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Pretender (Worm/Dominions 4)

Grace 2.2
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.
 
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Good chapter, now this may just be me but it felt a little disjointed... although like I said that may just be the state my mind is currently in.

definatly looking forward to the coming encounter
 
Bet Lung's just there for some stew. It's hard to get served at a restaurant when everyone starts screaming and running away. :V

I have the slight niggling desire for Taylor to have a 'technically true' therapy session, where she confesses that ever since her best friend turned on her, the only people she thinks really believe in her are her father and some homeless people she helps out. :D

Speaking of therapy.... seeing memories that aren't hers, spontaneously just loses hours of time, thinks she is/could be a deity, goals include taking over the world, convinced these sticks and pendants etc are 'magic', multiple identities... :confused:
Clearly insane :p
 
Grace 2.3
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."
 
My memory on Faultline is splotchy, but I was under the impression that they stayed out of trouble in their home town to avoid shitting where they ate?

I'm surprised that Oracle's Voice wasn't requested to go into M/S examination, given he was visibly on the receiving end of her powers. Did I miss that, or did Armsmaster not want to press his luck?
 
My memory on Faultline is splotchy, but I was under the impression that they stayed out of trouble in their home town to avoid shitting where they ate?

I'm surprised that Oracle's Voice wasn't requested to go into M/S examination, given he was visibly on the receiving end of her powers. Did I miss that, or did Armsmaster not want to press his luck?

Armsmaster didn't want to push his luck at that moment, with friendly dialog open he was willing to wait till they actually had time to hammer out an agreement. Not to mention they will probably want more then one person to have a decent sample size.

as for Faultlines crew not shitting where they eat I believe it was more along the lines of not doing anything that would get the P/PRT on their ass.
 
Armsmaster didn't want to push his luck at that moment, with friendly dialog open he was willing to wait till they actually had time to hammer out an agreement. Not to mention they will probably want more then one person to have a decent sample size.

as for Faultlines crew not shitting where they eat I believe it was more along the lines of not doing anything that would get the P/PRT on their ass.
They took a good sized portion of the church goers back with them, I believe. Armsmaster says that all of them agree going into M/S for awhile.
 
They took a good sized portion of the church goers back with them, I believe. Armsmaster says that all of them agree going into M/S for awhile.
I just re-read the relevant section, I believe it was only AM, Dean, and Lung.
and the containment bit was about Lung.
Correct. They didn't want to deal with taking a bunch of people in for testing and also Lung. So they plan to square him away and then come back for the rest.

He will definitely want to examine anyone who has served as her Voice, plus any of the worshippers who can hear her commands.
 
While in the process of writing the next part I added a single sentence to Grace 2.2 that adds a fair bit of complexity to events. At least in my opinion.

After Grace is over we'll be returning to good old linear time storytelling. At least for the next Arc.
 
Grace 2.4
"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.
 
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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
<3
 
Grace 2.5
"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."
 
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"... I'm pretty sure that I'm a god now."
"Yes, operator? I need the white jackets here stat. My daughter has done all the drugs."

I'm glad I reread this awhile ago. It's a good story, and I'm happy to see it update. I hope that Danny doesn't relent easily to classifying his daughter as a god, though. I think it'd be more interesting and believable if he doesn't. I also like the idea that his faith in Taylor might still have him ping as a follower.
 
"Yes, operator? I need the white jackets here stat. My daughter has done all the drugs."

I'm glad I reread this awhile ago. It's a good story, and I'm happy to see it update. I hope that Danny doesn't relent easily to classifying his daughter as a god, though. I think it'd be more interesting and believable if he doesn't. I also like the idea that his faith in Taylor might still have him ping as a follower.
He enjoys the benefits of being a follower because she's, heh, his Prophet.

That said, she still has a pretty hard sell on her hands here.
 
Whatever the method she observed thing with was seemed to not only be
things
one required twice the gems of the one she'd
the number of gems
sensation and seen the moonlight caught in a cobweb over her window pain
pane
a ski mask and a set of scale mail.
scale hauberk
I might recommend getting a thinner one as well, for when it gets hotter.
would
there were no magnetic fields or electrical symbols.
circuits
Or as useful as it was she found the enhanced awareness to be the most irritating aspect of her powers.
As
well, she didn't understand it all that well but it was a lot more sensical than her bizarre not-sight.
understandable
spreading; forming hands and eyes in mass to focus
en
She didn't lose breath in the same way as she once had,
lose her
One of the panes of glass was smashed and spoke was pouring out of it.
smoke
that she was being selfish by just sitting her and playing with her new toy
here
How' have Panacea and Glory Girl
-REM-
I have three working ideas at the moment and all of them await confirmation
theories
Meanwhile, in a blurring display of multitasking, her mind split
dizzying
those without her voice in her head being reassured by the others
their
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
young
 
The way you write is so entrancing, I really love the simultaneous after action report from the PRT view and the in-the-moment action. Please keep it up!
 
So, I wandered over here when you obliquely referenced your others works over in the Unnamed & Unbound thread and finally took the time to read though this and I really enjoyed it. I have no idea about the cross source of Dominions other than it's an RTS but even so this was really enjoyable. Taylor trying to break the system was a sight to see. Though I really wish Vicky had goten slapped down harder. At least got hurt more for touching the Servant.

I'm dropping the watch and look forward to more of any of your writing.

Now I'm going to start working on another of your stories. Maybe force myself to go back to Vlog but by all deities I can't stand that sort of vlogger at all so reading that shit is not something I am looking forward to. I got down to the eleventh or so line break before I just couldn't take anymore....

Yeah, I think I'll read the Skyrim one. That's got a funny name to it and I've actually played that game. Then I'll check out the Hunter one...
 
So, I wandered over here when you obliquely referenced your others works over in the Unnamed & Unbound thread and finally took the time to read though this and I really enjoyed it. I have no idea about the cross source of Dominions other than it's an RTS but even so this was really enjoyable. Taylor trying to break the system was a sight to see. Though I really wish Vicky had goten slapped down harder. At least got hurt more for touching the Servant.

I'm dropping the watch and look forward to more of any of your writing.

Now I'm going to start working on another of your stories. Maybe force myself to go back to Vlog but by all deities I can't stand that sort of vlogger at all so reading that shit is not something I am looking forward to. I got down to the eleventh or so line break before I just couldn't take anymore....

Yeah, I think I'll read the Skyrim one. That's got a funny name to it and I've actually played that game. Then I'll check out the Hunter one...

Make sure to check the dates before posting.
 
Crap, I misread the 2018 as 2019 and thought the thread has been dormant for only a few months not over a year. Sorry about that. I'll look closer next time.
The cut-off point is actually one month, so you'd have been in trouble either way.

I generally don't mind reviving my old threads, but it's best to message me first 'cause then I can de-necro it, as it were. It's fine for me since sometimes it results in renewing my enthusiasm for a story.

Consider this a low-key warning to read the date more carefully, however.
 

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