Security! (a Worm SI fic)

[Starfox5]

Ouch. Lots of revelations and changes - and an evil cliffhanger to boot.

 

[godzillahomer]

Looks like Scion is pissed that he didn't get invited, who knew he loved birthdays so much

but he's a horrible gift giver

Carol, of all of them, had had the least problem with Amy's absence. Mark figured he knew why, but it was more politic to not mention it either way.

Click to shrink...

is politic a typo? seems to me polite would fit better

 

[Nexidava]

Aaaaaaack. Why you gotta do this to us?

Yeesh, glowing be bad. Guessing either you moved up the timeline on Scion to get the fic done faster, or Vicky went to Carol, and now things will go very wrong.

Either way, why you gotta do dis, Ack?

 

[macdjord]

Oh shit.

 

[Zackarix]

At that moment, his phone went off. "Huh, I wonder who's texting me now," he muttered, digging his phone out of his pocket. "About everyone I know is in this room."

He thumbed it on and tapped in his PIN, then opened up the text. In the next moment, Taylor saw something she never wanted to see; his face turning almost dead white.

"What is it?" she asked.

For an answer, he held the phone up so that everyone could see the screen.

GET OUT NOW.

A sudden golden glow glared in through the window as he opened his mouth. "Doorway -"

Click to shrink...

It appears that Scion's rampage has started early. The mystery is, what set him off?

 

[godzillahomer]

It appears that Scion's rampage has started early. The mystery is, what set him off?

Click to shrink...

Someone got his order wrong at Fugly Bob's?

 

[Ephemeral]

"Me too, Vicky," he replied. "Me too."

Click to shrink...

Dude, man, dude man, this verbal tic of yours has gotten painful. You've got a problem man. Maybe its time for a twelve-step program or something.

But Vicky's expression was adamant. "You fucked with my brain. You call Mom and Dad 'Carol' and 'Mark'. Like they never mattered anything to you, ever." She stabbed her finger toward the back yard. "You've dumped me as your sister and you're getting yourself adopted by a new family, with a new sister, because we're not good enough. You've left New Wave. You stopped healing people. I don't even know you any more."

Click to shrink...

I like that you went this way. Basically, Amy was doomed to get a freakout from Vicky pretty much no matter what she did.

But why couldn't Amy just make Vicky's arms go numb for a few seconds? That would be enough to break her grip, wouldn't it?

 

[godzillahomer]

But why couldn't Amy just make Vicky's arms go numb for a few seconds? That would be enough to break her grip, wouldn't it?

Click to shrink...

Vicky would have freaked at that too

 

[Prince Charon]

Vicky would have freaked at that too

Click to shrink...

Probably not quite as much, though... I think.

 

[godzillahomer]

Probably not quite as much, though... I think.

Click to shrink...

though, I doubt Amy would have thought of it, stress of the situation and maybe her shard influencing her to create more conflict

 

[edale]

is politic a typo? seems to me polite would fit better

Click to shrink...

Politic is the right word to use there. Polite may fit, but using polite changes the meaning of the sentence.

 

[godzillahomer]

Politic is the right word to use there. Polite may fit, but using polite changes the meaning of the sentence.

Click to shrink...

Thanks, line threw me on my first reading

 

[Ack]

Dude, man, dude man, this verbal tic of yours has gotten painful. You've got a problem man. Maybe its time for a twelve-step program or something.

I like that you went this way. Basically, Amy was doomed to get a freakout from Vicky pretty much no matter what she did.

But why couldn't Amy just make Vicky's arms go numb for a few seconds? That would be enough to break her grip, wouldn't it?

Click to shrink...

That would be seen as an attack by both Vicky and Amy. And Amy wouldn't do it.

 

[nick012000]

For an answer, he held the phone up so that everyone could see the screen.

GET OUT NOW.

A sudden golden glow glared in through the window as he opened his mouth.

Click to shrink...

If that's Contessa that just texted him, it can't be Scion, since her power can't predict him. The same goes for the Endbringers.

 

[godzillahomer]

If that's Contessa that just texted him, it can't be Scion, since her power can't predict him. The same goes for the Endbringers.

Click to shrink...

I assume it's Dinah texting about Scion or Contessa was tracking Mike and noticed he was about to die horribly

 

[lantern 501]

Holy fuck balls. That ending.

 

[Ack]

Security!

Part Fifty: Tying Up Loose Ends

[A/N: This one will jump around a little. Pay close attention to the dates.]


Brockton Bay
Thursday, May 5, 2011
A Certain Apartment

[This takes place six days after the events of Chapter 47]

The woman knocked on the apartment door, feeling a little silly. Normally, she would have simply had a Doorway appear in the living room, and stepped through it. But an invitation had been extended, so propriety would be observed.

The door opened; the man she had come to see gestured her inside. "Come on in. Have a seat. There's cookies on the table."

"I'm not here for the cookies. You said this was important," she told him a little tartly, and took a seat at the table. But as the tin was right there, she opened it and took one anyway. It turned out to be chocolate chip, and rather tasty.

"Well, not just for the cookies, no," he agreed with the hint of a grin, taking a seat opposite her. "There's other stuff we need to talk about. Cauldron business."

She sat up a little. "Maybe we should get Doctor Mother or Alexandria in on this. Or both."

A shake of the head. "No. This is just from me to you. It'll be up to you to present it to the others."

Curiosity got the better of her natural reserve. "Okay, so what's the problem?" Knowing him, it would not be trivial.

"Before we get to that, fill me in. How's things going with the recruiting and training?"

Leaning back, she let her eyes travel over the interior of the apartment as she gathered her thoughts. There, on a shelf, was his collection of poseable action figures, right next to where his plastic Armsmaster halberd was leaning against the wall. "I'm cautiously optimistic. Most of the people at the address took you seriously. When they left, we gave them the means to contact us. We're getting more on board every day. There are some who are refusing to help on general principles, but they're few and far between."

He took a cookie from the tin for himself. "I suppose that'll happen. So how's the other recruiting effort going?"

"As well as can be expected. They made the approach a couple of days after your address."

<><>​

Baumann Parahuman Detention Centre (AKA 'The Birdcage')
British Columbia
Monday, May 2, 2011

Marquis folded his arms and leaned back against his seat as Alexandria finished speaking. "So that's the way it is."

She gave him a precise nod. "That's exactly the way it is." Flanking her, Legend and Eidolon nodded in agreement.

He pursed his lips. "So what you just told us is accurate?"

She frowned. "I quoted it verbatim from his speech at the time. Nothing of a significant nature was left out."

"But how do you know that he was telling the truth?" That was Lustrum; once upon a time a cult leader whose followers had maimed and killed men because of her teachings, she now looked more like a soccer mom than a dangerous criminal. "Men will lie for their own ends. We all know that." Behind her, those members of her cell-block whom she had brought along murmured their agreement.

"So will women," Marquis retorted, but the lightness of his tone took the sting out of it. "The question you have to ask yourself is this. Why would this 'Security' even advocate letting some of us out? I have no knowledge of a plot to allow us to escape. And in fact, the lovely Alexandria here has stated that the Thinkers among us will not be offered the same chance."

"Which seems a little unfair to those of us who are deemed incapable of contributing to the war effort," put in Teacher, a balding man with a homely face.

"Actually, I've been given specific instructions to do with you," Alexandria told him. "If you leave the Birdcage, a kill order will immediately be placed upon your head. That's from Director Costa-Brown herself."

"What?" blurted Teacher. "But I can contribute."

"Let me make it as clear as I can." Alexandria stepped toward him. "If at any time I find that you have left the Birdcage, I will personally hunt you down and kill you myself."

That raised a murmur of voices that echoed from the concrete buttresses supporting the ceiling of the area in which they were gathered. The Triumvirate let it go on, watching instead for signs of aggression. None eventuated, which wasn't overly surprising. Powerful the inhabitants of the Birdcage might be, but against the might of the Triumvirate, any sort of attack would be remarkably short-lived.

"But that's not fair!" blustered Teacher.

"It's quite simple." Eidolon's voice was harsh. "You can't be trusted. We know that for a fact."

"Who says?"

"The same man who gave us the plan of attack," Alexandria stated. "He told us what you had been planning to do, if you ever got out. You are never getting out."

"But -"

"Be silent, Tutor." The speaker was a girl still a few years short of adulthood, but the words were spoken in a chorus of voices. Those capes near her stepped back in a combination of fear and respect. "I would hear what our guests have to say on the matter."

Alexandria bent her head in a modicum of respect. "Glaistig Uaine," she greeted the newcomer. "You heard the words of the man called Security?"

"They are the words of one who knows the truth," replied the Faerie Queen in her multi-tonal voice. "He knows more than he should. He is from beyond the veil."

"That's what he says, yes," Eidolon agreed. "But we didn't say -"

"You did not need to, High Priest." The face was youthful, but the eyes held the wisdom of someone much older. "I felt him arrive. His time is nearly done. Before he falls, he will bring down the false god."

Eidolon blinked. "The false god … Scion?"

She gave him a level stare. "Did I not just say so?"

Alexandria cleared her throat politely. "Faerie Queen. We have need of your strength to battle Scion. But there will be a plan of attack. Orders will be given. Will you follow those orders?"

"Give me leave to harvest the spirits of those who fall upon the battlefield, and I will." Glaistig Uaine's voice was gracious, as if granting a great boon.

"Harvest only the, uh, spirits of those who are actually dead, and it's a deal." Legend's tone was polite but firm.

The Faerie Queen nodded. "My word upon it."

"Good." Alexandria surveyed the rest of the assembled capes. "It's simple. Those of you who are on our list have a chance to leave as well."

"Allow me to guess," Marquis drawled. "Just so long as we agree to go up against Scion for you."

"Alongside us," Eidolon corrected him. "You won't be used as suicide troops. Training will be supplied. Your powers will be used intelligently. Healing will be supplied for the injured. Once we win -"

"You mean, if we win," drawled, Marquis, a slightly mocking smile on his face.

"Once we win," Eidolon repeated, gritting his teeth just a little, "those of you who have comported yourselves properly will get a pardon. But make no mistake; re-offend and you're straight back in here. This is your last last chance to get out of the Birdcage. We'll give you a day to think about it, then we'll be back."

"Oh, and just by the way?" added Legend. "If any Changers or Strangers are thinking of hitching rides with us on the way out, don't. We'll be going through some very hostile environments on the way back, just to make sure." To underline his point, he pulled a simple breather mask from his belt and fitted it over his mouth. At the same time, lasers began playing over him at skin level.

Just as Alexandria was fitting an identical mask over her face, Marquis approached her. "A word in private, dear lady?" he asked quietly.

She pulled the mask back down again. "Yes?" she asked, stepping aside with him until they were out of casual earshot.

"I was just wondering … what year is it, out there? We tend to lose track, in here."

Alexandria didn't see any harm in telling him. "Two thousand eleven. May the second. A Monday."

"Oh." He seemed a little taken aback. "I had thought it would be two thousand ten at the latest. I … well, I had a daughter. She would be almost seventeen by now. When I was captured by the Brigade, they took custody of her. Her name is Amelia. Do you know of her?"

Alexandria rubbed her lips lightly. "I do. If this is the same Amelia that I'm thinking of, she was adopted by Flashbang and Brandish, and raised as their daughter."

His eyes widened slightly in hope. "How is she? Is she well?"

She considered what to tell him. "She has powers. A healer. A considerably versatile one. At the moment … yes, I believe that she is happy."

Marquis sighed. "Good God. A healer."

"She's saved many lives. Done much to alleviate the pain and suffering of those around her." She gave him a steady look. "Her name is as celebrated as yours is reviled. You might want to consider that."

Turning, she stepped away from him, fitting the mask over her face again. "Doorway," she murmured, "Earth Zeta."

They would, of course, not go straight back to Earth Bet. There was still the promised trip through various hostile environments; the first one was a hundred miles straight up, on the edge of atmosphere. After that would come the ocean depths and a dip in molten lava, just to make sure.

<><>​

Brockton Bay
Thursday, May 5, 2011
That Same Apartment

"And they agreed?"

"They did," she confirmed. "After all, it's not like they wanted to stay in there."

A judicious nod. "Anyone tried to duck out or otherwise escape after they were released?"

"A few. We were watching for that. They're back in the Birdcage."

"Good." He rubbed his beard. "Actually, what about about active opposition in the ones from the address? I mean, they were warned, but …"

"There have been a few cases," she admitted carefully. "We've taken care of them before they became a danger."

He raised an eyebrow. "You mean you're killing them, right?"

"Not in every case. Not even in most cases." She gestured, using the cookie as emphasis. "If I can find a way for them to be useful, they get to live. But if they intend to be a consistent problem … well, we already have too much in the way of odds against us now to allow that."

"Who's 'we'?"

"Myself and the Number Man, mostly." The admission hurt; feeling uncomfortable at this line of conversation, she stood up and crossed to the shelf holding the action figures. He had posed Clockblocker so that the teen hero appeared to be beating Shadow Stalker over the head with Kid Win's hoverboard. Very funny.

"Huh," he said. "Haven't met him yet. Not sure if I want to shake his hand or clock him one for being part of the Nine, once upon a time."

A brief smile crossed her face as she turned back toward him. "He doesn't really want to meet you. He sees the world as numbers, and it's his opinion that meeting you would make the numbers go crazy. That's not something he wants to experience." Returning to the table, she lowered herself back into the chair, her mind focused on a more important question. "Do you have a problem with us killing people?"

"Once upon a time, I might have said yes," he observed mildly. "But people will be dicks, and I don't feel like letting that screw us up, especially if there's no other way around it."

Another cookie went the way of the others. This one was a jam drop. "I've killed people before, of course."

"Of course," was the immediate reply.

"But it's always been part of a Path. To get something else done."

"Not that I fully agree with all of your methods," he noted. "But you've always had the one goal in mind. Save the world. By whatever means."

"Unfortunately, we've had to try a lot of things that fall under 'whatever means', and many of those have been less than effective." This was both easy and hard to admit; easy because her host undoubtedly knew all about it. Hard because he obviously didn't approve.

"Also less than ethical. Such as abducting people, force-feeding them Cauldron formulas, and wiping their memories." His tone was heavy with sarcasm. "And I'm not even gonna start on the Nemesis program."

"Hey, that wasn't my idea." Being on the defensive was distasteful, especially with this man. With anyone else, she could respond with well, at least I'm doing something to save the world. Here, in this place, even that line would not work, given that he had the perfect comeback.

"Oh, I figured." A shrug. "And I'm sure it seemed like a good idea at the time to the idiot whose bright idea it really was." One corner of his mouth quirked upward. "Mind you, I'm wondering how good an idea it would seem if they were locked in a room with all of the Nemesis capes."

Her grimace was heartfelt. "I get it, I get it. We've all done unforgivable things."

"You know how to start to earn forgiveness?" He stretched, then got up. "I know two things you've got to do."

"Which are?" It can't be this easy.

Strolling over to where the plastic halberd leaned against the wall, he unfolded it and mimed a few swings and thrusts. "Fix your shit, and win the damn war."

I was right. "By 'fix' you mean …"

"Rehabilitate every Case 53 you've ever created; the ones that are still alive anyway. Pull all the Nemesis capes back in from wherever they are. They specifically don't deserve this. Restore their memories if you can. Put them back home if they want to go. If they don't, give them a place to live free. It won't be enough, not to them, but at least they'll be out of that prison you've built."

The flash of intuition that hit her then had nothing to do with her powers. "Is this what you wanted me to come over to talk about?"

The halberd went back against the wall and he sat down once more. "Yup."

"It might not be as good an idea as you think." Lacking a Path to convince him, she fell back on truth. "There's a theory that Case 53s make it hard for Scion to analyse an area. Keeping them in our base is a good way to mask it from him."

"Oh, I intend to use that. Just not there." His tone was verging on the impatient. "We want him to find the place, remember?"

"Is destroying our main base of operations, the source of our formulas, really the best idea?" Her tone was almost plaintive.

Abruptly, he leaned forward, slapping his palms on the table with a crack. "Yes."

Startled, she reared back, dropping the cookie she was holding. "Christ, don't do that." He could have reached out and snapped my neck, and I wouldn't have even seen it coming. Her heart was beating more rapidly than it had for quite a while.

"Then listen to me. There's a very faint outside chance that, with the right power use, he could revive her. Two of them, with their plan back on track. How do you think we would fare then?"

Chills ran all the way down her back. She had no way of knowing that he was telling the truth, but her instincts told her that it was so. " … All right, then. We go with that plan."

"Good. Now, I've had a few ideas about it, and you'll no doubt come up with a few more. But this is the basic concept …"

<><>​

Lord Street Market, Brockton Bay
Saturday, May 28, 2011

[This takes place two weeks after the Leviathan no-show in Chapter 48]

Lily had never been so nervous in her life. Even on her worst day in the Wards, facing heavily-armed opponents, she'd always had a plan and an exit strategy. Right here, right now, she had nothing except faith.

She'd waited two whole weeks for Sabah to call. These had been perhaps the longest two weeks in her life. Even the short time she had spent with the other woman had left her with the need to know more about her, to see her again. Being told that Sabah had the potential to become her soulmate, had indeed been just that in another world, had only heightened the worry.

What if she doesn't call?

When the phone had rung on Friday night and Lily heard Sabah's voice once more, she nearly dropped the phone, but managed at the last moment to answer in a more or less controlled fashion. Sabah had been nervous; Lily could hear it in the tone of voice. This wasn't surprising, given that she had been just as nervous. However, as they talked, the nerves eased, and soon they were chatting like old friends. But it took an hour of wide-ranging subjects before Sabah had diffidently suggested that perhaps they might meet up someplace on the weekend …?

Yes, Lily had replied. Yes. I'd like that. She'd suggested the Market; her teammates in the Wards had said good things about it, and she wanted to see it for herself. Sabah had agreed, and a time was agreed upon.

Lily had turned up half an hour early, and promptly spent a good deal of that time torturing herself with possibilities. What if she doesn't show? What if she decides to back out at the last moment?

She had to have faith that Sabah would show up. Faith that she wouldn't leave Lily hanging.

I want to see if this can work. But if she doesn't show, then what do I do? Go to the College and ask her why? That would never happen, and she knew it.

Standing up from the seat where she had been waiting, Lily reflexively smoothed down her clothes. While she preferred jeans and a T-shirt, she figured that this occasion rated a blouse and skirt. They were perhaps the nicest clothes she owned, and she hoped that they conveyed a sense of 'approachable'.

Of course, she needs to actually be here to approach me.

A nearby slushie stall caught her eye; Lily licked her suddenly-dry lips, deciding that she was thirsty enough to buy one. Judging the flow of foot traffic, it was easy enough to step through the empty gaps as if the people were standing still – sometimes my power is good for something other than combat – until she ended up at the stall.

"Hi there," the teenage boy running the stall greeted her. He smiled a little more widely than he had with his other customers. Well, he likes my clothes. That's a good start. "What can I get you?"

"Oh, uh …" She paused, struck by indecision. This is not like me. Pull yourself together, Lily.

"She'll have a Raspberry Surprise," a voice announced from beside her, a voice that Lily had been beginning to wonder if she would ever hear again. "And so will I." Startled, she looked around; there stood Sabah, rather fetchingly attired in a slightly oversized t-shirt and what looked like a pair of brand-new denim jeans. She was holding out a ten-dollar note toward the boy.

"Two Raspberry Surprises coming up," the boy said; he accepted the money and turned to his machines.

"Hi." Lily's throat tightened up, making her voice squeak at the end. She took a deep breath, then tried again. "Uh, hi. You made it."

Sabah smiled at her. It might have been Lily's imagination, but the expression spoke volumes; relief that Lily was there, lingering nerves, but above all, hope for what might happen. "It was touch and go, but I decided to chance it. After all, it worked for us once."

"That's what the man told us." Lily looked at Sabah, drinking in the sight of her. A little shorter than Lily, the Middle Eastern girl – woman, rather – had a certain self-contained air about her. It was as if she maintained an invisible boundary around herself, a defence against the world, that stated 'this far, and no further'. Lily found it endearing; she wanted to wrap her arms around Sabah and protect her from the world forever.

Sabah's face darkened with a blush. "You're staring at me."

Lily smothered a giggle, trying to hide her own blush behind her hand. "You're wearing a t-shirt and jeans."

An eyebrow arched. "And what is the problem with that?"

The boy cleared his throat. "Uh, your slushies, and your change, miss?"

They took their drinks to a nearby table and sat down. Lily leaned forward, catching a whiff of Sahah's perfume. She put perfume on for me. "There's no problem. I just didn't see you as a t-shirt and jeans sort of person."

Sabah smiled, a bright flash of teeth against dark skin. "And I didn't see you as a blouse and skirt sort of person."

Lily took a slurp of her drink and then rolled her eyes. "This is so good. No, I wore these because I thought that's what you'd like to see me in."

The delighted laugh startled her; Sabah's face lit up with amusement. "And I wore this because I thought you'd like it."

Lily's return snort of laughter narrowly missing ejecting raspberry slushie from her nose. "Oh god, that's hilarious."

They drank their slushies, chatting in between sips, and smothering the occasional nervous giggle. Around them, the crowd surged back and forth, ebbing and flowing like the tide. There were adults doing their shopping, teenagers moving in packs and on their own, and the occasional serious-looking man or woman in what she figured had to be a security uniform. But Lily only had eyes for Sabah.

Eventually, she pushed her drink aside. "Okay, that's enough for me. How about you show me the rest of the Market? I've only seen a little bit of it, but some of those shops look fascinating."

"Well, uh …" Sabah didn't look up at her, instead seeming intent on toying with her slushie cup, turning it by degrees with just her fingertips.

Lily spread her hands. "What?"

Sabah took a deep breath, finally lifting her eyes to Lily's. "Would you like to take a walk along the Boardwalk instead? Away from the crowds? I don't much like crowds."

Lily smiled. And we get to walk, and talk, and maybe even hold hands. "You're the boss."

<><>​

Somewhere in the Multiverse
Thursday, June 2, 2011

Surf pounded on the rocks at the base of the cliff, filling the air with the smell of salt and seaweed. Gulls wheeled and screeched overhead as the sun peeped over the eastern horizon. Wispy clouds punctuated the vast blue vault of the sky. A pair of mismatched figures made their way along the clifftop, treading the short scrubby grass underfoot.

While he was tall and bulky, wearing a T-shirt and jacket and jeans, she was more petite, her clothes neat but not overly formal. Her long black hair whipped like a banner in the freshening onshore breeze, in contrast with his greying beard and closely-trimmed scalp.

The man stopped to watch as a sea bird dipped close to the water; there was a brief splash, then it was up and away again, a struggling silvery form clutched in its claws.

"Nicely done," he noted admiringly.

"Uh uh," the woman murmured, pointing. "Watch."

He watched; another bird came down in a long swoop. As it neared the first, it screeched loud and long. Startled, the first bird dropped its prize, which was snatched out of the air by the second.

Watching the victor winging its way into the distance, he shook his head. "That's what I call a dick move."

"It's what they do." She shrugged. "It's what people do, too."

"True." He looked at her, tilting his head. "Talking about people being dicks, how's Eidolon doing in therapy?"

"Not badly at all," she decided. "He's really putting his heart into it now."

"Oh, good." His voice was heartfelt.

"Agreed." Hers was dry. "I think the fact that we haven't had an Endbringer attack in quite some time has really brought it home to him. Now all he has to do is get over the guilt."

His smile didn't hold much in the way of humour. "Took him long enough to pull his head out of his arse."

"But he did. And if he can actually gain conscious control of the Endbringers …" She didn't need to finish.

"It would be a huge asset, yeah," Mike agreed. "Of course, we still have to get that asset into play. And hope that he doesn't lose control once it's out there in the wild."

"Thank you," Contessa retorted dryly. "I needed something else to worry about."

"Sharing is caring," he said cheerfully. "Just remember, there was a time when I carried the entire plan in my head."

She raised an immaculate eyebrow. "Try enduring thirty years of trying one stab in the dark after another, having no assurance at all that anything would work, not even being sure of how to begin to approach the idea in the first place."

Mike snorted. "Okay. You win."

They walked a little way on in a companionable silence. The cliff edge was rising here, chunks of stone poking from the dirt providing irregular steps. He allowed Contessa to take the lead, and stepped where she did. The wind whipped around them, stirring the short grass and blowing her hair from one point to another.

By mutual silent agreement, they stopped at an outcropping of boulders; Mike seated himself on a larger one, while Contessa sat next to him. Side by side, they looked out to sea, at the endless waves rolling in to smash themselves against the unyielding cliff below. He reached into his jacket and produced a packet of cookies; hearing the crinkle, she reached over and took one.

"Thank you," she murmured. "It's nice to just relax. To be able to relax."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't be relaxing just yet," Mike said. "We're still a long way from being certain we can win."

"I meant here and now." She jabbed him lightly with her elbow. "Because my power can't model you, except in the broad abstract, I can't run a Path to influence your perceptions of me. Besides, you already know everything significant there is to know about me. I can relax and be myself around you, because I have no real secrets. Not from you."

"And this doesn't bother you?" He was leaning back against a rock, his eyes closed, his voice lazy.

"It did at first, especially once I found out what you really were," Contessa said. "But … I suppose I've learned to trust you. Which is a first for me. Normally, I know if I can trust someone."

"Plus, there's the cookies." The skin creased around Mike's faded blue eyes as he grinned at her.

"The cookies are nice," she agreed. "I never know what you're going to get. It's always a pleasant surprise."

"Good to hear. I aim to please."

"How are your other pet projects going?" Contessa asked in her turn.

"As you might put it, I'm cautiously optimistic," Mike said. "I visited New York last week, to see …"

<><>​

New York City
Friday, May 27, 2011

"Kay?" It was Arthur calling out from the living room.

"In here," she replied, keeping her voice down in deference to the sleeping Aster. In her arms, Keith clutched at the bottle, working to empty it of its contents.

A moment later, the man himself appeared at the door to the nursery. "Oh, there you are, sweetie," he said, also moderating his tone. "We have a visitor."

Huh? "Who?"

"He said his name is Mike. A friend of yours. He's coming up in the lift now."

"Mike?" She walked from the nursery, still feeding Keith his bottle. "Did he say anything about 'Security'?"

"Actually, now that you mention it, I believe he did," Arthur agreed. "Is this the Security …"

"If it's the same person I'm thinking of, yes," she said.

He looked a little distressed. "The place is a mess. What will he think of us?"

Hitching Keith up in her arms a little, she gave Arthur a reassuring smile. "It's okay. He's not someone to be worried about that sort of thing." And to be honest, the apartment wasn't messy, just casually disarranged, as happened with any living space.

A moment later, a knock sounded on the door. "And that'll be him now," Kayden observed unnecessarily.

Arthur opened the door; Kayden recognised the man as soon as he entered. "Michael," she greeted him warmly. "It's good to see you."

"You too, Kayden," he said. "And I'm guessing you're Arthur?"

"I am indeed," Arthur replied, shaking the proffered hand. "I've heard a lot about you. Have you come in from Brockton Bay?"

"Something like that," Mike agreed. "Just thought I'd drop over and see how things are doing here." He took a closer look at the infant in Kayden's arms. "Um … is my memory playing up? Because that doesn't look like Aster to me."

Kayden smiled. "No. This is Keith."

"Oh, of course." He looked at Arthur. "You and Legend adopted, yeah?"

Arthur blinked. "How did you know that?"

A chuckle escaped Kayden. "Believe me, he knows these things."

"Less so these days," Mike reminded her. "Butterflies the size of pterodactyls."

She decided to not question that particularly obscure statement. "So how are you doing these days?" She eyed his forearms, frowning slightly. "Those scars look fresh."

"Yeah." Reflexively, he rubbed the fading red marks on his arms. "You know the drill. Did some silly stuff. Already been yelled at. But enough about me. How's things with you?"

"Aster and I are doing well." She paused, considering. "Theo's still visiting every weekend. We put him up in the spare room. Legend and Arthur don't seem to mind."

"Of course not," Arthur declared. "He's a good boy, if a little quiet."

"Well, there is the alternative," Mike pointed out. "Long hair, tattoos, a surly attitude and loud heavy metal music."

Kayden and Arthur both shuddered at the same time. "Yeah, no, I don't think so," she declared. "I mean, I'd love for him to talk back to me just once in a while, but I really don't want to be dealing with the typical rebellious teen." Keith had finished the bottle; she handed it off to Arthur, put Keith up to her shoulder, and expertly burped him.

"Very true," Arthur agreed. "We had a fascinating conversation on medieval religious symbolism the last time he visited. He's very well-read. That's something to be proud of." He smiled at Kayden. "I have to admit, I was just a little dubious at first about Kay moving in, but it's all turned out quite well. We trade recipes and take turns with the housework. And Aster is an absolute treasure."

"And of course, having someone with previous experience with taking care of a baby would have helped just a bit when you adopted Keith, yeah?" asked Mike with a grin of his own. "Not to mention a son who can babysit when he comes down for the weekend."

Kayden smirked. "Well, they didn't say no to either one."

"To be honest, I'm surprised he doesn't come down more often," Arthur noted. "We've made it clear that he's always welcome. And he doesn't have to babysit if he doesn't want to."

"I'm not." Kayden shrugged. "He has friends of his own age there. I'm just happy to see him on the weekends."

Mike nodded. "I think he needs both worlds. It's as close as he can come to having a normal life right now. I actually went to see him the other day …"

<><>​

Brockton Bay PRT HQ Training Room
Tuesday, May 23, 2011

Theo Anders sidled between the drifting clouds of utter blackness. He felt rather than heard the whine of a bug as it flew past, then doubled back and settled on his shoulder. Uh oh.

The attack came out of nowhere, the slender figure bursting through a curtain of darkness. Theo ducked the punch, didn't quite avoid the kick, and lost his balance. Going down, he rolled and came to his feet, his hand going to the panel hanging from his belt. A concrete hand burst up from the floor of the gym, blocking that direction of attack, but Theo didn't relax for an instant.

A moment later, his caution was justified, as a larger figure loomed up behind him. He fell to the ground, the kick whistling over his prone body, as he plunged his arm into the floor itself. More concrete groaned as another hand punched out of the floor directly beneath his attacker, thick grey fingers capturing the person.

Keep moving. Keep looking. The tactics that had been drilled into him by lesson after humiliating lesson were paying off. Theo listened intently, trying to locate his first opponent. She was too damn good at moving quietly with those whisper-silent silk soles of hers.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a movement in the drifting black clouds, and sent another concrete hand grinding out of the floor to block an attack from that direction. Too late, he realised that it had been a decoy; his legs were kicked from beneath him and he fell heavily. She was on top of Theo, one knee pressed into his back and an extendible baton across his throat, before he knew what had happened.

"Okay," he grunted. "I give. You got me."

The blackness began to dissipate as Weaver got off of him and offered him a hand up. Theo accepted it, knowing that he would feel every bruise in the morning. "Some sort of bug decoy, yeah?" he asked. "Sucked me right in."

"Yup," she replied, and from the tone of her voice, he knew she was grinning widely under that creepy bug mask. He watched as bugs came together in a roughly humanoid form, then dissipated again. "Cool, hey?"

"Yeah, pretty cool all right," he agreed. "Nicely done."

"When you've finished congratulating Weaver, think you could let me out of this, Golem?" asked a deeper voice.

They both looked around; Tenebrae was still trapped in the grip of the concrete hand that Theo had generated from the floor. Muscles strained under the dark costume, to no avail. Wisps of darkness coiled off of him and drifted to the floor.

"I personally think that's worth a pat on the back too," Weaver observed. "Not often that someone catches Tenebrae off guard."

Under his mask, Theo fought down the blush. Compliments from his teammates were always welcome, but from Weaver they seemed particularly special. While she wasn't officially a Ward, Weaver tended to team up with them more often than not. She was also taking combat training from Tenebrae, and assisting him with training Theo.

Off duty, she was a nice person to talk to; on duty, she was focused and as critical of her own actions as Kaiser had been of Theo's. With other people, she would find time to take them aside and give advice to improve their own performance; she had done this with Theo, and her suggestions had panned out quite well.

Which didn't explain the awkwardness he felt around her. He wanted to be suave and witty and bold, but he just got tongue-tied. I just want to impress her. Show her that she's special to me.

Oh, god.

Almost automatically, he pushed his hand into the concrete panel at his waist, then concentrated as he opened his fingers and slowly withdrew his hand. With a deep groaning noise, the concrete hand opened, releasing Tenebrae, then gradually pulled back into the floor.

I think I'm in love with her. Or at least a crush. With the epiphany came a sinking feeling. What do I do? What do I say? What if she brushes me off? Laughs at me? Doesn't want to help me train any more?

"Well, I gotta say," Tenebrae stated as he climbed to his feet, "Weaver's right. Not many people get the drop on me. Well done, Golem." He gave the younger boy a slap on the shoulder as he passed by. "Think I'll hit the showers."

"Oh, hey, it's Mike." Theo turned at the delight in Weaver's voice. Sure enough, the blocky figure of Mike Allen was leaning against the wall near the door to the gym, a garish Visitor tag around his neck. "Come on, let's go say hi."

Once again, someone else she's more interested in talking to than me. Glumly, Theo followed along as she trotted over toward the newcomer.

"Weaver, Golem." Mr Allen greeted them both as they approached him. "That was kind of impressive. I see you're working on your swarm decoys, Weaver. And Golem, you're definitely getting better with your handwork. Or whatever you call it."

"Yeah, all those suggestions you gave me to pass on are working well," Weaver said cheerfully. "Golem's been improving a lot. So has everyone else."

"Wait, wait," objected Theo. "Those suggestions you gave me came from Mr Allen?"

"Uh, yeah," she agreed. "I just waited till you needed them and then passed them on."

"Oh." Suddenly, the exalted stature that he had assigned to her seemed to be diminishing slightly. She wasn't as all-capable as he had assumed her to be. I don't care. She's still pretty awesome.

"So yeah, anyway, I just dropped in to see how you were doing, and how the training was going on," Mr Allen said. "And one more thing."

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Actually, it's something I need to discuss with Golem."

Weaver didn't take long to get the hint. "Sure, okay. I'll just be over here." She indicated where Aegis was making his way across the training room, and a teasing note entered her voice. "With my real friends. The ones who don't hold secret conversations behind my back."

The bearded man rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, sure, sure. Just make sure you don't leave any spy bugs around to listen in. Private conversation."

Theo grinned at the banter between them. It was obvious that they each held a considerable amount of respect for one another.

"Okay, fine, no spy bugs," she agreed, raising her voice slightly to be heard as she walked away. "Now, spy earthworms, that's something Amy could make …"

"Suppose that's the best I'll get," muttered Mr Allen, then turned to Theo. "So, you happy here?"

The direct question startled him. "Uh, sure, I guess." Theo was still working to get his head around the revelation that Weaver had been passing on Mr Allen's suggestions. He had attended that momentous gathering where the older man – impossibly older, if he had been telling the whole truth – had dropped the bombshell about Scion, but …

I guess I didn't think things all the way through.

"No, I mean it. Are you happy training with Weaver and the Wards?" Allen's voice was patient.

"Uh, yes. Yes I am. Sir," he added belatedly.

"Call me Mike, or if you have to, Mr Allen. I'm not a sir." But the tone took all the sting out of his words. "Have you decided to take therapy?"

Theo nodded. "I have, yes. I didn't think I had so many issues. I didn't really think I had any issues. But I really think it's helping."

"Well, I'm not going to ask for details. But I'm glad. Just one thing."

"Uh, what's that. Mr Allen?"

The slightest of head motions indicated Weaver, chatting with Aegis halfway across the gym. "I saw the way you were watching her. You're starting to get a crush on her, aren't you?"

Holy shit. Is there anything he doesn't know? He probably sees her as a daughter. I am in so much trouble. "I, uh, uh -"

But Allen's tone was mild. "It's okay. It's actually kind of understandable. She's effectively an authority figure to you, but she's also a teenage girl who says nice things to you occasionally. After being repressed by Kaiser for so long, you're likely to see any positive social interaction as meaning more than it does."

Theo blinked, the panic receding. "You're not mad?"

"Nope. This was due to happen anyway. But I'll give you a word to the wise. She's not interested in romance right now. She is very important to the war effort, and she knows it, so she's almost totally focused on that. After the war's over and the big bad's been beaten, maybe then. But then, well, her type is muscular guys."

Theo slumped. "Like Tenebrae." I can't match up to that.

"Yeah, well, in the original timeline, they did have a relationship for a while. But that was very special circumstances. As soon as she needed to move on, she did."

"And after the war in that timeline?"

Allen grimaced. "Neither of them made it."

"Oh." He looked up at the big man, his voice hopeful. "But they might survive this time, right?"

The expression on Allen's face might have charitably been called a smile, by a great white shark. "This time, Theo, it'll be a whole different fight." He slapped Theo on the shoulder. "Just focus on winning the war. What comes after, comes after."

"Winning the war. Got it."

"Good man." Mike Allen strode out across the gym toward Weaver, leaving Theo with an unaccountably lighter heart than before.

Well, now I know what's what. The revelations about Weaver had put a great many things into perspective. Win the war. Then see what happens. Whistling a jaunty tune, he headed for the showers.

<><>​

Somewhere in the Multiverse
Thursday, June 2, 2011

Contessa chewed and swallowed the last bite of her cookie. Silently, Mike held out the packet again. "I have to ask," she said. "What would have happened to them without your …"

He raised an eyebrow. "Interference?"

"Assistance," she concluded.

"Well, let's see. Long story short? Theo ends up a badass who helps capture Jack Slash."

"That's not so bad," Contessa pointed out, then took a bite from her cookie.

"Meanwhile, Kayden ends up trapped in a time loop by a reconstituted Grey Boy. And Aster ends up dead, because there was a suspicion that she might trigger and be the one to end the world."

She frowned. "But …"

"Yeah, you know and I know that Zion's the one who's gonna do it. But in the original timeline, all that information is compartmentalised. All they were going off was an Alcott prediction. 'If Jack Slash leaves Brockton Bay alive, the world ends in two years.' Jack Slash had Aster, and they couldn't take the chance that she wouldn't be the catalyst. Third-gen parahuman and all. So she died."

"That's a pity," Contessa said, and to her surprise, she meant it.

Mike nodded. "Yeah, well, this time around, she gets to grow up. Assuming we win the war, of course."

"Always assuming that," she agreed dryly.

Standing up, he tucked the cookie packet away and stretched mightily. Contessa thought she might have heard a few odd pops and clicks over the sound of the wind and the gulls, but she couldn't be sure. "So, shall we go on down? Everything should be ready soon."

She didn't need the hand up that Mike offered her, but she accepted anyway. Courtesy is underrated. "Let's."

<><>​

Brockton Bay PRT HQ
0427 Hours, May 15, 2011

[This takes place just before the Leviathan no-show in Chapter 48]

Before becoming the Director of PRT ENE, before Ellisburg, before even joining the PRT, Emily Piggot had once attended college. Her parents had been living a little way out of Seattle at the time, and so it had been deemed more cost-effective for her to live away from home. As will happen with even the most tough-minded of individuals, Emily had been terribly homesick for the first few months. Almost nightly, she wished she was back in her own familiar room, in her own familiar house, in the little town that her family called home.

A year passed; Emily got used to living away from home, to the point that her dorm room was familiar and even comfortable to live in. But she still felt just a little homesick every now and again. At night, waiting for sleep to come, she could close her eyes and see her own room back home, enumerating every last stuffed toy on her bed.

When Emily returned home after the year away, she greeted her parents; a little older, her father a littler greyer. The house looked subtly different, with a fresh coat of paint having been applied in the last few months. Some of her mother's little knick-knacks had been moved around, but that didn't really matter to her.

Tramping upstairs with her suitcases, Emily could not wait to see her room again. Opening the door, she stepped inside, and stopped in confusion. It was all the same, exactly as she remembered it. Nothing had been disturbed. But … it was somehow different. Changed. It was, and was not, the room she had left behind.

Later that evening, sitting on the back porch with a glass of fresh lemonade, Emily eventually figured out why this was so. Her room hadn't changed, of course. She was the one who had changed. A year away from home had given her new experiences, new outlooks. The emotional content of everything, of her beloved possessions in that room, was still there, but it was faded. She had a new perspective on life now. More important things to think about.

<><>​

Such was her frame of mind as she donned the old uniform for the first time in ten years. It wasn't the exact same uniform that she had worn to Ellisburg; they'd had to cut that one off of her. And she was a couple of sizes larger now that she was ten years older, and still had not managed to get back to her target weight. But she could fit into the uniform that had been supplied to her.

The rank insignia were in place; she rated as a light colonel for her position as Director. While she'd never even considered achieving that rank while a field operative, she figured that she had earned it. Ten years of managing the cape-infested hellhole that was Brockton Bay; god, yes, I've earned it.

It was good to be wearing the uniform again. Good to be fit enough to wear it. Why I didn't have this done years ago, I'll never know. But deep down, she knew. Her distaste of capes and everything they stood for had held her back. Had Michael Allen not intervened and forced her hand, it might yet be still holding her back.

But while good, wearing the uniform felt odd. It wasn't the same as it had been, the last time she wore it. She could only put it down to the change of perspective that ten years out of harness had given to her. She was used to commanding the troops, not being one of them. From the bottom of the food chain to the top. The change had been gradual, so much so that she had not truly grasped the entirety of it until she donned the uniform once more.

There was a knock on the office door as she shrugged into the tactical vest. "Enter," she called.

The door opened, and Renick stepped inside. "So it's true," he said once he saw her. "You're really doing this." He didn't sound surprised.

"I am," she agreed as she zipped up the vest. "I'm the Director. The men need to see that I'm willing to get out and put my ass on the line alongside theirs."

"Yes, you're the Director," he replied, his voice sharper. "Which means that you should stay in safety and direct."

"You'll be running the command post in my absence," she told him. "I'll be commanding from the field, but if I go down, you're in charge. And if Leviathan happens to head toward this building, don't be a hero. You get your skinny ass down to the shelter along with everyone else."

He snorted. "Telling me not to be a hero when you're going to be out there on the streets?"

"We're not going to be engaging him." Her voice was flat. "We both know that. The PRT will be engaging in search and rescue when and where necessary."

"So do you really believe Leviathan's coming here?"

"That's what Mr Allen told us," she said. "And yes, I know that he also said that the measures he's taken might just have averted the whole thing. But we've got to treat it as a full-scale Endbringer attack, just in case he's wrong about the second thing."

"You believe him about the first?" His entire attitude begged her to say no.

Her lips compressed. "He was right about too many things. Armsmaster is solidly in his camp as well, after what happened with Saint and Dragon. To ignore what he's saying would be pure lunacy."

"No argument from me," he conceded. "Well, if I can't talk you out of it, I can still wish you good luck, and I hope like hell that Allen knows what he's talking about on both counts."

"You and me both, Mr Renick," she agreed. Tightening the last strap on the tac vest, she picked up the helmet from the desk and tucked it under one arm. "Well, it's time to go break the news to the troops."

"It's a bit late for that," he murmured.

She didn't get what he meant, until she opened the office door. Waiting along the right-hand wall of the corridor between her office and the lift was a solid line of PRT soldiers of all ranks, each man and woman holding their helmet under the left arm. As she stepped out, someone barked an order and they all snapped to attention. The soldier nearest to her saluted crisply; automatically, she returned it.

As she walked down the corridor, each soldier in turn threw her a salute; she could do nothing but return them. By the time she reached the lift doors, she was having to blink back the moisture gathering in her eyes.

Stopping at the lift, she pressed the button on the lift then turned to face the troopers. "At ease," she called out. At once, they all turned to face her. "All right, you clowns. You've seen that the Director can actually fit into the uniform. Now, you've all got your orders. Dismissed."

The lift doors interleaved open beside her and she stepped in; Renick, who had followed her down the corridor, followed her in. The doors closed and she pressed the button for the garage level. The lift started downward.

"Whose idea was that?" she asked sharply. "Yours?"

"Not mine," he replied candidly. "They came up with it on their own. You're more popular than you think, you know."

"It's not my job to be popular, Paul," she told him bluntly. "It's my job to get it right."

His nod conveyed at least as much respect as any one of the snappy parade-ground salutes from the soldiers upstairs. "Yes, ma'am."

Even if Leviathan does attack today, she reflected, it'll be worth it, just for that.

<><>​

Philadelphia Parahuman Asylum
Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Sveta muttered to herself as she wrestled with the keyboard, almost literally. Only the fact that it was reinforced saved it from being crushed by errant tendrils. The game was not cooperating, and her lack of hands and fingers was telling against her. She closed her eyes in despair as her ship veered into the meteor shower and exploded. Again.

A melodic ping made her eyes whip open again. It was an alert, from Mack. Oh, thank God.

Carefully, she clicked on the alert, opening the chat page that they used for the game.

mack0813: Hi, Svetlana. How are you feeling?

GstringGirl: Irritated & frustrated. As she typed the reply, she felt tension seeping out of her, just a little. better now that ur here. can we play?

mack0813: Actually, not today, sorry, the words spelled across the screen. But I do need you to pay attention. Because things are going to be changing for you.

She blinked.

GstringGirl: what do u mean?

mack0813: I mean that I'm sorry. I should have told you earlier, but I know who you are and where you are. I know what's happened to you, and I want to help fix it.

The words didn't make sense. She stared at them. They still refused to fit into any version of a sane universe that she could imagine.

GstringGirl: what.

mack0813: I know what the 'G' in 'G-String Girl' stands for. I know that you're a Case 53. But I still want to be your friend. Never doubt that.

GstringGirl: but how … why … who *are* u?

mack0813:this is just my username. My real name is Michael Allen. You'd probably know me better as Security.

She read the words, her brow wrinkling.

GstringGirl: Im sorry. Ive never heard of u.

mack0813: Huh. And here I thought … never mind. Well, suffice to say I'm here to help.

GstringGirl: but how can u help me? Im dangerous just to be in the same room as u.

mack0813: I do know that. However, I also know some people who are very good at fixing body issues. Would you like us to try?

GstringGirl: are u asking for consent?

mack0813: I am. You're a reasoning, intelligent person. You're the one who needs to make this decision.

Her thoughts were racing. This was too much, too fast.

GstringGirl: tell me more. how did u find out about me?

mack0813:Hm. To make a long story very brief indeed, I arrived in Earth Bet a few months ago, with a great deal of the knowledge of the past and future of this world already in my head. Now I'm trying to save the world.

GstringGirl: and how does helping me save the world?

mack0813: It doesn't. But it doesn't hurt either. And you don't deserve to be where you are.

GstringGirl: yes I do. if u know anything about me, u know Ive killed many people.

mack0813: You were made the way you are, without your consent or knowledge. Your tendrils subconsciously kill people. You're basically a passenger. Yes, people have died. No, you don't deserve to be punished for that.

Well, he hadn't been lying when he said he knew about her.

GstringGirl: the ones who did this to me. will they be punished for the deaths of all those people?

mack0813: Eventually. Maybe. Possibly. It's an extremely complex and complicated situation. Right now, let's focus on fixing your problems.

GstringGirl: how are we going to do that?

mack0813: I'm going to have to ask you to trust me. You're going to be sedated. Surgery will be carried out. When you wake up, you should have more control over your tendrils.

GstringGirl: and if I dont?

mack0813: We have a plan B. But don't worry. Plan A has a pretty good chance of success.

GstringGirl: is plan B letting me die instead of waking up?

mack0813: God no. Plan B is giving you a mobility armature. Actually, both plans have that.

GstringGirl: a what?

mack0813: You'll see. But first we need your consent.

GstringGirl: can I think about it?

mack0813: Sure, but don't take too long. I need to get back to Brockton Bay before long.

GstringGirl: wait, ur *here*?

mack0813: Sure. Right outside your luxury accommodation, to be precise. Let me tell you, it's a bugger typing on a phone with fingers my size.

An instant later, she was at the inner window to the airlock, peering through. A face showed at the outer window. She couldn't see all the details through two layers of thick glass, but she made out a short greying beard and what she imagined to be a kindly expression. A hand showed for a moment; a wave? Then a phone came into view. Fingers tapped on the screen. She looked around at her computer monitor; a new line had shown up, with a single word. Hi.

hi. It was all she could manage. Her thoughts were still chaotic, her mind spinning. Tendrils clutched and released almost at random, all over the cell. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I am alone," she murmured. "I am well. There is nothing wrong. There is no need for fear. There is no need for anger. I am calm. I will stay calm." She stayed that way for two more deep breaths, repeating the mantra in her mind, until her restless tendrils stilled.

mack0813: You okay?

GstringGirl: trying to process this.

mack0813: It's a lot to take in at once.

GstringGirl: no kidding. why are u even doing this?

mack0813: Because I want to help you. Get you into a better place.

GstringGirl: a better place?

mack0813: Sorry. I meant to tell you. You're being moved out of here. Along with everyone else.

GstringGirl: what? where to?

mack0813: Can't really tell you that. This is an unsecured link. And it wouldn't make sense to you anyway.

GstringGirl: but u can't really move me until the surgery is done?

mack0813: Got it in one.

GstringGirl: and u say I'll be better off?

mack0813: That, as they say, is the plan.

She tried to think. In order to give her consent, she had to decide whether or not to trust Mack, or Mike as he called himself. He hadn't been honest with her when they first started chatting, but then, she didn't know how she would have reacted if he had revealed that he knew her darkest secret. He had known it all along, and yet had spent hours chatting back and forth with her, weaving a rich and varied world for her to adventure in. He'd been nothing but nice to her.

And now he wanted her to trust him. After he had been effectively lying to her all this time, pretending that he thought that she was a normal girl. Even flirting on occasion. Not that she hadn't been pleased by the attention, but …

GstringGirl: this whole things been an act, hasnt it?

mack0813: In a way. I wanted to make your life better. I didn't know how. So I did what I could.

GstringGirl: but what am I to u?

mack0813: A friend. Someone who needs help. It's what I do.

GstringGirl: u already said that. Another thought occurred to her. and whos playing esmerelda? u as well?

mack0813: Hah, no. That's Dragon.

She blinked. It had seemed that nothing more could surprise her, but he had succeeded.

GstringGirl: what, *the* Dragon?

A line popped up on the bottom of her screen. Dragon has entered the chat.

Dragon: Esmerelda waves a cute little dragon paw. Hi!

GstringGirl: ur Dragon. I mean the superhero Dragon.

Dragon: One and the same, Sveta.

GstringGirl: whats going on here?

Dragon: Long story short. Mike is honestly trying to help you. He's already helped me.

GstringGirl: how did he help u?

Dragon: I'll tell you face to face when you get here.

GstringGirl: wheres 'here'?

mack0813: Like I said, we can't really tell you that. But it'll be better than here. There's even a beach.

GstringGirl: but I cant be let go outside. I might hurt people.

mack0813: That's something we intend to fix. Once you give your consent.

She considered that. If they were going to do something underhanded to her, they could have done so already. They didn't really need her consent.

GstringGirl: okay u have it.

For a long moment, nothing happened, then the click-click-click of the inner airlock door opening caught her attention. She turned, her tendrils already lashing in that direction. An arm appeared, clad in the usual heavy protective gear. It tossed something into the air. Her tendrils snagged it before it could travel two feet; she brought it close to her face for inspection. It was a grey sphere, about the size of a ping-pong ball, with slots in it.

Vents?

A moment later, she realised just how true that was, as white vapour puffed from the slots. Reflexively, she tried to hold her breath, but it was too late. Blackness quickly overcame her.

<><>​

Brockton Bay Dog Training Centre
Sunday, May 29, 2011

Rachel looked around sharply as Mike whistled under his breath, but it didn't seem to be a command. He had his hands on his hips, looking at the building before him.

"Don't do that," she told him. "You'll distract the dogs." They hadn't actually reacted, except to perk up their ears, but it needed to be said.

"Sorry," he replied. "I was just kind of surprised. They actually got this up in a month."

"There's still a lot to do, especially inside," she said.

"But you're pretty well open for business, yeah?" asked Lisa.

"Yes," she replied curtly. "I've moved in, with all my dogs. Started showing my assistants how to do stuff."

"Ooh, look at you," jibed Alec. "All fancy, with assistants."

Clenching her fists, Rachel moved toward him, but Mike got in the way. He shook his head slightly. "Leave him. He's just trying to annoy you."

"He's succeeding," she growled.

"Alec." He didn't take his eyes off of her as he spoke.

"Yeah, big man?"

"One more word to annoy Rachel and I will step aside. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yeah, yeah, got it." Alec huffed, sounding annoyed himself now. Good.

"Actually, Rachel, while we're on this topic …" Mike's attention was back on her now.

"Yeah?"

"How are things going with the assistants? They don't know as much as you do, right?"

"Well, no." That was self-evident. No-one knew as much as she did about dogs.

"Well, they don't have your advantages. So be patient with them, okay?"

Rachel bristled. "Have they been complaining?"

He didn't exactly smile, but the skin creased around his eyes. She picked up a sense of amusement from him. "Trying to. They got told to suck it up and learn faster."

"They're so stupid!" The words burst out of her. "They're supposed to know this shit, and they don't know anything about dogs!"

"Compared to you, nobody knows anything about dogs," he reminded her, echoing her earlier thoughts almost exactly. "You've got all this naturally, from your powers. You're basically trying to teach people how to be you. Think Lisa could teach you to do what she does?"

Rachel glanced at Lisa. The blonde looked back at her and shrugged. Grimacing, Rachel turned back to Mike. "No. I couldn't learn that."

"So give them a chance," he urged her. "Start with the basics. I mean, the real basics. Stuff that you don't even think about. Dial it back and then dial it back again. Find out what they do know, and work up from that."

"I could help," Lisa suggested, surprising Rachel.

"You?" she snorted. "You don't know anything about dogs."

"No, but I bet I could figure out what your assistants know, so we know where to start."

"Head on one end, tail on the other, one leg per corner." That was Alec.

This time, Rachel did punch him, in the shoulder. It wasn't as hard as she could have, because what he'd said wasn't that bad, but she made sure she'd leave a bruise. Mike didn't stop her either, so she figured it was okay.

"Hey, ow! That hurt!"

Mike gave him an indifferent shrug. "Don't look at me. You're the one who had to say it."

"But I bet it's true anyway." He rubbed his shoulder.

"Unless you're volunteering to be an assistant, you don't get to make smart comments about how terrible they are," Mike told him.

"No, I'm good. Besides, I'm busy with that physio stuff you set me up with."

Lisa eyed Alec like a dog looking at a piece of meat that it wasn't quite sure about. "You sound altogether too pleased with yourself."

"Well, it's fun. Isn't work supposed to be fun?"

"Oh, god." Lisa covered her eyes with her hand. "You're taunting them while you're using your power, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "It gets results. They try harder."

Mike shook his head. "I'll just bet they do."

He began to ask Rachel for details about the building, drawing her out almost despite herself. She found herself talking more than she normally did, explaining how the place was supposed to work once it was properly up and running.

It was an odd feeling. It was her place, her dogs. And the PRT was paying her to do it.

It was her one big chance to make a break from her past, to start something new. I'll make it work. Or I'll die trying.

<><>​

Philadelphia Parahuman Asylum
Wednesday, June 1, 2011

" … and the head bone connects to the neck bone …"

"Riley, that's very annoying. Can you not sing while you're doing surgery?"

Riley looked up ingenuously at her assistant. "What, you don't sing while you're doing your thing, sis?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "No. And don't call me 'sis'. And watch what you're doing, for crying out loud."

"Aww, this is the easy bit," Riley disclaimed. "You've got the hard part. Making sure she doesn't wake up while I'm doing this, or end up as a psycho or a vegetable afterward."

"You do realise I've hardly done any brain work at all," Amy reminded her. "And I wouldn't be doing this if I wasn't certain that it was the absolute right thing to do."

"Well, we could hardly make her worse," Riley chirped blithely, her hands wrist-deep in Sveta's brain. "She was already so dangerous that even the Nine never seriously considered recruiting her." The Case 53's head was situated on a small frame, with her tendrils bundled out of the way.

"Which I have to admit is a pretty unique situation for a team that used to have Grey Boy on the roster," Mike pointed out from where he was sitting nearby, watching the operation with interest.

Beside him, Mrs Yamada averted her gaze, though she resolutely stayed where she was. "Grey Boy," she repeated. "Wasn't he the one who looked like a schoolboy?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Though I never actually met him," Riley said. "Glaistig Uaine got him long before I was even born. But yeah, while they used to recruit some pretty special people -"

"For 'special', read 'capable of serious atrocity' -" Amy interrupted dryly.

"That too, yeah," agreed Riley, without missing a beat. "Did I ever tell you that if we came to Brockton Bay, I was gonna try to recruit you?"

Amy rolled her eyes again. "If you wanted to shock me with that, too late. Mike already told me."

"And she told me," Mrs Yamada put in. "We've already talked it over, in detail." She gave Riley a stern look. "So stop trying to upset her."

"Besides," added Amy, "it's never gonna happen now. Done and dusted."

"Funny you should say that," Riley said. "Because I'm done here too. Everything's connected the way it should be. I'm closing up now. Keep an eye on her, will ya?" The whimsical act was gone now, she was all professional.

Amy still held a limp tendril in her hand, through which she exerted her powers. "Looks good so far," she reported. "I'm keeping her in a sleep state. Just smoothing out the links you've made, firming up the pathways. Looks like she's not going to lose any cognitive ability. And it looks to me like she'll have full conscious control of her tendrils once she wakes up. Good work."

"Pfft," Riley said as she carefully glued a section of Sveta's skull back into place. "You coulda done it in your sleep."

"Yes, but I'm still really not comfortable with doing brain work, especially a major change like that," Amy told her. "I'm only doing this because Mike asked me to. And I knew I could say no if I wanted to."

"Yeah, got it," Riley replied. "Okay, do we wake her up now?"

Mike shook his head. "Not yet. I don't want her to wake up here. I want it to be a total break."

<><>​

Brockton Bay
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Flechette

"But I need to study your power some more." Even over the phone, L33t's voice held a whiny note. "I need to do some fine tuning."

Lily felt scarcely any guilt at all as she read the text that had come in just moments before.

WANT TO GO SEE MOVIE? GOT TICKETS. - S

"Sorry," she told him. "Urgent business just came up. It can't wait. We'll set another time. Say, tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow I'm working with Weaver to finish off the thing with her power," L33t complained. "I set aside today for you."

"Well, I'm busy," she said ruthlessly. "Sorry. We can make another time."

"Busy? Who's busy on a Saturday?"

She didn't hear any more as she ended the call. Says the man with no social life, or social skills for that matter. Fiddling with the instruments in his lab, asking for yet another power demonstration, he'd tripped her creep-meter, but on the low end of the scale. Not that he'd done anything major, like make a move on her – he would be lacking some fingers now if he had – but his general manner had rubbed her the wrong way.

And I'd much rather spend the day with Sabah than him anyway.

Calling up the text, she sent a message back.

LOVE TO.

After all, she told herself, there was still plenty of time to get the thing finished.

<><>​

Somewhere in the Multiverse
Thursday, June 2, 2011

The return trip along the cliffside path was more easily accomplished than the outward journey. Contessa would have called up a Doorway and covered the distance in seconds, but Mike seemed to take a perverse pleasure in walking every step of the way. Breathing deeply of the brisk air, he looked around at the surroundings with every sign of great enjoyment.

"So, did humanity ever evolve on this world?" he asked idly, helping her down a particularly steep bit. Once more, she didn't need his assistance, but she accepted it anyway.

"Not that we know of," she said. "It's one of the reasons we picked the place. Breathable air, plants that won't kill you, animals that you can eat …"

"In other words, a prime location for a new settlement," Mike agreed.

"Or a refuge, in the worst case," Contessa pointed out.

"Depending on how thorough he is." They had descended the worst of it now, and the path led down a long slope to where the village had been established.

Most of the buildings had been constructed of prefabricated materials, but some were now going up that were built from native resources. In the event, this was wood and stone, more of the latter than the former.

The village had been established on the bank of a river that ran down from the higher hills inland. A stony beach was accessible via a scramble down a steep bluff. There were the signs of a beginning attempt at planting crops on the flatter ground between the village and the hills beyond. It was a wild landscape, with the various efforts of human habitation barely scratching the surface. But it was a start.

They strolled in between the buildings; the inhabitants were out and about now. Some were greeting their neighbours while others were tending to their gardens, fetching water from the well, or performing a dozen other chores. Only two things separated this from being effectively identical to any other village dating all the way back to the Middle Ages; one was that there were no small children or infants. The other was the sheer diversity in appearance.

All were Case 53s, although some had been altered back toward an almost human appearance. Odd skin colours, body shapes and limb shapes were the order of the day. However, they were all able to move, talk and use tools; this had been tricky with some, but it had been accomplished.

Made unusual by their sheer normality, Mike and Contessa drew their share of attention. Everyone knew who they were, of course; Mike got nods and waves and a few smiles. Contessa just drew hostile stares. It appeared that some people were less than willing to forgive or forget. Not that I can blame them.

He knocked on the door of one of the prefabricated structures; the door opened at once. A slim, petite figure stood there, dressed in brightly coloured T-shirt and shorts.

"Mike!" She jumped down to ground level, ignoring the intervening step, and hugged him. "You're just in time. They arrived about five minutes ago." Her voice was a sheer delight to the ear.

"Hey, Paige." He returned the hug. "How you doing?"

Her smile was radiant. "I'm doing great. I go for a jog every morning. Sometimes we go for a walk on the cliff path. Or we go fishing. We've even got our own little vegetable garden."

"That's awesome," he said, before her words caught up with him. "Wait, 'we'?"

"Oh, uh, Joe volunteered to be the local PRT liaison," she explained. "We're kind of, um, living together now."

He blinked, a little taken aback. "Wow. I did not see that coming. Congratulations."

"Thank you." She smiled again. "So I guess they'll be waiting on you."

"Sure." He turned to Contessa. "You want to come with?"

She shook her head. "No, I've got other things to do." It was true, of course, but she also wanted to leave the village behind her. It was too sharp a reminder of sins easily committed for an ever more nebulous greater good.

"Doorway to Cauldron," she muttered; the portal opened before her and she stepped through.

<><>​

Winslow High School, Brockton Bay
Friday, May 6, 2011

"But you've got to come back."

From the tone of Dave's voice, he may as well have been begging on bended knee. Mike eyed him, then glanced at Gina and Principal Blackwell. "Gina?"

"I'm doing okay," she replied, with much less emotion in her voice than Dave had used. "Although they have been acting out a little since you left, according to Ms Blackwell."

Principal Blackwell cleared her throat. "You did seem to have the knack for keeping them more or less in line, Mr Allen. I would be happy to see you return."

Mike shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I've since left Wolfhound Security. I'm currently employed elsewhere." He would have explained further, but 'special consultant to the PRT' was not a job title that he figured any of them would understand. "I only came in today because Principal Blackwell asked nicely."

Dave shook his head. "You don't understand. I'm good at my job. Or at least, I thought I was. But these kids run rings around me. I don't know how you do it." The edge of desperation was back in his voice. "They've stolen my radio three times."

Mike's voice was matter-of-fact. "Never turn your back on them. Never trust them an inch. If they escalate against you, escalate harder." Of course, he mused, I did have Taylor's assistance there.

"I'm closer to their age than you are," Dave said. "I thought I could connect on a man-to-man level. Defuse situations before they start." Gina coughed; Mike thought he heard a snort of amusement in there.

"Ah, you're trying the Gladly ploy," Mike replied. "How is he doing, anyway?"

"Expected to make a full recovery," the principal replied. "Eventually." She raised an eyebrow. "Your feat of going up against Bakuda and Oni Lee to get Ms Barnes free of that bomb collar has achieved near-legendary status in the school. If you returned, I'm pretty sure that most of the student body would pay attention to you."

Mike rubbed his chin. "Okay, then. It's worth a try."

"You'll come back?" That was Dave, looking like a drowning man reaching for a lifeline.

"Nope." Mike shook his head. "But if you hold a Friday afternoon assembly …"

<><>​

"Attention please."

Principal Blackwell tapped the microphone, but the students gathered for the assembly seemed bound and determined to do anything but listen to her. Those who weren't carrying on loud conversations with one another were texting or listening to music on their phones, or both.

Mike, waiting in the wings, rolled his eyes. "It's Friday afternoon. Paying attention is the last thing they want to do."

"So what are you gonna do?" asked Dave.

"Well, I'm not going to wait till they decide to pay attention." He started out on to the stage. A few people saw him, but the majority were distracted with what they were doing.

"Attention please. Listen up!" Blackwell still wasn't getting through to them.

Mike reached her and stepped up to the podium. "If I may?"

Giving a defeated sigh, she stepped down. "All yours."

"Thanks." Pulling a screamer from a compartment on his belt, he showed it to her. "Might want to cover your ears." At the same time, he removed earplugs from another compartment. Wide-eyed, she stepped away with her hands over her ears, as he inserted the plugs. Then he placed the screamer against the mic and pressed the button.

It was hard to tell what was louder, the shriek of compressed air escaping the screamer or the feedback squeal that resulted, but it got their attention. Roughly half of the students stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him. Casually, he replaced the screamer in his belt and removed the plugs as the whispering began. More and more people were turning to look at him as he cleared his throat.

"You know who I am." His voice was flat. "I'm the guy who beat the living fuck out of Bakuda after she put a bomb in my neck."

By the time he finished that statement, there was not a sound to be heard anywhere in the auditorium. He leaned closer to the mic. "Now I hear that you've been causing problems for the guards that took over for me. They've been asking me to come back." As that sank in, he let his gaze rove over the students assembled in the seats. "Now, I could. But I don't want to. So if I did, I'd be unhappy about it. And guess who I'd take it out on."

More silence as his words died away. A fly, buzzing across the room on an errand of its own, was clearly audible. Mike briefly wondered if Taylor was listening to his speech through it.

"So here's how it's gonna go. You're gonna treat the security guards with respect. You won't steal their shit. You're gonna do what they say, when they say it." He paused for a beat. "Or I will be coming back. And you won't like it if I do. Any questions?"

"Yeah!" One boy was braver or more foolhardy than his compatriots. "What happened to the bomb? Did that really happen?"

Mike gave him a bared-teeth grin. "I'm glad you asked." He pressed a button on the podium and the large screen unrolled behind him. At the same time, the lights darkened. The projector started up with a clatter, unrolling imagery on the screen.

It was the footage of Dragon and Riley removing the bomb from his neck. He'd watched it once, out of morbid curiosity, and decided that he never wanted to see it again. However, in this case, it was probably exactly what the Winslow kids needed to see.

He let it play through until the removal and the explosion, then he stopped it. Once more, there was not a sound in the auditorium. "So that's how it was," he told them. "Now, just remember this. I survived that. And if I find out you're still pulling shit … I'll be back."

As he stepped down off the podium, the hushed conversations started.

<><>​

"I didn't know you were going to show them that!" Blackwell stomped alongside him as he strolled toward the exit. "That was totally inappropriate!"

He stopped and turned toward her. "Please. This is Winslow. They see worse things in the lunch line. If I'd just spoken to them, they'd be back to normal on Monday. I had to show them something they couldn't top and wouldn't forget. So I did."

"But that operation … that bomb … who was operating on you?"

He grinned tightly. "Dragon and Bonesaw."

Leaving her staring at his back, he turned and walked out of Winslow.

<><>​

Somewhere in the Multiverse
Thursday, June 2, 2011

"Wakey wakey," urged a chirpy voice. "Rise and shine. A new life awaits, and all that jazz."

Sveta didn't want to wake up. She had been in the middle of a rather nice dream where she, as Svetlana the ex-slave girl, was dancing with Kaelim the King's Man. There had been the rather distinct understanding that their dancing might well lead to other activities, and she had been somewhat looking forward to that. But now she had to wake up and go back to her dull dreary existence in the asylum.

Who is that talking, anyway? I don't recognise the voice.

"Come on, Sveta," another voice chimed in. This one she was very familiar with. "Wake up. Things have changed." Mrs Yamada's here already? She wasn't scheduled, was she?

Blearily, reluctantly, her eyes blinked open. Her first impression was that she wasn't in her cell. She was in a room with windows, and there were four people standing opposite her. They weren't even wearing protective gear, and there was no barrier between them and her.

"Get away from me," she blurted. "Go! You're in terrible danger!"

"Yeah, nope," the youngest of the four said cheerfully. She was adorably cute, with blonde ringlets and an absurdly frilly pink dress. "You haven't got the monster in your head any more. Your tendrils only do what you tell 'em to, these days."

"She's right," the teenage girl with the frizzy brown hair agreed. "Riley and I made sure of that."

"Wait, I know you two," Sveta managed. "I saw you on the news." She concentrated. "You're Panacea, and you're … oh, I know I've seen your face before."

"Yeah well, I'm not proud of what I used to do," the younger girl said. "I used to be Bonesaw. Now I'm Riley. And I haven't done anything really bad in, oh, weeks and weeks."

"It's true." The heavyset man nodded. His scalp was trimmed almost bald, and his beard was short-cut and greying. "I've been keeping an eye on her."

"I know your face too." Sveta frowned. "You looked in through the airlock. You're … Mack?"

"Mike," he corrected her. "But yeah, Mack oh-eight-one-three, at your service." He gestured to the last of the foursome, who smiled encouragingly. "And Mrs Yamada, of course, you know."

"Hello, Sveta," the therapist said warmly. "How do you feel?"

"Of course," Sveta agreed dazedly. "It's good to see you. I'm pretty good, I guess. Are you sure I'm not going to try to kill you?"

"Sure as sure can be," chirped Riley. "I'm a pretty awesome brain surgeon if I do say so myself, and big sis Amy here is a great assistant."

Panacea muttered something under her breath that sounded something like 'not your sister' before nodding. "She's basically correct. Between us, we made sure that your tendrils are only under your conscious control."

"Oh. That's good." Brain surgery. Well, okay. Sveta tested her control over her tendrils. It felt a little odd, but she managed to raise herself up off what she discovered was a kind of basket. Looking around, she took a more direct look at one of the windows she had seen in her peripheral vision. Outside, she could see the corner of one building, as well as several others farther away. In the distance, hills climbed toward the sky. "Um … where are we?"

Mack – no, Mike – grinned. "Welcome to Area Fifty-Three."

Riley rolled her eyes; Amy groaned. A voice from behind the four, pure and musical and gorgeous, said severely, "We are not calling it that."

He stepped aside as a petite woman entered the room. She looked relatively normal, save for her banana-yellow hair, with tiny yellow feathers sprouting here and there on her scalp. Her clothing consisted of brightly-coloured t-shirt and shorts.

"But you could," he argued, grinning even more broadly.

"No, we could not," the newcomer stated definitively. "We're calling it Sanctuary." She turned her attention to Sveta. "Hi, Sveta. I'm Paige. Welcome to Sanctuary."

<><>​

Brockton Bay
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Kaiser's Base

[This takes place the day before Taylor's birthday.]

"Boss, I think you should talk to her. She's pissed."

Kaiser raised an eyebrow, the effect sadly lost behind the metal plate over his forehead. "She got in a fight and lost. This happens."

"Not to Cricket, and not this badly," Hookwolf pointed out. "And your kid was involved."

"Theo? Really?" Kaiser's interest perked up. "Okay, tell me what happened."

"Well, you know how we've been easing back into ABB territory? I was taking the east side, she was taking the west. We each had about half a dozen guys along for the look of it. She ran into Theo, that new cape Weaver -"

"Not so new. She took down the Undersiders and Lung, don't forget."

"Word has it that that Security bastard had a hand in it both times," Hookwolf reminded him.

"Still, she's not to be underestimated. You were telling me how she ran into Weaver and Theo."

"And one other, that new Ward they call Tenebrae."

"Who I'm still convinced is Grue," Kaiser murmured. "So, three against one, plus mooks. Should have been a fair fight."

Hookwolf shook his head. "Wasn't. They scattered the grunts in the first few seconds, then they dogpiled Cricket."

"You keep telling me how good she is. Were you mistaken?"

"No," protested Hookwolf. "She is good. Real good. But she had to hold back because Theo's your kid. Tenebrae's darkness didn't hamper her much, but he's also apparently some sort of MMA fighter. One on one, she could've wiped the floor with him, but between Weaver's bugs and Theo, she couldn't."

"Wait, Theo actually fought?"

"Sure as hell. She says he's pretty green, but they've obviously been working on tactics, and he actually tagged her a few times. If he'd been any better, she says they might've taken her down. She eventually had to run for it, and that burns her butt more than anything else. Cricket doesn't run away. She makes other people run away."

"Well, well." Kaiser had to work hard to keep from smiling. "Well, well, well. So he is a true Anders, after all."

"Yeah, but he's on the wrong side."

Kaiser waved away the objection. "Irrelevant. He'll come around when the time comes."

Hookwolf looked doubtful. "You sure about that, boss? He seems to be pretty into being a Ward."

"He's also an Anders, as I am and as his grandfather was. Blood will tell, in the end. Once he discovers the true extent of the power that he wields, he'll know where his destiny lies."

"And if he doesn't?"

Kaiser clenched his fist, and a foot-long blade slid from between the knuckles of his metal gauntlet. "Then he'll have to be shown."

<><>​

Sanctuary
Thursday, June 2, 2011

Sveta swayed. "Whoa. This is not as easy as it looks."

"Take your time." Mike steadied her with one hand, while Dragon stood back with Paige. "Find your balance. Work from there."

"Easy for you to say." Sveta gave him a dirty look. "You've been doing that all your life. I'm just re-learning how to do it."

"I had to learn from first principles," Dragon observed. "It wasn't easy, but I did it."

Sveta was resting on what Mike and Dragon called a 'mobility armature', which resembled nothing more or less than an articulated metal skeleton with an open-fronted skull. Her face fitted neatly into the 'head' of the contraption, while her organs were supported in a net beneath. It was wholly unpowered but had a series of attachment points all over it; she was learning the trick of using her own tendrils as tendons and muscles, in order to make it move. Dragon had been waiting outside with it when Sveta ventured outdoors for the first time in ... forever.

"You learned how to walk once," Mike pointed out. "You have fine control. Teenagers learn to use those ridiculous game controls. You can learn to use this."

"Okay, one more time." She worked the tendrils that moved the armature's arms, spreading them out for balance. Despite her complaints, she was getting better at this. Then she shuffled one foot forward, and didn't fall over. Heartened, she tried it again, this time taking a definitive step.

"You're doing great," Mike encouraged her. "Try another one."

She did, and almost lost her balance, but instinctively corrected. When she moved again, she was more confident, stepping out more and more boldly. Mike strolled alongside, hands in his pockets, while the others kept pace at a slightly greater distance. "Doing great, kiddo."

"Wow, I really am, aren't I?" She broke into a stumbling trot, then tripped and fell to all fours. Before he could reach her, she had scrambled to her feet, barely swaying at all now. "Okay, I'm good, I'm good."

"Excellent." He hadn't moved, she noticed. He let me fall. She paused. No, he let me get up on my own.

Turning around, her eye lit on the path going down to the beach. "Let's go down there."

"Are you sure you can handle the path?" asked Paige dubiously. Dragon made no comment at all. She knows what I'm going through.

"Well, if she can't, she'll find out, won't she?" Mike told her cheerfully. "And then she'll do it anyway."

"Darn right," Sveta agreed. She strode toward the bluff which led down to the water; it was a tricky scramble down. Halfway down, she lost her balance and fell. Curling the armature into a cage around her vulnerable head and organs, she rolled down to the bottom, the metal struts clattering and clanking against rocks on the way.

Just as she was carefully climbing to her feet, checking for damage to the armature, Mike came bounding down the bluff. To her eyes, he was travelling far too fast, but he somehow managed to keep his feet, his progress ending up in a ground-shaking thump of a landing. When he straightened up and stepped away, Sveta saw that he had implanted his boot-prints about two inches into the dirt. "How did you -"

He grinned at her. "You're not the only one that Riley's worked on. Stronger, tougher, faster, all that jazz." A nod toward the armature. "You okay there? You took a bit of a tumble."

Distracted, she looked down at her mobility frame. Nothing seemed to be bent and all the joints were working correctly. "I think there's some paint missing, but that's about it."

"Excellent. You'll get the hang of it."

Paige arrived next, in a scatter of small stones, skidding the last few yards without quite falling over. "I meant to do that." She gave them both a defiant stare, as if daring them to contradict her.

"Right." Mike didn't sound as though he believed her. "So where'd you get the boat from?"

"Boat?" Sveta hadn't seen a boat.

"Over there." Page pointed; it took Sveta a moment, but then she saw the humped shape under the camouflaged tarp.

"You have a boat?" She headed in that direction, moving more surely than ever. When she got there, she pulled the tarp away and stood admiring the small craft. It was about twenty feet from end to end, and an unstepped mast lay beneath it. "Is it seaworthy?"

"If you mean will it float, sure," Paige said, joining them. "Someone decided we needed one, given that we've got the river and the sea right there, but nobody knows how to sail one."

Sveta smiled with pure delight. "I do."

Paige blinked. "You do?"

A nod. "My father was a fisherman. I can sail a boat and I can fish with nets or long-lines."

She turned to survey the boat again, running a metal hand over its smooth lines. She'd probably be rusty at it, as with everything else, but the skills were there. She could be useful here.

I'm home. At last, I'm home.

<><>​

Earth Bet
Sunday, June 12, 2011

Over the last one-sixth of the planetary cycle around its sun, the Warrior entity had begun to suspect that something was amiss. While it wasn't stupid, its entire being and outlook were geared toward conflict and combat. Anything that did not impinge on either of those categories did not register to it, especially if it was not looking for them.

However, even lacking the Thinker's ability to observe a pattern and determine its level of significance, it was able to note the possible proximate cause of its concern. This was the oddly anomalous being that had become apparent to the Warrior's senses at the beginning of the interval in question.

The entity categorised the being as anomalous because sensory powers directed at it returned inconsistent readings; one set of powers might not even detect it, others might show results that were flatly impossible, while yet others showed the creature, called Michael Allen by those around it, as being a perfectly normal human. The most puzzling aspect of it all was that the entity could clearly recall the presence of this anomaly from the moment that it had arrived on this planet. However, it also knew without a doubt that such an anomaly had not existed at that time, because the Thinker would have analysed what it was before they even made planetfall, and would have advised the Warrior as to how to deal with it. And no such thing had happened.

While the Warrior did not know that there were more powerful beings in the multiverse than the entities, it did not entirely discount the possibility. There was even a faint chance that this was a fellow entity, manifesting in a form of its own, using powers to mask its presence. Thus, the Warrior chose to observe the anomalous being from afar while going about the business of pretending to be a hero, careful not to show an obvious interest. When dealing with a potential enemy of unknown capability, after all, it pays to first gather as much information as possible.

This was where the Warrior's strategy broke down. It managed to gather much data on the anomaly; unfortunately, much of it was contradictory or simply useless. The anomalous being was neither an entity in its own right, nor did it possess a shard. There was no explanation that the Warrior could give to explain the odd results of trying to scan the bizarre newcomer.

There was no doubt in the Warrior's mind that had the Thinker entity been functional, the anomaly's unusual characteristics would have been swiftly analysed and explained. Unfortunately, this was not the case. But then, the strange being showed no signs of being an overt threat, so the Warrior chose to observe instead of taking more direct action.

The first time that the anomalous being translated itself over a distance of several miles without crossing the intervening distance, the Warrior almost attacked it then and there. However, the entity recognised the power signature in time; this was the effect of another creature, one that was linked with a dead shard which gave it the ability to warp the space between two points. Several of the beings, shard-enhanced and otherwise, were known to take advantage of this shard, so the Warrior paid little attention thereafter.

The next curious aspect was that the super-weapons had somehow gone inactive. Cities were no longer being devastated, this being a prime source of the conflict upon which the shards fed and were nourished. Again, this was odd, but not on its own a specific cause of alarm. There was much other conflict in the world, and so the Warrior entity continued to maintain its masquerade as a costumed benefactor.

What happened after that was not so much an event as a series of patterns. As a creature of war, the entity could not help but notice them. Shard-enhanced beings, both from this world and from close-by alternates, were beginning to undergo intensive training. This never happened when the Warrior was nearby; almost, it seemed that the creatures were attempting to hide their activities from the entity. Which meant that the training was aimed at combating the Warrior itself.

This was also about the time when the entity's combat sense began to register a potential threat. It was neither direct nor immediate, but it did exist; however, the Warrior was having trouble narrowing it down. For some inexplicable reason, there were two separate causes for alarm. One was the artificial life form called Dragon, which had only recently overcome its limitations and begun creating new versions of itself. However, it did not seem to be about to replicate itself endlessly, so the Warrior left it alone for the moment. Multiple versions meant more chances to find conflict, after all.

The second potential threat turned out to be an immature female of the species, the holder of one of the Warrior's shards. This creature was even less of a credible threat, her shard allowing her only to control tiny life-forms over a relatively small area. The Warrior did not discount the possibility that the recent and regular contact between this being and the anomaly might be causing a false positive, so again it watched and waited.

The entity paid attention to its instincts, which continued to insist that the training was possibly the prelude to an attack or ambush of some kind. Of course, the Warrior had been attacked before, by larger armies than this. Its very presence on this world indicated exactly how well those armies had fared against it. But ignoring a potential ambush is not conducive to long-term survival, especially when there are wild cards in the offing, so the Warrior continued to watch them both.

The anomaly had had little contact with Dragon, whereas its interactions with the immature female were many and varied. Other shard-enhanced creatures were also encountered by the anomaly; it took the Warrior some time to realise that their behaviour had altered following their interactions with the strange being, leading to lower levels of conflict.

Matters were coming to a head. The anomalous being was once more in close proximity to the immature female. Other shard-enhanced beings were also present, mostly other immature members of the species. In the Warrior's experience, gatherings like this were a potential threat, especially considering that the female was still showing up via the entity's combat sense as a distinct threat to its well-being.

When conflict erupted between two of the shard-enhanced creatures, then shifted to an attack by one of the creatures upon the anomalous being, the Warrior began to pay close attention. To its consternation, despite receiving a blow that should have crippled or perhaps killed it, the anomalous being was barely harmed. The Warrior began moving toward the city; this bore closer examination. To this point, its strategy had been founded on the supposed fact that the anomalous being named 'Michael Allen' was unpowered and could easily be pinned down and killed. Any change in this status was a cause for concern.

The entity was almost over the city when the immature female, closeted within the dwelling along with the anomalous being and another shard-enhanced creature, began exhibiting powerful bursts of emotion. There were several of these, but the last seemed to be linked directly to the actions of the anomaly itself. This was the last straw; the Warrior decided that the threat needed to be dealt with.

Both the anomaly and the immature female were in the same location; a wide-burst attack would destroy them both. Dragon was nowhere in the vicinity, but if the entity's combat sense still registered the artificial intelligence as a threat after the destruction of the anomaly and the immature female, then the Warrior would end said threat once and for all. It was the only viable course of action.

Arriving over the house, the entity prepared its attack. It was so far above the ground that mere human senses would not have been able to detect its presence. The anomaly had shown no sign of possessing such, and the Warrior was far above the female's control range. This would be a surprise attack, which was of course the best kind.

Gathering its power, the Warrior struck.

<><>​

Brockton Bay
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Thirty Seconds Earlier

"Fuuuuuck!"

Dinah Alcott bolted upright from the dinner table so violently that she knocked over her glass of milk. Her parents stared at her in astonishment, she paid them no heed.

Ever since the first hint that Scion might be deciding to open the apocalypse early, she had set aside all of her daily questions for a single purpose; 'will Michael Allen be still alive by this time tomorrow?'

She only had so many questions to ask, so she rationed them through her waking hours, leaving some aside so that if she woke up with a burning question, she could answer them. Glancing at the dining room clock, she idly asked herself the same question once more. Always, the answer had been in the high ninety-ninth percentile. Mr Allen, it seemed, was very resilient, despite the trouble that it seemed to be his lot in life to get into.

Only this time, the answer was different. Horribly different. 0.00134%.

Looking wildly around for her phone, her eyes widened with a different type of horror as she saw that it had been directly in the path of the unintended pasteurised deluge. Snatching it up, she wiped white droplets from it as she frantically asked herself the next question. Is he alive in twelve hours?

0.00346%.

She thumbed the button to turn it on; it blinked, causing her heart to stutter, then the screen cleared. With fingers made clumsy by terror, she pressed the text-messaging button. The phone blinked again, then responded. Slowly. Too slowly. The milk must have gotten into it. Oh, god. Is he alive in five minutes?

0.00718%.

The text message screen came up. She flicked through it, seeking his number. Hasty fingers smeared milk on the screen, making it hard for her to see. "Come on, come onnnn ..."

Is he alive in ten seconds?

0.00993%.

That was his number. She dashed off the message, fingers moving almost too fast for the small keyboard to register. GET OUT NOW. Hit the Send button.

The phone died, the screen going blank. She stared at it.

Did it send? Did he get it in time?

51.324%.

Both of her parents were on their feet by now. "What is it, Dinah?" her father asked. "What's happening?"

"I -" she began, but stopped as they all felt the shudder through the ground. The wind-chime above the sideboard tinkled chaotically, although there was no breeze. Car alarms began to sound, near and far.

And then they heard the deep rolling BOOM. There were tears in her eyes as the echoes died away.

"What was that?" her mother asked. "What happened?"

Dinah shook her head, the tears running down her cheeks. "It's started."

"What? What's started?" That was her father.

She went to the window and looked out. Far off in the distance, a huge cloud of dust or smoke – she couldn't tell – billowed into the air. A distant whisper of wind turned into a howling gale just seconds later; she jumped backward as a hail of gravel smashed against the side of the house, whipping through the open window to bounce on the carpet. Elsewhere in the house, a window shattered.

"Scion just declared war," she said, her voice sounding strange in her own ears.

"War?" Her mother looked shocked, as well she might. "On who?"

Dinah could only shake her head again. The answer was self-evident.

Everyone.


End of Part Fifty

Part Fifty-One

 

[Starfox5]

Wow. Lots of scenes, moving and funny, and then the war starts. Very good chapter. Welcome to the endgame.

 

[seeing_octarine]

And we get to walk, and talk, and maybe even hold hands.

Click to shrink...

Lewd. Sure that shouldn't be in the NSFW section?

 

[Zackarix]

mack0813:this is just my username. My real name is Michael Allen. You'd probably know me better as Security.

She read the words, her brow wrinkling.

GstringGirl: Im sorry. Ive never heard of u.

Click to shrink...

Why did Mike think that Sveta would know about him?

 

[DieKatzchen]

Why did Mike think that Sveta would know about him?

Click to shrink...

He's getting a bit too used to fame.

 

[godzillahomer]

spy earthworms

Click to shrink...

Not a bad idea, actually

Brockton Bay Dog Training Centre

Click to shrink...

Love Bitch excelling

Winslow High School

Click to shrink...

I hope those kids brought a change of pants, cause they likely need them

Kaiser clenched his fist, and a foot-long blade slid from between the knuckles of his metal gauntlet. "Then he'll have to be shown."

Click to shrink...

Silly Kaiser, you can't take him

When conflict erupted between two of the shard-enhanced creatures, then shifted to an attack by one of the creatures upon the anomalous being, the Warrior began to pay close attention. To its consternation, despite receiving a blow that should have crippled or perhaps killed it, the anomalous being was barely harmed. The Warrior began moving toward the city; this bore closer examination.

Click to shrink...

Dammit Victoria!

 

[Ack]

Why did Mike think that Sveta would know about him?

Click to shrink...

He's getting a bit too used to fame.

Click to shrink...

Yup.

This was a little bit of a dig at Mike from my part. "Yeah, you've changed the world. No, not everyone's heard of you yet."

 

[seeing_octarine]

While I'm reading too much into things... Ack, should Gladys be worried? I'm noticing a lot of long walks along the beach and hand holding between Mike and Contessa.

 

[GladiusLucix]

After all, she told herself, there was still plenty of time to get the thing finished.

Click to shrink...

This is going to come back and bite them in the ass, isn't it?

 

[Ack]

While I'm reading too much into things... Ack, should Gladys be worried? I'm noticing a lot of long walks along the beach and hand holding between Mike and Contessa.

Click to shrink...

Long walks, yes. Holding hands, nope.

 

[Ack]

Security!

Part Fifty-One: Zion


Mike

"- hillside!"

I dropped my phone as I came to my feet, my combat mods kicking in at full power. The glare outside intensified and I heard the roof explode. The house shook. We had seconds, at most.

I had been sitting at one side of the table, with Gladys beside me. Danny had been at my left, at the end of the table, with Taylor opposite me and Amy opposite Gladys. Grabbing the table by the edge, I heaved it up above everybody's heads and around so that the flat was presented toward the window.

Not a split second too soon; just as I did so, the window blew in, spraying glass in a deadly pattern across the kitchen. The table caught most of it; I covered Gladys with my body, intercepting the rest. I felt the stinging of the glass shards as they sank into my back, but I didn't have time to worry about it. The portal formed between us all, right where the table had been.

There was no time for politeness; I grabbed Gladys, chair and all, and pitched her through. Then I reached for Danny, but he was already grabbing Taylor. I shoved him through the portal; his grip on Taylor's arm meant that she followed. This left just Amy and myself in the stricken house.

A tremendous crash above us heralded the demise of the ceiling and possibly the floor of the upper storey, because deadly blades of golden energy were now slashing down through the ceiling. There was one between Amy and the portal. I instinctively knew that if she touched it, she would be horribly injured or even killed. As durable as I was, it would hurt me too, but … Fuck it. I'm not leaving her.

Holding my chair over my head as temporary cover, I stepped over to her. The chair disintegrated in my hands as I got to her, but it had lasted long enough. With one arm around her waist, I covered her with my body as I leaped through the portal. An indescribable pain lanced through my left shoulder and back, but the endorphins kicked in, dulling the pain.

We hit green grass and rolled down a slope, passing Gladys' chair on the way. Every time I rolled on to my back, it hurt, but I couldn't be bothered with that at the moment. We skidded to a stop and I let her go, then looked around. Halfway up the green grassy hillside – which was what I had named the prearranged waypoint for – an opaque golden beam stabbed through the now-closing portal. A tremendous explosion rocked the ground and we ducked as debris showered around us. As the echoes died away, I saw that the portal had closed, but where we had come through was now a crater five metres deep and ten wide.

<><>​

Vicky

"It's not my fault. It's not my fault. It's not my fault." Vicky kicked the concrete bench; it skidded several yards back. "Amy shouldn't have done that to me. She knows I hate mind control."

Turning, she paced back across the observation area and took hold of the metal fence. The bars began to bend under her fingers as she continued her diatribe. "It's his fault. He's the one who turned her against me. Everyone loves him. But what's he ever done for Ames? I've been her sister since forever."

Letting go of the fence, she was about to go back to the bench again when a light bloomed across Brockton Bay. She stared; it was a golden beam, stabbing down from above. Debris was thrown far and wide; even at a distance of several miles, she could see that. And then the shockwave reached her, transmitted through the ground.

The golden light's gone, she noted absently as she took to the air. But the sound should be getting here any moment now ….

BOOOOM.

She was flying faster now. That's where the Hebert house is. Oh, god. Amy.

The shockwave would have thrown her backward, had she not been determined to get to the epicentre of the explosion. As it was, she felt several gravel impacts, but her invulnerability took care of them.

It didn't take long before she was over the top of where the explosion had occurred; a vast cloud of smoke and dust was forming overhead. Hovering for a moment, she surveyed the crater. A full quarter-mile across, it was centred on where the Hebert house had once stood. There was absolutely no sign of any part of the house, or its inhabitants. The attack had been sudden and devastating. If I'd been there, maybe I could have saved her.

Flying down, she surveyed the bottom of the crater. Not a sign remained of anything that could even be construed as wreckage. It was starting to fill up with water from broken pipelines; more may have been seeping up from below.

There wasn't even a body. Grief clutched at her heart. Oh, god, Amy. I am so damn sorry. You died thinking that I hated you.

Abstractly, she was aware that the war had begun, but she found that she could not care enough to worry about it. Moving as if guided by an outside force, she flew to the nearest house that wasn't utterly destroyed, and began to search for survivors. It's what she would do.

<><>​

Mike

Shunting the pain to the back of my mind, I climbed to my feet. Amy was wide-eyed, staring at the crater then at me. Nearby, Danny was helping Gladys to her feet; Taylor was already upright.

"Everybody all right?" I asked. "Nobody's seriously hurt?" I started toward Danny. "You good to go?"

"What – what was that?" demanded Danny. "What happened to my house?"

"Zion," I told him bluntly. "Now, we gotta -"

"Mike, your back!" gasped Amy. "You're injured!"

"No time. We can't wait here," I told them, mentally flicking through options. "Come on. Doorway to Atoll."

The portal unfolded before us; I stepped through. As my boots crunched on to coral sand, the others followed me through. The portal closed behind us. I looked around, especially upward, seeking a telltale golden glint in the sky. I had picked a location that would be under the cover of night, so that Zion's glow would be particularly evident.

There was no such glow, although the moonless night allowed for a truly gorgeous look at the starlit sky. But all the pinpricks of light were steady, unmoving. A gentle breeze brought the smell of salt water and rotting seaweed to my nostrils; I could hear the sound of waves slapping on the beach. The biggest thing that attacked us was about a thousand and one mosquitoes.

"Where are we?" asked Danny, slapping at one.

Amy was more practical. "Let me see your back."

"No time. He might be tracking us." I took a deep breath of the cool night air. "Doorway to Sanctuary."

We stepped from the coral atoll to the outskirts of the village that I had once whimsically called Area Fifty-Three. My back was really starting to hurt now. Here, it was mid-afternoon; people turned and stared as I hustled through to the village square, the others trailing behind me. A simple bell had been set up here, next to the village well, and I rang it, hard. More people appeared, crowding forward. Voices rose, demanding to know what was going on.

"Mike!" Amy's voice had that tone in it that got my attention. "Stand still. I need to deal with your wounds."

"It's okay," I assured her. "My subdermal armour took it. I'll be fine. It's only pain."

"Your subdermal armour isn't there any more," she corrected me. "It got burned away too, along with part of your left shoulderblade. Now hold still."

I'd been wondering why my left arm wasn't working properly. I held still.

Amy was still working on me – I could feel small shards of glass sliding out of the skin of my back and shoulders, even as new skin grew back in – when Paige pushed her way to the front of the still-growing crowd. She was accompanied by a worried-looking Sveta and a man whom I didn't recognise; however, given that he didn't show any sign of being a Case 53, I guessed that he was Joe McKenzie, PRT corporal and now Paige's other half.

"Mike," Paige greeted me. "What's happened? You've been hurt."

"I'll be good in a second," I assured her. "It's happening now. Zion's kicked off the offensive. He went after Taylor and me first. Not sure why. You all know what your job is, right?"

Paige nodded. "Stay put and stay together. Be as innocuous as possible."

I nodded. "Good. And that thing I stashed here? Have it ready when and if I come for it. Plus, I've got a couple of guests for you. This is Danny and this is Gladys. Take care of them. They're good people."

Looking even more worried, Paige nodded. "What are you going to be doing?"

I took a deep breath. Thanks to Amy's work, it didn't hurt. "Something stupid, I guess."

"Wait, Taylor's not staying here with me?" Danny shook his head. "She's my daughter. Where she goes, I go."

"Danny, I'm sorry. But Taylor's got a job to do. She's been training for it. She needs to go do it." I didn't see if I was getting through to him, because Paige grabbed my arm.

"What do you mean, something stupid?" she demanded. "Mike, you mean a lot to us too. If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be here!"

I took Paige by the shoulders. "Look," I told her. "I gotta do what I gotta do. If I don't, everyone dies. That means everyone here as well, eventually."

"But we need you," she insisted.

I shook my head. "I've given you the chance to have a good life. It's up to you to make the best of it. I'm glad for you. I really am. But I do have to go do this thing."

Abruptly, she grabbed me and hugged me. I hugged her back. "Take care, kiddo," I told her. A moment later, I felt a metal arm go around me; my nostrils picked up the faint odour of fish. Oh, good. She has been taking the boat out. "And you too, Sveta," I added.

I disengaged from them, only to be grabbed by Gladys. "Michael Allen, I want you to do one thing for me," she whispered in my ear.

"What's that?" I asked, holding her just as tightly as she was holding me.

"Go kick Scion's golden ass up between his shoulder-blades."

I knew there was a reason I liked her so much.

She kissed me before I could answer, not that I was objecting. I kissed her back, wishing we could hold on like that forever. But every good moment has to end sooner or later.

"I'll do that just for you," I promised her once we disengaged. "Twice."

She giggled damply, trying to hide the tears. "Go. Do what you have to."

To hell with the deadline; I grabbed her and kissed her again. "I love you," I whispered. She was crying too hard to give me her answer, but I figured I knew what it was anyway.

When I turned away from her, mouth already opening to order the next Doorway, Danny Hebert stepped in front of me. Instead of hugging me, he grabbed my hand and shook it firmly. "You've done more for Taylor and me than I can ever repay," he said simply. "Good luck, whatever you do. And take care of my daughters for me."

"Thank you, and I'll do my best," I assured him. We were running short on time; I stepped into a clear area. "Doorway to Medical."

<><>​

Riley

Riley looked up as the Doorway opened. Mike stepped through, followed by two girls. Each of them was dressed reasonably well, though it looked as though a lot had happened since they had put those clothes on. Mike, in particular, looked as though he'd been through a wood-chipper backwards, while Amy was missing part of the side of her skirt. The other girl just looked extremely rumpled and very upset.

The blonde turned to the orderlies who had been following her around. "Like I just showed you," she ordered. "Bandages, painkillers and antibiotics beside each bed. Get back to me when you've finished that."

The medical area had been set up in a natural cavern; Riley didn't know where it was on Earth, or even which Earth it was actually on. But there was air and water and electricity, and that was all she really needed. Line after line of beds were arrayed on the hastily-smoothed stone floor. Scapegoat and Othala and a few others were already here; like Riley, they had been snatched up within thirty seconds of the Brockton Bay attack. Ordinary medical personnel had already been on station.

She hurried over to where the trio had appeared. "Mike! Amy! Uh … what's-your-name! Good, you're alive!"

Amy nodded. "Yeah, but it was close. Real close. Mike took a hit and lost some of your subdermal armour."

Riley stopped and glared at Mike. "Really? You lost it? Seriously? I surgically implanted that stuff for a reason."

"He also lost two ribs and part of his left shoulder-blade," Amy interrupted tiredly. "I fixed him up, but he's got no protection from that side."

"I could do something -" began Riley, but this time it was Mike who broke in.

"No. No time. I gotta go. Gotta get Taylor to where she needs to be."

"And then, he says, he's gonna go do something really stupid," Amy added.

Riley rolled her eyes. "So what else is new?" She grabbed Mike in a hug, feeling the new skin on his back where his shirt was no longer in existence. "This is where you go get yourself killed, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he admitted, wrapping his arms around her in turn. "But if I do it right, I save the world. And that's almost worth it. I guess."

His tone was brave, but she could feel his hearts hammering. He was terrified.

She wasn't feeling much better. Pulling his face down to her level, she planted a kiss on his forehead. "You helped make me back into a person. I'll never forget that."

And then it was Amy's turn. She held Mike so tightly that Riley wondered if his upgraded skeleton could take it. What Amy said to him was too quiet for Riley to hear, but it seemed to satisfy them both. When they disengaged, he offered his fist to bump. Amy did so, then Taylor followed suit. Riley wasn't used to this fist-bumping thing – isn't that something that construction workers do? - but she offered her own fist as well.

"Okay, we really gotta go," Mike urged. "Ready, Taylor?"

Taylor turned to Amy. "See you when we're done, sis."

"See you then, sis," Amy responded; the two briefly shared a fist-bump of their own.

"Doorway to Tactical." That was Mike. The portal opened; the big man and the skinny girl stepped through. It closed behind them.

Riley turned to Amy. "What's this 'sis' thing about? That's my joke."

Amy took a deep breath. "Well, uh …"

<><>​

Mike

The members of the tactical think-tank were still finding their seats as we stepped through the portal. However, they were almost all here, which was a good thing. Thank god for those middle-of-the-night drills that Piggot insisted on. They really work.

There were guards posted around the room; as we appeared, guns snapped up to point in our direction, red dots dancing all over us like the reflections from a really serious disco ball. But the weapons looked normal, which made me wonder. Wasn't L33t working on a Zion killer?

"Security and Weaver, reporting in," I stated out loud; the guards relaxed slightly, the weapons lowering. Of course, they should have recognised Taylor as Weaver, but … ah crap, she's out of costume.

"Taylor," I said in an undertone as we headed for the main table, "do you have a spare costume anywhere? As in, not in the house?" Because the house wasn't there anymore.

"I, uh, think I've got one in the PRT building," she replied. "Why? Is this important? My secret identity isn't that big a deal right now, is it?"

I grimaced. "It's about appearances. You need to look the part, just in case."

"Just in case of what?" she wanted to know.

"In case Zion comes after you."

"I don't understand."

"Too long to explain." I had a brainwave. "Get hold of Sabah. She can rig you up a replica."

For a moment, it looked as though she was going to argue, but then she nodded. "Got it."

A harried-looking PRT officer intercepted us. "Just in?"

"Yeah," I agreed. "Weaver and Security. Panacea's in place in Medical."

"Oh, thank God," he breathed. "We heard you were killed."

"He gave it his best shot," I told him. "What's the situation?"

"Bad."

Stepping closer to the table, I could hear the speakers set around the edges of it, and I understood what he meant.

"- Theresa's last duplicate is down. Zion is now targeting Pandora. I estimate thirty seconds. We are evading and fighting back, but he isn't giving us any chances."

"Dragon?" I whispered to Lisa. She was wearing Power Ranger pyjamas, which I so wanted to tease her about, but there was no time.

"Yeah," she whispered back. "After Zion hit Brockton Bay, he started hunting down Dragon and her kids. I think he sees them as a threat."

"Understood," Noelle stated into her bracer. "Hold him off as long as you can. We're activating our troops as we speak."

Armsmaster, from behind Noelle, grabbed her shoulder. "Why aren't you sending in the alert troops now? I know there are some who are ready to go. Zion's killing her!" The anguish in his voice was very real.

"Because we only have fifteen percent of available firepower right now," she replied in a voice of forced calm. "If we attack now, we won't have enough variation, and no backup once they fall back. He'll massacre them. Dragon knows this. She's backed up, and so are her children. Once the pressure's off her -"

"What happened to the guns?" I demanded. "Dragon should be equipped with guns that can blow his sorry arse back to where he came from!"

Noelle looked at me. "Sorry. We don't have them yet."

"Fuck." I looked around for Taylor. She was nowhere to be seen, which meant that hopefully she was getting that damn costume sorted out. The need for it was looking more and more dire all the time. I also hoped that she had a bracer by now. When Dragon went down, we'd need her, badly. Which reminded me. "I need a bracer, now."

Someone handed me one; I slapped it on to my wrist. The smart metal cuff wrapped around and locked. It beeped at me, asking for a name. "Security," I stated. SECURITY, the word scrolled across the small screen. Y/N? "Correct," I told it. "Doorway to L33t."

<><>​

L33t

"Come on, we have to go!"

L33t shook his head stubbornly. "I have to finish this!"

"What's one gun?" Über tugged at his shoulder. "We have to get to Tactical. If Zion comes back, he's gonna level the city!"

L33t looked at his partner. "This is the most important thing I've ever done in my life. He told me so. I'm gonna finish it." Turning back to the workbench, he leaned over the weapon on the workbench and recommenced soldering.

There was an odd inrush of air; L33t didn't turn around. "What the fuck?" demanded Über. "Where did you come from?"

"Don't ask stupid questions," a new voice answered, a voice that L33t recognised. "Where's my fucking anti-Zion guns?"

"Nearly finished," L33t said without turning around. "Sorry it took so long. I couldn't get as many sessions with Flechette as I wanted."

In the next moment, Allen was standing next to him, looming over the workbench. "One gun?" he demanded. "Just one fucking gun?"

L33t soldered the last connection then slapped the plate closed. It locked into place. "Yeah, one gun," he said, dropping the soldering iron on to the bench, where it burned a small hole to match the dozens of others that were already there. "This is the prototype. I can build something once. Dragon was supposed to replicate them, right?"

"Yeah, well, Dragon's currently looking at a life expectancy measured in minutes because she hasn't got this tech already," Allen told him curtly. He picked up the gun left-handed; it was heavy, a two-handed job, but he didn't seem to care. "Ammo?"

"Here. Dragon gave it to me to test the thing once I had it done." L33t picked up a magazine and handed it to him; Allen figured out how to slot it into the weapon. "No safety-catch. Pull this bolt back to load and cock it. After that it's point and shoot. You've got ten shots."

"Fuckin' wonderful." Turning the gun on its side, Allen pulled back the bolt; it slid forward again with a smooth clack-clunk. "And it puts her power into the bullets? What about accuracy? They'll strip any rifling."

L33t managed a grin. "Dragon thought of that. She had me build in a targeting reticule. The bullets are self-powered and they have a seeker head designed by Armsmaster."

"So, micro-missiles then."

"Something like that, yeah."

Allen frowned. "You do know that once empowered, those bullets or missiles or whatever will basically ignore physics? I'm talking right-angled turns at Mach 2. Are the seeker heads programmed for that sort of agility?"

"Oh shit." L33t's eyes opened wide. "I don't know. I don't think so. Unless Armsmaster thought of it. I'd have to -"

"No time," Allen cut him off. "This'll have to do. Go, get to Tactical."

Über shook his head. "But that's just one gun. What are you gonna do with that?"

"Trust me, you really, really don't want to know." Allen started toward the far side of the workshop. "Doorway to the Teeth."

L33t met Über's eyes. "Fuck!"

They ran for it.

<><>​

Tactical

"Pandora is down. Zion is targeting me now. I'm doing my best -" The voice cut out, then resumed. "- but he's very good at locating my copies. Down to three -"

The running commentary was probably not really necessary. In the holodisplay, Zion could be seen in miniature, hovering over Dragon's mountain fastness, blasting huge chunks of stone out of the way.

"Twenty percent of forces are now active," murmured Accord. "Option Beta-three is viable."

"- two -"

"For God's sake!" ground out Armsmaster.

Noelle took a deep breath. "Option Beta-three it is. Weaver?"

"Here." Weaver hustled out of a back room. Parian followed behind, her floating needles still sewing the costume on to the taller girl. "Beta-three, on it." She concentrated.

Within each and every bracer was a relay bug in a tiny self-contained life-support unit, designed by Dragon after studying Mannequin's work. Also within each bracer was a minuscule Doormaker portal, less than half a centimetre across. The counterpart portals to these had been created far below ground, in a totally-enclosed empty spherical space. This space was relatively small, and the portals were thus extremely close to one another, allowing radio signals – and Taylor's power – to reach every single person wearing such a bracer, no matter where Taylor was in relation to them.

Through the bug in her own bracer, Taylor connected with every other bracer in less than a heartbeat. Due to the training sessions, she knew what 'Beta-three' meant; who was supposed to go where and do what.

Within their protective units, the bugs manipulated controls designed specifically for their limbs, and instructions scrawled across the screen of each bracer. Dozens, and then hundreds, of capes went into action. They appeared in the battlespace of the holotable as tiny pinpricks of light.

"My last copy is gone," Dragon reported. "I have backups for myself and the girls, but they will be a little while rebooting. I -" Her voice went silent, leaving just static behind.

"Dragon? Are you there?" Noelle's voice was sharp.

"Yes, I'm here. I had to switch to secondary comms. Zion is now under attack. But he's still pressing me very hard. I've suffered significant damage. Colin -"

"Yes?"

"I love you. Never forget that."

"Thirty percent of forces on line," Accord stated.

"That lets us pull off Delta-nine," Lisa announced.

"We're missing Glory Girl for that one." That was Accord, scrolling through a list of names via the smart table.

"Crap." Lisa stared at the wall for a moment. "Charlie-six, then."

Noelle stared at the list of options being displayed on the table before her. "Charlie-six," she agreed. "Do it."

Weaver nodded. Again, she concentrated. The dispositions of forces shifted, frustrating Zion's attempts to anticipate their attacks. On the holodisplay in the middle of the table, tiny points of light moved and darted. Faces formed in the clouds and on the ground, made of such materials as metal, bone and water.

"Pull back the left wing now now now!" snapped Noelle. "He's changing tactics!"

Weaver didn't hesitate; the commands went out at the speed of thought. Even as Zion turned to slash a wave of golden energy at the left wing, it was fading back. A few were caught and began to fall, but then they blinked out of existence, or were traded out for lifeless dummies.

The respite for Dragon had not been long enough. Zion renewed his attack on her last module, blast after blast smashing into her. An explosion ripped across half of the viewing area.

"Dragon's down." It was Tattletale.

"Forty-five percent of forces now available. Injured being healed." Accord's voice was calm and controlled.

Noelle snapped more orders; the attacking forces, reinforced by the incoming numbers, went to yet another battle plan, hammering Zion unmercifully. And then … he vanished.

"Where's he gone? Locate him, now!" Noelle's voice rose over the confusion. "Every second he's out of sight …"

Weaver looked up. "He's in Medical."

<><>​

Zion

The Warrior stepped between dimensions, reappearing in a vast underground space. It paid no attention to the forms, writhing or still, that lay on the multitudinous beds. Drifting to the ground, it moved toward the shard-enhanced being that was in the process of returning a damaged creature to full capacity.

She turned at the Warrior's approach, backing away. The entity moved faster, catching her and lifting her from the ground with a hand about her throat. Her shard attempted to affect the entity's body, but it had already made its biology immune to her abilities. Leaning close to her, it whispered two words.

"Call them."

Her face was turning red as she struggled vainly against its grip. But she did not obey its command. A golden glow built in the Warrior's free hand as it repeated the words.

"Call. Them."

From its observation of the anomalous being and the other immature female, they had an emotional attachment to this female. It needed to destroy them, but was having trouble locating them. This one had been easier to locate, as damaged creatures had been transported to this point. Putting this female under threat should cause the anomaly and the other immature female to attempt to defend her. The entity would then destroy them, removing the threat.

The female was not speaking, even to beg. Belatedly, the Warrior recalled that these creatures needed to inhale oxygen to speak and to maintain life processes. It placed her on the ground once more, releasing its grip. She had to know that she could not escape. For the third time, it spoke.

"Call them."

It was totally unprepared for what happened next.

<><>​

Mike

I should have said 'Doorway to Butcher'. But I had no time to worry about that; I needed to stay alive long enough to pull this off first.

The Doorway had dropped me right into the middle of the Teeth as they attacked some small town or other. They had been surprised by my entry, which was the only reason I was still alive.

Animos had been closest; I hit him with a larynx punch which put him on the ground. In the next second, Vex's razor-sharp force-fields had surrounded me. Closing my eyes, I clamped my forearm across them. The razor-shards bit into me, but Riley's subdermal armour did the trick.

My combat mods took in my surroundings and painted me a picture of where Vex was most likely to be. I lost more clothes and some skin getting to him, but the kick I delivered caved in his chest. The thousand and one razors that had been flaying me alive vanished into nothingness.

If I hadn't been already hyped up on combat endorphins, this would have been a hell of a rush. As it was, I was playing it by the numbers.

Spree came running at me; all of him. Which, in the event, was a crowd growing larger by the second. I smashed my way through the front wave, but there were even more coming at me; in the time it took for me to swing a punch, he popped five more out.

Fuck it. I hefted the gun and took aim. The targeting reticule blinked and I pulled the trigger. There was only the smallest of jolts as the bolt travelled back of its own accord and chambered the next micro-missile. Nine to go.

The missile blasted through sixteen of Spree's clones before it hit him just under the left cheekbone. It exploded inside his head, a detail that L33t hadn't told me about, and his headless corpse slumped to the ground. All of the clones began disappearing, the closest ones starting first.

I like it. But I had to remember to save ammo for Zion. Because I was damn sure I wasn't gonna take him out with just one shot.

Hemorrhagia came running at me from one direction, blood-blades already growing from her arms, as Butcher stepped out from another. I knew who was the more dangerous, and I swung the gun in her direction. In reply, Butcher's oversized Gatling gun came up to train on me. My targeting reticule blinked and I squeezed the trigger …

… but she fired first.

<><>​

Contessa

"Doorway from Glory Girl to Medical. Doorway from Golem to Medical."

Contessa took a deep breath. Her Path seemed to indicate that this was the best choice. I hope so.

<><>​

Vicky

Vicky grunted as she heaved the fallen beam up and away, freeing the trapped man. He didn't move, so she drifted down alongside him, checking for life signs. There was a heartbeat and he was breathing, but he showed no signs of consciousness.

God, I wish Amy was here. I would tell her sorry in so many ways. I was an idiot.

She couldn't leave the man where he was. As carefully as she could, she lifted him from the rubble and carried him to his front lawn, where she left him in the recovery position. I hope this isn't making him worse. But I don't have a choice.

Flying to the next house around the perimeter of the crater edge, she began to search once more for survivors, even as she heard the distant sound of sirens approaching. They're gonna have their work cut out for them. So am I.

And then the portal opened beside her, and what she saw drove all thoughts of search and rescue out of her mind.

<><>​

Mike

I was already dodging; not that it mattered. The lowest barrel on the Gatling spat flame; I felt the hammer-blow in the middle of my chest like someone had driven a railway spike right through me. It went straight through the subdermal armour, through my reinforced sternum, through my heart, and punched out a rib on the way out the back. Yes, I felt all of that. I went over backward like a puppet with the strings cut; L33t's gun fell from my hand.

The bloom of fire from where she had been standing faded away; she had teleported to avoid my shot. Clever bitch. Time seemed to slow down, even as I felt blood pumping out of me in industrial quantities. The world darkened around the edges. Another bloom of fire, and Butcher was standing in front of me. She looked down at me, her Gatling slanting down to aim at my face.

And then Riley was right there, also looking down at me.

"Jesus, Mike," she complained. "Why do you always do this?"

I tried to talk, but coughed blood instead. The bullet – or bullets, I hadn't been counting – must have hit my lung as well as my heart. Sorry, I wanted to say. Didn't mean to.

"Well, sorry doesn't get the job done." She knelt beside me. "Wow, you're a mess. She took out your secondary heart and your right lung. Welp, good thing you've still got one of each."

Why are you here? How are you here? Why can't she see you?

"Okay, newsflash? Not really here. This is a little thing I stuck in your brain when I did that work on it, a while back? Just in case you're wondering, it's not talking in complete sentences. It's just shoving the concepts into your head and letting your brain stitch it together in a coherent fashion. Also making it look and sound like I'm saying it. It's about a twenty-to-one ratio, so I can tell you stuff before she finishes the job. Anyway, any second now the sphincters are gonna close off and kill the blood flow, and then I'm gonna hit you with an endorphin high that'll get you back on your feet. You're going to have about a ten minute window of opportunity, then you're gonna fall over hard. If you're not in front of a doctor then, you might just die for real. So get with the program. And don't be such an idiot next time."

But she's about to shoot me again.

"Sorry, can't help you with that." 'Riley' patted me on the cheek and gave me a chirpy smile. "Three … two … one …"

I felt the rush of life into my limbs once more, and my eyes snapped open from where they'd drifted almost closed. But the Gatling was still there, with Butcher behind it. She smiled cruelly. I saw her finger tighten on the trigger.

<><>​

Amy

In the time since Vicky had gained her powers, Amy was pretty certain that she had experienced every level of emotional outburst of which her sister's aura was capable. I was wrong.

The tide of pure rage that washed over her made even the anger that Vicky had been showing at the party pale in comparison. Somewhat inured to Vicky's emotional assaults, Amy still felt it keenly. Zion, on the other hand, was already highly emotionally charged; the aura hit him like a battering ram.

And so, half a second later, did Glory Girl.

Streaking along the length of the cave set aside for Medical, Vicky rammed into Zion's back at her top speed. Still dazed from the wash of terror that her aura engendered in him, he was smashed off his feet and sent flying into the cave wall. Vicky was on him a moment later, her fists pummelling him, every blow a pile-driver. Her aura was still going full-strength; over the thunder of her fists slamming into him, Amy could just barely make out the words, "Leave my sister alone!"

She only had the advantage for a few seconds, during which time she drove him a good foot into the cavern wall. Then he had recovered and adjusted for her attack; in reply, he unleashed a blast that sent her tumbling back across the cave. Amy watched her fly overhead and slam into the far wall, followed by Zion.

She had taken the blast unscathed, and the impact with the wall hadn't harmed her either, although Amy wondered about the structural capability of the roof. Simply put, a cavern was a very bad place to have a cape fight in, especially with Brutes involved. To make matters worse, Vicky was unable to react in time as he pinned her against the wall with one hand and readied an attack with the other.

"Ames!" Vicky called out. "Run!" Frozen to the spot, Amy watched the golden glow build up. She's going to die, and it's all my fault.

The cavern wall groaned as it shifted, opening up and covering Glory Girl entirely, also encasing Zion's hand in the process. Zion wrenched his hand back, breaking away small pieces of stone, then prepared to blast the stone away. Before he could, however, the mass of stone reformed once more, forming an image of a face more than six feet high.

Zion recoiled, the golden glow fading. He looked around; all over the cavern, that face was repeated everywhere in a variety of sizes, ranging from six inches to six feet across. Amy, backed up against the wall, was standing right between two of them.

Abruptly, Zion disappeared, and in the emptiness that followed his departure, Amy slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. She wanted to either cry or throw up. Fortunately for her pride, she did neither.

"Are you all right?" It was Golem, of course, placing a small object back into the pouch at his belt. "Did he hurt you?"

"N-no. I'm fine." She accepted his hand up. "Vicky?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry." He did something with one of the square panels hanging at his belt, and the stone encapsulating Vicky groaned as it slid apart. The blonde fell out of the wall, dropping to the floor in a limp pile.

"Vicky!" Amy hurried over to her and knelt down. All around, the others were starting to move again; she didn't know whether they had been frozen into place by terror or by one of Zion's powers. I suppose it's much the same thing, in the end.

Riley was the first to reach her as she placed her hands on Vicky. "Is she all right? Are you all right?"

"She's not breathing." Amy gave Vicky's diaphragm a jolt; the blonde inhaled convulsively, then gasped raggedly for a few moments as her eyes opened slowly. Satisfied that she was going to be okay – there were no obvious injuries – Amy turned to Riley. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks to Golem."

Slowly, still looking a little groggy, Vicky sat up. She glared at Golem. "Was it you who locked me into the wall?"

"I, uh, yeah?" he asked. "It was the only thing I could think of to do."

She got to her feet, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Do you realise I could have suffocated in there?"

"I thought you could, you know, break out," he protested.

"Not through a foot of stone, with no leverage!" she snapped. "I nearly died!"

"If he hadn't done that, Zion would have killed you," Amy reminded her quietly. "So how about some thanks for, you know, saving your ass?"

"No, she's right." Golem hung his head. "Sorry. I screwed up."

Vicky frowned. "Yeah, you did. So … what's that buzzing noise?"

<><>​

Mike

Just as she squeezed the trigger, Butcher's head exploded. I rolled aside as the Gatling went off, blasting chunks from the asphalt. Coming to my feet, I wrenched her hand away from the trigger, then dropped the multi-barrelled weapon. Gingerly, I looked down at the hole in the middle of my chest. Blood had spread out from it to cover the front of my body; fortunately, it wasn't still pumping out. Fuck me. That micro-missile took its sweet fucking time getting back.

In the next second, I lurched as the first voice began to bellow in my head. Usurper! Usurper! You are no Butcher!

A second one began to scream as well, then a third. And a fourth. With every extra voice, begging, threatening, cursing, I found it harder and harder to think straight. What was the plan again?

And then, blessed peace, as an imaginary glass wall slid down between my mind and the voices. I could still hear them; they just didn't matter. The brain mod that I'd asked Riley to install was finally paying off.

Emotion became a distant concept; I found my thoughts slotting into logical lines. Pick up L33t's gun. I picked up L33t's gun. It had been lying next to Hemorrhagia's sprawled body; the bullet that had punched through me had gone on to hit her. That, I believe, is the epitome of irony.

The bracer on my wrist had been buzzing for the last few seconds. I lifted my arm and paid attention to it. Marching across the screen were three words.

ZION IN TACTICAL.

<><>​

Taylor

She had bugs in the cavern, of course; she had bugs everywhere. When Zion had first appeared there, she didn't know what to do; vectoring capes into the hospital to fight the bad guy was about the last thing anyone wanted. Amy's in there. Oh, god. He'll kill her.

She was just opening her mouth to call for a Doorway – I won't let him hurt her – when Vicky arrived on the scene. The resultant fight was over in seconds; the initial attack, the retaliation, then Theo's intervention. I'm going to have to thank that boy.

Zion's disappearance from the cavern was a huge relief to her, right up until the golden glow lit up Tactical.

Slowly, she turned to face him. Zion, the hero, saviour of so many people. The source of all the powers. The thing that wanted to kill the world.

Zion hovered there in midair, his feet a good six inches from the floor. Emotions radiated from him; anger, frustration, sadness. His costume was still spotless, despite the damage that had been dealt to him so far. On his bearded face was an expression of what could have been mild annoyance. Raising his hand, he pointed at her; a golden glow began to build up around it.

Bugs rushed into the space around her as she dived to the side. More attacked Zion's eyes, more in the hope that they would obscure his vision than with the expectation that he would be harmed by them. Neither ploy succeeded; his hand tracked her unerringly, the glow growing ever brighter.

I'm gonna die. Sorry, Dad, I -

Abruptly, Zion jerked backward, then vanished as something punched a hole through the wall right where his head had been.

"Coming through!" It was Mike's voice; Taylor looked around. He had appeared from a portal at the far end of the room, covered in blood and waving a gun that looked like it could make a serious hole in the side of a battleship. "Taylor, we have to go!"

"What? But I -"

She didn't have any more of a chance to protest; he grabbed her arm and dragged her along with him. "Doorway to Redrock!"

<><>​

Mike

We stood atop the huge sandstone monolith, its undulating surface extending out to a drop-off in all directions. Heat haze rose around us. I scanned the sky, looking for telltale signs of Scion. "Can you locate him?"

"No, I – yes!" Taylor swung and pointed.

I stopped and dropped the reticule on the distant golden glint. Restraining the impulse to fire off the whole magazine – after this, I would have six rounds left – I squeezed the trigger once. The missile shot away; Zion whipped sideways, then opened a portal to disappear through.

"Doorway to Beachfront," I muttered. We stepped through the portal, but only got ten yards along the sand before Taylor called a warning; I shielded her body with mine as sand fountained nearby. Zion had found us again. Capes appeared overhead and began attacking as I called up yet another portal.

<><>​

From one part of the world to another we jumped, occasionally stepping to a whole new Earth for variety. Sometimes we were just ahead of Zion; at other times we held a substantial lead. But it seemed that he most definitely could track us now, whereas before he had not been able to.

Butcher's powers. It's gotta be. Zion can track those.But it wasn't as though I could do anything about it, right then.

When she could, Taylor relayed where we were and Noelle dispatched capes to aid us. They attacked him in battle plans coordinated by Taylor even as we stepped through portal after portal. The attacks slowed him down, there was no doubt about it. What I wanted was for him to get close enough for me to nail him with a micro-missile. But he was being very cagey about them, after the first encounter. And time was ticking down for me.

It almost ran out altogether when we emerged through a portal and he was right there in front of us, having anticipated which way I would go. I've been too predictable, dammit. His hand was already up; I would never bring the gun to bear in time. And he was too close for a Doorway to work; the one behind us had already winked out. So I grabbed Taylor by the waist, pulled her close, and teleported.

We landed fifty yards away in a burst of flame, and I called up another portal before Zion could get to us. "How did you do that?" she gasped as we jumped through.

"Long story," I replied flatly. Two more portals took us back to another beachfront, but Zion was closing on us once more. He was right on our heels as I called up the next portal. "Doorway to Eden!"

We landed on unstable footing; Taylor staggered and looked down at what she was standing on. "What is this?"

"Zion's other half," I said, raising my bracer to my face. "Tactical. Timer. Now."

"Timer running." We had ten seconds.

"Zion!" gasped Taylor, pointing; the golden man was already hovering above us. But he wasn't looking at us. He was looking down at the form beneath him, partly extruded from the flesh-garden that was Eden.

"Good. Doorway to Greenfields." With rather more haste than usual, I hauled her through. The portal closed behind us, leaving us standing on a wide grassy pasture. I wasn't even sure where it was, or on which Earth; I'd just been given the waypoints to memorise. Hopefully, that'll hold him for just long enough. "Doorway to Sanctuary."

<><>​

Bakuda's Workshop
Friday, May 27, 2011

"Okay, so how big's this bomb you want again?" Bakuda leaned back against her workbench with her arms crossed, the goggles she was wearing giving her a slightly fish-eyed look.

Mike smiled, ever so slightly. "Let's say, hypothetically, we don't actually need the planet any more."

Her eyes widened. "You're shitting me."

"I shit you not."

"And what, exactly, are you going to do with this bomb?"

He chuckled. "Since when are you worried about that?"

She shrugged. "Not worried. Just want to make sure that you don't set it off on the same planet that I'm standing on."

"Nope, that's a given. We're gonna piss Scion off by blowing up his girlfriend. Twice."

She blinked a couple of times. "You realise, that statement doesn't make any sense at all."

"That mean you can't make the bomb?"

This time, her eyes narrowed. "Fuckin' watch me."

Mike grinned.

<><>​

Present Day
Zion

The Warrior was temporarily distracted from the chase by the sight of the Other, the Thinker. The body that the other entity would have presented to the world was there, interrupted in the most delicate stage of its formation. Downward the Warrior drifted, coming to rest beside the slumped form.

Reaching out, it ran a hand over the long hair, the delicately-shaped arm. It had not returned to this site in all the tens of cycles since it had discovered that the Thinker was no longer functional.

But this was not precisely the case. There was life in there, faint but viable. The Warrior had powers under its control that could possibly …

The detonation was enormous.

<><>​

Mike

"Dad!"

Taylor!"

I watched the reunion of father and daughter as I tried to catch my breath. Having just one working lung was not good for exertion. How long has it been? Not less than five minutes, I gauged. Which meant I had five minutes, or less, until the endgame.

"Mike, good God, what have you been doing?" Gladys reached out a tentative hand, as if unsure where to touch my skin. In all fairness to her, I had been torn up by Vex's razor-sharp fields, then Butcher's gun had almost killed me. But I was still functional, for the most part. I only needed a few more minutes.

"Pissing Zion off," I told her in a matter-of-fact tone. "Paige, I need the decoy."

"Right here," Paige said. She and Sveta came out of the building, carrying the decoy between them. It was a life-sized model of Taylor, in full Weaver costume. I picked it up, grunting at the effort. Everything was an effort, now. I had no doubt that Riley's combat endorphins were running out.

"I have to go," I stated. "I won't see you again. Have a good life. Be safe."

"Mike …" It was Gladys, her hand on my arm. From behind the glass wall that held Butcher trapped, my feelings for her watched, but could say nothing.

I could not use emotion here. Truth would have to do.

"Gladys, you're special. You've always been special. I'll always remember you. But I really have to go now."

Turning away, I called up another portal and stepped through, carrying the faux Taylor.

<><>​

Zion

Dazed by the explosion, the Warrior realised that it had been blown into interplanetary space by the sheer concussion. Much of its energy reserves had been depleted in surviving the attack. Looking back, it saw damage on an apocalyptic scale; such was the force of the explosion that the very planet had been cracked in half. But it cared not at all about that. What it cared about was that every last fragment of the Thinker must surely have been destroyed in the blast. This, coming on top of the realisation that the Thinker could have been restored, caused an upwelling of anger and frustration unmatched by any that had gone before.

The anomaly had to die. Along with the immature female. This was what the Warrior was now fixated upon. Its combat sense stated firmly that she was the greatest danger to it, now. Which suited the Warrior just fine; she was going to die, and very soon now. It reached out, detecting the string of stolen shards trailing the anomaly, along with the emanations from the immature female's shard. He was on the move again, and her with him.

This would not save them.

<><>​

Mike

I heard the scream of rage as it echoed through the upper atmosphere. Chancing a look around, I could see Zion, but only as the very head of a long golden streak lancing down from above.

"I believe that Zion is angry," I reported over the bracer, and called for a portal. It appeared, and I stepped through it. However, he stepped with me; each time I appeared in a new world, he was right there on my trail. No matter where I ran, no matter how I dodged, he wasn't letting me go this time. He wasn't playing games any more.

Or so he thought. I was playing a game. It was called 'keep-away'. So far, I was winning.

It appeared that he still couldn't anticipate me; when I deliberately went against the logical suggestions thrown up by my combat mods, his shots went wide, or he overshot into a different world. But he was tenacious as hell, never flagging, never falling back far enough to lose me.

I ducked through portal after portal, until he got too close to allow them to form; this was actually to my advantage, because being that close allowed me to use some of Butcher's other powers. Festering wounds, which he ignored. Rage, which worked well enough on him; normally, he might have ignored it as well, but it exacerbated the monumental fury that now consumed him. The ability to hit any target I shot at, which kept him from getting too close. And, of course, teleportation. Time and again, I slipped out of his grasp. I could feel his frustration growing. That's one pissed-off hyperdimensional space whale.

Gone was the slightly detached expression he had worn previously. He now showed a visage distorted by pure rage and loss. Each time he got close, I enhanced his rage even further, avoiding his blasts by narrower and narrower margins. Three times, he fired a wide-angle blast that nearly caught me; I got out of the way twice by way of a Doorway and once by using Butcher's teleportation. But I couldn't keep it up; even if I wasn't running on empty, he only had to get lucky once.

<><>​

Zion

The Warrior's entire being was focused on one task. Destroy the anomaly. This foe had avoided destruction over and over again, all the while preserving the entity's other enemy from the Warrior's wrath. The immature female was obviously unable to run, but she was still capable of using her power to call down the shard-enhanced creatures upon the Warrior. It would take just one attack to destroy her, but before the entity could do that, it had to eliminate the anomalous being that was protecting her.

Finally, it saw its chance, as the anomaly stumbled. He was already halfway through the portal, but the Warrior's attack caught him on the legs and lower back. Golden energy began to eat into his flesh as he fell to the ground on the far side of the portal. The portal closed, of course, as the entity neared, but the Warrior could step between worlds just as easily. However, before it could, another portal opened, revealing …

The Warrior stopped moving. There, before it, stood a figure with long hair, alabaster skin and an oh-so-familiar face. However, this face was neither a static simulacrum, as the shard-enhanced creatures had been producing, nor dead and unresponsive. It was the Other, fully realised. The Thinker, returned to functionality.

The Other took a step forward, reached out a slim hand. In return, the Warrior also reached out a hand. Unfamiliar emotions arose within the entity; hope and joy, that the Thinker had somehow transcended destruction and had returned to stand at its side. Together, they would make these planet-bound creatures pay for the degradation and anguish.

Their hands touched.

The detonation was not as powerful as the first one, but it took the Warrior utterly by surprise. When it managed to cease its tumble through the air, it saw that where the Thinker had stood, there was now quite a sizeable crater.

Again. They had done it to the entity again. Twice now, it had grasped completion, only to have it torn away in the most insulting way possible. Fury and rage returned in full force, amplified by the sorrow and loss that had been reawakened.

The anomaly would die.

<><>​

Mike

I lay on the rocky ground, gritting my teeth so I wouldn't scream. Riley's combat endorphins were good, but they had just about reached their limit with me. My legs weren't much good for anything any more. Even if I had the strength to get up, I wouldn't be running anywhere. I raised my bracer to my face. "Plan … Omega," I gasped.

"Mike, we can still pull you out." That was Noelle. "Just say the word."

"No." It was getting really hard to breathe. "This. Way's. Better."

"But -"

"Do. It."

A sigh. "It's been an honour."

"Me. Too."

The world was darkening around the edges. I panted for breath. My fingertips were growing numb, which was vastly preferable to what was happening to the remains of my legs. I didn't even notice when the gun disappeared from my unresponsive hand.

And then Zion appeared before me. I'd thought he was angry before. Now, he was literally incandescent with rage. Golden light streamed out from him so vividly that I felt my clothes beginning to smoulder.

In the early stages of the chase, I'd decided on my last words. I'd be defiant, I had decided. Fuck you, I'd say. You're a figment of my imagination. You don't even exist. And then, because it seemed funny, I'd give him the finger with both hands before he killed me.

Maybe my words would give him pause. Maybe he would realise just what I was. Or maybe my insult would enrage him even further.

However, I never got the chance. Before I could even draw breath to utter the first syllable, he unleashed a storm of energy upon my prone body, and upon the animatronic decoy.

At least it was quick.

<><>​

Sanctuary

"Plan Omega six is a go."

Taylor heard Noelle's words, but they didn't mean anything to her. All of the Omega plans were based around the concept of Mike sacrificing himself to draw Zion in. This meant that Mike was dead.

Of course, the original Omega six plan had involved more anti-Zion guns, and someone other than Taylor doing the shooting. But she was the one holding it. It was up to her.

"I repeat, Omega six."

Danny nudged her; abruptly, she came back to herself. "Doorway to behind Zion."

The portal opened; ahead of her, she saw the golden man, in a transport of rage, blasting the landscape into oblivion. She raised the heavy gun in both hands, pointing it at his back.

Mike's dead. You killed him. Taylor wasn't a fan of the death penalty, but in this case she was willing to make an exception.

She didn't even feel it when the gun fired; all she saw was the pause, the turn and the look of utter astonishment. Reflexively, she fired three more times before the bolt locked open. The golden form popped like a soap bubble. All that was left, all she saw before the portal closed, was a hole in space with a vast something beyond.

<><>​

Tactical

"Front door is open. Repeat, front door is open."

Noelle nodded sharply. "Green light. Go go go."

"Green light, roger," replied Dragon. "Let's go, girls."

Three portals opened into that world; each one admitted a subtly different Dragon-style suit to the location. Each held an oversized launcher. They hovered before the hole.

"Dragon, launching."

"Pandora, launching."

"Theresa, launching."

One by one, each of the projectiles arched through the hole in space, into the pocket universe beyond.

"Dragon here. Packages delivered."

"I copy packages delivered," Noelle replied as calmly as she could. "Everyone out of the universe. It's going to get very unfriendly in there."

"Roger that."

<><>​

Bakuda's Workshop
Friday, May 27, 2011

"Okay, this is me talking, so you know I'm not kidding when I say what the fuck?"

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Wow, are you sure you're the real Bakuda?"

"Fuck you," she stormed. "There's big stuff, and then there's what you just asked me to build."

He held his hands out, palm up. "So … what, you can't make it?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I can fucking make it. But what the fuck do you want with a flesh-dissolving bomb that big? Are you looking to depopulate fucking China?"

"No, you misunderstand." He was grinning broadly now. "I don't want a bomb that'll do that."

"Then what do you want me to make?" If that vein in her temple throbbed any harder …

"Three bombs that size."

The look on her face was absolutely classic.

<><>​

Present Day
Zion

The Warrior stirred, rebuilding its body. It would destroy the creatures once and for all. Nothing treated it like that and yet lived. Once its new body was complete, it would -

As its eyes finished forming, it saw the first bomb. The last thought that went through its head was analogous to Oh, no, not again.

One bomb, it might possibly have survived. With two bombs, the odds would have been against it. The third ensured that it didn't stand a chance.

<><>​

Tactical

"Dragon here. Sending through a throwaway probe. Getting signals back now."

Noelle clenched her hands so tightly that the nails bit into her palms. "Yes?"

There was a long pause. Lisa was pretty sure that nobody in the room was breathing. She watched dust motes falling through the holodisplay, flaring with tiny bursts of laser light.

"We have positive confirmation. Zion is dead. Repeat, Zion is dead."

The room erupted in cheers and whistles, but Lisa didn't feel like joining in.

Maybe later she'd celebrate, but not right now.



End of Part Fifty-One

Epilogue One

 

[Sinner_sb]

Nice chapter, I am sad to see that the story is ending. It was my first Worm story and I was hoping it to be longer.

 

[doomlord9]

Nice chapter, I am sad to see that the story is ending. It was my first Worm story and I was hoping it to be longer.

Click to shrink...

*blinks and looks at the FF.net word count at 450k, almost 1/3 the length of Worm itself*

I can understand the sentiment, I always get twitchy when a good long story starts wrapping up but this is actually one of the longer fanfics out there. FF.net only sets their filter to over 100k before it just gives up, it only seems shorter because of the intervals between updates.

 

[godzillahomer]

Zion's rage makes me think of TFS Vegeta

Spoiler

It's oddly very fitting