Wyvern - Worm AU fanfic

[Prince Charon]

Something like this scenario has happened at three separate jobs in the last 15 years.

Click to shrink...

It's an arrogance problem, kind of like bosses who complain about employees' loyalty to the company not lasting beyond paid hours, or being irritated that a parent wants to take off work because their child died (it is painful to realize how common this is).

 

[GladiusLucix]

"Taylor." Mrs Dallon paused for a beat after saying my name, probably to make sure she had my attention. "We are never under any obligation to use our powers at someone else's whim.

Click to shrink...

Why do I get the feeling she's never said this to Amy in a way that Amy believed it?

 

[Ack]

Why do I get the feeling she's never said this to Amy in a way that Amy believed it?

Click to shrink...

Carol ... has a double standard going on, because she sees Vicky and Amy with one view and Taylor with another.

Vicky and Amy, she has known since they were small children. The children of New Wave were always going to trigger, and were always going to be heroes, so that expectation coloured her every word to them, or when speaking about them.

(Vicky always wanted to be a hero. Amy knew people wanted her to be a hero, so she did her best to do that.)

Taylor, on the other hand, is a powerful cape who's joining New Wave of her own accord. She wasn't born into it; she chose it. So far, she's given the team amazingly good PR, she's respectful to Carol and Mark, she gets along very well with Vicky, and is even friends with Amy.

Carol honestly thinks she's a good parent, and is utterly blind to the difference between how she treats Taylor and the other two, or between Vicky and Amy.

Interestingly enough, Taylor's entry into the team has taken some of the pressure off Amy, because Carol's focusing more on Wyvern than Panacea. So while Amy is pleased that she's there, she hasn't been able to connect the dots as to why.

 

[Ack]

Wyvern

Part Twenty-Four: Draconic Measures

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]



Midday Sunday, January 23, 2011

Taylor

I looked down at the cityscape with interest as the PRT helicopter cruised over it. While I was used to flying by now, and higher than we were at the moment, I'd never flown over Boston before, either in an aircraft or under my own power. Amusingly enough, the other two passengers—Vicky and Mrs Pelham—were also fliers, which made the pilot and copilot about the safest people in the air right then.

The headphones I'd been given to wear crackled in my ears with the pilot's good-natured West Virginian drawl. I still wasn't totally convinced that he didn't put it on to impress the passengers. "Well, ladies, welcome to Boston. If you look out your windows to the right, you'll be able to see the Bunker Hill Memorial obelisk and a little further on, the USS Constitution at its moorings. In another five minutes we'll be landing on top of the Protectorate building and picking up our last passenger."

"What?" asked Vicky. "Where? Let me see!" She blatantly tried to lean over me from the middle seat she'd originally claimed because 'you see one city from the air, you've seen them all'. Evidently, she'd since changed her mind.

"Jeez, boundaries!" I scrunched back out of the way to let her look, while taking in the scenery myself. I kind of wished I'd brought along a camera, because the view was definitely spectacular, even with Vicky crowding over on top of me.

Brockton Bay had its own history, of course, but it was all local; Boston's history had helped shape the nation. We had the Isaac Lord Museum, Captain's Hill, and of course anything that the Forsberg Gallery decided to exhibit of a historical nature.

I'd heard rumours about smugglers' tunnels under the Docks dating back to the Revolutionary War, but Dad had been all over that area at one time or another, and he was pretty sure everything had been filled in and covered over after Prohibition had been lifted. There were probably still barrels of bathtub gin ageing away down there, going from horrible wood alcohol to really horrible wood alcohol, right next to way-past-the-use-by-date kegs of black powder and rotting bags of musket balls from two and a half centuries earlier.

Not that I'd ever want to go down into a place like that. I still didn't like enclosed, smelly places, and I wasn't sure what would give way first if the wyvern decided that it wanted out, and started growing. Given the durability of my Changer form, I suspected testing this out would involve some extremely dramatic urban renewal.

The helicopter swooped in toward a building with the Protectorate logo on it. It was tall and impressive, and I wondered why it wasn't protected by a force field, the same as the Brockton Bay one was. Maybe they played by stricter rules in Boston.

I automatically found myself bracing for the landing, but the chopper settled onto its wheels with barely a jolt. The only real sign that we were properly on the landing pad was when the engine noise started winding down. Along with Vicky and Mrs Pelham, I took off my headset and handed it forward to the copilot.

"Well, that's the boring part over," Mrs Pelham said as she opened her side door. "You've never done a really long-range overland flight before, so let me tell you: it gets really, really tedious."

"Tell me about it." Vicky rolled her eyes. Unfastening her five-point safety belt (which prompted me to do mine as well), she got up from her seat. "I flew to New York once, and it took forever."

We all climbed out and headed across the tarmac, ducking our heads under the still-rotating rotor blades. A skinny black man, with what Kurt would've described as 'resting bitch face', was waiting alongside a tall parahuman wearing a costume made up of layered armour. I figured the black guy was the local Director, given that he was wearing the same sort of business suit that Director Piggot favoured.

"Good afternoon," he said, stepping forward with his hand out. His manner was much more friendly than his expression had suggested. "I'm Director Kamil Armstrong, and this is Bastion. He'll be accompanying you to Eagleton today."

"I think we met at a function once," Mrs Pelham said, but shook his hand anyway. "Lady Photon, and these are Wyvern and Glory Girl."

Behind us, the chopper powered up again and took off. Director Armstrong waited until the noise had died away before he spoke again.

"Glory Girl, I definitely know of. This is my first chance to meet Wyvern." He nodded politely to Vicky, then turned his attention to me with a smile that transformed his sharp features. "I understand you're the prodigy cape who's taken Brockton Bay by storm."

I shook his hand, noting that he was actually an inch or so shorter than me. "I guess," I said with a nervous chuckle. "This whole 'powers' thing is still very new to me. But if villains didn't keep coming at me and my friends, I wouldn't have discovered half of what I can do."

"Don't be so modest." That was Bastion; he was at least six feet tall, maybe more, and had a commanding presence. "If there's one thing I've learned in my time as a cape, it's that power will find a way to express itself."

"I guess." When he offered his hand, I shook it as well. It was bigger all round than Director Armstrong's, its natural size enhanced by being encased in a gauntlet. Basically, it swallowed mine whole, but I did my best anyway. "So, you'll be coming along with us today?"

He nodded. "That's the plan. We don't know that the Machine Army has rocket launchers or other anti-air measures, but my force fields should be up to the challenge if they do. Just, uh one thing." Leaning in close, he lowered his voice a little. "The size you got up to on that footage … was that camera trickery, or did you really get that big? I mean, I understand inflating numbers for PR and everything, but realistically, how big do you get?"

I hesitated, not wanting to sound like I was boasting, but Vicky came to my rescue. "According to Hero's readouts, she's seven hundred fifteen feet long, and one thousand two hundred and twenty-one feet from wingtip to wingtip, at the largest measured size." She grinned wickedly at Bastion, and showed him an image on her phone from the demonstration. "And we don't even know if that's her final form yet."

I couldn't see his eyes, or even most of his face, but he seemed to be somewhat taken aback by the image on the screen. "Jesus Christ," he muttered. "You could shade half the city with those things."

"I don't plan to get that low while I'm still that big," I assured him. "There's too much chance of knocking over buildings. Fortunately, sizing up and down takes a lot less effort than actually Changing from human to wyvern or back again."

"Well, that's a relief," Director Armstrong observed. "Seriously though, I do want to commend you on your public spirit and your willingness to be a hero. There are many who have gone the villain route with far less provocation than you had."

"Well, I guess I'm lucky I ran into Glory Girl when I did." I nudged Vicky with my shoulder, and she nudged me back. "She convinced me to go home with her, and helped calm me down enough that I could actually Change back for the first time." I decided not to mention how Mrs Pelham had actually thought I was attacking Vicky, and had attacked me in turn; no sense in complicating the narrative.

"And well done." Director Armstrong nodded firmly, giving Vicky an approving look. "We need forward-thinking capes like you in our ranks. You give me hope for the future."

"Uh … when you ran into Glory Girl … how big were you?" asked Bastion. "I mean, that big, jetliner big, or …?"

"Oh, she was only about human-sized then," Vicky explained blithely. "She couldn't talk, but she could write in the sand with her wingtip. About the first thing she said was 'please help me'. What would you have done?"

That was a no-brainer; Bastion shrugged. "I'd have helped her, I guess."

Vicky gave him finger-guns. "Exact—"

Right in the middle of her saying it, she was interrupted by a loud crack of displaced air. Between one second and the next, a cape stood in the middle of the helipad, wearing a blue and black costume with a peaked cap. I recognised him from pictures I'd seen, of one of the foremost teleporters in the world. Strider had arrived.

"—ly," Vicky finished. "Whoa, nice entrance."

"Thank you," Strider said, though I got the impression he heard it a lot. He walked toward us, checking something on a small tablet. "Hello, Director Armstrong. I've got four to go to Eagleton?"

"Correct," the Director answered. "Bastion, Lady Photon, Glory Girl and Wyvern." He gestured at each of us in turn as he spoke.

"Wyvern?" Strider tilted his head slightly. "Not the same Wyvern who did that power display?" He seemed to be having trouble reconciling me—skinny and a bit gawky—with the gigantic scary fire-breathing reptiloid that had stopped all vehicle traffic in the Brockton Bay CBD for a good fifteen minutes.

"That's me, yeah," I said cheerfully. "I get bigger."

"So I see." Evidently deciding that it wasn't his problem, he flexed his hands as he looked at the four of us. "Is there any baggage, or are you going as is?"

"Well, I don't need anything else." Bastion looked around at the rest of us. "Uh, Wyvern, how much does that costume stretch?"

"It doesn't." I let him figure out what I wasn't saying. I'd be going costume-free for this outing, just as I had for the power test. Sizing up was the whole point of the exercise. Unless and until we could get a friendly Tinker to rig up something that would cover me after I'd been up to maximum size, it was just how we were going to have to roll.

"Okay then, let's do this." Strider gestured us closer. "Stand around me. We'll be going up in elevation by about six hundred feet, so I'd suggest you be ready for that."

We did as we were told; Vicky grabbed my hand, even though she hadn't been advised to do so. I wasn't complaining. She'd been my friend from the start, and I appreciated the support.

"And going in three … two … one." There was a crack, and my ears popped. He hadn't been kidding about the elevation change. I saw Mrs Pelham work her jaw to equalise the pressure, while Vicky and I did the same.

We were standing in the middle of a concrete helipad, with guards posted around, which I presumed was to make sure nobody wandered onto the arrival zone before we got there. It was also warmer, which was nice. All around us had the signs of being a typical military base, though the uniforms and insignia were PRT, not National Guard or Army or Marines.

Right up in plain view was a sign saying WELCOME TO EAGLETON BASE. Below that, in slightly smaller script, was a list of directives.

• ALL ELECTRONICS MUST BE REGISTERED OR SECURED ON ARRIVAL.
• ALL PERSONAL ELECTRONICS MUST BE POWERED DOWN OR KEPT WITHIN EYESIGHT AT ALL TIMES.
• IF YOU SEE UNATTENDED ELECTRONICS, ALERT BASE SECURITY WHILE KEEPING IT IN VIEW.
• IF YOU SEE ACTIVE UNATTENDED ELECTRONICS, ALERT BASE SECURITY AND THEN DISABLE OR CONTAIN IT.
• DO NOT ASSUME THAT ANY ELECTRONIC ITEM IS DEAD UNTIL BASE SECURITY HAS DEALT WITH IT.
• NO UNSHIELDED COMMS.

Underneath that again, in a less formal font, was the addendum DO NOT TRUST THE COMPUTER. THE COMPUTER IS NOT YOUR FRIEND. It sounded like a quote or reference of some kind, though I had no idea where it was from.

"Hello there." A PRT officer, or so I assumed from the insignia on his shoulders, and the fact that he was wearing a camouflage uniform instead of regular armour, came over toward us. "Lieutenant-Colonel Briggs. Pleased to meet you."

Bastion was already on his way over to meet the officer. Mrs Pelham thanked Strider, then headed that way as well. We followed along and waited until Bastion had introduced himself, then Mrs Pelham stepped up. "Lady Photon, but you probably knew that. Glory Girl and Wyvern are with me."

He nodded as he shook her hand. "Yes, I've been briefed on all of you, but just to make doubly sure, none of you are Tinkers or carrying Tinker gear, correct? No? Good. Now, you're going to have to surrender all electronics, such as phones, earpieces and the like, for the duration of the exercise. We don't know if the Machines can remotely hack into unshielded devices, but we've had nasty surprises before."

I'd been halfway expecting this, so I'd left my phone at home. Vicky looked mildly irritated as she pulled her phone and a pair of earbuds out of a pouch at her belt and handed them to a sergeant holding a reflective silver bag. Lady Photon turned her hands palm up to show she had nothing. For his part, Bastion shook his head. "Director Armstrong is holding my comms gear."

"Good." Briggs nodded as the sergeant carefully stored the phone and earbuds in the bag and sealed it shut. "Thank you, sergeant. Now, Wyvern, do you require anything to administer your Change?"

"Just privacy," I said. "I start small, then size up. But the change is not costume-friendly."

He nodded once, sharply. "I copy. Sergeant, which barracks is empty right now?"

"That'll be Block Two, sir." Using his whole hand, the sergeant pointed at a building that I would've been hard put to pick out from any of the others set up in their regular rows. I wouldn't have been at all surprised if someone had told me that they were aligned north-south and east-west. The military seemed to have that mindset. "The lady can go right in."

"I'll come with, and take care of your costume," Vicky offered. "If you left it just lying around, they'd probably think it was unattended electronics and tase it to rags or something."

No, she wasn't holding a grudge against them for taking her phone, or anything like that.

"Probably a good idea," I agreed, just on general principles. "Come on, let's get this done."

Once we were in the barracks, we closed the doors behind us, then I waited until Vicky had done a quick scout around to make sure there wasn't some other open door that a bunch of guys would suddenly march on in through. It was all clear, which gave me hope. Maybe I could actually pull this off, after all.

I took off the domino mask and shimmied out of the costume while Vicky grabbed a folded blanket from the end of one of the beds—whoever owned it was going to have to re-fold it, because Vicky couldn't fold anything neatly. But she was a wonderful person anyway. She draped the blanket over my shoulders; we'd established early on that just not having any clothing on wasn't enough to trigger the Change, and Amy wasn't here to burst in and give me a fright.

Vicky and I were both unwilling for anyone else to take up that role, for obvious reasons. It had been funny, once, in retrospect; never again.

However, I was getting a lot better at pushing the Change all by myself, so I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and worked at getting into the correct mindset while Vicky stood guard. The wyvern was needed. It could do what scrawny, merely human Taylor Hebert couldn't. I didn't know exactly how many people had died in Eagleton before the Machine Army was contained, or how many more would die if they broke out, but even one was one too many.

Originally I'd intended to hit Ellisburg first, as it was closer to Brockton Bay (and I kind of wanted to be on Director Piggot's good side) but Mrs Dallon and Mrs Pelham had collectively decided that Eagleton was the better idea. When I'd asked why, the answer was simple.

After ten years of being cut off from the outside world, it was doubtful if the inhabitants of the Goblin Kingdom had so much as a ham radio between them, much less a working TV set. There was no way they would be keeping up with the news of the day. On the other wingtip, it was all too easy to assume that the Machine Army was listening to everything they could possibly rig up a receiver for. Thus, if I hammered Ellisburg first, the Machine Army would hear about it and start prepping anti-wyvern measures, but the converse would not hold true.

Taking another deep breath, I opened my eyes and let out a chirp to let Vicky know I was good to go. The blanket was draped over my tail—my wings were useful for several things, but holding onto blankets (or anything, really) was beyond them—so I turned and flicked it, sending the blanket flying back onto the bunk it had come from. In my wyvern form, I was even worse at folding things than Vicky, so it wasn't my problem anymore.

"All right!" Vicky gave me a fist-pump of victory. "The wyvern is in the hizzouse!"

I tilted my head, flared my crest in lieu of raising my eyebrows, and gave her my best what-the-fuck-was-that? chirp.

Catching the nuance, she shrugged in mild apology. "Sorry. It just came out."

With a snort—though no smoke was involved; the place was equipped with detectors—I rolled my eyes and tilted my head toward the exit doors. Let's do this.

"Oh, hell yeah," she enthused, wadding up my costume—there wasn't a great deal to it—and shoving it into one of the larger pouches on her belt. The mask had already gone into a second pouch. "Let's go Wyvern those robots down to the bedrock!"

As she opened the doors, I chirped in agreement.

<><>​

Glory Girl

It was always fun to see the looks on people's faces when they were seeing Taylor as the Wyvern for the first time. There were other Changers out there, but mainly they either became something relatively familiar, or totally alien. Very few turned into fantasy critters, much less able to fly and breath fire. There was a spot deep in the human psyche that reacted to dragons on a visceral level.

Seeing a still image was one thing, but when she paced out of those barracks like a movie T-rex, wings folded at her sides and head held rock-steady, Briggs did a double-take. Vicky suspected more than one of the PRT troopers on site had the same reaction, but the closed-faced helmets hid too much to be sure.

As they came up to Briggs, Taylor inhaled deeply and seemed to concentrate, then sized up to the level she'd been after the battle with Stinger. His eyes widened as she went from looking slightly up at him to eye-level with him. "Ah," he managed. "I see. Very impressive."

She nodded and gave him a friendly chirp. Vicky grinned. "That means 'thanks'. But you ain't seen nothing yet."

Bastion grunted. "I should hope not, or we're going to be here all day."

"You will find," Aunt Sarah said with just a touch of bite in her tone, "that Wyvern is more than up to the task." She generated a force field capsule, transparent so they could see out, with three seats inside. "Time for us to do our job. Will you be joining us, Glory Girl?"

Vicky shook her head. "Nah. I think I'll run interference from outside."

"Alright, then." Aunt Sarah stepped into the capsule and sat down on one of the seats. Bastion climbed in as well, then layered over it with one of his own force fields. He'd struck Vicky as one of those guys who didn't like not being in charge of the situation, so that move was totally in character.

But he couldn't fly using his own force fields, which Aunt Sarah could. As Taylor took off, Vicky followed, with the capsule flanking them both. Vicky kept a close eye on the apparently-innocuous area that had once been Eagleton, and now had a human population of exactly zero. The Machine Army might not know what was going on right in that moment, but they had to have seen the power test, and artificial intelligences were better at adding one and one to get two than basically anyone else.

Taylor didn't want to bulk out too close to the ground, because of the very real concern that she'd already voiced; nobody wanted a careless wing-flap to flatten half the camp and kill everyone in the impact zone. So she waited until she was properly airborne before she bulked out a second time, to what Vicky privately referred to as 'Armsmaster' size. They were still gaining altitude when Vicky spotted a spark of light in the middle of Eagleton, at about the same time as Aunt Sarah got a message over the shielded radio she'd been given.

"Watch out!" she yelled.

"Energy surge!" Sarah filled in.

Bastion was on the ball; the words had not yet made it all the way out of Aunt Sarah's mouth when a flat disc of force sprang up between Taylor and the spark. An instant later, a surge of lightning zig-zagged skyward from that point, aimed directly at Taylor. It hit the shield and clung to it, snapping and popping like a forest fire. The stink of ozone filled Vicky's nostrils.

"Size!" Taylor warned them. She was still flapping her wings hard, with the capsule and the shield following her upward. The lightning attack ceased, but Vicky didn't believe for a second that it was over.

"They'll be adjusting for the shield!" she yelled, not because she'd seen any reason to believe it, but because the Machine Army never just stopped doing something.

Taylor shimmered and enlarged to the next level up, about the size of a Learjet. Bastion widened the field then added a second layer to it. A moment later, missiles burst from four separate locations in Eagleton; one bored straight at the centre of the shield, one lanced toward the capsule, one headed for Vicky, and the last one swung out in a long arc, evidently aiming to pass around the barrier and target Taylor directly.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. Vicky could see the spark building up again, and she perceived the AIs' strategy in that second; with the defenders distracted and the shield broken, the lightning weapon would be free to target Taylor.

She'd never been worried about taking a hit, but she wasn't quite sure about what the payload of the Machine Army's missiles might be. Her brain jumped to lungfuls of nanotech, and then she decided they might have something even worse to play with. In that instant, she decided not to play the game their way.

Even as Aunt Sarah beefed up the fields surrounding the capsule, Vicky changed direction and accelerated. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the missile that had been targeting her following suit, but she had a substantial lead. Racing across the outer surface of the shield, she angled toward the missile that was targeting it. In a move that she'd long since perfected, she led with her fists, closing her eyes and tucking her chin in at the last instant.

The explosion deafened her, but only momentarily. She kept on going, vaguely aware of the missile that had been chasing her blowing straight through the debris of the one she'd just demolished; she'd hoped it would be triggered in turn, but no such luck. Which meant she was in a sticky situation, as her force field was down and would be so for a few more seconds. Seconds she didn't have, as the missile was gaining fast.

Kkk-kk-rrak-kkkk.

If it had been even a cloudy day, she would've thought the ripping, rending noise was lightning. But the heat on the soles of her feet and the sudden, intense blue-white glare from behind her told another story altogether. That was the unmistakeable signature of Taylor's plasma jet, and the fact that she hadn't yet been hit by the missile also meant something, but she didn't have the time to think it through. Because there was one coming around to hit Taylor from the side, right now.

Her force field flickered back into being, and she applied that extra bit of acceleration before she smashed through her second missile in seven seconds. She'd hit whatever it was using for a rocket motor instead of the warhead, so there was no explosion; it just fell out of the sky instead. But now she was flying away from the shield and Taylor both, so she pulled around in the tightest turn she could manage.

The remains of the missile that had been chasing her were falling toward the base below, just a few bits and pieces with still-glowing surfaces. Matching this was a hole that had been punched clear through both layers of Bastion's force field, which was even now closing up again.

As Vicky headed back toward the field, an explosion eliminated the last missile. Aunt Sarah had apparently taken the capsule in behind the shield for protection, forcing the missile targeting the capsule to swerve around it and come back in. This had given Taylor the time to snipe it as well, this time using an explosive fireball.

And then the Machine Army fired the lightning gun again. The hole Taylor had blown through the protective fields to save Vicky hadn't yet fully closed, and a tendril found its way through, arcing over to Taylor and latching on. More crackling tendrils of electricity crawled all over the field, seeking another way through, but without any luck.

Finally, the hole closed, and the ongoing attack was left to claw impotently at the outside of the field. Taylor looked down at the spot on her leg where it had briefly nailed her; Vicky thought there might be a small burn mark there.

"Ow."

They were still ascending; Vicky flew in a large spiral upward, staying clear, until her force-field popped back into existence, then angled back inward. Taylor, looking irritated, took a deep breath and bulked out yet again. Now she was bigger than a jetliner, but still not as large as she could eventually get. However, she was once again bigger than Bastion's protective field.

"Oh, shit," Vicky whispered, as no fewer than ten missiles launched from sites inside Eagleton. The Machine Army must have recognised Taylor the instant she teleported in, and had been frantically gearing up to fight her from that moment.

Now lasers were joining in the assault, spearing up into the sky to target Taylor on any exposed locations. One slashed up toward Vicky, forcing her to veer away; her field could take a single hit, but not a constant barrage. Two more targeted Bastion's field on a line with Aunt Sarah's capsule; if it dropped even for an instant, they would be under direct attack.

"Quit it!" bellowed Taylor, and unleashed a rolling torrent of flame in a huge cone downward. All ten missiles flew into that billow of fire, and none came out the other side. Even the lasers were abated, as the tremendous heat bloom temporarily blocked line of sight.

But the intelligences running the lightning gun saw their opportunity, and switched their target from the shield to Taylor's now-exposed head and upper chest. Vicky wasn't sure where they were getting their power from, but the smell of ozone was making her eyes water, and the crackling of electricity as it crawled over most of Taylor's body was deafening. As big as she was, it made her wings falter in their steady beating, and she began to lose altitude.

The protective field enlarged, briefly pausing the electrical assault, but Vicky could see that it was only one layer now, and she now had three lasers keeping her back from coming in to help protect Taylor. Emboldened, the Machine Army sent another three missiles directly at the shield, with lasers still playing on it. There was no way to stop them in time, as they came from widely varying angles. If Taylor put another plasma jet through the shield, it might weaken the structure of the whole thing enough to let the lasers through.

And then it was too late. The missiles struck, shattering the field altogether. With that opening, two more lightning guns opened up on her, all three electrical arcs converging on her body.

Taylor roared in pain … and sized up. But her markings were no longer red and gold, or even blue and black. Now, her scales were the same violet as the electrical discharge, with silver highlights. And instead of crackling through her body, the lightning guns were splashing off.

"MY. TURN."

Taylor … inhaled. But it wasn't air she was drawing into her body. The lightning gun discharges curved toward her mouth, being sucked down her throat as though they were physical strands of matter. Her scales began to glow but she kept drawing on it, forcing the machine intelligences to either up the power output or shut their attacks off.

The first things to give out were the lasers; as soon as the three threatening Vicky blinked out, she flew back in to where Taylor was, but not too close. The electrical arcs running down her spine and popping from claw-tip to claw-tip made sure of that.

More missiles launched from their hidden sites, spearing up toward Taylor. But the flickering skeins of electricity were like a finely woven net, and as each projectile encountered one of these, it either detonated or went dead and fell back to earth. And still Taylor drew on the electricity, demanding more and more from below.

One by one, the lightning guns shut off. Her scales now glowing like a neon sign even in the early afternoon sun, Taylor flared her nostrils as she looked down at Eagleton, and then opened her mouth even wider. From her gullet burst an electrical arc, branching and re-branching until they struck every point in Eagleton that had housed a hostile emplacement, whether it be a laser turret, a missile launch site, or a lightning gun.

Vicky was very glad she wasn't on the ground down there right then. Even from where she was, she could see the electrical arcs jumping from building to building, and the explosions as Taylor's sudden and drastic power input overloaded whatever protections they had. Smoke began to rise here and there.

And then the lightning barrage ceased. Nothing came up from below; Vicky wasn't at all sure there was anything left down there to send anything up. Taylor evidently didn't share her attitude, because she flapped hard for altitude, and sized up at the same time. This time, as she achieved her full size, she was in her blue-and-black configuration.

"CHILL," she hissed in the harsh sibilant tones of that particular form. When she inhaled, the temperature dropped everywhere. Vicky shivered in the suddenly freezing air, and saw her breath as she exhaled. As had happened over Brockton Bay, snow started precipitating out of the air. Holding out her hand, she caught a few snowflakes on her palm.

And then Taylor exhaled again. Not with the multiple shards of ice, as Vicky had half-expected, but in a cone of cold. The very air seemed to crackle with the frigid temperatures as Taylor pulled all the heat out of everything at ground level within the confines of Eagleton, including the buffer zone. Vicky could see the sheen of ice that had suddenly formed over everything; an instant winter wonderland in Hell. Even the fires were out.

But Taylor wasn't finished yet. Apparently she was feeling bitter about the multiple attempts to kill her, which Vicky could totally understand. Drawing in a deep breath—without dropping the temperature again this time—she changed configurations to the deep purple and gold that she'd taken on for the finale of the Slaughterhouse Nine fight.

There was a tiny explosion, far below, blowing aside some of the ice. A solitary missile blasted out from the launcher thus uncovered, not heading up toward Taylor but turning away from her, desperately trying to clear the area, to carry the last of its kind elsewhere. One last throw of the dice.

It was too little, too late. Taylor released her final attack. The cone of pure annihilation bathed Eagleton from one end to the other, snuffing out the missile before it quite reached the perimeter. The ice vanished, as did the buildings under it, and the ground under that. By the time she was done, Eagleton was a pit, about two hundred yards deep from Vicky's rough estimation.

The disintegration breath cut out. Taylor hovered for a few moments, on steadily beating wings. Flying closer, Vicky stared downward as well.

Nothing moved in the crater, or around its perimeter. If any part of the Machine Army had escaped destruction, she couldn't see it. She didn't know how good Taylor's eyesight was at this range, but with eyes that big and set that far apart, it had to be pretty damn impressive.

And then Taylor turned back to the red and gold, and started to descend. As she went, her size decreased. Vicky accompanied her downward, paralleling her movement. Though she didn't really expect any threat from that quarter, she kept her eye on the remains of Eagleton anyway.

Vicky's feet hit the ground at the same time as Taylor flared her wings and landed, and the capsule containing Aunt Sarah and Bastion touched down and vanished. Taylor caught Vicky's eye and nodded toward the barracks she'd changed in before, and they headed that way.

<><>​

Taylor

I felt deeply weary as Vicky closed the barracks doors behind her and fetched the blanket from the bed. Instead of just draping it over me, Vicky wrapped her arms—complete with blanket—around my body and wings, holding me close. "Yeah, I know," she whispered. "That was horrible."

She understood. For all that the Machine Army was totally hostile to humanity, and had posed a direct and ongoing threat to basically everyone, I'd still just annihilated them. Once I'd gotten up to size, they hadn't stood a chance. That hadn't been a fight. It had been an execution.

It had been necessary; I understood that. I just didn't know if I'd ever be comfortable with it.

I drew in a long breath as the wyvern. By the time I had finished releasing it, I was Taylor Hebert once more.

"Thanks," I murmured. "For everything."

"Hey, you're welcome." She gave me an extra squeeze before letting me go. "You ever wanna talk, you know I'm there for you."

"I know." I tossed the blanket back on the bed, and took my costume and mask back from her. "That was way too intense. I wish there'd been some place I could send them where they couldn't come back from instead of just killing them all."

"Well, you know people have tried to talk to them," Vicky offered as I put the costume back on. "When an actual verbal dialogue has happened, they've always agreed … and they've invited the people into the quarantine zone."

I suspected I knew where this was going. "They didn't accept, did they?"

"One did." She grimaced. "He went in with a full escort. It was an ambush. Three troopers made it out, and one of those had to be quarantined when Machine Army elements were found in his wounds. He died, and his body was destroyed. Everyone else, as far as we know, either died or had their bodies used for spare parts. Because they do—uh, did—that too."

"So, good faith out the window. Gotcha." I checked myself over, making sure my costume was on straight. "Well, let's go see if they want to congratulate me or burn me as a witch."

Vicky didn't argue, because she'd seen the same PHO posts as I had. The latter wasn't too far off the mark, for some of the more extreme idiots out there. Just because I turned into a giant fire-breathing lizard didn't mean I was in league with the Forces of Darkness (whatever that meant, in this day and age).

"Anyone who wants to pull that shit on you has to come through me first," she declared. "Though I didn't want to geek out too much about this straight away, but holy shit that lightning form was amazing."

"It's definitely a thing," I agreed as we headed for the doors. "Though I can't help wondering now if I'm gonna end up with a form for every new powerset I get hit with."

"Never fight Triumph," she advised impishly. "You're loud enough as it is when you get that big."

I stuck my tongue out at her, then we opened the doors and stepped outside.

<><>​

Lady Photon

Sarah watched as Taylor and Victoria emerged from the barracks, Taylor once more in human form and properly costumed. She couldn't have been prouder; both girls had performed amazingly well under fire, and had carried out the task at hand with promptness and efficiency. The Machine Army's countermeasures had been more powerful and effective than she'd anticipated, but fortunately they'd been enough to protect everyone until Taylor got big enough to do the job she'd come here to do.

"Well done, young ladies." Lieutenant-Colonel Briggs had already said as much to her and Bastion, but his enthusiasm had not dimmed one iota. "Preliminary scans indicate that there are no Machine Army elements outside the area of destruction. You've accomplished a truly magnificent task here today."

"Thanks," Victoria replied. Taylor seemed to be more subdued, but she nodded in acknowledgement as well. "But what happens if they've managed to put down some kind of sleeper cell? Like that missile that nearly got away?"

Briggs nodded. "Astute observation, Glory Girl. We aren't finished here, not by a long shot. I suspect we'll be observing the area of destruction and combing the surrounding perimeter for the next six months, until even the most paranoid of the top brass are satisfied that nothing is left. Trust me: we're not going to just assume they're dead simply because it looks that way." He gestured toward the bullet points on the sign. "Smoking crater or no smoking crater, we've still got a job to do."

"Good." Taylor smiled, though she still didn't look totally thrilled. "I'd hate to have to come back here and do that again."

"And we'll do our humble best to ensure you don't have to." Briggs gave Taylor a respectful nod. "That lightning form wasn't covered by any of my briefings. Were you keeping it under wraps for this sort of occasion?"

"No." Taylor shook her head. "Sometimes, when I'm hit by something my current form can't really handle well, I adapt. It takes something pretty significant to make it happen, though."

"Hm. Well, you certainly gave their own medicine back to them in spades." He held out his hand. "Thank you, Wyvern. I wish you all the luck in your endeavours."

Taylor shook it. "I appreciate it, sir."

"And that's our cue to leave." Sarah gathered them in by eye, and they walked toward where Bastion was waiting at the helipad. "I believe these are yours," she said, handing the phone and earbuds she'd gotten back off the sergeant to Vicky.

"Thanks, Aunt Sarah." Vicky tucked them away in a pouch.

Behind her, Sarah heard Briggs making a call to Boston. "Yes, Director, they'll be on their way back in a moment. Yes, a total success. We may just have dealt with this problem once and for all."

Strider rose from the folding chair someone had provided for him, and met them there. He seemed to be totally unfazed by what he'd seen, but from the way Bastion kept glancing at Taylor, Sarah figured he had something to say.

"What's your problem?" Victoria asked, before Sarah had a chance to say anything. "You're acting like she kicked your puppy or something."

"What the hell was that about?" Bastion's tone was intense, but he kept his voice down as he confronted Taylor. "You burned a hole clear through my force field! You compromised its integrity!"

Taylor squared her shoulders and looked up at him unwaveringly. "And I'd do it again. Vicky was in trouble."

Sarah cleared her throat. "Is this because she did it without warning you first, or because she was able to do it at all?"

Bastion's whole attitude showed his unhappiness. "Nobody told me Wyvern was that powerful! Did you just bring me along to show me up in front of everyone?"

"What?" Sarah shook her head. "No! You saw how she needed protection. I certainly wouldn't have been able to keep her safe on my own. And you did a spectacular job where it was needed."

"Yeah," Victoria added. "Just because your force fields didn't stop everything that hit them doesn't mean you didn't contribute."

Taylor nudged her and leaned in to murmur, "Not helping, Vicky."

For a wonder, Victoria listened. "Sorry. You protected Wyvern and Aunt Sarah when they needed it. Your force fields are actually pretty impressive."

The turnaround caught Bastion on the back foot. "Ah, right, well, I did what I could. And good job stopping that first missile."

Victoria half-shrugged to acknowledge the praise. "You're welcome. Teamwork makes the dream work, I guess?"

Sarah turned to Strider. "Well, it looks like we're ready to go now."

"Gotcha." Strider glanced at everyone. "Ready? Six hundred feet down this time. Three … two … one."

Crack.

<><>​

Taylor

Standing on the helipad in Boston, I worked my jaw again to get rid of the feeling that my eardrums were trying to meet in the middle of my skull. With a huge POP, the pressure equalised. "Wow," I said, rubbing my ear. "That will never not be weird."

"Maybe we should be flying when we do it next," Vicky suggested. "Pick an altitude that's the same as where we're going."

"That's actually a reasonable idea," Mrs Pelham agreed, letting go of where she'd been pinching her nostrils to equalise her own pressure. "And it would certainly be more comfortable."

"Just so you're aware, Ellisburg is almost exactly the same altitude as where we are now." Strider seemed to pick up some sort of reaction from us. "What? I check these things up. It's essential in my line of work."

"Well, I have no problem with doing due diligence." Mrs Pelham dusted her hands off. "So, back to Brockton Bay, girls?"

"Actually," Vicky said, "how about we just go and do Ellisburg right now? I mean, if Wyvern's up to it?"

She looked at me expectantly, and I hesitated. The Eagleton battle had been tiring, but all I had were a few sore spots from where the lasers had hit me. Once I'd gotten my lightning form, I'd regenerated all the damage the electricity cannon had done to me.

Her face was just starting to fall when I nodded. "Yeah," I said. "Why not?" The grin she gave me then just lit her whole face up.

"Bastion?" asked Mrs Pelham.

Even before he opened his mouth, I knew what was going through his mind. There was no way he was going to let a couple of teenage girls show him up. "Yeah, why not? Let's do this."

"I concur." Mrs Pelham looked at Strider. "Change of plans. We're going to Ellisburg."



End of Part Twenty-Four

 

[Xyshuryn]

Vicky: Hey! It's still early! Let's go nuke Nilbog!
Taylor: Sure. No sense in procrastinating.
Photon Mom: Fuck it... On to Ellisburg!
Bastardion: I won't be shown up by little girls! Let's do this.
Strider: Meh, whatever.

 

[space turtle]

100% S-class speed run is now underway.
Let's see what sort of time Wyvern can post on the inter dimensional leaderboards.

 

[Therandomestpersons]

While i'm not sure if this is the best idea, there is something to be said for getting unpleasantness such as this out of the way now, instead of later.
Also, Taylor has once more played the draconic equivalent of a uno reverse card on her enemies.

 

[macdjord]

After ten years of being cut off from the outside world, it was doubtful if the inhabitants of the Goblin Kingdom had so much as a ham radio between them, much less a working TV set.

Click to shrink...

Radios are pretty simple and durable, and many survival models have built-in hand cranks to power them. I'd be surprised if they didn't have one, assuming they bothered to try. (That said, the Machine Army definitely has radio, so the targeting priority still makes sense.)

 

[SlickRCBD]

Why do I get a feeling someone at the PRT is going to try to draft or control Wyvern by throwing about the letters WMD?

 

[Therandomestpersons]

Why do I get a feeling someone at the PRT is going to try to draft or control Wyvern by throwing about the letters WMD?

Click to shrink...

I know this is probably a rhetorical question but….probably because coil and his reject bond villain ass exist.

 

[sstabeler]

Coil is essentially a non-factor now, since Contessa made it abundantly clear that if he tries, he's getting a bullet through his head.

By literally pressing the barrel of a gun against his head in a blatantly obvious warning.

Anyway, it's actually doubtful that anybody will try anymore for the same reason why the E88 decided not to try- it's blatantly obvious at this point that fucking with Taylor will get the Triumvirate after you, and while people might think they can take Taylor, they know for a fact they can't take the Triumvirate on the warpath.

 

[Ack]

Why do I get a feeling someone at the PRT is going to try to draft or control Wyvern by throwing about the letters WMD?

Click to shrink...

This particular WMD can be politely asked not to do something, and she might not do it.

Not something you can pull with the average nuke or plague bomb.

 

[vinzzz001]

I really hope Taylor ends with a breath of life like power instead of a plague power after ellisburgh.

Maybe not generic healing power, but more creation of plants or of simple ecosystems, simmilair to Nilbog does, as fighting armies with other armies is a valid counter.

 

[sstabeler]

I really hope Taylor ends with a breath of life like power instead of a plague power after ellisburgh.

Maybe not generic healing power, but more creation of plants or of simple ecosystems, simmilair to Nilbog does, as fighting armies with other armies is a valid counter.

Click to shrink...

Highly unlikely she gets either. Recall that it's Lung's canon Shard, just expressed differently, and actually considerably more useful as a result. (For instance, Lung canonically started shrinking (and then turning back) after the conflict in question is over, Taylor needs to be relaxed first.)

Meaning that it's more likely she gets a power essentially designed to hard-counter Nilbog's. I'd actually suspect that it's more likely that Taylor gets a wider-area variant of her matter annihilation ability to allow her to more easily ensure that none of Nilbog's creations escape and survive. (Specifically, it would be useful for Taylor to be able to get the entire place in a single hit. Currently, I don't know if she can actually take out the entire town at once, which might risk bits escaping)

 

[SlickRCBD]

This particular WMD can be politely asked not to do something, and she might not do it.

Not something you can pull with the average nuke or plague bomb.

Click to shrink...

Would that "politely asking" involve putting your hands in the air over your head while shouting "I surrender"?
Alternately performing the Crouch of the Wild Tiger?

 

[sstabeler]

Would that "politely asking" involve putting your hands in the air while shouting "I surrender"?
Alternately performing the Crouch of the Wild Tiger?

Click to shrink...

If you're the target. I think Ack more means things like the request that was made that Taylor try not to damage the Dallon house with her powers, as their insurance doesn't cover cape damage.

 

[Mr_Rose]

This particular WMD can be politely asked not to do something, and she might not do it.

Not something you can pull with the average nuke or plague bomb.

Click to shrink...

Yeah, but do war hawks and bureaucrats know that?
Or care?


Also, why exactly did they fly over to Boston if they already had Strider booked for the day? Or is he currently busy calculating his bonus now too?

 

[Ack]

Yeah, but do war hawks and bureaucrats know that?
Or care?


Also, why exactly did they fly over to Boston if they already had Strider booked for the day? Or is he currently busy calculating his bonus now too?

Click to shrink...

It was easy enough to get a lift to Boston. Tennessee is a little farther.

 

[SlickRCBD]

It was easy enough to get a lift to Boston. Tennessee is a little farther.

Click to shrink...

I'm surprised they used a vehicle. All of them can fly and Boston is supposedly only 50 miles away. If they can fly at 100mph that would be half an hour's flight. They only really have to worry about collateral damage if they reach transonic speeds.
Heck, given that there is a trainyard I'm surprised there isn't a train to Boston. It shouldn't take more than an hour by train.

 

[Ack]

I'm surprised they used a vehicle. All of them can fly and Boston is supposedly only 50 miles away. If they can fly at 100mph that would be half an hour's flight. They only really have to worry about collateral damage if they reach transonic speeds.
Heck, given that there is a trainyard I'm surprised there isn't a train to Boston. It shouldn't take more than an hour by train.

Click to shrink...

Glory Girl can hit 80 mph. I don't know about the rest of New Wave.

Taylor is somewhat slower than that.

And as Lady Photon noted, flying long distances is tedious.

 

[Ack]

Wyvern

Part Twenty-Five: Operation Ellisburg

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]



Rooftop Helipad, Boston Protectorate Building

Taylor

"Wait!" The voice of Director Armstrong rang out across the rooftop just as Strider was prepping to teleport us again. "What's going on? Where are you going?"

"Ah. Hold on, please." Mrs Pelham stepped away from Strider. "I apologise. I got caught up in the moment. Glory Girl suggested that we go straight on to Ellisburg and clean it up at the same time, and it seemed like a good idea. I should've let you know that we were going on with Bastion. That's my bad."

"Oh." Armstrong looked at the rest of us. "Wyvern, you're good to do Ellisburg as well? You feel fit enough to take on Nilbog?"

"Well, it's not like we're going to be fist-fighting them one at a time," Vicky snarked. "You should've seen the absolute crater she made out of Eagleton."

I half-expected him to get angry at the back-talk, but he just raised one eyebrow a little. "The footage has been sent my way, yes. The amount of damage that was done there is what's making me ask the question. Wyvern, do you personally feel up to that level of exertion all over again?"

I looked warily at him. "I didn't think I'd need to be. It's not like Nilbog can produce lightning guns or missiles or laser cannons, and he doesn't even know I'm coming … does he?"

"It's highly unlikely that he does, no," he conceded. "Or that he can muster the ordnance you faced at Eagleton. But that's not the whole story. Have you ever heard of Watchdog?"

Mrs Pelham's head came up, a frown appearing on her face. It seemed she knew that name, at least. "No," I answered honestly. "What's his powerset?" With a name like that, I guessed the Director was talking about a cape of some sort.

He shook his head. "Watchdog isn't a person, they're a think tank made up of precogs that the PRT keeps on hand to answer questions about potentially dangerous situations. Someone once posited the idea of an all-out surprise attack on the Goblin Kingdom with overwhelming force, and asked about possible downsides. The consensus was that there would be long-lasting unpleasant consequences, though the indications as to exactly what are a little unclear."

"Unclear?" asked Vicky. "What do you mean, 'unclear'?"

Director Armstrong sighed. "I never said this, but precogs rarely seem to be both powerful enough to get a solid prediction and transparent enough in their predictions for anyone to readily understand what they mean by them. But Watchdog's answers show up on a spectrum from least bad to most bad, and all indications are that it'll be on the problematic end of that scale. The phrase 'Trojan horses' was mentioned."

"But that's like an attack with PRT forces and normal capes, right?" Vicky gestured to me. "She could wreck the place even harder than Alexandria could, or maybe Hero." Nobody was willing to make a claim like that about Eidolon, because he was the guy with all the powers, and I was pretty sure bringing up Legend would be a sore point all around.

He frowned, an expression his face was really suited for. "I wasn't privy to the original question, so I couldn't say for sure, but … perhaps? All I know is that if I wanted to send my capes to attack Ellisburg, I'd need to get permission from the top, and that permission hasn't been granted in ten years."

Vicky and I looked at each other, while Mrs Pelham asked the relevant question. "So how did Director Piggot get permission?"

Armstrong rubbed his chin. "Before we get into that: Bastion, we probably won't need you for the moment. I'd appreciate it if you could make a start on your report on the Eagleton mission. And Strider, this discussion may take a while. If you have any other pending jobs, feel free to carry them out. I have your number for when I need to contact you again."

"Yes, sir." Bastion headed for the rooftop entrance.

Strider merely nodded; a moment later, he vanished with a crack of what I assumed was displaced air.

Mrs Pelham looked around the roof. The helicopter that we'd arrived in was still and silent, the crew apparently somewhere downstairs. There were guards at the rooftop entrance, but I figured we were too far away for them to hear what we were saying. Understanding crossed her face as she turned back to Director Armstrong. "She didn't get permission at all, did she?"

"I honestly doubt it, no," he said heavily. His expression was unhappy, and not all of it was because his face fell naturally into those lines.

A thought occurred to me. "Not to be a nitpicker, but did she actually need permission to ask me a favour?"

"Technically she didn't, because we're not under her jurisdiction, or that of any part of the PRT." Mrs Pelham shook her head, her lips tightening. "She asked you to do it, not ordered. Legally, we're free agents. A favour for someone isn't the same as an official act."

"That's a very fine line to walk." Director Armstrong's unhappy expression was threatening to become permanently engraved upon his features. "And I'm not certain many judges would agree that she's on the correct side of it."

"Why the hell would she even do that?" Vicky burst out. "Especially if there's a chance it can go badly wrong?"

Armstrong looked at the three of us. "I don't know if you're aware of this, but she's one of the only two survivors from the original Ellisburg debacle. Those monsters ate her squadmates and ruined her health. She hates Nilbog with a white-hot fury that probably hasn't cooled down at all in the last ten years. If she thought she had a better than even chance of killing him, she'd gear up and parachute in there herself with a knife between her teeth, and to hell with the consequences."

That gave me the clue. "'Better than even'. Director Piggot thinks I've got a more than fifty-fifty chance of dealing with Nilbog once and for all. That's why she asked me to do it."

Mrs Pelham folded her arms and nibbled at her lower lip, her expression pensive. "Yes, but even if you kill Nilbog, it may yet set off some kind of deadman switch. In this particular context, I dislike the phrase 'Trojan horses'. It sounds far too ominous for my taste."

"Yeah, but the PRT haven't got anyone like Wyvern on their side," Vicky reminded her, then seemed to remember that Director Armstrong was part of the conversation as well. "No offense and all that, but it's true."

"None taken," he replied. "However, your aunt is correct. Deadman switches are a distinct risk for this kind of situation. God only knows what Nilbog is able to bring to the table after ten years of being cooped up in Ellisburg. If he's the biological equivalent to a Tinker, the way our analysts suspect he is, he could have anything cocked and ready to fire."

"But you saw what Wyvern did, right?" Vicky was nothing if not persistent. "When those Eagleton robots pushed her hard enough, she went full Smaug on them. They had a deadman switch, and she ended that along with everything else."

"Yes, I saw it." Director Armstrong was being amazingly patient, in my view. "That's the only reason I haven't already declared this conversation over and done. I need to be sure that Wyvern isn't going to go easy on them through some misplaced idea of fair play. You'll get exactly one chance to finish the job, and that means eradicating every last member of the Goblin Kingdom in one fell swoop. No survivors, no second chances, no sparing any of them, even the ones that look too cute to be dangerous."

"Um," I said, clasping my right elbow with my left hand. "You're kinda making it sound like genocide. I thought if I just took out Nilbog, the danger would be over."

"It needs to be genocide," he insisted. "A special type, but genocide all the same. We think all the creatures came from him. They're all basically twisted clones of Nilbog, with different appearances and capabilities. But what if, hypothetically, he's primed them to scatter in all directions if it looks like Ellisburg is going to be overrun or destroyed? There are literally thousands of them, and if each one is infected with a different virulent disease that we've never seen before, he only needs one to make it through the cordon to start an apocalypse."

"Trojan horses." Mrs Pelham nodded slowly, her expression as unhappy as his had been. "I hate to say it, but it fits."

"So, we're just gonna let him hold us hostage like that?" asked Vicky.

Director Armstrong's brows came down and he reared his head back a little. "I'd hardly call it holding us hostage—"

"Well, what would you call it?" She didn't give him time to answer before she kept going. "If he's got the ability to spread exotic diseases all over the region, and all he needs is a reason—or an excuse—to do it, and we're too scared to take him down because he's holding this cocked gun to our heads, then excuse me, Mr Director sir, but I call that holding us hostage."

It occurred to me that she might not have thought the scenario all the way through. There was another potential layer of horror to go.

What if they're all pretending to have different personalities, and it's all really just him in every one of those clones? If just one gets away, then even if the original is killed, he gets to start up all over again, outside the walls of Ellisburg. And meanwhile, we think just because we've killed the original that it's time to relax.

Despite that, I was still no more comfortable with the idea of killing off the inhabitants of Ellisburg than I had been after the fact of wiping out the Machine Army. In some ways, it was even harder.

If I worked at it, I could convince myself that the Eagleton robots had been mere machines blindly following their creator's programming, a bunch of defective things to be shut down and destroyed at the first opportunity. On the other hand, while Nilbog's creatures were vicious and murderous and no longer really human, that last description also applied to me when I was the wyvern. At the end of the day, they were still undoubtedly living, sapient beings. The whole 'gun aimed at our heads' thing was not a point in their favour, but I'd dealt with armed, dangerous people before, without needing to kill them.

"Uh, is it possible to talk to Nilbog? Maybe get him to surrender instead of going all mutually assured destruction on us?" I ventured while Director Armstrong was still working on an answer to Vicky's challenge. Not that I thought she was wrong—for someone who the public saw as impulsive and reckless more often than not, she was smarter than most people I knew—but I had to ask the question. I had to know.

I had to at least try.

"They've got loudspeakers on the wall," he told me. "Periodically, they urge him to turn himself in. The goblins started off with destroying the speakers, but when they were replaced with armoured ones, Nilbog started sending envoys to recite a list of demands, such as setting aside a few thousand square miles for his 'fiefdom', in return for his graciously allowing us to live among his people."

Vicky snorted. "Yeah, watch that not happen."

Director Armstrong nodded sombrely. "The list gets longer each time, and the demands get more bizarre. It would be ideal if we could talk him out of there, but all indications are that he's been drinking his own Kool-Aid for so long that he truly believes himself a king with no rules to restrain him. Even if we reached an agreement with him, it would only be a matter of time before he broke it, or decided that we'd broken it and retaliated without warning."

I grimaced, unhappy with the way this was being reframed. "So, what you're saying is, I've got to hit them hard and give them no chance to send people over the wall or anything like that."

Mrs Pelham came over to me. "Wyvern, if you're not comfortable with this, we can draw a line under what we've already done so far and call it a day. You've already done a magnificent job, and gotten rid of one looming threat." She put her hand on my shoulder. "Nobody could ask more of you than what you've already done."

"But I kinda told Director Piggot that I could do this. That I would do this. She made it sound really important." I looked at her empathetic expression and felt bad all over again. Mom and Dad had rarely disagreed over anything important, so I'd never really run into this before, but I deeply respected the Director and Mrs Pelham (and I didn't know Director Armstrong very well but he seemed nice, and he mostly supported Director Piggot's views) and it was hard to figure out what was the right thing to do when they had different sets of expectations for me.

I caught Vicky's eye, and she looked at me expectantly. I was glad that she wasn't putting her two cents in anymore, but that didn't really matter because I already knew which way she'd jump. She thought it was a good idea for me to go and do it, and her reasoning was solid enough for me not to dismiss it out of hand. Also, I respected her at least as much as I did Mrs Pelham and the Directors.

"And it is important," Mrs Pelham agreed. "But your mental well-being is even more important. Ellisburg will still be there tomorrow, and next week. I'm not saying not to do it, I'm saying to ask yourself if you're up to doing it now."

I knew Nilbog was dangerous, and the wrong move (which could include making no moves at all) could see a breakout, followed by potential plagues ravaging the continental US. Up until now, I'd never heard of a disease-causing cape more dangerous than Rash, a low-tier villain in Miami who could turn her opponents' immune systems against them, so there weren't many precautions set up against such attacks (especially since Rash's ability wasn't contagious). By the time it was over, we'd have safeguards in place, but at the cost of how many lives?

Still thinking it over, I looked at Director Armstrong. "If I decided to do it now, can you call ahead to Ellisburg and let them know I'm coming, and warn them to be on alert in case something goes wrong anyway?" Because Eagleton had nearly gone disastrously wrong, and I liked to think I could learn from my mistakes.

He gave me a short, sharp nod. "I can definitely do that. So, you're going to do it?"

I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Mrs Pelham was watching me closely, and I gave her what I hoped was a confident nod. "Yeah, I think so. It's not gonna be any easier if I do it tomorrow or next week, and by then things might've changed for the worse."

Mrs Pelham and I both ignored Vicky's small fist-pump and muttered, "yes!". Instead, she looked thoughtfully at me as Director Armstrong pulled out his phone and made a call.

"You know I'm not telling you not to do it," she said. "I just want you to be sure in your own mind that this is what you believe you should do, not based on anyone else's thoughts on the matter."

"Yeah, I'm certain," I said. "Like I said, it's gotta be done. He murdered the whole town, once upon a time. Doesn't that level of serial killing from a cape usually rate a kill order?" I wasn't exactly trying to talk myself into it believing my own words, but I sure as hell wasn't trying to talk myself out of it either.

"It usually does, yes, but you're not yet eighteen," she reminded me, being vague about my age on general principles. "Trust me when I say that killing someone at your age, no matter how needful it is, leaves a mark that never really goes away."

She wasn't just saying the words. I got the impression that she was speaking from personal experience. For all I knew, she was. My own entry into the world of capes had been so traumatic that I'd temporarily forgotten everything about my life, including my own name. I had no idea what she'd gone through, back when she triggered with powers.

"If not me, who?" I asked quietly. "Killing's something you can't undo; I get that. The robots in Eagleton did their best to kill me before I got on top of the situation, but I still regret that they had to die. Same with Nilbog. I'm not happy about everything that's led up to this point, yet here we are."

The three major events, of course, were that Nilbog had taken over Ellisburg, killing thousands; I'd triggered with powers and been pushed by events into becoming something not too far short of an Endbringer; and Director Piggot had asked me to do something about Nilbog. I could literally do nothing to change any of those things. The one I'd had most control over was the Director's request, and I'd said yes before I really knew what I was getting into. Awkward situation or no, I preferred to bull on through rather than back away from something I'd started.

Story of my life, really.

"Here we are," she echoed with a sad nod. "Alright then, we'll give you all the backup we can, and if you need someone to talk to afterward and you don't feel like sharing this burden with your father, I'll be there to listen."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." I gave her a quick hug. "Seriously, I appreciate everything about New Wave taking me onto the team and giving me all the support."

A smile quirked the corner of her mouth as she looked over at Vicky. "I think we both know who the driving force behind that little coup was, but I can't argue with the results."

Though she could undoubtedly hear us, Vicky said nothing in reply. However, she did buff her nails on her costume and preen a little. I didn't blame her; her decision at the time to rescue me had been the best possible one she could've made.

Director Armstrong ended the call but didn't put his phone away. "They've been alerted and are awaiting your arrival," he reported. "I'll contact Strider now and let him know you're ready to go on."

Mrs Pelham smiled. "That would be appreciated, thanks."

"Totally," snarked Vicky. "Flying to Ellisburg would be even more of a pain than flying back to Brockton Bay." She paused. "Are we gonna need Bastion for this?"

Director Armstrong paused before hitting the call icon on his phone. "I'm afraid that will no longer be possible." To his credit, he didn't look or sound happy about having to deny us. "I haven't been given clearance to send anyone to attack Nilbog, so simply not standing in your way is the most I'm allowed to do right now."

He didn't explain further, but the writing was on the wall. The moment he'd admitted that nobody in the PRT could launch such an attack without permission from above, his hands had been tied. Before, he could have claimed an assumption that Director Piggot had been given such permission; now that it was out in the open, he couldn't do anything of the sort without risking his own career.

"Understood, and thank you." Mrs Pelham's expression and tone gave me the impression that she'd come to the same conclusions as I had. This didn't surprise me in the slightest, given that as a senior member of New Wave, she had to be damn good at cape politics. "I strongly suspect he wouldn't be needed as much as he was at Eagleton. He did well there."

Again, I picked up on the subtext. Even though Bastion had been more than a little whiny after the fact (I was still certain that he hadn't expected me to be able to put a plasma jet through his force field as easily as I had) the truth was that he'd stepped up and done his bit to keep us all safe. We couldn't have done it without him, and that was a fact. Mrs Pelham was just making sure that he got some kind of attaboy from his boss after we left.

"Thank you. Excuse me a moment, please." He hit the button to call Strider and half-turned away from Mrs Pelham in that subconscious privacy move that most people use.

"It'll be fine," Vicky said encouragingly to me, though in truth I hadn't been worried about that. As Mrs Pelham had said, Bastion's force field would be less useful where we were going than where we'd been. My dubious expression was entirely due to my less than total enthusiasm about wiping out Nilbog and his multitude of critters. "We're New Wave. We got this."

"Oh, totally," I agreed. "Just, uh … keep in mind that we didn't expect anything big out of Eagleton, either. For a bunch of machines that had all of five minutes' warning, they ramped up fast. I'm not saying Nilbog will be able to do the same thing, but … well, he has been behind those walls for ten years, waiting for someone to kick the front door in and start shooting."

"No, true." It was times like this that she showed just how smart she was. Most people would've held onto their preconceptions and insisted that everything was going to be okay. "I'll make sure to keep an eye out for anything that looks even remotely hinky."

"You and me both, trust me." In my regular Wyvern form, the one that breathed fire, I could see pretty far into the infrared part of the spectrum. Among other things, this let me detect heat signatures through thin barriers, as well as normal smoke. If any of Nilbog's clone-minions tried to sneak up on us by going chameleon, I would see it before it got close enough to be a problem.

Director Armstrong joined us, sliding his phone into his pocket. "Strider says he'll be a couple of minutes. Are you okay with waiting up here?"

Mrs Pelham glanced at Vicky and me, and we gave her virtually identical shrugs. Sure, the wind was brisk and made Vicky's cape flap sideways, but she had her skin-level force field and I'd been more capable of handling cold temperatures since I got the ice upgrade. I honestly didn't care where we waited, so long as we got it over with sooner rather than later.

"It appears so," she informed him, then created a force field that combined shelter against the wind with a bunch of chairs. "Let's get comfortable, shall we? We can use the time to devise a strategy to use against Nilbog."

Vicky claimed the nearest chair and leaned back in it. "I thought the strategy was going to be 'rawr, fear my terrible flame' or something similar. I mean, a dragon—sorry, wyvern—attacking a town of goblins? Have you never read a fantasy book in your life?"

"More than you have, I bet," I retorted. "But this isn't a fantasy book, I'm not a fantasy dragon, and Nilbog absolutely isn't a fantasy goblin of any description. So, we need to forget any preconceptions about fantasy books and movies."

"Best not to use flame at all," Director Armstrong put in. "During the Ellisburg debacle, there were reports of some of his creatures using fire and heat to create more of themselves."

Vicky rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on," she mock-complained. "What's the fun in being able to turn into a wyvern if you can't just toast the bad guys into a greasy smear?"

I nudged her with my shoulder. "I do have other options." More than I'd started the day with, even.

"Oh, right, yeah." She brightened. "There is that."

"Whichever one you choose," Director Armstrong warned, "don't do it piecemeal if you can help it. If Nilbog's creatures realise that you really do have the wherewithal to destroy them all at once, that will almost certainly trigger whatever doomsday protocol they've got saved up."

I nodded. "Got it. Don't use fire, do use something that will get them all at once." I still wasn't totally on board with the idea of killing them all at once—or at all, honestly—but I knew enough to understand that Nilbog would absolutely kill me if he saw me as a threat and he had the opportunity to do so. While I was less than thrilled at Director Piggot for putting me in this situation without giving me all the information I needed to make an informed choice, I had made the decision and I did see her side of things.

Strider made his usual entrance just about then, with a muted crack. We got up from our chairs, and Mrs Pelham dismissed the force field.

"Three to go to Ellisburg," Director Armstrong said to Strider. "Afterward, take them on to Brockton Bay."

Strider nodded. "Copy that." I was just thinking that he was taking it all in his stride (pun intended) when he looked over at me with rather more respect than when we'd first me. "Going to do an Eagleton job on them?"

"Well, that's the general idea," I said awkwardly.

"Good." He gave me a definitive nod. "Ready to go?"

Mrs Pelham looked from me to Vicky, and put her hands on our shoulders. "Ready."

We arrived at the centre of a helipad, surrounded by yet another PRT encampment. This time, as Strider had noted, there was no elevation change and thus no sudden need to pop our eardrums. An officer was standing by with a trooper in attendance; as soon as we appeared, he started in our direction, but stopped at the edge of the helipad circle. Basic safety precautions, I figured.

"Wyvern?" he asked. When I nodded, he continued. "Pleased to meet you. Major Holden. Director Armstrong gave us the heads-up."

"Ah, good." Mrs Pelham looked around. "Did he tell you to back the men off from the walls, and to put them on alert?"

Major Holden frowned. "He did, but I didn't get an adequate explanation for that. Would you mind clarifying?"

She glanced in my direction, and I realised this was my show, so I needed to step up. "Sure," I said. "When I hit them, I'll be hitting to destroy them. If they get any kind of idea that's about to happen, and I'm sorry but there's a good chance of it, then they might just put whatever dead-man switch into operation that they've been brewing in there for the last ten years." I knew I was just saying what other people had already said, but it really did bear repeating.

Major Holden frowned. "Why are you so sure they'll know that something's about to happen?"

"Um, because I need to be big enough to cover the area all at once, and I can't get that big on the ground, and when I'm that big in the air, I'm not exactly subtle." I paused, suspecting I knew where we might be getting off-track. "You have seen the footage, right?"

"Of your power test? I know of it, but I haven't viewed it yet." His sideways glance at the trooper with him was almost too fast to notice. "Sergeant, have you watched it yet?"

"Yes, sir." The sergeant was wearing the standard PRT faceless helmet so I couldn't see where he was looking, but I would've bet good money he was looking at me to try to discern the wyvern within. "It's kind of impressive. And when she says she's not subtle in the air when she's that big, it's nothing but the truth, sir."

"Well, then." He knew he'd fucked up, and we knew it too. Fortunately, it seemed his mistake lay in not having given the orders yet, rather than refusing to give them. "Sergeant, everyone has their orders?"

"Yes, sir."

"Make it so."

"Roger that, sir." The sergeant took a step to the side, and I thought I could hear a vague murmur coming from his helmet.

The effects of the orders, though not immediate, gradually became visible and audible all around us. Men shouted, engines revved, and troopers ran here and there at the double (or at least, what I assumed was at the double). It seemed that, belatedly at least, the PRT in Ellisburg had decided to take me seriously.

"Uh, one more thing," I said, drawing the officer's attention back to me. "I'm going to need a place to change. Got a barracks free or something? It'll only take a couple of minutes."

"And I'll go with," Vicky added quickly. "Someone needs to grab her costume until she wants it again, and that's me."

"Ah, yes, of course." Major Holden conferred briefly with the sergeant, who (as had happened in Eagleton) pointed the way to where I could Change. We headed that way, ready to do this whole thing over again.

When I got home, I decided, I was going to collapse for a week.

<><>​

Glory Girl

Only someone who knew Taylor like Vicky did would've seen it, but she could tell her bestie's heart just wasn't in it as she stalked out of the barracks in all her wyvern glory. Oh, sure, there was the the bared teeth and the slightly-outspread wings, but Vicky could see under it all to the drag in the step and the limp crest. She'd faked enough enthusiasm herself over the years to spot it every time in someone else.

Somewhere along the line, Vicky realised, this had gone from 'fun' to 'work' for Taylor. She wasn't doing it because she wanted to do it, she was doing it because she figured she had to do it. There was no doubt that Taylor was going to do her best, she just wasn't going to enjoy it.

They paused outside, and Taylor chirped interrogatively. Major Holden looked to Vicky for a translation; fortunately, her association with Taylor had also made her good at being a Wyvern whisperer. "She wants to know if you guys are all set up and ready to roll if things go south."

"Thank you," he said. She caught his dubious glance at Taylor, but figured that was due to him trying to see the teenage girl where the wyvern now stood. "We're as ready as we're going to be."

Taylor nodded, then spread her wings for takeoff. Vicky and Aunt Sarah took to the air at the same time; Taylor's costume and mask had already been stashed in the belt pouch Vicky was using for that purpose, so they were ready for action.

Well, ready for Taylor to get really ready for action, anyway.

Vicky stayed level with Taylor as the latter flapped her wings hard for altitude. Aunt Sarah stayed just a little lower, spreading out a broad force field between them and Ellisburg, just in case. And as for Taylor … she just kept getting bigger and bigger.

A smirk played across Vicky's lips as she imagined the look on Holden's face when he realised exactly how much of an understatement the sergeant had made when he said Taylor's full Changed size was 'kind of impressive'. Already, Taylor was Learjet sized and still going for altitude; the bigger wings meant she could go even higher with each prodigious downstroke. And you ain't seen nothing yet, Vicky silently promised the man.

Turning her attention to Ellisburg, she noted they were now well above the walls, and thus in plain sight of any of Nilbog's minions that might happen to glance their way. As the thought formed, she heard the mournful sound of a horn echoing over the rooftops from a ramshackle tower. Either this was totally unrelated and they had the best timing in history, she decided, or that was a watchkeeper sounding the alarm.

Taylor still hadn't sized up to her full capability yet, so Vicky started looking more closely at what lay within the walls of Ellisburg. While it would take an anti-aircraft gun to make a dent in Taylor right now (maybe several), Vicky didn't quite put it past Nilbog to have constructed the medieval equivalent just for such an occasion. Trebuchets, or whatever the things were called.

No siege engines appeared to be waiting on Taylor to swoop overhead, but those cute shingle roofs could conceal anything, so Vicky didn't relax quite yet. That alarm horn had been there for a reason, so there had to be something Nilbog thought he could do. Whether it could do anything against Taylor at full strength was something else altogether, but Vicky figured it was safer to assume that Nilbog had something nasty up his sleeve than to discount the idea altogether.

And then Taylor looked downward, squinted, and said, "OH, SHIT."

At that size, her voice was audible to everyone in the surrounding area, so the trick wasn't so much hearing her as not being deafened by her. Still, Vicky had no idea why she'd said that; before the question could be asked, Taylor folded her wings and dived, downsizing even faster than she'd upsized before.

Vicky shared a confused glance with Aunt Sarah. "What's she doing?" she asked. "What did I miss?"

"I have no idea." Sarah started downward. "Keep an eye on Ellisburg. I'll ask her."

"Right, yeah, okay." Vicky maintained altitude, even as Sarah threw up an aerodynamic force field then rocketed down in Taylor's wake.

Far below, Taylor had gotten down to about Learjet size again, but Vicky still couldn't figure out what was going on. Jaws gaping wide, Taylor was flying parallel to the ground, belching huge volumes of fire downward. Vast swathes of otherwise unoccupied ground—they'd evacuated everything and everyone from the vicinity of Ellisburg for miles around—were being scorched to cindered ruin, but Vicky didn't know why.

Aunt Sarah got close enough to Taylor to ask her what the hell was going on (though Vicky suspected she'd be more polite about it); Vicky didn't hear the question, but she heard the answer. "Get back! Disease spores!"

And that explained everything, all at once. They'd thought that Nilbog might have his creatures run in all directions carrying disease within them, but he was being sneakier than that. How Taylor had seen them at all, Vicky wasn't sure, unless they were visible in a part of the spectrum her wyvern form was equipped to see.

Personally, Vicky wouldn't have been the least bit surprised to find out that was precisely the case. Taylor's Changer forms were bullshit squared on a bullshit sandwich.

The fire breath was hopefully scorching the spores to ash, which sounded like a win to Vicky. All Taylor had to do was kill the spores faster than Nilbog could make them. Vicky was sure that she and Aunt Sarah could go into Ellisburg if they had to, and punch out Nilbog once and for all.

Then, ahead of Taylor, she saw the real problem. The cordon around Ellisburg had been unbroken and still was; they'd just pulled back a ways and prepped for trouble. Unfortunately, the trouble coming their way was an intangible cloud of spores, and the only method Taylor had to deal with it was just as problematic to humans as it was to spores.

She had no doubt they were equipped with air filtration equipment; on a duty station like Ellisburg, that would be a given. But while the standard PRT uniforms were fire-retardant (because fire and other heat energy effects were horribly common among villainous Blasters), truly fireproof gear was probably something they hadn't anticipated needing. The solution, unfortunately, was likely to be far more problematic than the cure.

Taylor was a lot closer to the situation, so her grasp of the dilemma was likely to be even more comprehensive than Vicky's. Breathe fire to eliminate a mass of the spores, and kill a bunch of troopers who were just trying to keep their small patch of America safe, or skip over them and let the disease spread even farther? Vicky wasn't sure she could make that call.

Not only could Taylor make it, but she also acted on it. And, in typical Taylor fashion, she took the third option.

Going from a fast glide to all-out flight in just a few wingbeats, she powered ahead of where Vicky imagined the rolling cloud of spores to be. As she passed over the men and women in the path of the spores, she bellowed, "Get down!" Then, in a move Vicky wouldn't have been able to emulate if she lived to a hundred, she dropped one wing straight down and pivoted around it, losing all her lift and forward motion at the same time. Dropping out of the sky, she landed on her feet, wings spread wide for balance and facing back the way she'd come.

The vast cone of fire she blasted outward barely grazed the ground this time, even as she swept it sideways to cover the oncoming cloud of spores. Under it, the PRT troopers hugged the earth as they'd been told, making use of every dip and hollow they could find. They'd be real warm, Vicky figured, but they'd survive with one hell of a story to tell.

The fire reached far back along her path, no doubt destroying the offending spores in their millions and billions. "Don't use fire, my ass," muttered Taylor, no doubt forgetting for the moment that her slightest utterances at that size were audible to all and sundry. Then she flapped her wings once and took to the air, gliding forward over the PRT troopers and their singed surroundings.

That was where things went wrong for her. Vicky felt the breeze freshening where she was, a little upwind from Taylor, but her shout of warning came too late. Taylor, inhaling in preparation for another devastating roil of flame, was caught on the back foot when the spores got to her too soon.

If she'd been able to breathe flame before they went down her throat, Vicky was sure, there would've been no problem. But it didn't happen that way. Taylor inhaled, and promptly started coughing and hacking like a fifty-packs-a-day smoker. Smoke indeed gusted out of her mouth and nostrils, and a little flame, but not enough and far too late.

To Vicky's alarm, Taylor began dropping in size, even as she doubled over and made sounds like she was doing her best to hock up a lung. Her claws dug at the incinerated ground and her tail whipped from side to side, all while she heaved and convulsed and choked. The harsh coughing sounds made Vicky fear that she was about to start bringing up blood.

Aunt Sarah clearly had the same idea, because she encased herself in no fewer than four layers of force field and swooped down toward Taylor. "Hold on!" she shouted. "I've got you!"

And then Taylor grew again, to what Vicky privately called 'Armsmaster' size. It was the smallest size at which she could form speech, but she didn't bear the red and gold markings anymore. Nor was she in the blue and black, or any of the other colour combinations Vicky knew of. Now, her scales were an unhealthy green fading into a dirty yellow. "No," she rasped, almost in a continuation of the prior coughing fit. "I've got this."

She took to the air, upsizing steadily as she went, and flew downwind. Vicky expected her to breathe out some exotic stream of energy to neutralise the cloud of spores—pattern recognition was a thing, after all, and Taylor had pulled this shit more than once before—but instead she inhaled deeply. And for the first time, Vicky saw the spores.

It was a vast, spreading cloud, so big that Taylor would've only had the barest chance to contain it all before it got past her. When Taylor breathed inward, every last spore popped into visibility as it was drawn back toward her. The cloud collapsed in on itself, concentrating as it neared Taylor, vanishing into her nostrils or down her throat.

It had to be some bullshit power thing, Vicky decided, along the lines of how Taylor had inhaled fucking electricity to depower the Machine Army. Even at the size she was, there was no way that much air could fit into lungs of that size. As the last of the cloud around her vanished, she should've been ten times the size she was just from the air she'd breathed in, but that simply wasn't the case.

Then, when she finally breathed out, it was different from every other breath effect she'd pulled so far. Almost twisting and twining through the air, her exhalation strongly resembled the fibrous tendrils of a fungus network Vicky had once seen under the microscope in science lab. As they reached the ground wherever the spores had touched down, they flared brightly, then went dull again.

Taylor flew toward Ellisburg, unleashing her new breath weapon again. The tendrils scoured the land, flaring as (Vicky guessed) they neutralised the spores that had settled and were digging in. More than a few were destroyed around the PRT troopers, but they seemed none the worse for the experience.

She had to pause to inhale twice more, drawing the spores into herself, before she'd sterilised their spread all the way back to the walls of Ellisburg. Vicky could see the inhabitants of the Goblin Kingdom running through the narrow streets: whether in panic or in anger, she couldn't tell. Monsters flung what looked like bony spears at her, but she gained altitude and only a few hit her. None penetrated her hide.

As she ascended, she performed that impossible inhalation twice more, each time catching a cloud of spores on the way out of the Goblin Kingdom. She also increased in size, until she was as big as she'd been over Eagleton. At least this time she hadn't gotten a size increase, Vicky mused.

"THAT," she informed Nilbog, the PRT camp, and anyone else within about ten miles, "WAS NOT NICE. I GET IT. YOU WANT TO SURVIVE. THAT WASN'T THE WAY TO DO IT."

And then she Changed, into the purplish-red and gold form that she'd used to finish off Eagleton, and breathed a vast wave of annihilation, straight down.

Ellisburg … vanished, along with the Tinkertech wall that had been containing it all these years.

So did a good three hundred feet of ground underneath it, including the bedrock.

When Taylor let up, all that was left of Nilbog was subatomic particles on the breeze.

She was already starting to size down as Vicky flew in alongside her head. "Well, dang," Vicky said cheerfully. "That'll have to put a smile on grumpy-pants Piggot's face, don't you think?"

Taylor turned to look at her, now back in her red-and-gold form and just big enough to talk. "Nothing against you, Vicky, but right now I don't give a shit about what makes Piggot happy."

Yup, Vicky decided as Taylor glided back down toward the PRT encampment and Aunt Sarah flew up to meet with them, she's definitely over this.

She'd come around in time, Vicky knew. Taylor always bounced back. But if Director Piggot knew what was good for her, she wouldn't be asking any more favours of New Wave for a while.



End of Part Twenty-Five

 

[Xyshuryn]

Taylor has earned a spa day after all this bullshit. Possibly in both forms. Huh. I wonder if Parian could make a bathrobe for the Wyvern form?

 

[edale]

She took to the air, upsizing steadily as she went, and flew downwind. Vicky expected her to breathe out some exotic stream of energy to neutralise the cloud of spores—pattern recognition was a thing, after all, and Taylor had pulled this shit more than once before—but instead she inhaled deeply. And for the first time, Vicky saw the spores.

It was a vast, spreading cloud, so big that Taylor would've only had the barest chance to contain it all before it got past her. When Taylor breathed inward, every last spore popped into visibility as it was drawn back toward her. The cloud collapsed in on itself, concentrating as it neared Taylor, vanishing into her nostrils or down her throat.

Click to shrink...

Missed opportunity, Taylor saying:

 

[Ack]

Wyvern

Part Twenty-Six: Upheaval

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]



Director Piggot, PRT ENE

Emily's phone rang, and she snatched it up. "Piggot."

"Ma'am, this is Hargreaves in Operations. We've just received confirmation through Major Holden that Ellisburg has been utterly neutralised, and Nilbog with it. Imagery will be forthcoming shortly, but I thought you would want to know."

"Thank you, Hargreaves. One second, I need to check something." She carefully muted the call, then checked that her office door was closed and that her intercom was not active. Those precautions enacted, she pushed back from the desk and performed a sharp fist-pump. "Yes! Suck it, Nilbog. I hope you burn in fucking hell for all eternity."

Nilbog was finally dead. The monster whose twisted creations had massacred and consumed her men, and had nearly done the same to her, was gone. His shadow had reached far from Ellisburg, the mere fact of his continued existence a bleeding ulcer on her soul.

And Wyvern had killed him. The dragon had ended the Goblin King. However, she was less concerned about the fitting nature of it (even though there was a sliver of dark amusement there) than she was about the fact that it was done.

Taking a deep breath, she un-muted the call. "I'll be out of my office for the next five minutes. Also, please notify the roof guards to tell the New Wave contingent that I would like to speak to them before they go."

"Yes, ma'am."

Ending the call, she stood up from her desk. As far as the PRT's testing rigs could determine, Strider's teleport jumps were instantaneous, but hopefully she had time to get to the roof anyway. Wyvern had done the nation (and, more importantly, her) a great service, and she wanted to make sure that was known.

As she rode up in the elevator, she considered what she was going to say. The PRT absolutely wanted Wyvern in the Wards, but if she said anything about it, she would have to be subtle to get it past Lady Photon's filters.

Seconds before the elevator doors opened, she heard the muted crack of Strider's arrival on the helipad. Smiles were not a customary expression for her, but she tried one on anyway before the doors opened. It was a day of celebration, after all, or it should be one.

The doors slid open, and she stepped out onto the rooftop just as Strider vanished again with the same crack of displaced air, though much less pronounced than the arrival had been. Lady Photon was just turning away from speaking with the guard, while Glory Girl and Wyvern (currently in human form) were halfway between the helipad and the rooftop entrance. As all three capes looked over toward her, she realised their expressions were quite a bit grimmer than she'd expected.

Still, they were all present and correct, so she injected as much lightness into her tone as she could managed. "Well done, all of you. I just got the word from Ellisburg. Nilbog and the Machine Army were both—"

"Shut up."

The two words, even coming from the teenaged Wyvern, were suffused with enough venom to rock Emily back on her heels and bring her impromptu speech to a halt. "Wh—what?" she managed.

Wyvern stalked closer. "I said, shut up! I'm done with you, and I'm done with the PRT! Don't you ever ask me to do anything for you again!"

Emily had seen Wyvern transform from human to dragon form before, but it usually took a few seconds. This time, she went from one to the other in an eyeblink, then leaped into the air with a sweep of powerful wings. All that was left where she'd been standing was her domino mask, which Glory Girl picked up.

"I'm with her." The blonde teenager didn't sound as hostile as Wyvern had, but she still wasn't happy. "That was a serious dick move." She vaulted skyward then, following in Wyvern's wake.

While Emily was acutely aware that the roof guards had heard every word, she still needed to get to the bottom of this. Gesturing to Lady Photon, she walked out across the roof to get out of their earshot. "Care to explain why your newest member just tried to tear a strip off me?"

"I'm not going to say she wasn't justified." Sarah Pelham gave Emily a long, searching look. "We were only told when we got back to New York after Eagleton that you weren't authorised to send anyone to deal with Nilbog."

"I didn't send you there." Emily despised weasel wording in the worst way, but she didn't see what she was saying as being the same thing. "I asked, and Wyvern agreed to do it. No orders were given. How would they be? Neither Wyvern nor New Wave are under my command." As much as I'd like you to be.

From the less than friendly look Lady Photon gave her, the cape had picked up on the unspoken thought. "Wyvern was uncertain and eager to please, and you took advantage of that to have her deal with two problems the PRT haven't been able to solve since their inception. As a bonus, no PRT assets were put at risk … except that they were." Lady Photon's hard stare became a glare. "And that would've been on you."

Emily stumbled mentally. Major Holden had said nothing about this. "What do you mean? Who was put at risk?"

Lady Photon's tone was low and deadly. "All your men downwind of Ellisburg. As well as all the communities farther out. As soon as Nilbog realised Wyvern was about to attack, he started releasing disease spores. The only reason there isn't an incipient plague outbreak in the region is that she literally generated another form on the spot, one that neutralised the spores."

Feeling her conversational footing starting to become somewhat unstable, Emily nonetheless tried to tough it out. "So, it was all under control then—"

The sideways slash of a hand cut her words off. "No. It was not. We didn't know she could come up with another form. And it's a really stupid idea to send an untrained cape up against such a dangerous enemy in the assumption that she'll be able to pull a rabbit out of her hat if and when it becomes necessary. That's how you kill your most promising people."

"Ah." Emily knew she no longer held the moral high ground, and the moral middle ground was getting pretty shaky, but she couldn't afford to wave the white flag immediately. "I see your point, but capes do regularly volunteer to fight Endbringers. And you have to admit that she's the most powerful cape in Brockton Bay, by several orders of magnitude."

"True. But." Lady Photon wasn't giving an inch. "When capes volunteer to fight Endbringers, they do it knowing they aren't going to be the only ones up front against the monster. Much less two Endbringers, one after the other."

"Still, she did agree of her own free—"

"Don't even." Lady Photon's snarl was at least as cutting as her lasers. "She was anxious to prove to you that she could be a good hero, and you took advantage of that. You damn well knew that once she agreed to do it, she'd see it through no matter what. Even if it killed her." She started to fly upward, then turned and looked down at Emily. "I will be speaking to my sister about revising the terms of our affiliate status with you. It seems that the PRT has been abusing our good will, of late."

Deliberately turning her back on Emily, she accelerated away into the distance. Emily glowered at her retreating form. The message had been clear.

In other words: don't call us, we'll never call you.

Her good mood entirely eradicated, she crossed the rooftop again, noting sourly how each of the guards stood rigidly to attention and stared straight ahead as they saluted her. While she usually didn't give two-thirds of a tinker's damn for what people thought of her and her methods, she couldn't help wondering what the rumour mill would make of the argument on the roof. That it would be discussed in depth she had zero doubt; talking behind the boss' back was one of the more popular occupations in any large organisation.

Still, with any luck, it wouldn't go any farther than that. It wouldn't be the first verbal clash she'd ever had with a cape, or even the first she'd had that week. In another month, it would be forgotten in favour of the latest scandal.

Still smarting from Lady Photon's dressing-down, she rode down in the elevator then stalked along the corridor to her office. However, the part of her that was always on duty was already planning her next move.

When I address the troops on the matter, I'll emphasise the fact that Nilbog and the Machine Army are gone, and minimise Wyvern's part in it. She made it pretty damn clear she wants no part of the PRT right now.

Still mulling that over, she opened her office door and entered, then stopped short.

Chief Director Costa-Brown, sitting behind her desk, looked up; Hero, who was standing alongside the desk, did the same.

"Ah, Emily." Costa-Brown's smile might have been carved from frozen nitrogen, for all the warmth it projected. "Please come in. Shut the door behind you."

Emily had heard the phrase 'the bottom fell out of her world' before, but this was the first time she'd ever experienced it.

Well, shit.

<><>​

An ABB-Owned Warehouse

Geonchugga

The powered armour was far from the best Ha-joon could do. It lacked flight systems, inbuilt weapons, or anything more than a basic HUD. As he looked it over in the glare of the fluorescent lights, his fingers itched to pull it apart and build it better.

But he stilled the impulse and nodded at the volunteer. "Do you remember your instructions?"

"Yes, honoured one." The man stepped forward and pulled at the armour where Ha-joon had showed him. Like an oddly shaped metal-and-ceramic flower, it hinged open; gingerly, the volunteer turned and fitted his arms and legs into the armour. It closed protectively around him, as it had been designed to do.

"Stand still. Do not move yet." Ha-joon moved closer and circled around the volunteer, observing the fit of the armour with a Tinker's eye. He'd designed it with heavy armour over the vital areas and lighter protection on the limbs; ease of movement had been prioritised over total coverage. The hands, for instance, were left unprotected so the user could carry and fire weapons as needed. "How does it feel? Is there discomfort?"

"No, honoured one." The volunteer moved his arm a little. "It is like wearing very heavy clothing, but I can move in it."

"Good. Stay there. You, you, and you. Take those weapons and beat him." The weapons in question were a baseball bat, a steel pipe and a pry bar.

"Honoured one?" The volunteer was obeying the order to not move, but there was a definite quaver in his voice as his fellows collected their weapons and moved into position around him.

"We must find out if it's capable of protecting you. Defend yourself, but do not retreat or attack." Ha-joon waved at the other men. "Proceed."

To the volunteer's credit, he stood his ground as the blows began to rain down in him from all sides. At first, he flinched and cried out, but then he began to gain confidence as the swung weapons merely glanced off the armour instead of breaking bones. When a particularly heavy swing knocked him to the ground, Ha-joon called them off.

It took the volunteer three tries to roll onto his front, but he managed it. With movements better suited to a geriatric sloth, he got his arms and legs under him. Eventually, he succeeded in clambering to his feet without outside assistance. "I'm ready to go again, honoured one."

"No need." Ha-joon pointed at a faded mark painted on the floor. "Walk forward to that mark, and then jump as high as you can."

"Yes, honoured one." The volunteer started moving, walking ponderously forward as he got used to the balance of the suit. When he reached the mark, he stopped and crouched, then jumped. Ha-joon heard the servos whine abruptly as the suit launched upward, easily clearing the five-foot mark before it crashed back to the concrete floor.

The landing wasn't quite as graceful as the takeoff; the volunteer's feet went out from him and he sprawled inelegantly on the floor. Several men went to move forward, but Ha-joon gestured for them to stay where they were. "Get up, and try again."

The suit still made it clumsy to get up, but the volunteer managed more easily this time. When he leaped upward, it was with more fluidity; he reached ten feet, then landed rather more steadily on his feet.

To cheers from his fellows, he jumped again, landed safely once more, then began running laps around the interior of the warehouse. Ha-joon timed him; by the third lap, he was topping twenty miles per hour, even in the clumsy suit. After three more laps, the volunteer came to a halt in front of Ha-joon. "Have I pleased you, honoured one?"

Ha-joon inclined his head. "You have. How does the suit feel now?"

"It feels more comfortable, honoured one." The volunteer nodded earnestly. "Once I am truly used to it, I will be able to fight effectively."

"Good, good." Ha-joon rubbed his chin. "Can you use a pistol or a rifle? No, show me."

"Yes, honoured one!" Taking up one of the pistols that lay on a convenient crate, the volunteer aimed it at the man-shaped target that had been roughly painted on another one. He fired several times, raising puffs of dust and clouds of sawdust from the rotting wood. Then he took up an assault rifle; it was a little harder to use, as the armour was too bulky to get the stock properly to his shoulder, but he managed to get a few shots close to the target.

"Shotguns," decided Ha-joon. "We'll use shotguns." With stocks sawn off, pump-action shotguns could be fired from the hip, delivering severe damage without the need for pinpoint accuracy. He looked over at the volunteer, who was posing in the suit amid laughter from the other members of the ABB. Even now, his movements were much more natural than when he'd first donned it.

Building more suits was just a matter of time, and then they would free great Inago, the Lord of Insects, from PRT holding.

Yes, he decided. We can really do this.

<><>​

Alexandria

Rebecca could see that Emily desperately wanted to know just how she and Hero had managed to show up in the interval between Emily pissing off Wyvern and arriving back in her own office. No such explanation would be forthcoming; Emily would be allowed to assume that they had teleported using one of Hero's devices, though how Rebecca had found out in the first place would no doubt remain a mystery to her.

It had been all down to Contessa, of course. While Ellisburg was in the process of being done and dusted, she'd contacted Rebecca and let her know what was going on. The result was that Rebecca had found herself in one hell of a spot.

The fact that Eagleton and Ellisburg had been comprehensively wiped off the map was an unequivocally Good Thing, which was the only bright spot in all this. That aside, Rebecca was just as pissed off with Contessa as she was with Emily.

The cowboy stunt pulled by Emily Piggot hadn't technically broken any PRT regulations, though she'd certainly bent Order 9465 by 'asking' Wyvern to pretty please obliterate Ellisburg from the face of the earth without actually checking in with Rebecca first. Interestingly, according to Contessa, what had upset Wyvern hadn't been the discovery that Emily wasn't authorised to order any kind of attack on Ellisburg. It had instead been the twin unpleasant experiences of having to kill all the inhabitants of the Goblin Kingdom and having to come up with a whole new form to combat the release of disease spores. This was only exacerbated by the understanding that Piggot had deliberately manipulated her into agreeing to do this in the first place, while massively understating the potential danger.

But even that wasn't so bad. She'd dealt with worse on her own account before now.

No, what had Rebecca wanting to strangle Piggot with her own entrails was that the ENE Director hadn't backed off from her stance or offered even a modicum of an apology when called on her actions by Lady Photon, choosing instead to stick to her guns where a little backing down might have gone a long way. As it was, any kind of chances of forging closer ties between Wyvern and the PRT were slim to fuck-all and fading fast, unless some serious grovelling was applied in the very near future. And due to Emily Piggot's catastrophic diplomatic FUBAR, it looked like Rebecca was going to have to be the one performing the aforementioned grovelling.

The reason Rebecca wanted to string Contessa up by her ankles, preferably over a slow fire, was that she'd seen this whole thing play out ahead of time, but had only notified Rebecca once it was a done deal. Rebecca wasn't quite certain how foreknowledge could have improved the current situation, but it would've been nice to be working with prep time up her sleeve instead of scrambling madly to fix this shit. As it was, she was going to have to agree to some less than acceptable concessions due to having skipped out of a budget meeting on zero notice.

Fuck my life.

"Do you have any idea why we're here?" she asked, keeping her tone level and polite.

Emily Piggot barely hesitated before answering. "It's about Wyvern," she admitted.

"Good." Rebecca nodded encouragingly. "Keep talking."

Evidently, Piggot had hoped to get away with saying just that; she grimaced as she took a deep breath. "I … the Ellisburg thing. She destroyed it, by the way."

"I'm aware." Rebecca was entirely acquainted with the concept of using non-committal expressions and bland tones to get a target to talk. Quite often, they would speak up to fill in the conversational gap without ever quite realising what they were doing.

"Is this a regulations thing, ma'am?" Piggot should have been shitting bricks by now, though if she was, she wasn't showing it. While she might be overweight, nobody who knew her would call her 'soft'. "If so, could you please point out which regulations I violated?"

"It's not about the regulations." She should've known Piggot would have that aspect locked down. "It's about how you got caught essentially coercing Wyvern into cleaning up your own personal vendetta with Rinke."

She knew her use of Nilbog's real name had scored when Emily's eye twitched. "He needed to be dealt with, ma'am, and she was entirely capable of it. Also, there was no coercion involved. I asked, and she agreed."

"She agreed because you presented it all as a PRT-sanctioned operation from start to finish." Rebecca had taken the time to listen to the audio recording of Piggot's meeting with Wyvern in full, paying close attention to the nuances behind the wording used. "Which I know for a fact it wasn't, because none of it crossed my desk. More to the point, New Wave knows it wasn't."

<><>​

Director Piggot

"Ma'am, I sanctioned it." Emily set her jaw. "Ellisburg is within the ENE jurisdiction, and she had the full support of the PRT as far as we were able to legally act in the situation. And in fact, we have undertaken to pay out any reward money into a bank account of her choosing, so she won't be out of pocket from the excursion."

The Chief Director clearly managed to refrain from rolling her eyes, though her scorn communicated itself clearly through her tone. "She's already independently wealthy, following her comprehensive demolition of the Slaughterhouse Nine. Signing a contract to allow her to keep this money as well is hardly likely to bind her closer to us. In any case, you were implying that it had been approved at the highest levels, not just the ENE Department. While she did not ask and you did not clarify, you still implied a falsehood by omission. In addition, leaning on her ongoing concerns about being seen as a monster by the PRT meant there was zero effective difference between 'asking' and 'telling'. Thus, coercion. Which Lady Photon did pick up on. In short, you got caught."

Emily didn't try to argue any of the points that Costa-Brown had made. While she still believed there were semantic differences between her view of things and the Chief Director's, she knew damn well that if she still had her job at this point, any more back-talk would be extremely hazardous for her chances of keeping it. And if she didn't have it, there was zero chance of her arguing her way back into it.

Clasping her hands behind her back, she stared at a point on the wall above Costa-Brown's head. "So, if I am correct, ma'am, this is about alienating Wyvern?" It was kind of obvious at this point.

"In a nutshell, yes." The Chief Director stood and locked eyes with her. "Each one of us in this office right now is an adult; we know the score. The personal feelings of the average cape, Wards age or otherwise, are not our concern. If they're Protectorate or Wards, they have to toe the line, with no exceptions. But Wyvern is very specifically not a member of the Wards; more importantly, she's breathtakingly powerful, which means she's the type of cape we need have on our side in a tight spot." Her lips tightened. "Which would be a lot easier to arrange if someone hadn't overstepped and angered her to the point that she wants nothing more to do with us."

Piggot set her jaw again. Say whatever I have to. Do whatever I have to. "As you say, ma'am, it's my mistake. What restitution would you have me make?"

"Restitution?" Costa-Brown shook her head. "You will do nothing, at least as far as Wyvern is concerned. It's up to me to fix your mess now. As for your position here as Director, you have one month to train your Deputy Director up to handle the role. Then you will resign quietly and collect your pension thereafter."

And there it is. Emily forced herself to show no emotion in her voice or expression. "With all due respect, ma'am, Renick is an administrator. He doesn't have it in him to run the PRT in this city. When I showed up here, he'd been doing it for six months following the murder of Director Jameson, and was barely able to manage day to day operations." As a last-ditch effort to keep her position, it wasn't very strong, but it had the advantage of being the truth.

The Chief Director smiled coldly as she stepped out from behind the desk. "I strongly suspect that the presence of Wyvern in this city will induce a lot of the local villains to either leave town or keep their heads down. He won't have as much of a problem as you seem to think."

Try as she might, Emily was unable to prevent her shoulders from slumping very slightly. Well, that's that then. "Yes, ma'am."

<><>​

A Little Later

Alexandria

"This is the place." Hero nodded toward the unassuming two-storey house. "The Dallon half of the team, anyway. Wyvern apparently spends quite a bit of time there. They were playing board games the last time I visited."

"That's nice." Rebecca looked the building over. "Do you believe the goodwill you've already built up with them will suffice to get us in through the front door?" She hated going into a situation like this cold.

"I hope so. I got along quite well with all of them, especially Wyvern and Glory Girl." Hero shrugged and started up the path. "There's only one way to find out, I guess."

Rebecca followed at his shoulder—a good officer, she'd read once, knew when to let the person who knew what they were doing take the lead—and stood by while he rang the doorbell. She'd already spotted the tiny camera, and made no effort to hide from its surveillance; no doubt the Dallons would recognise her.

Whether this made them more or less likely to let her in all hinged on just how badly Emily Piggot had screwed the pooch.

The front door opened, to reveal Panacea standing there in jeans and T-shirt. "Hi, again," she greeted Hero. "Did you, uh, want to see … um." Her voice trailed off as she saw Rebecca. "Chief Director Costa-Brown? Are you here to see Wyvern?"

Her tone was more surprised than unwelcoming, which Rebecca took as a positive sign. "Yes, if that's alright with her. I would like the chance to tender my apologies for the way she was misled by Director Piggot."

Brandish, likewise uncostumed, appeared at her daughter's shoulder. "Ah, hello. Yes, an apology would be a good start, I believe. Come on in. We were just discussing the situation."

There was an edge to Carol Dallon's voice that Rebecca didn't like, but there was very little of the current situation that she was actually happy about, so she just added it to the list. Stepping past Hero, she entered the house, giving Brandish a nod and a reserved smile on the way past. "As I was saying, I only learned about what happened after it was too late to intervene, but I want to …"

Her voice trailed to a halt as she saw who was already sitting in the living room.

Standing up as she approached, Legend met her halfway. He was wearing a tattered brown long-coat over his costume, as well as a two- or three-day stubble, but his smile was as boyish as ever. "Hello, Rebecca."

Rebecca maintained just enough self-control to return the smile in kind while concealing her own thoughts.

Mother. Fucker.

<><>​

Five Minutes Previously

Wyvern

Vicky paced back and forth, half the time drifting into the air in her intensity. "I can't believe she'd pull that shit on you!"

"Rrrarrgh." Still in my wyvern form, I leaned back on my tail and watched her. I would've been pacing too, but my tail was a furniture hazard and I didn't want to damage the carpet with my claws.

"I know, right?" Vicky came to a halt, six inches in the air. "Nilbog was an S-class threat, just like the Machine Army, and she just acted like you taking them out was Tuesday."

I bared my teeth in agreement. And the people I killed. I know they were basically clones, but they wanted to live too. "Grraaaawr."

While Carol poured Sarah a cup of tea, Mark looked on with concern. "Was it really that bad?"

Carol raised an eyebrow. "More to the point, do I need to give Director Piggot a stern talking to?"

Cradling the cup in her hands, Sarah nodded slowly. "It was … pretty bad. Taylor had to push herself past her limits twice, and make a lot of hard decisions. She got through it, but right now she doesn't want anything to do with Piggot or the PRT, and I honestly don't blame her."

"Well, yeah." Amy gestured to Vicky and me. "I haven't seen them this agitated in forever." She stepped forward. "Hey, Taylor. Need a hand Changing?"

Flaring my crest in relief, I turned toward Amy. Oh, good. Normally, I preferred to manage my Change by myself, but right now I couldn't reach the right mindset for love or money. With an encouraging chirp, I held out a wingtip toward the biokinetic.

Amy took hold of it, and I could feel the calm washing through me. My racing thoughts stilled, and the Change began to take effect. Slowly, I made the transition from winged menace of the skies to apparently normal teenage girl.

Once it was complete and Amy had released my finger, I pulled up the modesty zippers on either side of my costume, then ran my fingers through my hair. "I have to say," I observed apropos of nothing, "you'd think having wings is the weirdest thing about being able to turn into a wyvern, but sometimes I feel having no hair is even weirder. Funny, huh?"

Momentarily distracted from her rant, Vicky rolled her eyes. "Well, given that you're the resident expert on turning into a wyvern, I'll take your word for it." She heaved a massive sigh and looked over at her mother. "So, what are we going to do about the PRT and how they treated Taylor? Are we really going to boycott them, or what?"

"We're definitely going to do something." Sarah's tone was absolute. "It doesn't matter how powerful Taylor is, or whether the PRT regulations allow it or not. We can't let them become accustomed to just throwing her at their big problems."

In the silence that followed her statement, the doorbell rang. "Shit!" I said. "Clothes!" Whoever it was calling on the Dallons, I didn't feel comfortable meeting them in my costume, which essentially amounted to a one-piece bathing suit with a miniskirt attached.

Vicky nodded. "Upstairs, my room."

"Thanks." I made for the stairs. Hopefully it was Dad (though he would've likely called before coming over). If it was Director Piggot or even Armsmaster, I'd probably yell at them.

<><>​

Legend

There was a minor delay before the door opened; when it did, a teenage girl in a white and gold costume stood before Keith. She stared at him, and (to his secret amusement) her jaw legitimately dropped. "Holy shit. It's you."

Keith smiled. "It is indeed. May I come in, Glory Girl?" Despite the fact that he'd more or less dropped out of the public eye, there was a very real chance that someone would recognise him if he spent any significant time on the ground in an urban area.

"Um, one sec." Glory Girl craned her head around. "Mom, it's Legend! Should I let him in?"

"It's who?" The question was echoed by two women, one teenage girl, and one adult male, if Keith's ears weren't lying to him.

"Hi," he called out. "I saw what happened at Ellisburg, and how Wyvern was treated by the PRT. Would it be possible for me to come in and discuss it with you?"

About one second later, Brandish appeared at the door. "Oh, wow. It really is you. Yes, please come in."

<><>​

Wyvern

As I headed back along the upstairs corridor, now dressed to receive visitors, I heard Legend's voice filtering up from below.

"… opinion, the PRT and Protectorate have been far overreaching their mandate for years now. Wyvern is far from the only independent cape they've been trying to get their hooks into, but she definitely tops out the power scale compared to the rest. So they're not going to stop trying."

Vicky spoke next. "So, what've they been doing? Black bag over the head, shoved into an unmarked van? Because I can't see that working with most capes."

"Well, no." Legend chuckled at her joke, then turned serious. "Legal and financial tactics are a favourite. A cape who is both new and powerful is far more prone to causing collateral damage, even if they take care in how they use their power. It's all too easy to arrange matters so they find themselves on the wrong side of a civil or even criminal court case, with potential penalties in the region of seven or eight figures."

As I descended the stairs, Carol spoke up. "So of course, the PRT swoops in to clean up the mess, lend their lawyers to the case, and sometimes just pay off the fine, with the quid pro quo that the cape signs up to the Wards or the Protectorate. Technically legal, but ethics be damned."

Legend stood up out of his chair when he saw me enter the room. "Exactly. And there's the lady of the hour. I'm extremely pleased to meet you." He held out his hand, and I shook it. "The way you took out the Nine was nothing short of impressive. They were a festering sore on the face of America. We nearly lost Hero to the Siberian once."

I thought I'd gotten most of my fangirl-squee out of my system in Vicky's room as I got dressed (I may have run her brush through my hair a time or three and fretted over the fact that my T-shirt and jeans weren't exactly high fashion) but having someone like Legend focused so intently on me totally disconnected my brain. When I opened my mouth to speak, I was horrified when nothing but a high-pitched squeak came out.

I snapped my mouth shut, my face aflame with embarrassment, but Legend merely smiled and kept speaking for me. "Oh, yes. When I saw you shoot that jet of flame clear into the stratosphere and set off half the car alarms in Downtown, I knew we'd be meeting sooner or later. Trust me, I've been looking forward to this."

"Th-Thanks," I stammered, my body twitching as I fought to keep it still when all I wanted to do was run all around the house waving my arms up and down like a chicken, screaming non-stop. "I can't even begin to list your accomplishments."

He reached out his hand and took mine. "Years from now, I know which of us will have the bigger accomplishments at their back, and it won't be me."

About a million questions were queued up at the back of my mind, but I didn't want to sound any more like a babbling idiot, so I let go his hand and found someplace to sit down. This turned out to be between Amy and Vicky, each of whom grabbed one of my hands and squeezed in support.

When Sarah spoke, she sounded thoughtful. "Wyvern didn't seem too powerful earlier on, and by the time her capabilities began to show themselves in full, she was thoroughly entrenched in New Wave. Is this why they haven't tried the more blatant tactics for forced recruitment?"

Seating himself once more, Legend leaned forward and spread his hands. "It would seem the most logical reasoning, yes. Director Piggot knows she can't simply railroad Wyvern into the Wards, especially not with Brandish there to throw up legal roadblocks all day long. So, she's done the next best thing; ask in a way that Wyvern finds hard to refuse."

I took a deep breath. "Yeah, I really did. It felt like she was doing me a favour by not treating me like a barely controllable monster."

"Oh, I hear you." Legend grimaced and shook his head. "They're quite good at that. The idea was, of course, that after you said yes once, this would pave the way for them to ask you to go out for them again, and again, and again. Also, was there any mention of a cash reward for the quarantine sites?"

"Ahh, yeah, actually." Vicky nodded. "There was a contract and everything."

Carol's head came up. "There was no problem there. I checked it over for problematic fine print. Force of habit."

"And if you hadn't, Dad would've," I said. Legend looked a little puzzled, so I added, "He's pretty high up in the Dockworkers' Association."

"Ah. So, you were doubly insulated from that angle. Though they would have kept writing up contracts for each additional reward and sooner or later someone would've tried to slip in a rider that bound you more tightly to the PRT." Legend's voice held a weary certainty. "I've seen it too many times already."

"So, what should—" I began, just as the doorbell rang again.

"I'll get it." Amy let go my hand and scrambled to her feet. Nobody spoke as she went to the door. When she saw who was on the screen, she turned and gesticulated while mouthing some words. I had no idea what she was trying to say, but Legend apparently had a better idea of what was going on, because he waved for her to open the door.

"Hero and Chief Director Costa-Brown, right on cue," he murmured.

"Really." Carol got to her feet and headed for the front door.

There was a little muffled conversation, then Amy came back through with a woman I had no problem identifying as the PRT Chief Director right behind her. Legend stood up as Costa-Brown entered the living room, and I watched with interest (and not a little amusement) as her flow of words died away.

"… only learned about what happened after it was too late to intervene, but I want to …"

Legend went over to meet her, giving her a broad smile, which she reluctantly returned. "Hello, Rebecca."

She had a damn good poker face, I had to admit. It gave nothing away, which was a tell all of its own. "Legend. Why are you here?"

"Same reason you are, I suspect." He nodded to Hero. "Hey. How's things?"

"Villains, paperwork, the usual. You know how it goes." Hero glanced at the rest of us, then back at Legend. "Are we going to fight?"

"No." Sarah and Carol spoke at the same time. "You are not going to fight."

Slowly, Chief Director Costa-Brown shook her head. "No fighting. I believe we can call this house a truce zone."

Legend nodded approvingly. "I came here to talk, not fight."

"We all did, I think," agreed Hero.

Legend chuckled grimly. "You came here to do more than that. If I'm not much mistaken, you wish to overawe Wyvern into rescinding her boycott against assisting the PRT."

"Whereas you hold only the purest of intentions yourself." Chief Director Costa-Brown's voice sounded reasonable on the surface, but there was an edge to it, like a silk scarf concealing a razor blade.

"I came here to tell them the truth." Legend spoke lightly, but again there were meanings behind the words that weren't immediately obvious. "You've got no issue with them hearing the truth, do you?"

"Of course not." Costa-Brown smiled briefly. "The truth is that we've just come from the PRT building. Director Piggot has been informed that she'll be retiring as of one month from now." Her eyes sought me out, where I sat between Amy and Vicky. "Does this meet with your approval?"

Legend cleared his throat. "Don't be deceived. She didn't do it for you. She did it because Piggot pushed the Ellisburg thing on you for personal reasons, and in doing so, fucked up getting you on board."

The Chief Director gave him a mildly irritated look. "That's a very cynical point of view to take."

"Doesn't make it wrong."

Figuring there was an easy way to find out, I looked up at Costa-Brown. "What would you do if I asked you to not fire Piggot on my account? I'm never going to play nice with you guys whether she works for you or not, so firing her just gets rid of someone who knows how to do her job and replaces her with someone who's gonna make mistakes, because that's what happens when you change horses midstream."

The Chief Director never hesitated. "She will still be leaving in one month, as I have said. Whatever mistakes her successor makes, he will know not to repeat the ones she made with you, when it comes to dealing with other new capes."

"Hmm." I wasn't much worried about the fate of Director Piggot. She was a grown woman who had made her choices. In point of fact, she was coming out of this ahead of the game: alive, with access to her pension fund, and with her greatest enemy dead at my hand. But I had to ask the question. "And if I told you that if you kept her in, I'd talk to the PRT again?"

The Chief Director's gaze narrowed. "I would assume you were seeking to test me. Are you saying that?"

I thought about it for a long moment. Legend caught my eye and shook his head fractionally. While I'd been a little dubious, that decided me. "No, I'm not saying it."

The room went still, all eyes shifting between me and Costa-Brown. Tension ruled the room before she spoke again, her voice measured but with an undercurrent of something I couldn't quite place. "I see. So, are we done with playing that game?"

"Yes." I kept my eyes on hers. "We are."

Legend's expression remained unreadable, but I noticed him shift slightly, as if preparing for whatever came next. The Chief Director gave a barely perceptible nod, as if to acknowledge his existence, before directing her attention back to me. "I would like to extend an offer. The PRT is—that is, I am—willing to make concessions toward a fruitful collaboration. As Legend has undoubtedly said, we do need you, but I'm talking about a partnership, not induction into the Wards or even the Protectorate."

I let her words hang in the air for a moment, weighing them. A partnership. There was something cold about the offer, something transactional. It wasn't an alliance. It wasn't even respect. It was a careful negotiation, with the usual politics swirling beneath.

"It would have to take into account the fact that I'm already a member of New Wave," I countered. "And I'll totally need to see the fine print. No surprises, no hidden clauses, no more games." I saw a brief, tight smile cross Carol's face at that. Oh, yeah. She'll go to town on it.

Costa-Brown's smile didn't falter, though I could see the flicker of something calculating behind her eyes. "Of course, Wyvern. Whatever terms you choose and we accept, you'll have the details in writing. And if we can reach an agreement, we'll be glad to work within it. But remember," she added, her tone shifting slightly, "there's a limit to how long we can dance back and forth like this. Several clocks are ticking, and nobody wants to be caught short when the music stops."

I met her gaze evenly, remembering something Dad had said once. "I don't do pressure tactics, either."

Carol cleared her throat. "So, let's keep things simple and threat-free, shall we?"

Legend let out a low chuckle, and for a moment, the room felt like it was breathing again. He looked at the Chief Director with a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Good luck with this one, Rebecca. You'll need it."

I sat back in my seat, heart still racing. Whatever came next, one thing was clear: the game was just beginning.

Because I was damn sure Chief Director Rebecca Costa-Brown neither forgot nor forgave a slight.



End of Part Twenty-Six

 

[Avernus]

Found a typo:

Vicky spoke next. "So, what've they been doing? Black bag over the head, shoved into an unmarked van? Because I can't that working with most capes."

Click to shrink...

"can't see that"

 

[meloa789]

Now let's see how the fallout will effect Cauldron.

 

[Robert Stadler]

"Rrrarrgh." Still in her wyvern form, I leaned back on my tail and watched her.

Click to shrink...

That should be "Still in my wyvern form."

 

[Ack]

Found a typo:


"can't see that"

Click to shrink...

That should be "Still in my wyvern form."

Click to shrink...

Thanks. Will fix.

 

[Prince Charon]

Good chapter. Also, I feel like there are important things I've forgotten about Legend in this timeline (unless this is something that hasn't come up), but rereading the whole story might be a bit much?

 

[Avernus]

Good chapter. Also, I feel like there are important things I've forgotten about Legend in this timeline (unless this is something that hasn't come up), but rereading the whole story might be a bit much?

Click to shrink...

Outside of him leaving the Triumvirate basically no details in-story.

However in (I think) the Spacebattles story thread it was stated that since he wasn't dealing with the trauma of Hero's death in this timeline he paid more attention and caught on to the darker parts of what Cauldron was doing (which still isn't as bad as canon Cauldron, mind). That caused him to leave the Triumvirate and presumably Cauldron (or at least distance himself).