stare at the various camera feeds. There was one from Armsmaster's helmet and chest cameras each as well as the external feed from the van and even a couple from stealth drones circling overhead; one in colour and another in infrared. It felt like overkill but it did make a little easier to pick out the feelings that were probably Armsmaster.

"I've got you, sir. How's it look in there?" There was an audio feed but he wasn't listening in on it until they knew more. Armsmaster's voice was being synthesised by… some mechanism that had made his eyes go cross-eyed when they'd started to explain how it worked to him.

"... normal. Like a church running a community event on any given Saturday." Someone was calmly leading him through the building as he looked around and seemed to be talking animatedly. The hall was packed with people who seemed to be glancing at Armsmaster curiously but almost entirely without any particular fear or concern. Mostly they were lined up with bowls in hand.

At the far end of the room was a huge metal pot. Actually, it looked kind of like a cauldron; Dean only knew what that was because of those wizard kid books that he'd never had the heart to tell Vista that he didn't actually like all that much. They were ladling soup into the waiting bowls and didn't seem to be running out. The view switched over to infrared for a moment as Armsmaster investigated it further; the whole thing seemed to be both full and warm but with no visible source for the heat.

"Confirming presence of one of Vulcan's items." Different vision modes flickered across the display while Dean listened to Armsmaster report back. "Generating heat without any visible mechanism, the volume of liquid inside doesn't seem to be decreasing and I can't detect anything I'd recognise as a circuit." So it was literally an unlimited pot of soup. That was… bizarre.

"Moving onward. I've been granted an audience with 'Oracle'. I'll be switched the feed to full filtered. Gallant, stay focused." Even though nobody else was even in there Dean still couldn't stop himself from nodding before wincing with embarrassment. Well… at least nobody was in there.

On the screen Armsmaster was stepping through an opened door and into one of the strangest scenes that Gallant had ever seen. He stared at the display then wiped his eyes to double check what was going on. They seemed to be in an office with visible scorch marks on the floor and walls, which was odd enough on its own, but the other occupants were just as weird.

There was someone in a thick black robe that seemed to be floating in mid-air. They had one hand stretched out and resting on the shoulder of a kneeling Hispanic man to their right. When Armsmaster flicked between his various vision modes the first oddity was that they seemed to be invisible on the infrared scan; as far as that particular wavelength was concerned the robe was unoccupied.

"Greetings, Master of Arms." And at that moment Dean was certain that Dennis had burst into laughter but had no idea why. "This Oracle welcomes you to our congregation. How may we help you?" Armsmaster's emotions were… he was pretty sure they were fluctuating a little, but nothing unexpected yet.

"I'm here on behalf of the PRT to talk to you about your… 'congregation', and your intentions here. Is everything alright? Your office seems to have suffered some… damage." He glanced down at the burn marks as he said so. When Oracle began to talk again it was only then that Dean realised that the person in the robe wasn't actually talking; the kneeling young man beside them was instead.

"We had a visit from Lung earlier. He felt that he could intimidate us into submission. We disagreed with his assessment." That made Gallant's blood cold; he was having trouble differentiating between the people at this distance, especially with the cluster of happiness and relief in the hall, but the robed person certainly felt calm. At least he thought so. Their mouthpiece seemed as serene as if they were just discussing the weather.

"I see. May I ask what happened to him?" Oracle turned their head slightly and Gallant absolutely felt that. Several people suddenly felt elated and then began moving quickly.

"We have motion and emotional stimulation from some of the followers." He reported in at once and looked over at the infrared drone; trying to figure out where they were in the building and where they were going.

"I have them, Gallant, stay focused on the meeting." Dragon's cool voice came over his earpiece and he forced himself to take a few deep breaths. He only caught the latter half of Oracle's response.

"... to you, of course. We are happy to cooperate with temporal authority." That was… time? Time authority? Dean didn't quite grasp what they were trying to say, there.

"We appreciate your candor, Oracle, but there are some concerns regarding your flock. I hope you can understand how this situation appears from an… outside perspective." For a few moments the figure is silent and then the young man beside them nodded.

"Of course. You fear that we are ruling our people through force of powers rather than faith. We are certain that many of our congregation will be entirely willing to volunteer for whatever examinations you wish." The relief from Armsmaster was almost palpable, and very distinct.

"Thank you for your cooperation. A Parahuman acting as the focal point of a church is no small matter and we hope to achieve a peaceful resolution here. I do have to ask what you intend to do going forward?" After a few moments the young man smiled up at Armsmaster and Gallant could feel his glee bubbling upwards. He genuinely enjoyed this. Dean almost felt like he should go to some normal church services to compare them to… whatever this was.

"We intend to allow any who wishes to come here. They will be provided food, given shelter, and protected. This Oracle has no desire to use them as tools or weapons. In all things we ask that they act with peace in their minds and mercy in their hearts. As long as we are not acted against we have no intent of acting in turn; but even if we are compelled to motion our followers shall remain quiescent." There were an awful lot of words in there Dean wasn't entirely sure about but Armsmaster seemed relieved.

"Very well. I'll return later to discuss the matter of exams for your followers. And I'll see if I can arrange for delivery of some food or blankets here to make up for the inconvenience." Relief seemed to come from Oracle as well when he said that; for as inhuman as they behaved their emotions were pretty normal.

"We thank you for your consideration. Please take good care of our gift. We do not wish any harm upon him." After a few more basic pleasantries Armsmaster began to head out and Dean finally relaxed; watching his senior's progress and noting the small group following in his wake. As they came out to the van the telepresence drone sitting in there with Gallant hummed to life and opened the rear doors then moved out to meet Armsmaster.

Moments later they both stepped back in; each carrying one side of a litter that was being supported by the drone on the other side. Laying on the makeshift carrier was… Lung. Unconscious, apparently unharmed and very shortly full of drugs as Armsmaster carefully injected him with something and began to apply restraints.

"How were the readings?" It took long enough for Dean to realise that he was being spoken to that Dragon replied for him. Or perhaps Armsmaster was talking to her all along.

"Stable on your end. No unexpected spikes. Gallant?" He must have been talking to her because now it was his turn.

"Um… stable, I guess. I think Oracle might be able to communicate with them remotely because they were really excited before they went to get... " He glanced down at the shackled ABB leader. "Uh… Lung. But their emotions feel… normal. It's not like when Vicky's around someone, or when I blast someone. If they were being Mastered it's either on all the time or incredibly subtle. I'm not sure." Armsmaster removed his helmet and frowned.

"I didn't get any response from my psychic shielding. Which could mean so many things that it's basically worthless as a result. We'll have to investigate the converts…" The vehicle hummed into life as Dragon began to drive it back for them. It had been equipped to self-drive and for full remote control. Again, just in case.

"Well, we'll be in Master-Stranger quarantine for a while either way. Lung will have to be as well. Containment will be tricky…" Dean didn't want to interrupt the boss' thoughts but there was something curious that he had to ask about.

"Sir, what was with the… Oracle was talking through that guy. It was… well, it was kinda creepy." Armsmaster shot him a rueful look as he sat down and buckled up.

"I was warned going in that Oracle couldn't speak directly to us. Of course, I had no idea what they actually meant by that until I got in. I wanted to ask about it then but I thought we should ask the ones we interview first." Right. That… made sense, he supposed. "Still. We have Lung. And not a mark on him…"

Armsmaster pulled out a screen from the side of his chair and began to tap on it with a deepening frown. "Can't see any major injuries at all from the preliminary scans. Have to do blood chemistry when we get him back…" His expression only seemed to darken then.

"... sir? Are you alright?" Gallant only spoke to the older man after much hesitation. Which was understandable given the face he was making.

"Fine. This is just very… familiar to me." He put his helmet back on and a moment later he seemed to be talking to someone else; though the sound was being purposefully muffled. When he was done he took it off again and let out a heavy sigh.

"... Dean." Gallant straightened up when addressed. Armsmaster was looking right at him. "How' have Panacea and Glory Girl been lately?" Well, that was a bit out of left field.

"Oh. Uh. Good. Fine, I guess? Vicky is still Vicky, but she's been a bit happier lately." She'd told him that her dad was recovering from a pretty dark place but he wasn't exactly going to say that, not even to his direct superior. "And Amy seems less stressed since they got that helmet from Pretender for her." Armsmaster nodded; expression unreadable.

"Alright. Suggest to both of them that they might like to try and avoid Pretender for a while. The same goes for you. I'll have a proper meeting with all of the Wards about it after I've met with her again. We've got to sort out a few things." Dean nodded but felt fairly lost. He knew there was meant to be some sort of connection between Oracle and Pretender via whoever made those strange items for the both of them but even so, something about that statement felt ominous…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

At her desk Faultline suddenly sat up straight; discarding the bits of wood she'd been messing around with moments ago. For a few moments she seemed to be listening to something. Then she burst into raucous laughter and hit the intercom.

"Gregor, get the gang in here right now! We've got word from the P-Net." She chuckled over their tongue-in-cheek nickname for their benefactor's chosen communication method and was just leaning back in her chair as the intercom began to crackle at her.

"Elle too?" That gave her a moment of pause. She frowned briefly before leaning in and hitting the button again.

"Yeah. Elle too." She had long enough before Newter arrived to relax and then Emily and Elle arrived shortly after with Gregor bringing up the rear. The blonde girl was smiling and had flowers braided into her hair; the floor around her feet transforming into grass as she walked and vanishing as she stepped away. The gold-and-blue amulet was very clearly visible on her chest against the green robe.

They'd expected a significant decrease in power from her and they'd got it. In exchange she was almost always lucid enough to communicate with them and had been amazingly stable for weeks now. If they needed her power then she could take off the amulet but in the meantime she seemed ecstatic to be able to interact with everyone without any difficulty.

That had been the final straw that had broken her resistance to Pretender's little contract. Elle was wonderful to be around in her better moments and now those moments had been stretched out indefinitely. Newter had automatically gone and cuddled up to her; happy to take in the human contact just because he could. Because he didn't have to worry about it. Green and gold rings glittered on all of their hands.

"Good news. Word from upstairs is that Lung is down and out. That means the ABB only has Lee left. Could be some good business for us if we wanted to work independently for a bit. Thoughts?" Gregor went into his usually thoughtful consideration while Newter jumped up and grinned.

"Awesome! Let's rob 'em blind while it lasts." That was the rub, wasn't it. Gregor shook his head and rumbled into speech.

"We should wait a few days to see if it sticks. Otherwise… it could be a lucrative venture. More lucrative if we could get paid for doing it. Unfortunately, I suspect our only customer in that regard would be the Empire and I have no particular desire to reach out to them, nor respond to any overtures in kind." That was a sobering thought. Their contemplation was broken by Elle.

"Um… if we do, then I'd like to help. I need more practice working with my powers while I have this on." She gestured to the amulet and then smiled at all of them.

"... yeah, I'm keen, boss." That was three for five, and Gregor's concerns seemed to be mostly logistical. "But we should wait a bit. See if Coil will pay us to mess with them a bit, maybe? He seems the sort to take advantage of this." Ugh. There was a snake if there ever was one; and she wasn't just saying that because of his dumb-looking costume.

"Alright. If Lung's still locked up in a few days and we don't hear from anyone wanting us to mess with them we'll…" She trailed off for a few moments and then shot out of her seat. "Fuck. Fuck! We have to go right now. Newter, go start the car!" He didn't question her at all; leaping away from Elle and flitting out of the doorway. By the time she was in the hall he was out of sight and the other three were following behind her.

"What's happening?" Gregor called out after her as they ran but, to his credit, he moved with as much alacrity as he could manage. There was a ripple in the air and the environment twisted; a calm rolling hill flowing into reality via the hallway in front of them and terminating in what appeared to be the downstairs garage. Spitfire had picked Elle up and was carrying the girl with them; both of their faces red from their respective exertion.

Faultline praised her people in the depths of her heart as they dashed down the hill and through the door at the bottom of it; the distorted terrain already transforming back into the club. Even with their shortcut Newter had arrived before them, probably by literally leaping down the stairwell, and their vehicle was running. She opened the door and took the wheel; slamming the garage opener while the others piled in. The vehicle's roof scraped a little against the rising door as she gunned it out of there.

"Pretender just promised us five thousand if we can reach her location in five minutes." A lot of money and yet not a lot at all; but she knew the girl wasn't actually all that wealthy. It wasn't why she was hurrying. Faultline's people were important to her and even if she'd charged a pretty penny for the service the weird little Tinker had still helped them.

"She says that her church is being attacked by the Empire."

 

[TotalAbsolutism]

"Here's the latest timeline of events as near as we understand them." Armsmaster was standing beside a projector screen in the briefing room. They had the full complement here today; every member of the Brockton Bay Protectorate and all of the remaining Wards, minus their probationary members. Everyone was grim-faced; some of the younger people in particular.

"Most of this will be known to some of you, depending on how well you've read the reports over the past few weeks…" There were some snickers at that but less than to be expected. Well, that was to be expected. Armsmaster directed their attention to the dates and images that were now appearing.

"April Eighth. First appearance of Pretender. Her artifact was useful in the apprehension of Lung and a number of members of the former criminal group known as the 'Undersiders' that night by Miss Militia and myself. At the time she appeared to be predisposed against joining either the Wards or the Protectorates; so we arranged a meet-up with the Wards." Images flashed on screen and became mobile as they showed what he spoke of.

Lung and Armsmaster were duking it out in the middle of the street; the former seeming unusually sluggish. He was bleeding from knees and elbows where Miss Militia had shot him and every few seconds a pale blue light would explode from his body and ice would form on his skin. Although he tried to use his fire to counteract the effect Armsmaster consistently blasted him with some sort of gel that seemed to be exacerbating the problem.

The display ended with Lung collapsing into unconsciousness some distance into his transformation; the effects starting to reverse slowly afterwards. He was loaded into his own transport and several young people in costumes were placed in another.

Then there were images from Aegis and Vista's initial patrol with Pretender as well as the explosion that had ended it. Both of them looked noticeably uncomfortable but nobody said anything to them. Armsmaster continued his speech without drawing any further attention to them.

"This was April Fifteenth, when I came up with the 'Vulcan' Hypothesis. At the time I had thought that Pretender was a Thinker-Striker Cape who was covering for a Tinker-Trump that had made the items for her." He grimaced at the thought of that. "Even in light of what we've discovered the jury is still out on that one." Events hadn't quite disproved his idea but he certainly hadn't been vindicated either.

A cough from Dauntless snapped him out of it and he hurried onward. "Regardless; this is when Pretender made contact with both New Wave and a local crew of mercenaries with intent to sell them various items." An image of the white-and-red helmet that Panacea more or less refused to part with now appeared on screen. "We don't know what she sold to the latter, but believe this is why they appeared at the incident in May… but I'm getting ahead of myself."

More images appeared and split the screen into two; on the left their full force raid on the headquarters of the ABB's infamous Tinker, Bakuda, and on the right Kid Win and Clockblocker posing with a time-frozen Pretender. The latter was posing goofily for the camera and in the room the former looked down with a shame-filled face.

"This is April Twenty-Third, and our next major event. There are several important points between now and then. The Cape who goes by Oracle met with members of the Bay's Hispanic community and began their little cult. In addition, they uncovered the identity of one of our Wards through unknown means and began stalking them; possibly by proxy, possibly in person." Shadow Stalker shifted uncomfortably in her seat; that particular point was clearly still not sitting well with her.

But that particular can of worms wasn't the point of this briefing, so Armsmaster left it be for now. "This incident is particularly notable for being the most likely point of contamination for Clockblocker. He has since remanded himself voluntarily into custody under our Master Protocols and turned an artifact over for study." An image appeared of a carved ivory unicorn head. It made Armsmaster sigh heavily just to look at it.

"Like every item we've examined that originates from Pretender, or Vulcan, it appears utterly mundane to every possible examination we've subjected it to. Careful testing indicates abnormal durability and that the DNA pattern of the ivory doesn't match any known species of animal." Which didn't mean all that much, but was still troubling. Just another in the long list of oddities to add to this case.

"Which brings us to the latest set of incidents. Three in rapid succession on the Twelfth of May. First, Lung paid a visit to Oracle and was summarily defeated with little to no conflict. Second, I met with them myself shortly after and he was willingly remanded into my custody." A familiar image of the aforementioned gang leader being loaded into the back of a vehicle appeared; the second of the presentation.

"It was during this event that I began to develop another pair of hypotheses regarding 'Vulcan', this Oracle character, and Pretender due to similarities in abilities shown by the latter two." Namely, the somewhat miraculous ability of Oracle to subdue Lung with little to no effort or damage to their surroundings from, apparently, close range.

"I have three working ideas at the moment and all of them await confirmation in some form or another. Firstly; that Oracle and Pretender are separate individuals and not capes at all with both of them receiving abilities from items provided by 'Vulcan'. Secondly; that one of them is 'Vulcan' and the other has the capacity to provide powers to others much like the Empire Cape, Othala. Thirdly; that one of them is 'Vulcan' and a third party is providing temporary powers to both. There are other variants on these three main themes present in my packet."

Many copies of packet were sitting on the various desks in the room. Each one was quite thick but it had to be given it had full documentation on every single known instance of power usage by Oracle or Pretender, everything on any of the items they used, and a number of notable correlations between the two; as well as psych profiles as detailed as they could be based on what was known to them. He'd gone all out… and with good reason.

"Lastly, we have the final incident, and the reason we're all here today."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

Attend me.

As her mental command rang out every member of her church that could hear her voice instantly stopped what they were doing and turned to face unerringly towards her. She could see it in her mind's eye as she spoke to them. Just as clearly as she could see the reason she'd interrupted them.

Beyond the range of her actual vision, mystical or otherwise, she could see the rough shape of enemies. Their livery… ugh… their colours, rather, indicated who they were nearly as well as the surging auras of power that came from the leaders. Three of them; one of which was distinct enough for her to tell who it was even if she couldn't tell from the vague impression of their appearance that she got. Hookwolf and the Empire; with two extra capes.

Her mind zeroed back in on Faultline and her group; they were having a meeting to discuss what they might do in the wake of Lung's disappearance. She had informed them not long ago now and had been trying to avoid listening in on them… at least consciously. On some level she was perfectly aware of the things that happened around her worshippers or, for lack of a better word, 'servants'.

Faultline, I need your help. My church is being attacked by Empire goons and capes. I'll pay five thousand if you can get here within five minutes.

She was pleased by the haste demonstrated by the mercenary crew; bribery in this case was safer than risking a direct order that might fail and having their bond collapse on her. Whatever mysticism that recognised their agreement to serve her was likely tenuous at best. Meanwhile, in a blurring display of multitasking, her mind split into dozens of individual threads.

Seeing her own capacity to act on several levels like this was unnerving at the best of times but right now she didn't care. Orders were issued instantly and every member of her congregation with faith enough to hear her moved with one purpose. Four to seize the cauldron and move it, one to collect one of their many insurance policies from her office, another to secure the collection and more besides; those without her voice in her head being reassured by the others at her command.

They were still human, though, and she couldn't control them; only direct. There was panic, and confusion, and fear as the news began to spread. Evacuation could only mean bad things and even though her greatest naysayers had become some of her most devout converts there were still those who felt vindicated in their fears. Besides which there were those who had just come here for a hot meal and a dry place to sleep. There was only one thing to do.

Oracle floated into the church hall with a steady purpose. Simply seeing her was enough to calm some; those who didn't truly believe in her but were willing to trust in the power of a Cape when it was right there. Others were more agitated and crowded around her, though not quite right up to her, while demanding answers.

"Be still, children." Her voice rang with purpose, strength and authority. It brought silence to the cacophony and stillness to the chaos; at least for the moment. "The children and the elderly shall be spirited away to safety by Diego, by methods I prepared for this occasion. The rest of you shall split into small groups and I shall guide you to safety."

A brash young man stepped up and she recognised him as Alex. His fervour shone in his face and posture. She could feel his will to fight surging within him and knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"I'm not going to leave. With you here we can fight those racist fucks! We can't just run every time, Madre." There were more who felt like them. She could feel it in their hearts as they moved to stand with him. "This is our family now, our community. They can't just walk over us like they used to. Right?" His voice was as pleading as it was aggressive. He had put his belief in her and wanted so desperately to be vindicated. When Oracle shook her head he looked, he felt, heartbroken.

"A building is a building. Our family is in those we have here, Alejandro. Your safety is more important than your pride." As shame and betrayal filled him she reached out and formed a fist. Immediately a spark of hope lit inside him; keeping the fire that burned in his belly alive. "You will go to safety, as I have commanded, and take with you both our people and those who are innocent; caught in the crossfire. I will remain here and ensure they do not try to follow you."

He tried to protest, many did, but she pushed at them with her command. They could choose to disobey, they had chosen in the past, but her plea for the others combined with their loyalty won out in the end. Red-faced, furious and sorrowful both, they moved to help get everyone out the back of the church and headed in the opposite direction to the oncoming Empire.

Diego returned with the contents of a chest in her room; a thin white scrap of material that one would be forgiven for mistaking for a table cloth. Those too old to move quickly were gathered up along with the youngest in their group; along with their mothers, in most cases. There was limited space within this effect and they had to prioritise as best they could. The fathers had almost universally agreed to let their partners and children go without them if it meant they would be safer.

When the old man spun the cloths up and around it expanded outwards like a tent and surrounded the two-dozen strong group of evacuees. All of them vanished as if they'd never been there and Taylor nodded. One or twenty, it was just as effective. So long as they stuck together they'd be more or less undetectable.

Now it was time for her to marshal her forces.

With a thought a dozen birds rose into the sky around the church. Her experimentation with various spells had produced… interesting results, to say the least. The flock were difficult to command and tended to be rather vicious if she didn't keep a tight leash on them; which necessitated keeping them close. But their greatest benefit was one she hadn't foreseen when she'd cast the spell and one she made use of now when she directed a pair towards the oncoming Empire.

When the bird's urge to dive bomb the leaders arose she didn't restrain it. In the moments before it died, mercifully quickly, she got a good look at them. There was Hookwolf, obviously, and one she recognised as Stormtiger from what she felt was his rather unoriginal mask. Their third was armoured and carried a spear; from her binges of PHO and the Wiki she recognised him as 'Crusader'.

Another thought rallied the others at her command and she felt guilty to see the dogs peel away from the families that had adopted them and gather in front of her. They were all of an indeterminate breed, most likely mutts, and close to identical. This was what she had. Magically summoned dogs and birds, along with herself. Faultline would hopefully be here soon but until then she was heinously outnumbered and outgunned.

"You control 'em." A voice from behind noticeably didn't startle her as she'd seen the figure approach through the eyes of those streaming out of the hall. When the dogs had gathered this one had too; trailing in after them. They were a new arrival to the church and one Oracle had been quite wary of at first; yet they'd spent their time either eating gruel, sitting in the corner or playing with the dogs.

"They are loyal to me. It is not quite control." She turned to face the other and frowned under the hood and helmet. The reason for her trepidation was plainly visible to her other senses; a clear aura of power around this mysterious visitor. Made more troublesome by the fact that her answer apparently wasn't the one one that this person wanted to hear.

"Gonna make 'em fight?" The tone was practically a growl and the dogs responded in kind; turning to snarl at the threat with ears flat and teeth bared. They didn't step back but leaned forward and responded in kind; Oracle could feel the confusion in her creatures until she commanded that they sit and be still. After a moment's hesitation they did so.

"If I must? To protect the others? Yes. I will have them fight with me." She stressed what she felt was the important word as she reached out for one of the animals. It pulled close and nuzzled against her palm. Underneath the low hoodie Oracle could make out a scowl on the Cape's face.

"... I don't get it. They like you. Do what you say. Not like fighting dogs I've seen. Like you're just another one of 'em." A hand reached up and pushed the hood back; uncovering a shock of auburn hair and a harsh face underneath. It was contorted by confusion, anger and more; the emotions seeming unfamiliar on the face. Then it seemed to set itself into an unreadable mask.

"Fine. If they fight, I help. Not gonna let you get 'em killed."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

An image of Rachel Lindt, labelled 'Hellhound', appeared on the screen, alongside in-costume mugshots for three other young people; one in a motorcycle helmet and two in masks of wildly varying styles. A caption above proclaimed the name of the four as "Undersiders".

"We don't know how Oracle and Hellhound came into contact. Although we captured the other three members of her group we only have one still in custody at present; both Regent and Tattletale somehow managed to escape during Bakuda's bombing of the Rig." Images from that event flashed on the screen. It had been an absolute trainwreck of a day that had been only partially salvaged by the capture of Bakuda and the return of Lung later on.

"Hellhound managed to evade us the first time and was deemed a low priority then simply because she is not known for acting independently beyond petty theft. However, her threat level has improved as of this recent encounter." He made a gesture a video pulled up on the screen. They'd all seen it before, of course.

Practically everyone in Brockton had.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

"Too quiet." Hookwolf muttered to himself while his men spread out to surround the building; a mid-sized European style church and the community hall attached to it. He'd brought quite a lot, even though Crusader had insisted that any one Empire man was worth five of the Mexicans. Right or wrong, it was better to have more than less.

Still, apart from that insane bird that had tried to gouge out Stormtiger's eyes and had been diced up for its trouble they hadn't had any activity yet. There had been no sign of any of the scum who he knew were inside the building and no sign of the Cape either. It was bothering him and he wasn't sure why. There was this nagging itching sensation at the back of his neck that was just pissing him off.

"I can smell 'em around here. Inside, too. Sweat. Animals. Food. Can't hear movement, though." Stormtiger muttered to him; just loud enough for Hookwolf to hear. Had they known he was coming? Maybe they had lookouts posted around the neighbourhood. Kids, probably. Dirty immigrants were good at sneaking about where they didn't belong.

"Whatever. Let's just do this." He jerked his head at Stormtiger and gave the man a meaningful look. "You're up. Time to roast us some vermin." The men nearby all grinned, if the other Cape did he couldn't tell with the mask on, and began lighting up their firebombs. When they were all ready they tossed them together. The projectiles received a boost from the air itself and flew straight and true; smashing through priceless windows and exploding within.

Rather than the screaming and burning migrants pouring out of the building that he had expected, however, the large double doors of the hall exploded open and something else poured out instead. Half a dozen horse-sized monsters covered in bone plates and spikes surged out from inside and leapt at him and his men.

"Fuck! Fire, fire, fire!" Hookwolf himself exploded outwards from his own body into a storm of metal as one of the beasts slammed into him. Even with his added weight and momentum he was knocked back by the thing. His blades tried to gain purchase and cut through hardened flesh as it in turn tried to rip and tear at him; getting nothing but blood in its mouth for its troubles.

His men weren't so lucky; the things just charged through them and flung them aside like bowling pins in their mad dash for the capes; bullets seemed to not even annoy them with how focused they were on himself and his compatriots. Stormtiger flung himself aside and was warding them off with high-pressure wind blades while Crusader had two of his doubles bearing him aloft while a third struck at an otherwise impotent dog-monster that futilely tried to tear the ghost apart.

Metal scraped asphalt as he twisted under the thing; curling his amorphous form around one of its rear legs and squeezing until he felt something give. Then he pulled free and partially shifted back so he could shout at his comrades.

"Crusader, inside, get the Cape!" Then he was twisting back into metal to avoid the crippled one behind him as it curled around on the spot, heedless of its broken legs, and tried to rip his head from his body. From the corner of his eye he saw another one rush out of the building and burst free to intercept it; form elongating and reshaping itself into an oxen-like guise so he could ram it hard and try to penetrate the flesh with a 'horn' of blades.

Ghosts flew towards the building and passed through the roof while Crusader kept himself up and out of reach of any of the beasts. Stormtiger just fought; lashing out and dodging and keeping himself airborne as much as possible while he left thin cuts behind. Hookwolf, however, focused on playing keep-away with the monsters and his men. Leaping and shifting to get away from fang and claw so that he might batter down a beast that was starting to lose its focus on him.

Whenever he could he pounced on one that his friend had cut already; his blades were able to make purchase in the existing wounds and rend open flesh for a moment before he had to leap back again. These things were strong and enraged and blindingly fast as well; one managed to get a solid grip on a part of him only to rip it loose a moment later. After that he shifted shapes more or less constantly as he weaved in and out; never letting another one get a grasp on him if he could help it.

Then, suddenly, Crusader coughed blood and fell out of the air.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -​

It hurt to see Rachel wincing every time one of the dogs was done and went off to join the melee. Oracle was having a hard enough time stopping them from killing anyone as it was without the guilt and the niggling thought in the back of her mind that maybe canine lives were worth more than human ones if those humans happened to be murderous skinheads did not help at all.

That, coupled with the fact that her inherited instincts were demanding that her enemies be slaughtered en masse, meant she very nearly missed the vigorous buzzing on the ring on her right hand. However, when the indistinct form of an armoured neo-Nazi dropped through the roof with ghostly spear in hand he was greeted by an outstretched hand and a sound like a shotgun blast as four razor-sharp shards of stone splintered the wood behind him.

The ghost seemed almost amused by the attempt, which was actually rather galling. In that moment Oracle suddenly found that she was legitimately afraid for her safety since she knew he could definitely stab things with those spears and passing through solid objects probably meant they were immune to most of her ways of stopping them as well as capable of bypassing most of her protective items.

Grimacing, she reached into one of her pouches and pulled out ten purple gems. Knowing that she was going to regret this decision immensely in a very short amount of time Oracle took five in each hand.

Almost as an afterthought Taylor called for help again; this time reaching out to other channels that she had never touched before. The plea was as impassioned as she could make it and she could feel the two people on the other side recoiling in confusion and fear. It was probably a mistake to tip her hand but there was also a good chance she was about to seriously injure herself with this stunt.

Finally, she let her mind gently touch on her father. There were no words, because she didn't want to make him suspicious, and no will pushed into him. All she had to give there was a feeling; in case this all went horribly wrong and she wasn't able to tell him again how she felt.

in his office
Daniel Hebert
was suddenly smiling
and he wasn't entirely sure why
save for the fact
that he somehow felt
like he knew
beyond a shadow of a doubt
that his daughter loved him​

Then, with five Death gems in each hand, she reached for the power. Rituals, the sort of things she couldn't work in the normal course of a fight, were, as Taylor had learned from her memories, a function of time and energy. They required large amounts of both and she recalled distinctly that there had been a time where even she had been limited by that. However, she now understood that all things existed in balance. Thus, the equation was simple.

If you didn't have enough time? Just add more energy.

What she was about to do would kill a mortal mage. But, Taylor was forced to admit, she wasn't sure that either appellation fit her any more. So she shattered the gems and held their power in hand. There was ordinarily a long ritual, and a lot of complex incantations, that went with this as well. She, however, spoke only a single word in her heart.

Open.

The ghost recoiled, clearly confused, as the air cracked in front of either hand. There was a surge of screaming and mist and a sense of undeniable dread as the air in the room grew cold and the light grew dim. Blackness poured out of the cracks like ink flowing into an invisible mould; twining downwards in threads that wove themselves into distinctly indistinct shapes.

Two vague humanoids floated before her. Taylor was able to command them to attack with a gesture and the idea of an order before strength left her body and she collapsed in a heap. Her heartbeat felt faint but she was still conscious; her body simply refusing to obey commands yet her mind still sharp with clarity.

Each of the shades lunged through the air as their mistress convulsed behind them. Crusader's ghostly double swung his spear at them and seemed confused when it had as little effect as the stone shards had on him; whatever force that governed his power not recognising them as sufficiently 'organic' for his strike to be solid.

They had no such compunctions, however, as they drove their hands into his chest and fed upon him. Outside a pair of blackened handprints appeared on Crusader's chest, underneath the armour, and he coughed up blood. All of his ghosts popped while he plummeted to the ground; the connection between the duplicates and himself solid enough for the life-drain to pass through but weak enough that he survived the ordeal.

Then, just as Hookwolf thought things could not get any worse, he was hit by a car.

 

[TotalAbsolutism]

"It appears that three groups were able to receive Oracle's cry for help. Firstly; Clockblocker. We believe the aforementioned item given to him by Pretender was responsible in some way for him being able to hear it." As if to remind the listening heroes an image of the bearded unicorn pendant flashed up. "He chose not to answer; instead immediately activating the appropriate Master Protocols. The second group was a group of local mercenaries."

Armsmaster showed images from the video; Faultline, Gregor and Newter, "They may have been contacted through mundane means but we suspect otherwise given they were equipped with items that clearly originated from the same source as Pretender and Oracle's. They also arrived with a certain sense of… urgency."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
​

As Hookwolf's twisted metallic form flew through the air and shifted shape into something that wouldn't take the landing too badly he couldn't help but think that maybe he should have brought more Capes. He'd assumed two more would be enough to deal with just the one. That had been stupid of him. If the scumsucker could draw all of those rats to them then he'd definitely be able to make alliances with other inferior rejects like that dog bitch and these idiots.

His writhing metallic shards scraped the ground and pulled him upright; metallic muzzle forming as he took on a mostly bipedal shape. This group he knew, more or less, and he was pleased to see the fire one wasn't with them; she might have actually been able to hurt him. Still, three capes to two wasn't a fight he wanted to get into; especially with Crusader downed by whatever was inside.

The fat one one and the slimy freak were already working as well; one spraying clear slime at the feet of his men and sticking them in place while the other darted about and flicked people with his hands and tail. Any guy he got to dropped in moments.

There was another nasty surprise when one of the ones who still had a firebomb at hand managed to hit their leader with it. Managed was a bit of a strong word; she hadn't even tried to dodge; instead charging forward with an extendable baton at hand and reaching for the flying bottle. It had shattered and then exploded against her fingertips but she'd come right through the flame without missing a beat. That was new.

It was time, he thought, to regroup. Not retreat. Oh no. He'd go and grab Cricket and Rune and come back to smash this place to the ground. They couldn't stop him from leaving if he wanted to. The fatass tried to slime him but his whirling blades ripped the hardening gunk apart and that lizard brat didn't even dare to close the distance. Carefully, Hookwolf bent down and picked up Crusader; looking to Stormtiger and shouting in a voice like a chainsaw.

"We're leaving! Keep the freaks off our backs!" His friend nodded and began to refocus; dodging the monster dogs and firing at the comparatively squishier newcomers. The thin one could dodge and Faultline had to cover behind a vehicle but a cutting wind managed to strike the big one and took him down in a spray of blood. Hookwolf smirked inwardly and began to jog off with his remaining men.

And then, with a tremendous crash, something smashed into the road in front of him. Just like that, Hookwolf's day went from worse to worst.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
​

"However, it is the final individual who presented themselves at the fight that is the greatest cause for concern. While we believe she is herself not in any way contaminated, the fact that she admitted to going to join the fight in response to a call from her sister…" Gallant shifted uncomfortably in his seat and stared at the floor rather than look at the image on the screen. Nobody would blame him.

"Makes this entire incident even more troubling on multiple levels. Although the outcome was arguably a net positive for us the implications of one individual having connections to so many powerful individuals within the Bay, and the ability to deploy them in their defense, are staggering." There, on the screen, was a short clip playing on repeat. Glory Girl dropping out of the sky, shattering the ground, and then ramming head first into Hookwolf; sending him flying through the air.

In many ways it was glorious to behold. But the image of Panacea on the other side, caught mid-work with her new helmet on, rather chilled the glee one might feel at seeing the neo-Nazi receive his comeuppance.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
​

As soon as Hookwolf landed, and didn't immediately get back up, Gregor was already covering him in a thick, semi-clear adhesive. The man had clearly only been dazed for a few moments; rising again and trying to rip himself free of the goo. But it allowed him to be slowed long enough for a high boot to slam down through the 'head' of his bladed werewolf form.

She was hit in the back by a blade of air seconds later but didn't even flinch; instead shooting across the road to hit the unfortunate Stormtiger with a flying lariat that saw him spin several times before landing and going still. Gregor felt that was probably a little too much force even for a neo-Nazi, but it wasn't his place to comment.

Hookwolf was still going, however, despite his 'head' being mangled by that flying kick. He was already rising out of the small crater formed by his heavy landing when the doors to the church opened and two figures came out. One was fairly familiar; purple helmet, cloak, boots, and glimmering armour. The other less so; floating a few inches above the ground and wearing a black cloak that seemed to move as if it were underwater.

Pretender swung her staff at Hookwolf and there was a flash of blue light as frost formed on the surface of his blades. He twitched and tried to shift to a quadrupedal form; horned wolf head starting to take shape when Gregor began to spray him again. Another swing of the staff and another flash of blue light; it was prematurely solidifying the adhesive as well, increasing its effectiveness, and the following rush was slower than it would have otherwise been.

The black-robed figure floated ahead to intercept but it proved unnecessary as Glory Girl once again sideswiped Hookwolf; although the phrasing was somewhat inaccurate, mused Gregor, when one was dropping down from above. It looked like she'd snapped his metallic 'spine' from the impact and he certainly seemed stunned but moments later he tore into a whirling frenzy of blades that had no effect on the hero as she'd already lifted out of his reach.

There was yet another flash of blue light and he began to twitch violently. A few more hesitant steps were taken as he tried to pull himself back into a recognizable form once more but the blades were moving more slowly now. Gregor stepped up and let loose one last volley; emptying his reserve in the process. The warm liquid steamed on contact with the cold metal and, at last, Hookwolf collapsed into a shrinking pile of sharp edges.

Finally, the fat man allowed himself to sit down and look at his chest. The cut wasn't too bad; he'd sealed it to stop the bleeding but it would probably need a few stitches. Nothing life threatening, though. That was good. Faultline crawled out of cover and grumbled to herself. She probably should have gone with Elle instead of Spitfire but she'd felt it was best if she was with the rescue team.

They'd stopped, very briefly, to let Elle and Emily out; an invisible voice guiding them to the group of invisible evacuees that they were tasked with protecting. Then the three of them had hurried over directly. It seemed like Pretender had been holding her own, though.

He saw his boss and Glory Girl both approach the girl in question, who seemed to be giving curt, gruff responses that were quite unlike her. The tone was thankful though. That was good. It was nice that she appreciated them.

WIth a deep sigh he pulled himself back to his feet and began to wander over to check up on the mundane gang members. As much as he disliked them it wouldn't do to let any bleed out from unseen injuries. There were a number of bite marks that looked quite unpleasant.

The monster dogs responsible had stopped fighting when they'd arrived; now they were milling around in a confused sort of way. They backed off when he approached but otherwise seemed to vaguely be standing guard but also not. Lost beasts without direction.

He supposed that was somewhat poetic, wasn't it.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
​

Vicky hadn't known what to think when Amy had called her and begged, begged, for her to go and help Pretender. She hadn't particularly liked the weird girl who was selling them stuff; something about the mask they wore really rubbed her the wrong way. But her sister had sounded really desperate and she knew that helmet had been really helpful to her. Ever since she'd gotten it she'd just seemed… happier.

Plus she'd got to punch a Nazi really hard so that was pretty cool. There was some fat guy throwing up on people but it seemed to be his power so whatever. She floated over to Pretender and waved as she approached.

"Yo. Ames sent me to give you a hand. How's it going?" There was some other weird guy hovering around as well; she couldn't see their face through the creepy black robe but she thought they might have looked at her. Pretender definitely did, she could tell that more easily even with the helmet, but for some reason the girl seemed kind of nervous.

"Someone's hurt. Can you take them to Panacea?" Glory Girl sighed, rolling her eyes. Her sister hadn't said that Pretender was quite this… antisocial. Like yeah, sure, big emergency and all but would it kill her to say hello? And maybe 'thanks'?

"Yeah, sure, no problem, whatever." She floated behind Pretender and grumbled internally all the while. Not even a reaction to that? Geez. It'd be kinda rude to pulse her aura here but she sorta felt like doing it anyway.

The anger all drained away when she saw the tall, black-haired girl inside bleeding from her eyes, nose and ears. Vicky saw the girl's gaze shift; flickering to look at her as she twitched gently on the ground. "What the fuck! She needs an ambulance, I can't move her like this!" Then there was an awful hissing noise from the floating black figure and she spun to face it.

"The Healer must see her quickly. This we say." The voice was just the worst. It was a rasping, crackling hiss that sounded like someone had hooked up a broken microphone to a malfunctioning speaker. Just hearing them talk made Vicky's skin crawl.

"No way, I'm not touching he-" At her belt Glory Girl felt a buzzing. Frowning, she fished out her phone and answered the incoming call from her sister. "Hey, Ames, it's all good here; but someone's hurt and they want me t-"

"Yes, I know. I'm on top of the hospital now, come get me and don't move her." That was… weird, but Vicky shrugged and took off; leaving creepy robe and Pretender to watch the girl as she went to grab her sister. Maybe whoever'd called her in the first place had done so again? Whatever.

Leaving the hospital was unusual for Amy, though. She'd better hurry. Once Vicky was high enough she pushed herself to full speed and exploded across the sky of Brockton Bay; zeroing in on the hospital where her sister usually worked. There was the figure in white, with the brand new yet ever-present helmet, waving at her as she came in for a landing.

"Took you long enough. Come on, let's get going." Not even a 'hello'. Or a 'thank you' for going to help in the first place. Whatever… she'd got to slap some people around real good without being told off, for once, so that made up for it. Vicky picked up her sister and accelerated away again; more slowly than she usually would because of her passenger. She could feel Amy's tension as she held her up and tried to soothe her as best she could.

When they landed at the church things looked… different. Nothing was on fire any more, Hookwolf was covered in even more goop and a lot of people had shown up. Mostly looked like young Latino men. They were picking up the prone Nazis and carrying them to one side without bothering to tie them up… yet none of them were moving. No sign of police yet, though… that was weird…

"Boo!" Pretender was waiting for them outside but was startled when Vicky landed right beside her, snickering at the girl's fright. Amy didn't even bitch at her for it; instead running straight inside. Boring, but with nothing else to do and the masked girl not seeming very talkative at all she decided to follow.

The brown-haired girl was surrounded by more people. Dozens, even, but all of them giving her lots of space and looking worried. Her sister had already crouched down and put a hand to the girl's head. At first her expression was bleak, more so than Vicky had ever seen before, but relief quickly overtook it.

"She'll be fine. There's no permanent brain damage…" Amy's shoulders sagged as she relaxed and a grateful murmur went up amongst the watchers. The black-cloaked… man? Woman? Person. The black-cloaked person floated into view and Vicky couldn't have told anyone where they had been moments ago.

"We thank you Healer. You and yours must depart now." Now that pissed her off. The crowd recoiled from her as she stepped forward and got up in the jerk's face.

"Hey, she saved your friend and you're just going to kick her out like that? Maybe you should be a little more gratefu-" She stopped mid-sentence as her attempt to grab their cloak only for her hand to pass through it like it wasn't even there. There was only a faint chill on her fingertips to show for it.

"Victoria." Her sister had stood up and was giving her a stern look. Now, when she looked around, she noticed that the watching crowd looked like they were on the verge of lynching her; hero or no hero, aura or no aura. "Oracle is right. We should go before the authorities arrive." Amy walked out; leaving Vicky to awkwardly follow behind her.

"Pretender… thank you for the helmet." As soon as she got outside Amy had addressed the quiet girl; who didn't really respond. It was funny… until it had been mentioned Vicky had pretty much forgotten about the helmet. "It's been really helpful. Feel free to call me again if something happens." Ames looked back at her expectantly but she stayed silent until her sister sighed and walked off. "Come on, Vicky. Let's go. Can you drop me off at the hospital?"

Glory Girl shot one parting dirty look at Pretender before sighing and offering her sister an arm.

"Yeah, sis. Whatever."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
​

"After that the PRT arrived and took Hookwolf and Crusader into custody. Stormtiger escaped at some point during the proceedings; it's unclear when. A number of non-powered members were also arrested; a full list has been appended to the report, but it isn't relevant at this time." Saying that any data wasn't important was almost unlike Armsmaster but considering everything else they'd been told it did seem rather low-priority.

"Any questions?" That, it seemed, was that. A full rundown of events that raised almost as many questions as it answered. Nobody seemed to know quite where to start. After a few moments a hand raised; Triumph. Armsmaster nodded at him by way of acknowledgement.

"So are you saying that Panacea, Clockblocker, and who knows who else have all been Mastered?" That was probably the foremost question on everyone's minds. The first two were arguably the most dangerous Strikers in the city and anyone who'd studied their Parahuman history would have nightmares about what could happen if they were influenced by a malevolent power. Really, Panacea alone was terrifying enough.

"That is unclear at this time." Armsmaster appeared oddly uncomfortable with his answer, which meant that everyone else was incredibly concerned, but thankfully he didn't leave it there. "After reviewing Clockblocker's interview footage and the recording of the phone interview conducted with Panacea I can say that whatever effect there might be appears to be extremely weak."

He raised a hand slightly and twisted his wrist; whatever augmented reality control system he used causing the screen behind him to switch to showing an awful lot of text. "This is a copy of the report I made on the subject; Appendix 'M1' in your packet." Some people tried reading from the screen, others began rustling through their rather heavy pile of papers. "To summarise…"

Another gesture and parts were highlighted, other parts blacked out. They all had the full copy in any case. "Clockblocker reported hearing only two words clearly; 'Attend me'. After that he stated he had a," and here there was a clear distaste for the words used, "'Odd feeling'. Originally I described it as a compulsion but I have since revised my opinions. He had no difficulty resisting the feeling, nor was he prevented from reporting it to us." Which, to his credit, Clockblocker had done immediately.

"The desire was clearly and obviously external to him. Or, in his words, it was like he knew what they wanted him to do but didn't feel like he had to do it." Which had included, interestingly enough, a distinct awareness of where he was wanted as well. Panacea had been rather evasive when questioned but had asserted something similar.

"He has been examined by every Thinker we can get our hands on, and they all say he's clean. No lingering influence. It is, however, worth noting that both individuals we can definitively say experienced the phenomenon had reasons to be extremely grateful to Pretender." As clearly noted in Appendix M1-2 and M1-3, according to the note on screen.

"Be that as it may, sir… what are we meant to do now?" Initially, Armsmaster considered chastising Aegis for calling out. He didn't follow through. For a time he didn't say anything at all. Then he sighed; a remarkably human response for someone who many of those present would swear had cast aside all such things long ago.

"Currently, we are to do nothing. If you come in contact with Pretender or Oracle you are not to engage with them in any way. Vacate the area as quickly and peacefully as possible. Any further actions are out of our hands; the buck has been passed up and the word that's come down is to wait." Everyone could see how much those instructions galled him. It was in the sharp, clear tone, the barely clenched fists. Most of them felt the same way.

A hand raised. Gallant; Dean Stansfield in his civilian guise. Nobody was surprised when he asked the question.

"What about New Wave?" Given he was known to be in an inconsistent relationship with Glory Girl and would frequently see her and her sister it was a valid query. Armsmaster just wished he had a better answer.

"We have asked New Wave to stop doing business with Pretender due to an ongoing investigation. Other than that… the details aren't something we can discuss with them. Will that be a problem, Gallant?" Under the laser-like stare of his superior officer the young hero wilted.

"... no, sir. It won't." With as unconvincing a response as that it was likely they were going to need to discuss that matter further. That, however, was a concern for another time. This meeting had dragged on long enough.

"If there are any further questions regarding the content of the briefing consult your packets, and then contact me in writing. Dismissed!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
​

Taylor's head was still burning. Everything was… wrong. She'd broken something. Some unspoken rule that she'd thought she could stretch because of who she was. Because of what she was. Her memories, the ones that weren't hers at all, were full of things like that. Forcing a solution that wasn't even close to the 'correct' method with sheer might. It had always worked, then.

This time it had nearly killed her. Panacea had silently informed her that her whole body had been on the verge of total cell death. She'd even said that she had never seen anything like it before; that, at least, had been something. Taylor was nothing if not unique.

She remembered something like that. People who tried to overreach like that, who tried to do too much with too little… they died. No matter how hale or hearty they looked, no matter what levels of injury they did or didn't have, they could still go from 'fully alive' to 'fully dead' in an instant. It was unusual for a… for someone working alone. Usually it was a problem for… for groups.

Her head was not just burning. It felt like it was full of cotton. Once Panacea had left she'd had the… the girl, her name… Taylor had her and Alejandro carry her to her office while the Servant dressed as Oracle followed behind. Nobody had said anything but… she knew that he knew. That they knew. All of them.

They'd seen through the illusion, now. Their God had laid before them; broken and bleeding. Yet… it hadn't shattered their faith, like she'd expected. That was the strange thing. Until now she'd kept herself hidden from even them. Smoke and mirrors. Yet seeing her like that… weak and vulnerable...

None of them had said anything. Nobody had left. If anything the little lights of their faith were shining all the brighter for it. She didn't understand. Taylor didn't understand. She didn't…

That was then. This was now.

The girl was torn asunder.

Taylor was sitting at home; centred in herself. Several weeks ago she'd broken down here, in her room, and she'd cried. Images had entered into her head. The past, the future, the present. She'd seen the future. Except she hadn't. That had been the future. She'd been in the future and the past and the present all at once. Cut adrift.

Clockblocker had been killed in an explosive blast. Except he hadn't. Her Church had been attacked by Hookwolf and Stormtiger and Crusader and dozens of her worshippers had died. Except they hadn't. She'd seen it and done it and been it all at once.

Now she was here. Now she knew. Those past few weeks she'd been doing things because she'd done them. Existing in the future and the past and the present all at once. Even that thought, now, made her head throb.

But now she was here.

"May. It is the Twelfth of May. It is the evening. My name is Taylor Hebert. My father is Daniel Hebert. My mother was Annette Hebert. I was born on Earth. I am…" There was a moment where she had to grasp at her own mind, to force concentration on the here and now. "I am fifteen years old." Yet even as she said that part of her mind told her that it was impossible.

Her father was at the door. She could see him. Feel him. Other things were hazy. Her other followers were still there, still lights in the back of her mind, but her powers were weak. Panacea had been able to heal her body but not her brain; yet she'd said, with confusion and relief in equal measure, that the damage was reversing itself.

Taylor had already resolved to do several things after that incident. One of those things was to never again try and break the rules her memories fed to her. The other was…

She wasn't downstairs. Although she could have been there quickly, or already even, she wasn't. Because standing up was important. Walking to the door was important. Heading downstairs to greet him was important. Meeting Diego, experiencing worship and being forced to not only face what had happened but remember it had… for lack of a better word, disoriented her.

The last few weeks had been spent lost in a sea of cause and effect. There was a reason she'd kept a tight leash on that ability in the past; no matter how effective it might have been. Wallowing in potential futures made it easy to drown in maybes. And just the fact that she had that thought at all showed why she needed to ground herself. Which made this the most important thing she'd resolved to do.

"Dad?" He turned to look at her with a smile that quickly turned to shock. Although she'd cleaned up all the blood, taken a shower and changed Taylor knew that she still looked awful. He'd rushed over to her; dropping the groceries by the door. Nothing breakable in them, luckily. Well, she'd already known that.

"Taylor! You look awful… are you sick? Do you have a fever?" Danny pressed a hand to her forehead and frowned. It was cool and rough and felt so very real. So familiar. That sensation was one hundred percent Taylor's because she was the only one who remembered it.

"No… not exactly… but I need to tell you something." Saying it that way was probably a mistake because a father's mind could go a lot of places very quickly. Thankfully, he didn't voice any of his fears out loud; just nodded.

"Okay. But let's sit down first, alright? I'll make us some hot chocolates." She allowed them to move to the kitchen and sit down. Let him heat up some milk and get the powder out. Didn't try to stop him burning his thumb a little. Taylor just stayed there, in her seat, and waited for her father to join her with steaming mug in hand.

"Thank you." She took hers and sipped it straight away. He looked like he'd been about to say something but when she didn't jump Danny frowned and checked his. It was still too hot for him, but she hadn't taken her ring off. Mere hot milk couldn't hope to hurt her. Maybe she should have let it, though.

"... you remember the incident." It wasn't a question and he didn't answer; merely nodded slowly with eyes full of concern. She continued. "What was I like? When they found me?" Danny frowned and stayed silent for a time; still holding his mug and staring at her.

"You were…" He sounded hesitant. "Confused. You couldn't talk properly. Kept… babbling. They thought you might have… been on something." There were things still unsaid there, but she let them lie. She could have guessed but didn't really see any point, now. "They had to sedate you. When you woke up you were your regular self."

Taylor hadn't remembered any of that, but it… fit. With the shape of what she thought her memories might look like. They hadn't spoken about the incident much. Not then, nor since. She hadn't wanted to and her father hadn't pried. Maybe he should have. Or maybe she should have.

"I triggered. In the locker. I've got powers." To his credit he didn't freak out. Didn't ask any questions. He nodded.

"Thank you for telling me." That hadn't been the reaction she'd expected at all.

"... you knew?" And he nodded again. That was… actually a bigger blow to her ego than anything else today. "How?" He chuckled and shook his head at her. Then he started counting on his fingers.

"Really? Taylor… I've had to turn shower temperature down from 'searing' every day for weeks now." Oh. Well, she didn't really make it a habit to take off the flame ring since she'd made it…"You go running in the rain without an umbrella and come home dry." Guh… she'd realised that the amulet seemed to count 'rain' as one of the missiles it would try and deflect. "You haven't called me to ask if I'm working late once since then, and when you cook dinner is always being served as soon as I come home." Uh. Well, she could always see him so it wasn't hard to do…

"I did a really bad job of hiding it, didn't I?" Danny held up his hand and just gave her a look that left Taylor red-faced and unable to meet his gaze. It was really nice, actually. The moment felt like something definitively hers.

"You could say that. I thought you'd tell me about it when you were ready. Hopefully before you did anything rash?" And now she was even less able to look him in the eyes because, well... it was pretty obvious what had happened. The worst bit about her powers was that even when she wasn't looking at him she could see the disappointment in his face.

"Okay. Okay. Alright. Is that why you look so…?" He groped for the right words and trailed off when they failed to come.

"... yes. There's more, though. There's… so many things I have to tell you about. Some of them are crazy. Really, really crazy. But I swear, I'm not… unstable." She took a deep breath; trying to steel herself for what she had to start with. "And I guess the best place to start is with the most unbelievable part, and go from there. So… here goes…" He'd put down his drink and was waiting for whatever horrible revelation she was obviously going to lay down. Taylor was pretty sure, though, that there was no way he could expect what she was saying next.

"... I'm pretty sure that I'm a god now."